Some Unholy War // Tom Holland

one

It was the graveyard shift at the diner, and the only people that came in at this time were the tweakers and those just getting off of their own shifts. It was almost two in the morning when Tom walked in.

He couldn't help but notice the tired sparkle in her eyes when she took his order. She swayed her hips a little when she got the coffee he asked for, the small white apron tied tight around her waist, the short blue and white dress left almost nothing to Tom's imagination. If it were up to her, Y/N would have dressed in more modest clothing, at least a dress that reached the middle of her thigh, and none of these stockings, because she found herself having to continuously pull them up throughout her shift.

"You ready to order, hun?" she smiled sweetly at the sweaty man in a hooded sweatshirt, who was sat at the the counter of the 24-hour diner.

"Uh, yeah can I get the eggs and ham combo?" Tom said, not looking at the woman stood in front of him.

"What kind of toast would you like with that?" She wrote down the order in shorthand, still smiling because that's what she was paid to do, smile and take orders.

"No toast, just fruit." He said with a head nod and handed her the menu.

"I'll get that right out, sweets."

Tom was almost dumbfounded at how nice she was being to him, usually he scared people away because of his bad attitude and aloofness.

"Whatcha doin' out so late?" She smiled at him, cleaning off behind the counter.

"Just finished up some training." He said shortly, looking down at his half-empty coffee cup.

"Training? This late at night? Are you training for a different time zone?" She giggled, resting her elbows on the counter in front of him, her chin resting on the backs of her palms.

"The gym is empty at this time, it's the best time to go without people following me with cameras and such." He says, taking a sip of the bitter, hot coffee. She looks at him sideways, straining her eyes, trying her hardest to see if she recognized him. "It's okay if you don't recognize me. What I do isn't for everyone. I'm Tom, Tom Holland."

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you Tom, but what is it you do?"

"I'm a fighter. Ultimate fighting, you know, anything goes except biting, eye gouging, and kicks to the crotch."

"Oh, yeah, no thanks, I'm a lover, not a fighter." She scrunches her nose a little at the thought of people fighting for fun.

"I can tell," Tom smiled at her and took the hood off of his head, he had a few bruises on his neck and his ears were swollen from the fight he participated in the night prior. She didn't say anything, however, she didn't want to call attention to the wounds that came with this dangerous sport, it wasn't her place to say anything about his safety, mostly because she'd only just met him. Tom found it endearing that she didn't say anything about the bruises, normally, that's the first thing people ask about. She felt heat rising to her cheeks and she looked down to try and hide her face from Tom's gaze when the bell at the kitchen window rang.

She quickly turned around to compose herself and grab the food in the window. She took a deep breath before plastering a smile to her face and turning around to set the plate of protein in front of Tom.

"Here you are, enjoy." She said simply, filling up his coffee while he scarfed down the three eggs in a matter of a minute.

When she came around to clean the stools around Tom, he couldn't help but notice the bruises on her legs and upper arm, and a scratch on the right side of her neck when the hair fell to her left shoulder. He didn't ask her about her bruises, because he thought it was only respectful given she didn't ask about his. He couldn't stop himself from thinking that maybe she was having a tough time, possibly financially, why else would she be working in a diner at two in the morning on a friday in a skimpy outfit?