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wazzupmrstark · 5 years

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We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Twenty-Two || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: apparently there’s no waffle house in ny so my story takes place in a reality where everything is the same except there’s waffle house in ny

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of previous smut

What I listened to while writing: free spirit by khalid

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

“What did Harrison want last night?” he asked, starting to run his hands through his hair again even though the crew was constantly telling him to leave it alone.

“I’m...not exactly sure,” you said slowly. “Actually, have you talked to him today?”

“Not really, we left the hotel separately, why?” “Um, no reason, just that he knows.”

Tom made eye contact with you through the mirror and wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “Knows what?”

“About us. I mean, us sleeping together, that is.”

Tom turned back around to face you properly again. “You told him?”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, nervously, wondering if he was actually upset. “Not exactly,” you said hesitantly. “He saw my neck and uh,” you lifted your shirt slightly to show Tom the waistband of his briefs you were still wearing.

“Are those mine?” he asked, not being able to hide a grin of what looked like pride.

“Who else’s?”

“I don’t know what kind of shady men you’ve been hanging around,” Tom quipped snarkily, keeping his eyes trained on your midriff, not even pretending he wasn’t enjoying it.

“Just the one,” you said pointedly and rolled your eyes. “And he’s a dumbass.”

Tom scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”

You pulled your shirt back down, not missing the way Tom’s eyes traveled up and down your body.

“For fucks sake, my eyes are up here, Tom,” you mumbled with a soft smile, not able to commit to being mad about it when you looked at his flushed cheeks and pink lips. “Never thought I’d have to say that wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

“You’re not wearing a bra either,” he said, dumbfounded, and not paying attention to a word you said. “Fuck, what is it, my birthday?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Can you keep it together, Holland? You do know that suit is skin tight, right?”

“I’m trying my best, but you’re making it so hard!”

“Pun intended?”

“Oh fuck off, y/l/n,” he groaned, taking a step away from you to gather himself and his thoughts. “Was Harrison mad?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted. “He thinks we’re being irresponsible.”

“We are being irresponsible,” Tom agreed, taking two steps forward and kissing you suddenly as if to prove a point. You were tempted to kiss him back, he smelled so good, and even if you couldn’t admit it to yourself, seeing him swing around in the spiderman suit did things to you.

You pulled away. “You’re going to get us caught!”

“Would that be so bad?” Tom asked, lazy grin playing at his lips.

“Yes! I’m already skating on thin fucking ice, I’d be so fired.”

“Wait, why?” Tom asked. “Did you do something?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you brushed it off, not wanting to get into how you accidentally told everyone you’d had a sex dream about him. It would only inflate his ego even more, which was the last thing you needed.

“If we get caught, then we’ll just have to pretend that it’s not just sex and that we’re madly in love.”

“That would never work, no one would believe us,” you said miserably, not noticing the way Tom frowned.

“Did Harrison say anything else?”

“No.” Not anything that Tom needed to know, anyway. Blurred images of Harrison laying on the bed next to you last night, gazing into your lost eyes with his own confident, yet distant ones filled your mind.

“But you told him not to tell anyone, right?” Tom looked at you expectantly. “Y/n? You did tell him not to tell anyone, right?”

“I figured it was implied?” you said weakly.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he said, sounding more panicked than you expected and his face growing red and blotchy.

You tugged on the scrunchie in your hair anxiously. “I- it slipped my mind! I had a lot to deal with, by myself. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Are you blaming this on me now?”

“I’m not not blaming it on you,” you said honestly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Tom stared at you incredulously. “Can we please not do this right now?” he begged and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We have bigger problems to handle.”

“I don’t get what the big deal is, Tom. He’s our friend.”

“Y/n, I love Harrison, but you know he can’t keep his mouth shut. We both had to learn that the hard way.”

“He wouldn’t tell anyone, he knows what could happen!” you assured him. You wanted to reach out and rub his shoulder, but you were afraid he’d shrug you off.

“Yeah, except for maybe my brother!”

“Shit.”

You tore out of the tent first, before Tom got the chance, breaking into a full on run for the second time that day. You could feel him on your heels, though, gaining on you with every second.

The sun was blinding, making it harder to pick people out of the crowd. You frantically looked around for a head of blond hair or red hair or both. No one batted an eye as you ran past them, nobody paid much attention to you usually anyway, but you saw heads turn as they clocked Tom running after you and realized they probably thought he was chasing you, which would have been laughable in any other circumstance.

You could feel sweat gathering on your brow and the back of your neck, making your shirt stick to your skin and hair curl at the ends. You hadn’t even been on set for an hour and you already felt like you needed a shower.

