tom holland + peter parker

whipped fries H.H.

request: hi!! can you do a blurb for harry h and the reader and the boys go to a pub quiz and they're on the last question and shes the reason they win and harry brags about it all night

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"Guys, it's the last question!"

"Correction," Tom almost slurs his words in response to Sam's statement. He's had quite a few beers. "This is the question we need to get correct to win the game."

"Thanks, div." Harry throws a crisp at his older brother, and Tom sticks his tongue out in an attempt to catch it. He fails, and the deep-fried snack hits him smack on the forehead. You burst into a fit of giggles.

"C'mon, pay attention," Harrison whines, brows pulled together almost in an annoyed expression. "I don't want this to be the fifth weekend in a row where the regulars lose."

"We're not gonna lose." Harry beams, arm wrapped around you securely, warm hand low on your back.

"Oh yeah?" Harrison eyes the redhead. "And why's that?"

"Because I've got my lucky charm here." He smiles at you, and you look down into your lap, flushed and embarrassed at the affection. The reality is, you're easily flustered at the amount of love Harry shows you. He loves it though, and uses that against you at any chance he can take.

"Gross." Harrison scrunches his face up, and Tom does the same.

"Yeah, barf guys."

"Nothing wrong with lovin' your girl a little!" Tom tilts in his head in response, and Harry turns to Sam for help. "Tell them!"

"Ah, leave the lad alone. He can't help being obsessed with Y/N." He chuckles, lips connecting with his glass while he takes another sip of beer.

"I believe this obsession is merely me in love."

"Well then, write it on a billboard or something."

You feign a look, holding back your laughter, and Harry turns to you with a "can-you-believe-these-divs" expression.

"Are we ready for the last question of the night?" The man with the microphone brings everyone back in for the final query, and with a number of cheers and small head nods, he's reading the question out.

"What was the blue drink that Robert Downey Junior and Jake Gyllenhaal drank in the 2007 mystery, Zodiac?"
Small murmurs go around the bar, everyone stuck in thought. Tom in particular has his brows furrowed together in concentration, being friends with Jake an all. He's almost over pressuring himself, not enough to distract him, but just enough.

Harry's hand continues its movement across your back, but it slows as he thinks. Suddenly, you perk up, grabbing the electric pen from Sam's hand and snatching the tablet to your corner of the booth.

Your fingers move swiftly while you digitally write the answer and hit submit just as the timer gives out it's first ring. You see the boys holding their breaths as they wait for the announcer to see who's just won the answer. Three tables are tied for the win, — yours included — and this question decides it all.

"The first and... only correct answer was submitted by table seven over in the corner." He points to you and the boys, and suddenly the tension is relieved. The boys are cheering, each of them high-fiving each other and you. You're smiling bashfully, and when you turn to look at your curly-haired boyfriend, he's beaming.

"Can I get a kiss, lovie?"

He bats his eyelashes dramatically, resulting in a laugh from you. You nod, hands connecting behind his neck while your lips connect. He hums into your mouth, deepening it, and you can hear the boys gagging already. Harry only smirks in response, hands moving from your waist to your cheeks.

He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away. Your eyes are still shut, mind and body in a state of bliss from the touch. You exhale, and Harry turns to face forward as if that was the most normal thing in the world. His hand returns to the small of your back, and suddenly you're brought back in the reality of Harry and the pub.

"What was the answer, anyways?" Tom nearly grumbles the question, a reaction that causes Harry to laugh.

"What? You're sour you couldn't find the answer to a question about your husband?"

"Shut up."

"Nah," he sticks his tongue out. "Because my girl won us the game, movie star." He nibbles his bottom lip, eying you again. You roll your eyes, leaning into his side and inhaling his familiar scent mixed with cologne.

"You're never letting this go, are you?"

"Nope."

"It wasn't even you who answered the question. Why're you flexing?"

"Because that's MY girlfriend. I'll flaunt the facts to anyone."

"God, get this boy some cream because he's whipped."

Another crisp is thrown, only this time at Harrison, and both him and Tom snicker at the reaction.

"Don't whip the fries!" You pout overdramatically before snatching a handful of them, dipping one into ketchup just as it reaches your mouth.

"Whip the fries?" Harry looks bewildered, but he laughs at how adorable you and your words are.

"You're throwing them around everywhere!"

"Well mate," Tom shrugs. "Looks like your girl ain't all that if she thinks we can whip fries."
Harry's palm connects with Tom's shoulder in a swift slap, something that makes you giggle. You sip a bit of Harry's beer, swallowing the potato snack before dipping another one in the red sauce.

"Whipped."