Tom Holland Imagines

Incognito

So I can't resist...you're getting a chapter but it isn't Spider-Prince because that shit's special. Inspired by Tom's trip to Gregg's...

"I want a sausage roll," Tom whined to you, sinking into a barstool at the kitchen island. "Fancy a trip to Gregg's?"

"Pandemic, Tom," you replied, coming up behind him and resting your head on his shoulder. "But yeah, get me a jelly donut, too."

"What does the pandemic have anything to do with it?" Tom groused. He was clearly in a bad mood. Hangry, probably.

"Your fans will go bat-shit crazy and swarm you."

"Stoking his ego, now, are we?" Harry smirked coming around the corner. "I'd be careful, YN, wouldn't want that super-sized head of his to get any bigger."

"Fuck off!"

"I thought you were working on your anger...and happiness, Tom."

"Doesn't count if Harry's being a dick."

"Language!"

Tom banged his head against the counter. "Fucking hell. I'm leaving."

Tom slid off the stool and wandered over to the foyer. "YN, wanna come with me?"

"The fans would go even bat-shit crazier, Tom! Can't have wild accusations going around about you and your secret lover, now, can we? Don't forget the donut!"

"What about disguises? Like, hat? Sunglasses? Fake mustache? The toupee from Cherry? It's around here somewhere! Come on, it'll be fun. I don't have anything to do until January. That's like...seven months away. What am I gonna do?"

After a lot of arguing, you came around to it. Donning a stick-on handlebar mustache, sunglasses, a--shocker--not golf-related hat,  joggers, and a Beatles t-shirt, Tom looked ...well...actually pretty much the same.

"We could make you look like a girl?"

"Whoat?" Tom shrieked, instantly raising a hand to his head.

Skinny jeans, a blouse, shoes. We're the same size anyway."

"Or a skirt? Perhaps a dress?" Harry grinned wickedly.

"Let's not give me a heart attack, please," Tom grimaced, but you could see in his eyes that the idea of the skirt or dress was a bit more...freeing...in certain areas.

"Makeup, obviously. Your jawline is pretty sharp, so we'd probably have to get around that by doing a bit of reverse contouring, not that I know much about that. But like...hiding the sharp edges? Is that even a thing? Probably not...forget what I said."

"I'm not sure if I like this," Tom whispered with tight lips.

"Just wear my trousers and I'll pick you out a shirt," you replied, rolling your eyes and dragging him toward the stairs. Once you were in your room, you tossed a pair of light blue jeans at him and started rifling around for a top.

"What sort of look are we going for?" you muttered to yourself, holding up a garishly pink floral blouse. The look on Tom's face was priceless.

"No, no, absolutely not. I'm not wearing that...thing!" he all but shouted.

Laughing, you tossed it at him anyway. "Tough luck."

"If I didn't love you, I think I'd hate you," Tom huffed, accepting the shirt. He lifted his Beatles tee off and replaced it with the blouse. "As much as it shames me to say we're the same size, I'm not sure if these jeans going to fit."

"They're stretchy. Don't worry. You have skinny hips."

"Right..." Tom fell quiet as he got dressed. "Darling, how am I supposed to wear this shirt?" He held up the blouse like it was a torture device, and you rolled your eyes.