Tom Holland Imagines

Tropemas Day 9: Hurt Comfort

A/N: On the ninth day of Tropemas, my Author gave to me: Thomas with a fever, romance between kiddies, a suicidal uterus, total loss of memory, A BROKEN ELEVATORRRRRRRR! Cute pregnant couples, kids having coffee, Enemies-to-Lovers, and a cliche "One-Bed" storyyyyyy!

TOM'S POV: 

I'm not sick. I don't get sick.

"Tom, you're sick," Y/N insisted, folding her arms across her chest.

"I amb ndot!" I retorted, crosisng mine defiantly in a pouty mimick. But then my nose started to run again and I sniffled and I knew the jig was up. Okay, maybe I was sick. But only a little bit.

"You most certainly are, Thomas. Look at you...your eyes are all glassy and bloodshot, your nose is dripping like a leaky faucet and you're practically burning up!"

Was I? That didn't make sense, I was freezing. I was literally in a cold sweat.

"Y/N I'mb finde! See?" I tried to get up from the bed and immediately regretted my attempt to stand. The room began to spin and my legs felt all shaky. "Whoa..." I said stupidly as I fell back into the bed. Y/N only laughed at me.

"You're not fine. You're sick, like it or not, and I'm here to take care of you." She put her hands on her hips in an adorably resolute way. I rolled my eyes.

"You're gonnda get sick too, though!" I protested.

"I don't care."

"Finde. But don'dt mbake mbe take any of that disgustindg mbedicine." 

"You'll do what I like, Tom." Y/N laughed to herself as she left the room, muttering something about making me soup.

I flopped back onto the pillows, groaning and running a hand through my already messed-up hair. My skin ached. It hurt to breathe. Fine. I was sick, okay? 

I usually got one really bad cold once every two or three years. I joked that it was my immune system's way of running a system inspection. I'd known I'd be getting ill sooner or later, but I hadn't expected it now.

Y/N came back almost immediately with a bowl of chicken soup, a box of tissues, and some NyQuil. She set the tissues and medicine on the bedside table, sat down on the bed next to me and force-fed me soup for the next ten minutes. As much as I objected to her fussing, it was admittedly really endearing to have her so concerned about me. I don't know what I did in a previous life to deserve Y/N, but I must've done something right.

Just as I thought I couldn't possibly take any more of that horrible soup (it wasn't really horrible...Y/N is an excellent cook but my taste is always off when I'm ill), I sneezed a really horrible wet sneeze all over her face. And this is, perhaps, one of the things I love most about Y/N. Instead of yelling or laughing at me like I'm sure most other women would've done, she just sat there with her lips pursed intently, spoon frozen midair, and a look of amusement hiding in her eyes despite how hard she tried to keep it at bay.

She silently set down the rest of the soup and plucked two tissues from the box to the left...one she gave to me and the other she mopped her face with before tossing it unceremoniously into the trash.

"Sorry," I managed, trying and failing to hide my laughter. 

"It's okay, love," she chuckled.

"Hey, thandk you for takindg such good care of mbe, mby the way," I told her sincerely as she climbed over me and cuddled into my side on her side of the bed.

"What are girlfriends for?" she laughed, sighing deeply into my chest.

"You're really the mbest onde a guy could ever ask for, you kndow." I played with her hair a little bit.

"Nah," she responded, "I just love you." 

And then, suddenly...almost as quiet as a baby kitten:

"Atchoo!"

A/N: Sorry for the late update, darlings! Every year I read one Harry Potter book over again before my birthday and I realized too late that I didn't do that this year so I'm trying to speedrun the Order of the Phoenix in two days before my birthday and didn't get around to this until late.

I think this might be my favorite so far, though! Let me know what you think?