Tom Holland ❖ imagines

christmas matchmaker

third person
warnings: maybe language, lots of fluff
word count: 2,360
8:46 pm | caught under the mistletoe

It smelled like home.

Warm, especially where the fire was going and in the steam coming from every mug of hot chocolate. Comfortable, especially where the Christmas lights glittered against pine leaves and the cashmere blankets strewn across the couch. Familiar, in the laughter coming from every room and every welcoming smile.

"(y/n)! I'm so happy that you made it," a voice called out. You turned to the kitchen, seeing your friend Harrison with a plate full of hot chocolate mugs. You were surrounded by friends, the music just low enough for conversations to carry but loud enough for you to want to sing along. You smiled at him, and he offered you one of the hot cups. He gave you a wink. "It's spiked, I promise."

"Thank God," you breathed, cradling one between your palms as you gave him a hug. He placed a kiss against your head, nodding towards the living room.

"Well, go on, love," he chuckled. "This is a party for all my friends. They'll love you. I even have someone I want you to meet."

"To meet?" You wondered. Your heart fluttered a little. Not because you were excited, not because you wanted to, but because you were nervous. Meeting someone meant possible first dates, tricks, flirtatious smiles. You weren't ready; would you ever be?

"Yes, (y/n), I have someone for you to meet," Harrison chuckled. You bit your lip, uneasy now. Your foot was beginning to tap annoyingly against his hardwood floors, and he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Trust me. You will love him."

"How do you know that, Haz? The last guy I met caught his jacket on fire at the dinner table," you groaned. Harrison laughed beside you.

"I will never forget the look on your face when I had to pick you up from the hospital," he chuckled. You glared at him, taking a long sip of the hard hot chocolate. His blue eyes fixed on you as he shook his head. "Your face was covered in soot, you looked like rubbish!"

"Thank you, Harrison, for the reminder," you replied sarcastically. Harrison put the mugs down on the coffee table in front of him, greeting some of his guests before putting a hand on your lower back.

"Well, c'mon, love," he encouraged you. "He's in the kitchen."

"Haz, wait, I think I should just stay out here."

"Just say hello."

You took a deep breath as he led you through the doorway, the brightly lit kitchen in contrast to this mystery man's dark hair. You swallowed; he had his back to you, the sound of something popping open as a spray of bubbling alcohol splattered onto the floor.

"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered. Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, the familiarity of his body language becoming apparent to you. Harrison let go of your back to grab a rag, muttering under his breath at how clumsy this man was.

"Mate, this is who I wanted you to meet," Harrison said aloud. His dark hair followed him as he moved to face you, and your mouth gaped open. You dropped the mug in your hands, the cup cracking as it met the tiled floor. Harrison let out another curse, but you weren't listening anymore.

"Tom!" You cried. His face lit up so brightly, a smile breaking out onto his face. He was grinning so wide, his cheeks were already beginning to burn. You hopped over the spilled hot chocolate as Tom set down the bottle of champagne. You jumped into his arms, your legs around his waist as he caught your body and cradled it to his chest.