As you started to fall behind Tom you realized it would have been easier to find them if you had split up, but upon spotting a lanky boy with a shock of bright red hair you knew it didn’t really matter in the end anyway.

As it turned out, Harry and Harrison were together, huddled by one of the cameras on standby, talking about something you couldn’t hear, but knew immediately when you saw the smug look on Harry’s face from a distance.

You and Tom reached them at the same time, both out of breath and gasping for air. You were worse off, doubled over with hands on your knees hoping you weren’t about to have an asthma attack. Tom looked like he’d just finished a light jog. His face and neck were flushed and he was breathing hard, but his curls were still in place and he’d barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile you could only imagine you looked like someone who’d had to crawl across the finish line at a marathon even though you’d run the same distance.

“You just couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?” Harry asked, looking at Tom with a smirk.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Haz?” Tom groaned, expressing exactly what you would’ve said if you had the capacity to speak.

“I figured he already knew!” Harrison said defensively, and to your surprise a little angrily.

“No one knew!”

“He’s your bloody brother, mate! How was I supposed to know?”

Tom put a hand to his forehead, taking a minute to compose himself. “You were just supposed to keep your mouth shut!”

“I mean it was only a matter of time anyway,” Harry spoke up, coming to Harrison’s defense.

“What do you mean?” you asked having finally regained your breath enough to contribute to the argument.

“Please don’t tell me I’m the only one who’s noticed Tom following you around like a puppy these past few weeks.”

“Harry, I’m going to kill you,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“If I had to watch you gaze at her longingly from across the room with those stupid eyes of yours without doing anything about it one more time I was going to throw myself off the Empire State Building,” Harry said with a look of accomplishment only an asshole younger brother could have.

You saw the embarrassed flush creep up from Tom’s neck to the tips of his ears and tried not to laugh as Harry easily dodged Tom lunging for him.

You grabbed Tom’s shoulder and pulled him back to keep him from tackling his little brother to the ground. To your surprise, he relaxed under your touch and took a step back, even though he was obviously still fuming.

“Okay, can we at least establish that this is a secret that stays between the four of us going forward?” you asked, looking around the small circle of boys.

They all gave you looks like it should be obvious, but nodded anyway and you relaxed a little. This was your fucking life now.

Your pager buzzed, alerting you that the makeup artist had finally arrived at the tent, but Tom was nowhere to be found.

“Tom, we have to go,” you said, breaking the silence. “You need to get ready for the rest of the scene, they’re waiting.”

Tom followed you as you walked, deep in thought. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing as you- that what you were doing together was dangerous. That much was clear from the conversation you’d just had.

“Tom-”

“This was a bad idea,” he said, cutting you off. “We should have never slept together. I shouldn’t have let myself...” he trailed off.

You pursed your lips at what he was implying, thinking maybe he was right, but not wanting him to be. In reality, your relationship was too complicated, too entangled, to ever be more than handler and actor. But somehow every time he looked at you you were reminded of the way his laugh filled the whole room, the way his hands felt on your body, and all of the little moments together that led up to now.

Half of you wanted to laugh. Your acquaintances with benefits deal- if that’s even what you could call it- hadn’t even lasted forty-eight hours.

You stopped walking and stood in front of him with your arms crossed, looking at the ground. “Should we end it?”

Tom didn’t answer right away, and you hated yourself for the way your heart felt heavy in your chest. Hated yourself for being stupid enough to think you could handle a casual fling without getting emotionally attached.

You looked back up at Tom finally, thinking this was it, this was the end, but was surprised to see a glint of determination in his eyes.

“No, I’ll see you in your room tonight.”

Tom kept his promise and showed up outside your hotel room promptly at ten-thirty with two quick raps on the door. You unlocked and opened it to see him standing in the hall wearing pajama pants and holding a six-pack of wine coolers. He held it up with a proud smile, pausing to admire the way the way you looked, even though you were just wearing the same pajamas you had always worn in Italy.

“This feels like high school,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh as he placed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and slid past you into your room.

“Oh?” he asked, not hesitating to set the wine coolers on the dresser and pop one open. “And what kind of girl was y/n y/l/n in high school?”

You gave him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “None of your business.”

Tom came back the next night, and the next, and the next, never empty handed, never staying long afterwards. Leaving you satisfied, yet also somehow lonely in the hours that followed. Trying to fall asleep in the empty hotel room alone was a bigger task to take on than one might think. Every time as Tom was getting dressed you tried to make conversation, tried to get him to stay for just a few minutes longer, but he always ended up leaving.

