Y/N

I told myself three things when I first hooked up with Tom Holland. 1) Never again, 2) Only when drunk and 3) Never stay the night. I had now broken two of these rules. I had invited myself to his house, we'd slept with each other pretty much as soon as we got inside, then again in the shower straight after. We'd done a few other little things after that, in the bedroom, the couch, the kitchen bench - God what is wrong with us? Why are we acting like animals? He knew my rule of never staying over, so when I didn't start getting dressed and heading out like usual, he didn't dare say anything. It was late now, I was in a pair of his tracksuit pants and a t-shirt, both of us sitting on the couch in silence. A comfortable silence.

He suggested a bunch of local takeaway food places, asking what I felt like. I shrugged and he rolled his eyes.

"Why do women suck at picking places to eat?" He groaned, tossing the TV remote into my lap and asking me to pick something to watch.

"Why am I making all the decisions," I whined, leaning my head on the back of the couch looking at him. "Why don't we just get an Uber down to Mulholland and walk until we find something to eat, then bring it back here?" I suggested, Tom squinting at me.

"What is with you all of a sudden, you've fucked me sober at my house and now you want to get food in public with me, are you feeling okay? Are you sick?" He said laughing, resting the back of his hand on my forehead before I pushed it away.

"I've decided that if I'm sleeping with my co-star, I may as well force myself to get to know him, it'll make the press tour a lot easier" I sighed.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't completely anxious walking through one of Los Angeles' busiest streets with Tom, wearing his clothes. It was night luckily and due to the pandemic we were wearing masks - pretty incognito if you ask me. No fans had come up to us so far, my hair was out and Tom was wearing a hat - again, pretty incognito.

"You're probably just in love with me now hey? That's why you're dick whipped and obsessed with me," he joked, nudging me with his shoulder and causing me to almost crash into a small child. I apologised to the mother and pushed him back, Tom cracking up at the fact I almost annihilated a kid on the sidewalk.

"Fuck off, you're the one who's always saying thirsty shit under your breath whenever we film saucy scenes," I laugh.

"See? Do we actually hate each other or is it just solid banter?" He questioned, prompting me to glare at him.

"Maybe I hate you a little less, but I'm still not convinced you're such a saint"

We were sitting on the floor leaning against the end of the couch eating Mexican food. I had put on Spider-Man Homecoming, just to annoy Tom and he cringed at himself when it started.

"Oh god, I look like a baby," he whined, looking away.

"Ooft, Baby Tom has abs, wow!" I laughed, him rubbing his hands across his face from embarrassment.

"Next we're watching your movie and I'm going to roast the shit out of you too," he laughed, taking a bite of his burrito. He covered his mouth as he started talking with his mouth full.

"Hey, I work hard for those abs, especially back then," he reasoned, lifting his shirt and laughing. I nodded sarcastically,

"Oh yeah, you work so hard to stay in shape," I said tilting my head towards the burrito he was holding and the churros he insisted we also get.

We'd talked on and off throughout the movie, mostly him talking about specific shots and behind the scenes stories that popped into his head. He was kind of like a puppy; way too energetic all at once before falling asleep suddenly. He wasn't asleep yet, but the nap he had taken between scenes had given him an extra boost of energy.

"Daya looks so young here, aw this is where you guys first fell in love," I taunted, not realising it was a touchy subject to Tom still. He glared at me.

"Oh, you wanna open up that conversation? Okay, let's start with your ex shall we?" He said sharply, and so we did. We talked about our exes, all of the nitty gritty details leading up to the heartbreaks. Tom had cracked open a bottle of wine for this conversation especially, making me chuckle as we drank on the floor.

"So, you guys broke up how many times before actually calling it quits?" He asked me, after I had explained that Josh and I were always on and off since my career had taken off.

"He just sounds like a wanker, you need to date someone who knows what it's like to actually be in the spotlight all the time," he explained shrugging.

"But then at the same time, if you're both working all the time, then you're always in different time zones and ugh, dating just fucking sucks in our industry man," he laughed, sipping from his glass.

"Why do you think everyone just sleeps around then?" I laugh, holding my drink out.

"Cheers to that," he says clinking my glass.

We hooked up with each other here and there, not all the way to sex but a bit of foreplay. I hate myself, but at the same time, I really don't - it's not harming anyone and we were just two people having fun with a fiery burn of hate driving it.

We showered together afterwards, non-sexually. It felt just like a habit, as if we lived together and this was completely normal. I wasn't sure if I actually hated him anymore, today was kind of fun and he'd explained his side of the breakup with Zendaya which honestly made me just feel bad for the guy - he got treated like shit.

Tom got in bed in just underwear, me lying in underwear and one of his shirts. It was weird, not going home and actually spending the night with him. He had one arm around me, the other behind his head looking at the ceiling as I rested my head on his chest.

I woke up in an empty bed, Tom not next to me. Did I get walk of shame-d by someone in their own house? Normally the guest was the one who snuck out early in the morning. I sat up and stretched, checking my phone - no messages from Tom. Weird.
I wandered through the apartment - empty. As confusing as it was, I took this time to look around his house, a few family photos framed on shelves and souvenirs he had gotten from his time shooting the Marvel movies. He came upstairs jogging and caught me by surprise.

"Fuck, you scared me," I laughed, Tom pulling his headphones out, all sweaty from his run.

"Sorry, I left a note on the fridge whiteboard but I realised you wouldn't know that that's where I write shit down usually," he explained, sitting on the ground and starting to do crunches.

"What are you doing?" I laughed, watching him work out with no explanation.

"I do this every morning, can't keep up with this body if I don't," he said breathily, looking up the shirt I was wearing and the pants I wasn't wearing.

"I usually don't work out to this kind of view though," he smirked. I sigh and give him the finger, going to his fridge to see the note he had written.

"'I'm not avoiding you, I'm just on a run', really Tom?" I said laughing, his scribble on the whiteboard barely cohesive. He stood up, wiping his forehead of sweat and headed to the shower. I called out and said I'd head home, him coming out of the shower after two seconds in it, dripping wet and naked, giving me a quick kiss and saying he'd see me at work on Monday. His hair dripped water down my nose as I screwed my face and pushed him back toward the bathroom.

"You still smell like sweat", I laughed, picking up my things and walking to the door. He called out from the bathroom.

"And your breath smells horrendous!", referring to the insults we had said to each other the first time we met. Lame. Cheesy. Kind of cute. No, still lame.