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hollandsfavbabe · 1 year

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That’s The Tea

pairing: tom holland x reader

synopsis: in which tom finds out his girlfriend has no idea how to make tea

warnings: angsty-ish (not really), bad tea, england’s world cup loss

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

Freezing cold snow from outside littered the ground surrounding your house, coating everything in a sheet of white while warmth spread through your body as you snuggled into Tom’s side, only half paying attention to the screen in front of you. With the World Cup going on and the England team still in the running, Tom made it a point to watch it every night it was on, both as an avid football fan and as an extreme British patriot. As his girlfriend and house mate that meant you were also subjected to the sport you knew as soccer and though you cared little for the game, you enjoyed seeing Tom so passionate about it and had fun defending the USA team (up until they inevitably lost).

On this particular Saturday morning during a rousing game between England and France, Tom was unusually more tired than talkative and instead of giving you a play by play of the game, he kept a comforting arm around your waist and stroked your hair, planting soft kisses on your crown as he watched the game. The night previous he had been late coming home, his work keeping him longer than normal to finish an especially difficult scene. Though you both were perfectly content snuggled up on the sofa, you wished there was something you could do to make him more energetic while routing for his team, help him regain some of his normal vigor as England’s best played for their lives.

That’s when it hit you, Tom hadn’t completed an essential step in his daily routine yet, one that sometimes meant the difference between whether he was in a friendly mood or just wanted to be around you for the day. He hadn’t had his morning tea yet.

As the only American in the house, you’d never had the chance to make tea as you didn’t drink it as much as the others and you didn’t exactly know how to do it ‘the proper way’. As you understood it, there was a huge difference between English tea and American tea as they diverged somewhere in the brewing process, but both were tea in their own respects which prompted you to wonder how contrasting they really were. After living in England for so many years, you considered yourself most qualified to make Tom’s tea and with that goal set in mind, you were off.

You rotated around in Tom’s arms until you were facing him, grinned and pecking his cheek as he beamed at you in return.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured groggily, his smile quickly flipping upside down as you started to move out of his hold. “No wait, c’mere.” he protested, grabbing onto your hand in hopes that you would tuck back into him.

“It’s okay, I’m coming back.” You laughed as you crouched over him to move some of the fallen curls out of his face. “I know how tired you are and I know you need your tea to function in the morning so I’ve decided to make it for you today.”

Tom’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly thinking the same as you.

“You don’t have to love, you’ve never made it before.”

You dismissed his concerns with a quiet pshh.

“Oh sure I have. I’ve made plenty of tea back in the US. It’ll be great, you’ll see. Do you take one sugar or two?”

Tom giggled.

“Two please and with just a splash of milk.”

“One British tea coming right up.” you promised, kissing his forehead as you left to make his tea, Tom’s gaze following you as you crossed the room.

“I love you!” Tom shouted from behind you as you disappeared into the kitchen. “Don’t be very long! I’m getting cold.”

Your laugh echoed from the other room as you shouted back, “You won’t be after my amazing tea!”

Thirty minutes and two sugars later, you returned with not just a cup of tea for Tom, but a tumbler of steaming hot coffee for yourself both in a small tray that you set down on the coffee table.

Tom sat up, his blanket falling on top of his lap as he reached out and picked up the cup from its place on the tray, bringing it to his center as the hot contents inside warmed him up. He sighed in relief and smiled at you as you grabbed your own drink.

“Thank you darling. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” you responded, sipping on your coffee as you took a seat beside him on the sofa, leaning into him.

Tom grinned as he refocused on the game, bringing the cup to his lips and slurping the liquid inside, but instead of the normal taste of tea, he was met with a liquid monstrosity that he immediately spat out onto the surrounding carpet, table, and you. You screamed and jumped up in shock, now sprayed with the hot liquid as you slammed your own drink down to prevent any more spillage.

“Ah Tom!” you shouted, wiping the tea from your now damp pajama shirt. “What the fuck?!”

Tom’s eyes grew wide as he stood with you, setting the disgusting tea down beside your drink as he jumped to apologize.

“I am so sorry y/n. I didn’t mean spray you with, oh shit, let me help you.” he offered, his game continuing on the screen, now forgotten. Tom grabbed your hand and led you to the kitchen when the sight that beheld him stopped him in his tracks.

“Y/n,” he mumbled, in absolute shock. “What did you do?”

In front of him was the most disarray he’s ever seen the kitchen, water splashed on the floor, microwave left wide open, and one of the countertops resembling a summer camp with string and tape splayed across the marble along with a stapler. There was a fucking stapler in the kitchen.

You stepped forward and checked out the mess, stepping over some split coffee grounds powder on the floor as you headed to the sink to wet a rag.

“I swear this is worse than how I left it. I was going to clean it after you finished so I could do the dishes too. Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Oh I think you could kill plenty of birds with that concoction.” Tom retorted, referring to your tea. He shook his head and looked away from the mess, taking your hands in his as he stared at you with concern.

“Y/n, you know I love you more than anything right.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Good. Remember that when I say this next part. Remember that I love you.”

Tom paused to take in a deep breath, the sort of one might take before announcing they’d like to separate, but in this case you were sure he was simply dramatic. He was an actor after all.

“Alright, I get it. Just spit it out.” you demanded, growing inpatient as you pulled your hands out of his and used the wet rag to wipe off the splattered tea on your shirt.

Tom grimaced, remembering whatever he had drunk out of the cup that you disguised as a normal cuppa when in fact, it was not just a cuppa. It was horrible.

“I’m sorry to say this, but that had to be the worst tea I have ever had in my entire life. It’s so bad honey, it’s even worse than Harry’s.”

