You spent the next few days in a Tom Holland Internet hole. The things you could find on this kid! First you hit IMDB and checked out all his work. It was so odd seeing press photos from red carpet premieres. He looked like a stranger to you, so polished and polite in his interviews. You supposed that's a performance in itself. But it was all so odd.
Then you headed over to Instagram and just about lost your damn life. Tom had so many videos posted of himself flipping and jumping and practically soaring through the air.
"Christ, he really is Spider-Man," you marveled. You've never seen him do any of this. You had no idea he was so acrobatic. Well...you kind of had an idea, you thought smirking.
Maybe it wasn't the best idea to cyberstalk your boyfriend (Not boyfriend, you reminded yourself) for hours on end, but it had to be done. This was a big part of his life and hopefully so were you. You'd have to find some balance and try to find a way to exist in that world. But don't think for a second you'll ever be a part of it. That's a sure fire way of losing yourself.
Finally, come Saturday morning, you got a text from Tom that he was back on British soil. You would see him soon. You'd be able to kiss him, to touch him, to feel those arms around you. Those fucking arms. It was enough to make you float about your flat like an idiot.
You put in your earbuds and started blasting some music while you tidied up the place. It may be time to put some stuff on the walls, you thought, looking at the blank canvas that was your home. And a coffee table would be nice. Actually, the whole place could use some love. Were you ready to give it love, finally? Are we still talking about the flat?
You smiled and suddenly were grabbed roughly from behind and lifted off of the floor. You screamed and slammed your elbow back, then threw all of your weight onto the floor, grabbing the intruder's arm and flipping him onto the floor.
"What the fuck...," Tom laid there, groaning, holding his side where you elbowed him.
You plucked your earbuds out and rushed over to him, kneeling down.
"Oh my god I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. It was a reflex. Are you okay?" you planted kisses all over his face.
He laughed, then winced, "What the fuck? You're like Jason Bourne with tits."
You laughed and stood to help him up, but he pulled you back down to him.
"No, come back here," he grinned that cheeky goddamn grin of his. How you missed it!
You curled up next to him on the floor and put your head on his chest. His heart was racing in your ear. You closed your eyes and listened, breathing in his scent. He always smelled so fucking good.
"I really am sorry. I didn't hear you come in and you startled me and like, I'm a girl from New York, so we start self defense classes pretty young," you laughed softly into his chest.
Tom held you tighter and kissed the top of your head.
"You're a little scary, Y/N, I'm not going to lie. But I think the idea that you could kick my ass is actually a turn on," he said, laughing.
You lifted your head to look at him. You wanted to drink him in. All those photos you picked at and prodded over didn't even come close to having those big brown eyes twinkle at you, or those lips smile at you or those arms around you.
You leaned in to kiss him deeply, pouring all your longing from the last three days into it. Only three days, you thought. What happens when it's longer? Enough of that for now. He was back and he was yours.
You broke the kiss and whispered in his ear.
"Welcome home, Tiger."