𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

Ten | Breakfast

Y/N

A MUSCULAR arm softly draped itself over my torso which woke me up to a frozen state of shock. Carefully turning my head quietly as to not rustle the pillowcase, I became face to face with none other than Tom Holland, in my bed, with me.

My breath hitched, my body froze even more than it already was and I turned my head ever so slowly back in case he woke up to me staring at him. I focused on trying not to let my chest or stomach move to much as I inhaled and exhaled, not wanting to wake him up.

Did we sleep together last night? Surely not, he just dropped me home and... Fuck I can't remember anything past us talking about golfing... I was wearing my pajama shirt which is a hopeful sign but he wasn't wearing a shirt. Was he wearing anything?

Once again, moving slowly and quietly, I pinched the edge of the bed covers to peek under, seeing both of us wearing our respective underwear. It was a nice sight to see on him besides the fact I felt deadly uncomfortable seeing him like this.

A part of me was relieved to see he wasn't naked. If he was in fact naked, then it definitely would have made me come to the conclusion we would have slept together. Fuck, what if we still did? What if I slept with Tom fucking Holland and I didn't even remember any of it. God, I would've been so bad too... I really hope for both his sake and mine, that we didn't.

Fuck, I'd lose my job.

He groaned and pulled my torso closer to him, his face now pressed up against my arm as he stirred. I don't know if he was still asleep and dreaming or if it was just muscle memory to pull whichever girl he slept next to closer towards him. Maybe he was just used to waking up to Zendaya?

"Tom," I whispered, poking his shoulder gently for him to simply grunt at me in return.

"Wake up," I whispered back, now making him wake up properly at the sound of my voice and retract his arm off me.

"Fuck I'm so sorry, old habits," he said rubbing his eyes and rolling onto his back as he yawned.

"Did we um... You know," I began to ask, hinting towards 'hey did we fuck last night' without explicitly saying it out loud.

"Sex? No, no, don't worry. The sun started to rise after we talked for like, ages and I just crashed the night here instead of walking back through the canals to a car. You offered to give me pajamas too but I was way too drunk to get undressed and then get dressed again," he chuckled, his voice husky and deep.

Which was really fucking hot.

"I um, should probably apologise for this. I would never have let myself get that drunk around a colleague, please don't tell anyone," I begged, only now coming to the realisation that this could affect my career.

"Shut up, it made you a hundred times better. Honestly I thought you were nice and stuff at work but now I know the real you and actually like, want to be mates with you. So don't ever apologise for being a chilled out person," he said shaking his head at me as he got out of my bed, walked across to the small bedroom and pulled a towel off the wall rack.

"Can I use this?" He asked, smiling at me from the doorway. I just nodded, trying not to get distracted from the thousands of thoughts flooding my head.

1) Tom Holland is in my house
2) Tom Holland is just in his underwear
3) Tom Holland looks hot in just underwear
4) Tom Holland is about to shower in my house
5) Tom Holland slept in my bed
6) Tom Holland wants to be my friend

He closed the door behind him and I laid in bed staring at the ceiling as I heard the water begin to run. I must be dreaming right? Why isn't he calling a car to quickly leave and regret coming here last night?

Putting pajamas pants on I decided that if he was so happy being 'chill' and 'normal' around me, he might want to stay for breakfast. If not, I need a solid greasy breakfast to cure this hangover. I pulled out a packet of bacon, a few eggs and other ingredients I found in my friedge that I could throw into scrambled eggs.

Tom is a gym junkie, would he even eat this? He'd eat eggs cos they're protein... Maybe I'll be the only one eating the bacon. Fuck, do I have any bread rolls? Sauce? Usually I work so late that I eat at the studio or order take out.

Luckily for me, I was able to whip up a semi-impressive breakfast in my dreary hungover state. The water stopped running and I looked at myself in the reflection of my stainless steel refrigerator, fixing my bed hair slightly and rubbing off the leftover mascara from under my eyes.

"God that smells so good! You reckon you have sweatpants that might fit me? I don't want to be wearing the same stuff from last night," Tom said coming out of the bathroom and eventually into the kitchen; with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I- Yeah, I should have something baggy or uh, yeah something big that could fit you," I managed to cough out, shuffling past him out of the tiny kitchenette and searching through my drawers.

"You can wear these," I said holding them out, my arm completely straight as I tried to put distance between us. He had taken the metal tongs from the kitchen counter and attended to the food whilst I was gone, which was actually kind of helpful.

7) Tom Holland is naked a metre away from me
8) Tom Holland looks hot with wet hair
9) Tom Holland is wearing my clothes

"Cheers darling," he smiled, flipping a piece of bacon in the pan before he took the pants from me and headed out of the kitchen.

10) Tom Holland called me darling

I scraped the eggs onto two plates and served a decent amount of bacon pieces on both before carrying them out of the kitchen.

"Outside?" I asked timidly, seeing Tom lying on my bed on his phone, wearing no shirt and my tracksuit pants.

"Yeah, easy," he said jumping up to his feet and offering to carry the plates for me, I thanked him and told him I'd grab some juice for us. He called out from the small courtyard asking if I had any Panadol for the hangover and I laughed, popping a few pills into my hand before carrying the glasses of juice out to him.

The courtyard was probably my favourite part of living with Magda. She would let me work up on the balcony to overlook the water, but the lower courtyard was where I could lounge in the sun and relax.

Whenever I actually had time off work to relax, which was pretty fucking rare.

"This is, exactly, what I need right now," he smiled, running his hand back and forth through his hair a few times to help dry it in the sun.

"Greasy food?" I laughed back.

"Don't forget a hot shower, panadol and the fact I'm not being watched by fans or paparazzi," he chuckled.