The sex was good, sure, there was no denying that, but you wished that just once he would stick around and hold you until the both of you drifted off, naked, limbs tangled together, dead to the world until you were both bathed in sunlight in the early hours of the morning. You knew it was too much to ask. He had made your arrangement very clear, at least that’s the way you remembered it, and the way he was always in such a rush to leave made you think there wasn’t a chance in hell of it ever happening anyway.

Perhaps the most embarrassing part of it all were the “you up” texts shamelessly sent to you in the middle of the night that you responded to every time. Tom knew you weren’t asleep even when it was late and he knew how good he gave it to you and he wasn’t afraid to use the information to his advantage.

More than once you found yourself doing the walk of shame from his hotel room to yours at two, three in the morning, wearing the crumpled clothing you’d shown up in, trying to not to make any noise or run into any other cast or crew members who might also be up at that hour. Was it humiliating? Yes. Were you going to stop doing it? Unfortunately, no. The bright smile Tom gave you when he opened his door to see your face was motivation enough, even though it was completely pathetic.

“Are you hungry?” Tom asked, watching you pull on your flannel pajama pants and black sweatshirt from his bed. The week was almost over and you had started ending up in his bed (a few hours after he had been in yours) more nights than not.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Is anything even open at 2am?”

“We’re in New York City,” he reminded you “something’s gotta be.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

“Great! Let’s go!”

There was that smile again. The one that had you completely whipped. No wonder you could never say no to Tom.

“Wait, are we going in this?” you asked, looking down at your pajamas.

“Why not?”

And that’s how you ended up in the middle of Times Square at two am wearing your pajamas with Tom Holland. Tom was shocked to see that no one paid him any attention, even with his hood down. No one cared about him or you and you could tell he was ecstatic about it. He watched in awe as pedestrians passed you by, not even giving a second glace to your pajamas. It was New York City, you weren’t even the only two in pajamas on that specific corner.

All of the lights and billboards were a little overwhelming, but you liked the way they illuminated the boy in front of you dozens of different colors like some sort of indie movie.

“Do you know of any good places to eat?” Tom asked as you started walking in a random direction.

“What?” You stopped in your tracks. “You’re the one who suggested we go get food!” you cried in disbelief.

“Because I’m hungry!”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“So I keep hearing,” he said with a cheeky grin, pink light reflecting off of his face.

“Uh, we could always find the nearest Waffle House,” you suggested. “They’re open twenty-four/seven.”

“I’ve never been,” Tom said indifferently.

“You’ve never been to Waffle House?” you nearly screeched.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a staple of American culture!”

“That’s not as good of a selling point as you think it is, y/n.”

“We’re going.”

“Google says the closest one is four miles away.”

You shrugged. “We’ll take the subway.”

“You’re set on Waffle House aren’t you?”

“You asked if I knew any good places to eat, this is a good place to eat. I’m doing you a favor, Tom, trust me.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrendered. “C’mon, I’m starving.”

You dragged Tom to the nearest subway station and bought the both of you tickets, despite Tom’s insistence that he buy them. You inserted your credit card into the machine before he even pulled out his wallet. You snooze you lose.

“I’m just a booty call, Tom, not your girlfriend,” you reminded him. “I can pay for us.”

He bit his lip at that, looking like he wanted to argue, but ultimately letting it slide.

The two of you stared at the map of Manhattan with all of the routes on it for an embarrassing amount of time, trying to figure out which line would get you closest to the diner, before finally agreeing Q would make the most sense so you didn’t have to switch trains.

“How obvious is it that we’re tourists?” Tom whispered in your ear once you were standing on the platform together.

“Overwhelmingly.”

The platform was mostly empty, save the couple deep in conversation and group of drunk friends egging each other on to lick the tiles on the wall a ways down from you.

Since it was late, the trains weren’t coming as often leaving you sitting on a bench talking to Tom about everything and nothing for almost twenty minutes. You rested your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you, listening to you ramble about the different things on the Waffle House menu for ten minutes straight without interrupting.

When your subway finally pulled into the station, you and Tom were the only ones from the platform getting on, leaving the strangers you’d felt an odd sort of connection to behind.

The car was also relatively empty, giving you plenty of options for seating. There was a woman asleep towards the back, and a young family of vacationers on the other side, looking exhausted out of their minds.

You were following Tom to the back of the car where he seemed to be aiming for when you felt the train lurch forward, catching you off balance and sending you flying into Tom, who caught you with his body. You both fell onto one of the open benches with a loud thud, you hitting your head on the window on the way down.

