Peter Parker & Tom Holland Imagines

the great war {t.h.}

Request by bellamagic22 on AO3

It's fine. It's gonna be fine. Today will get better. Please, just let it get better.

Between oversleeping my alarm, which made me late for work, which mean Tom, my celebrity boss almost missed his call time, the hot coffee spilled all over my shirt, and my charger breaking overnight leaving me at one percent after pulling off a miracle to get us through the security and health checks and get on set in time, it's been one hellish morning. It's taking pretty much everything to keep from crying and calling it a day the second we get though the bottleneck and onto set.

Tom is still the best boss ever through it all though. Every time I feel like I'm gonna fall apart, he finds a way to step in and give me a moment to sit down and breathe. It just doesn't stop the constant rushing around for my job.

"Tom? You almost ready?" I call as I step up in the trailer, making a mental note to remind maintenance about the lock still sticking. "I was supposed to have you in makeup like ten minutes ago, but my walkie isn't working, no one can find a spare, and my phone is still charging in here. It's only an hour in and it's been a day. So please, tell me you're ready to go."

"Sorry, love, but that's not exactly an option since the suit isn't here." Tom replies through the bathroom door.

"What do you mean it isn't here?!" I shout back as I begin to scramble to look for the very expensive costume that should have been here long before we even came to set. "Nina said she finished the fixes last night and her assistant dropped it off first thing."

"I don't know. I thought maybe it was still getting worked on so I went ahead and got ready to make things easier when it did."

It takes every ounce of my remaining sanity to not scream until I pass out. "It's okay. Just wait here, I'll go find out what's happening."

"Thank you. I owe you a fancy dinner after this."

"I'm holding you to that one!" I fiddle with my walkie in an attempt to get anything other than static and gibberish from it as I head out.

In the same breath as my foot hits the pavement, a feeling of bone chilling cold drenches and elicits a scream from me. All I can do is tremble and gasp for air for a second as my exhausted, stressed brain tries to process the split second events.

All I manage is a step and a preliminary shake of ice and water from my arms before someone runs into my back, their words lost in a stream of panic. His words are so fast and I'm still too frozen to understand any of it or to immediately realize it's Tom.

"Oh my god. What happened?"

"I don't know! All I did was—" I finally open my eyes. "Tom. Why—why are you wearing my robe?"

His eyes go wide as he looks down at himself in my silky robe. "I just—I heard you scream and this was all that was all I could find so quickly. Wait—if it's yours how did it get in the trailer?"

"I don't know!" I rush out in a panic. "Wait, you were waiting for the suit—you know what, never mind. Go back in the trailer while I go find out what's going on, and you owe me a new comfy robe."

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Well once you're done wearing it, keep it, burn it, I don't care. Just please, go back inside before someone sees you and fires me on the spot." I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to spend the next hour scrambling to find out what happened to the very expensive piece of clothing.

Of course, Luck just had to pick me to bully today, and I stop dead in my tracks as I hear the worst possible thing that could happen in this moment—the trailer's lock sticking.

"Did you try lifting up and over as you pull?" The words come out through a sliver of hope.

"Yeah, it's really stuck this time." Tom replies, and I let my head fall back with an exasperated sigh. My mental frustration begins to rage so violently I have to clench my fists to keep from screaming or crying.

That's when I hear it. I look at Tom, but it's not him. Still, I can clearly hear someone trying to hide their laughter. It takes me a moment to nail down the direction and assure myself it isn't an auditory hallucination before I take a step in their direction.

"Oh, shi—" mixed with a chorus of "go, go, go" echo as I round the corner to find Mackie and Seb trying and failing to sneak away.

"Let me guess, this—" I gesture to myself and over my shoulder to Tom, "had something to do with you two?"

"Well, we—" Mackie starts, but I hold up a hand.

"Nope. That was a rhetorical question. Here's the one I want you to answer—what else did you have planned for today."

"Well, for the record, we were planning for Tom to get the ice water—" Seb starts, but quickly withers as I level a glare at him. "Well, the robe, ice water, delayed costume, and trailer door were our fault."

"And we may have accidentally broke your phone charger when we snuck in to steal your robe." Mackie quickly adds, "But we already ordered you a new one as an apology."

I keep my expression colder than the water dumped on me as I continue, "And why exactly did you do all this?"

"Prank war." They both admit in sync, one proud, the other a little scared.

"Okay." I smirk, which makes both their expressions drop. "Bring it on."

"What?! No!" Mackie smacks Seb's arm with a, "Man, now we're screwed."

Although Seb just ignores him and turns to me, "Is this because of the water? We really meant for it to be Tom!"

I just shake my head, "Nope, it's cause you made one fatal error."

Tom steps up beside me, a grim, knowing look on his face, "It's caused they messed with your comfy robe, isn't it."

"No one messes with my comfy robe." I add with a nod. "Get ready, boys. Cause this means war."