Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

The Begining (smut)

It's a Saturday night and it's the first Saturday in a while that your roommate has had plans and you haven't so you're excited to just chill at your apartment alone. Your neighbors, who you're not friends with but are are neighborly towards, knock on your door in the early evening to warn you that they're having a party. They invite you to drop by, but you've been looking forward to this night by yourself, so there's no way you're gonna go. Usually you keep your apartment unlocked while you're in it because you're friendly enough with most of your neighbors on your floor and you're just not in the habit. Tonight though, since there will be a bunch of strangers on your floor, you decide it's best to lock it to keep any weirdos from wandering in the wrong apartment.

By the time midnight rolls around, you've finished rewatching season four of How I Met Your Mother and the party's been up and kicking down the hall for a good bit. You've been enjoying your night alone so much until you go to take the trash out to the trash chute on your hall and get back to find your door, of course, locked. Your key and your phone are both still inside the apartment, and you're wearing your roommate's pajama shorts with "wanna piece of this?" written on the butt and an old tattered grey sweatshirt with no bra on underneath. You groan in disbelief that you did this to yourself, and you sink down against the wall outside your door. You resign yourself to wait since there's really nothing you can do until your roommate gets back from her date except watch people go in and out of the door down the hall with music blasting out of it.

Twenty minutes later, you're sitting there with your head tilted back against the wall and your eyes closed when you hear someone ask "Are you alright?" in a British accent. You open your eyes to see a very cute guy with a beer in his hand walking towards you apprehensively.

"Oh, yeah, um, I'm fine. I just got locked out of my apartment, so I'm just sitting here waiting for my roommate to get home."

"Oh. When's your roommate supposed to be back?"

"Hopefully...sometime tonight?'

He laughs in an "oh no" sort of way and says, "Well you know, there's a party down the hall...you don't have to just sit here by yourself..."

"I don't think I have the proper attire on and I'm not really in a party mood at the moment, to be honest–"

"Good, because I was getting kind of sick of it myself," he says sinking down onto the floor against the opposite wall of the hallway.

In your head you're thinking what is he doing why is he sitting but you try to make conversation anyway. "What's with the accent?"

"I'm from London."

"I assume you didn't just come all the way here for a party?"

"Mmm, no. I'm, um, working here for a bit."

"Oh, cool. What do you do?"

"What do you do?" he says, taking a sip of his beer and clearly deflecting.

"Um, I'm a college student, just like the people whose party you're at right now...how do you know them?"

"Oh, I don't really. Kind of a friend-of-a-friend thing."

"So you won't tell me where you work or who you know...interesting."

He laughs. "I'm an actor."

"Ahh, we have a lot of those around here," you say, assuming he's in some student film or something like the thousands of other actors trying to make it in New York. "What are you working on?"

"A movie."

"About?"

"Ahh...it's about this really smart guy," he says slowly as if he's making it up on the spot, "who has this....internship...and sort of acts like a...an insect." You're looking at him, trying not to laugh. "It's better than it sounds, I swear," he says with a smile.