“Steady,” Tom said, looking up at you with a lopsided smile. He was gripping your hips firmly to make sure you wouldn’t go flying anywhere else. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he assured you, letting go so you could sit up. “I guess we’re sitting here.”

“I guess so.”

Tom stared out the window and you watched over his shoulder as dark shapes flew past, unable to make anything of them. Stops passed and you kept track of everyone to who got on and who got off, though most of the time neither happened.

“I’m convinced the subway system exists alternate universe,” Tom said suddenly with a shake of his head. “There’s no way that something with this sort of... odd energy exists in any sort of reality.”

“It’s the only possible explanation,” you agreed. “How different is it from the tube?” You tried to use somewhat of a British accent at the end, only to be met with a look of horror from Tom.

“Please never try that again,” he pleaded.

You laughed. “You didn’t like that?”

“Not at all.”

You tried again. “What ‘bout this?”

“What the fuck was that supposed to be?”

“Australian!”

“Really? Because it just sounded offensive.”

“Offensive to who?”

“Anyone who has ears!”

You shoved him playfully and let him attempt to teach you about the different accents he’d learned in school. He was really good at most of them, but he was having a hard time teaching you, which only frustrated him and made you laugh.

You were so caught up in conversation, that you nearly missed your stop, only noticing when the electronic voice repeated herself for the second time. You jumped up from your seat and yanked Tom off the train, leading him all the way up the stairs and out onto the street. You hadn’t even realized you were holding hands until he interlaced his fingers with yours more firmly, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand as you walked.

“Are you ready?” you asked him once you were standing in front of the brick building with the bright yellow roof. “I’m about to take your Waffle House virginity.”

He made a face. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You were seated in a matter of seconds and having your drink order taken by a sweet Southern sounding woman as soon as you slid into the booth.

“I’ll have a sweet tea, please,” you asked.

“Coffee for me,” Tom said with a smile. He looked back at you once she was gone. “I can’t believe you drink sweet tea.”

“What, why?”

“It’s disgusting.”

“Says the boy who puts milk in his tea.”

“That’s how you’re supposed to do it!”

“Whatever, I’m not having this conversation with you,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’ll just have to try mine when it comes.”

“Deal.”

Your waitress came back with your drinks and promptly took your orders, yelling them to the cooks behind her at the griddle as you spoke. You ordered hash browns with cheese and ham and Tom ordered a chocolate chip waffle.

“Okay here,” you said and pushed your glass towards him. “You said you’d try it.”

Tom took the cup from you and brought it to his mouth, sipping from the side, and gagged dramatically when he tasted it. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

You shook your head. “You’re wrong. That’s the only acceptable answer.”

“I’m not going to fight you on this, you seem really passionate about it,” he said with a chuckle.

“Smart boy.”

Tom smiled and rested his hands on the table, frowning when he felt it. “Is it just me, or is our table kind of sticky?”

“They all are,” you assured him. “Everything is. It’s part of the charm.”

He picked his hands back up and settled them in his lap instead. “Right. Charm.”

“Stop being a baby and try to have fun,” you hissed. “This waffle’s going to change your fucking life.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“That waffle changed my fucking life,” Tom sighed on the subway ride back to the hotel.

“Not gonna say I told you so, but-”

“I think you just did.”

“Whatever, can’t you just admit I was right?”

“Fine, you were right. It was good. I had fun.”

You smiled. “I had fun too.”

He wrapped his arm back around you as you settled into your seat, full, happy, and increasingly sleepy.

You hadn’t even realized you’d drifted off until Tom was gently shaking you awake, telling you that it was your stop. You let him half lead you, half support your weight as you made your way off the train and up the stairs back into Times Square.

You were too tired to talk and so was he, so you just leaned on each other more or less putting one foot in front of the other until you were in the elevator at the hotel.

“Oh shit, I left my pager in your room, can I grab it?” you asked, remembering that you had set it aside before letting Tom take off your shirt.

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded and stifled a yawn, making you smile.

The room was exactly how you’d left it, sheets a mess, pillows on the floor. Tom helped you search for your pager through piles of clothes and paperwork until he finally found it on top of one of the pillows that had been thrown to the side.

“Thanks,” you said with relief, reaching out to grab it.

He closed his hand over yours as you grabbed your pager from his palm, making you jump.

“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” he asked, eyes soft and inviting.

“What?” you asked, not completely sure if he’d said what you thought he’d said.

“Stay. Please?”

fun fact: something like that actually happened to me on the subway where the train started moving and I fell into some random guy’s lap but it was much, much worse than this lmao. I hope you guys liked this part it was fun to write!! lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

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