You looked up at him in shock, the rag slipping from your hands as your expression changed from neutral to saddened.

“No.”

Tom nodded, regretfully.

“Yes, I’m sorry baby. But that’s the thing, I don’t think it’s your fault. You’ve never made this kind of tea before. Could you tell me how you did it?” he asked, hoping to help you by correcting any flaws in your recipe. There were sure to be a few.

“Oh alright.” You gave in. “I made it how I always do, just with milk and sugar this time because that’s how you like it.”

“How exactly did you make it?”

You thought back for a moment and started off at the beginning.

“I started by heating up the water for the tea..”

“With the kettle?” Tom asked, unsure there was any other way to do it. Much to his disappointment, there was.

“No.” you answered as if it was obvious. “With the microwave.”

Tom cringed as he shook his head and turned towards the microwave, closing the opened door as he motioned for you to continue.

“After I warmed it up, I put the tea bag in, but it didn’t have a string like the ones in the States do and it made me wonder why someone would make a tea bag without a string? How are you supposed to get it out? That’s like making a tampon without a string. Imagine how hard it would be to…”

Unable to keep you with your reasoning, Tom directed you back on topic.

“Y/n,” he reminded you gently.

“Right, sorry. Got a little carried away. Well anyways I was just so appalled by the stringless bag that I figured should fix it.”

“What do you mean?” Tom wondered aloud. You shrugged, puzzled by how dumbfounded your boyfriend seemed as you explained your thought process.

“I added a string. I got some string and a stapler and I fixed the tea bag.”

“Y/n, that’s yarn.” Tom corrected, pointing out the thick white ball of it that lie scattered across the marble countertop.

“It was the only one we had.”

Tom bit his lip, looking up to the ceiling as if he was asking for help from above before he met your eyes again and repeated your statement.

“So what you’re telling me is you cut a piece of yarn and you stapled it to the tea bag?”

“Yes. Then I-”

“Wait, hold on. I want to make sure we’re picturing the same thing. You stapled it to the tea bag?”

You nodded, wondering what about the situation was not getting across to him as he remained absolutely bewildered.

“Yeah, the tape didn’t work.” you explained. Tom shook his head as he looked away from the stapler, no longer wishing to accept its presence in the kitchen.

“Oh y/n, please keep going.”

“As I was saying, after I fixed the tea bag, I put it in the water and stirred it up a bit until it all looked nice and mixed. At that point I had finished making my coffee so I added some milk and two sugars just like you said and brought it out to you.”

Tom noticed a gap in your story where a vital step lay that you did not explain completing.

“You took the tea bag out though right?” he questioned. Though he was genuinely asking, somewhere deep inside himself, he already knew the answer.

You laughed.

“What you think I’m stupid? I wouldn’t want the tea to lose its flavor. Of course I didn’t take the tea bag out.”

Tom shook his head, trying his hardest to wipe the taste of the tea from his brain so that he would not gag on its haunting aftertaste.

“Y/n, you’re supposed to take the tea bag out!”

“How was I supposed to know? I drink coffee.”

“I knew you shouldn’t have made the tea. You can’t do it right.”

You scoffed, agreeing with his statement, but refusing to go down as the only bad cook in the house.

“Okay Mr. Ethnocentrism, need I remind you of how badly you screwed up cheeseburgers last week when we invited your family over?”

Tom’s face burned red.

It was true, you had tasked him with something you and everyone else perceived as simple, but instead of delicious classic American cheeseburgers, Tom brought out a platter of what closely resembled eight individual disintegrated panties. His excuse? The cheese wasn’t processed enough.

“Alright, that was worse.” he admitted, wishing he would have asked you for help.

“Thank you.”

He took another look around the kitchen and laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“I can’t believe you actually stapled yarn to the bag.”

“They already have the string attached back in the States!” You reasoned, a smile making its way upon your face as you too realized how absurd it all was.

“I know baby it’s okay.” He comforted, bringing you into him as he embraced you, still damp with the tea. “Let’s just clean this up and how about I show you how to make a real cuppa.”

“That sounds alright.” you agreed and together you got to work.

While you changed into dry clothes, Tom cleaned up most of the spilled items, putting away what was never needed and taking out the ingredients for real tea, including the kettle. Once you returned he showed you through the whole process, helping you use the kettle and showing you how to remove tea bags from cups without strings. Once the milk and sugar was added, he stirred it all together and presented it to you, letting you take the first sip.

You inhaled the scent of the tea and took a sip, swallowing it down and faking a grin as the hot drink slid down your throat.

“It’s alright.”

Tom shook his head as he drank his cuppa.

“It’s more than alright, you crazy. It’s fantastic.” he emoted, closing his eyes as if he had emerged from a world of eternal peace with his tea.

“I’m more of a coffee person.” you remarked, shaking your head at his dramatics.

He laughed, walking you back to the living room where your coffee and his game were waiting for you both.

“Thanks for trying babe, I love you.” he praised, kissing your cheek before another sip of his tea.

“Mm, thanks for teaching me.” you answered, enjoying your own coffee until the final score of the game flashed across the screen causing an uproar next to you.

“NOO!” Tom screamed, standing upright.

“Tom, look out! You’re tea-“

It was too late. The cup had fallen to the floor and once again splashed all over the carpet and your sweat pants, staining the white fabric a soft brown.

Tom looked down at his mess, a furious blush marking his face as he realized what he had just done.

“I’ll clean it up.” he said, defeated at the loss of his team and his morning tea as he moved to grab some towels.

“You better.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland funny #world cup #england #english tea

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