angel cake ♡ tom holland/sebastian stan/chris evans oneshots

Truant // Tom Holland

You're going to be surprised if your entire head doesn't implode by the end of the day. It aches like it's got a knife going right through it and you're so feverish you feel like you could be a new source of heat energy powerful enough to melt the ice caps; to put it simply, you feel like shit.

You groan when you sit up, watered down sun coming through the window too much for your head. You drag yourself - literally, using the bedside table to heave yourself upwards and the sill to haul your body closer - to the window and whisk the curtains closed. Tom is not in bed, which means he left for work, which means he's not here, which means you're alone.

Well, not quite.

The inhale you take before you weakly call for Sam is apprehensive and already pained; it is empathising with your head before it needs to empathise. You vocal chords scream and you groan again before you hear slow footsteps trudging down the hall.

"What's up?" He asks on entering, still knuckling sleep from his tired eyes. When he looks at you fully, his head falls to one side. "Are you sick?"

When you nod, he instantly leaves the room. You're a little confused; then he comes back with Tom on the phone and a bowl of cereal in his other hand. He holds the phone out to you and puts the cereal on the bedside table. You smile gratefully and press the phone to your ear, revelling in the coolness of the screen against your burning skin before you speak.

"Tom?" You ask meekly. A sigh of relief rushes through the speaker and eases the aches in your body more effectively than any drug could.

"Hi, baby," he replies gently, his voice soft and kind, "You're ill?"

After nodding like Tom can see you, you murmur a pained "Yeah," while Sam sits next to you and picks at his nails. Tom coos quietly.

"Baby." He drags the word out pityingly, empathising gently. You can hear the deliberation in his tone, though you aren't sure what he's deliberating over. After a second, he sighs. "I'm gonna go."

You blink at his bluntness, frowning even though it hurts your head, and hand the phone back to Sam.

"What did he say?"

"Baby, I have to go. That's it." You say. Sick though you are, you're more hurt by Tom than your body.

Sam blinks, then nods. "He's probably just stressed, or they needed him, or something. You know he wouldn't be like that with you on purpose."

You nod; he's right, of course, but worry now accompanies the stabbing pain sitting heavy in your stomach. Sam turns on a movie - Coraline, on the lowest volume setting - and brings you a glass of water before leaving you to your own devices, urging you to eat cereal on his way out.

You sigh quietly, tears dripping from your eyes before you ever realise that you had even teared up.

"Baby?"

And now Tom's arms are around you, his cool hands press your forehead, his whispered kindness soothes the pain.

"You're here." You mumble into his chest. He kisses the crown of your head and smiles comfortingly.

"Of course I am, my love. I can't leave you on your own while you're sick, can I?"

You smile gratefully and he kisses you again.

"Now what are we watching?"

~~~~~

it's been a while, sorry that i am unreliable little bitch :)

a request yay!

grr i want a boyfriend so baaaaad

like

i'm sixteen, i'm unstable, i'm a big tiddy goth girl (so says boys on the internet), i have daddy issues, i don't care if you don't even like me

i am a Dream Girl >:(

lmfao yeah no i take that back i very much am not gnnghntngngngnnt

all love,

viv x