Something Inspirational: A Tom Holland Fanfiction

Diner Boy

disclaimer: prompt taken from tumblr; all credit to respective owner for idea (idk who it was sorry). also, y/n will be gender neutral so all of tom's fans can enjoy.

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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He was supposed to be here an hour ago. There's only so many milkshakes I can order and drink before I get sick.

"Erm, excuse me, are you ready to order now?" I turn my head away from the window and look at the waitress. This is the seventh time she's asked that question. By now, everyone in the diner has taken notice how long I've been here by myself.

I reach for my wallet and pull a twenty out. "Actually I think I'm gonna g–" I'm cut off by a guy who slips into the seat across from me.

"Sorry I'm so late, darling." I notice his English accent and glance at him. The way he said 'darling' oh my god. "The traffic was awful," he says. "I'm Tom, just go with it, yeah?" he adds quietly. "We'll need a few moments," he says to the waitress. She lets out a quiet sigh and walks to another table. "Whoever stood you up is bloody insane," the boy says, taking a fry from my half eaten basket and popping it into his mouth. "I don't believe I caught your name."

"I'm Y/N," I respond, my gaze moving towards the window yet again. "Thanks, by the way."

"It's no problem, Y/N. So, what do you recommend here? I've never been before."

"Oh, you're actually staying?" I ask, a little surprised.

"Of course! Unless," he says, a bit more timidly,"unless of course you'd rather I didn't."

"No no no, you can. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all. Erm... they've got a lovely burger here. I usually get fries and a chocolate milkshake with it," I add, my eyes drifting to the three empty glasses and almost empty fry basket. "Though tonight I personally may just go for a salad."

And so, for the next few hours, Tom and I sit in that booth, him eating his burger and I, my salad, talking and laughing. Who knew Jake standing me up would end up to be so great?

"Y/N, we're closing in five minutes," Z, the owner, informs me.

"Okayyy," I respond. I grab the twenty from earlier and another to cover the salad and Tom's meal. I put them on the table and stack the plates to make it a little easier on Z. "Come on," I say to Tom.

He stares at the two twenties on the table. "I could have payed," he murmurs.

"Hey, you're the one who swooped in and saved me tonight. Besides, there's always next time," I say with a wink. I grab a napkin and a pen from the front counter. I scribble my number on it and hand Tom the napkin. "Maybe I'll see you around, Holland." After returning the pen, I walk out of the diner, leaving Tom behind. It's all up to him now.