Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines

Get up | T.H

Summary: Toms entire life is skating, it's all he knows. So what happens when he manages to get injured during training for one of the biggest events in his career and you're there to see the entire thing?

Words: 1983

Warnings: Injury, a broken ankle. I may not be correct with all of my information – this was just a small wee concept I bought up to my group chat and with help from then, we created this.

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For fifteen years Tom had been skating.

There was nothing he knew better then the smell of freshly shaved ice beneath his skates and bitter, cold fingertips after a good session. He had come to welcome the feeling, that as well as icy blue lips. There was no sound the brunette had memorised as well as he had the Zamboni – the roar of the machine coming to life was like music to his ears.

When he was ten he took his first step on the ice, wearing the smallest pair of skates he'd ever stuff his poor feet into and a thick pair of woollen gloves over two hands as well as a bomber jacket. When he turned fifteen he got a job at the rink, serving food to the customers for free sessions. He would hand out the buttery popcorn and cups of soda for six hours a day for a portion of money slapped into his palm and a weekend lesson.

He'd hardly stepped off since.

And on the ice was where he'd met you.

He had watched on in adoration from his spot at the cafeteria, eyes wide and filled with adoration as you performed all types of tricks without fail – well, every now and then you'd slip and land on your butt but he didn't laugh like the rest of the girls in your squad. Tom was one to take notes and learn from others mistakes.

He introduced himself the following year and you clicked. You walked to training together until Toms career got more serious. Even then, you walked with him to training. You rode with him to competitions. You hyped him up when he put his name down for the trials of what would be the biggest event of his career.

You stole each other's clothes when you felt like it and slept in each other's beds.

You became platonic soulmates. Inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

Tom skates freely, the blades on the bottom of his skates hissing as they meet the ice. Every now and then he does a jump, becoming airborne for a second before he hits the rink again with a heavy thud and every time he's successful, hitting the ground without so much as a single mistake he smiles.

His heart is beating in his ears, adrenaline thick and coursing through his veins and Tom is reminded once more of just why he spends his days skating. It was worth the ugly blue and purple bruises that sometimes painted his feet and the blisters that'd cause him to (rarely) hiss in pain as he peeled his skates off.

That was only on the bad days – or the days where he had to break in a new pair of skates.

"Tom! Watch the footing on that one," His trainer calls, correcting his form. The man was scary with often pursed lips and a hard stare but Tom knows he means well and beneath layers of bitterness and the occasional jealoisy, he had a heart of gold.

Tom immediately straightens up, silently promising to do better next time.

He hardly notices that he's tired. So goddamn tired. Maybe he'd slept three hours last night, possibly four. And maybe he'd been on the ice since six am. The bags beneath his eyes are hardly noticeable beyond the genuine, beaming grin that crosses his features every time he meets your eyes. Getting Tom off the ice would be like telling a puppy it's time to leave the dog park.