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buck-nialled · 3 years

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Cheesehead - T. Holland Imagine

NOTE: inspired by this vid of tom eating food bc it is pure art.

TAGLIST: @niallberry @swiftmendeshoran @theshyspy @clarabsevero @golden-hoax @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @organicpurplepants @gurkiloni @wowitsel @sunwardss

Your and Tom’s first date took place at a nice restaurant just on the other side of town. It was better than nice in Tom’s opinion--a more secluded, intimate setting. He remembers one of the first times the two of you went away from the set to a car wash that you recommended. Earlier that week he vocalized how desperately he needed to mark the errand off his to-do list. He invited you to join him, utilizing the excuse that he was not familiar with the area of town you were up-talking--a complete lie. The car wash happened to be only fifteen minutes from his house, but he never regretted taking you along with him for a second.

Actually, that same afternoon you two went, gave Tom reason as to why you spoke so highly of this carwash. Though he should have been focused on making sure the machinery was not scraping up against the windows or scratching the paint job, his eyes stared right at your profile for a majority of the ride. He would come to realize that car washes were one of the few things that mesmerize you. The man is still unsure if it is the swirling, stranded mops and their timed swishes and plops against the vehicle, or the fancy rainbow soap applied to the windshield for your gaze to take in. Either way, those fateful fifteen minutes gave Tom all the confidence he needed to blurt out over the all-too-loud air dryers.

“Go out with me!” Unfortunately for him, the air dryers ceased their harsh winds right as he began speaking. But the tranced look swirling in your pupils never shouted through his yelling directly at you. It caught you off guard sure, but once his words registered, you responded.

“Right now?” Of course, some pre-planning was involved. It took a few weeks of tip-toeing delicately around the other’s schedule to not trample them. Finally, this evening approached where the two of you promised to be entirely free for one another. And you both kept your word. Since that day at the carwash, Tom had yet to find one trait of yours he disliked. It was almost off-putting when he thought about it too much. Your love of dogs, tea-brewing expertise, and fondness of the ocean were just a few things you and Tom shared in common. Five minutes into your dinner, it had grown even longer. Tom cleared his throat and rolled back his shoulders, preparing to make your relationship something official. That is until the waiter approached your table with a tray of entrees in hand.

“Your mac n’ cheese with a side…” the waiter’s voice faded out of Tom’s earshot as he eyed the porcelain bowl, filled above the brim with yellow, gooey shells. His chicken breast was placed before him moments afterward, leaving him to hardly mutter out a “thank you”, as his eyes were still locked on your choice of dinner.

“So, you like cheese?” Tom attempts to make light conversation through slow, contemplative bites of his chicken.

“It’s more of an obsession if I’m being honest…” Your admission was accompanied by red cheeks and a shy tuck of your hair behind your ear. “It’s just...one of the best foods to be created, in my opinion. I mean, you can make anything better by adding cheese to it. Chicken parmesan, for example.” Your motioning to his plate has Tom reaching for it protectively, and dragging the porcelain closer to where he is seated.

“Yeah…” his nervous chuckle was eclipsed by the waiter from a few minutes earlier returning to your table for a dessert menu to look at later in your meal. You took a peak after taking it in your hand and gasped.

“They have cheesecake!” You whisper excitedly.

“Awesome!” Tom manages a smile as he mimics your tone.

“Cheesecake is awesome,” Harrison confirms the day after as he and Tom sit on their living room couch, game controllers in hand. “I’m not seeing an issue.”

“She likes cheese.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Yes, because I hate it!” Tom’s fingers press harder into the controller buttons as his eyes stay focused on the split television screen.

“Okay? Plenty of couples disagree on food choices and they stay together.”

“You don’t understand, Haz. She is like, obsessed with it.” Tom stresses. “And if I tell her I hate it, then what will that make me?”

“Her boyfriend who hates cheese?” His friend ganders.

“Exactly.”

“Dude you’re talking about it like it’s the end of the world.” Harrison pauses his game, cueing Tom to do the same before the two turned to face each other. “I mean other than cheese, you two have everything else in common. You genuinely like this girl, right?”

“Absolutely,” Tom answers without letting a single lull go by in the conversation.

“So are you gonna let this one, minor difference define your entire future with her?”

“I guess not.”

“Good, then if she likes you the same way you like her, she’ll understand. You just gotta come right out and say it, when the timing is right of course.”

“Right, okay. I can do that.”

“Of course you can.” Harrison grins, turning back to face the television and resuming the game. “Hey, when I kill this player, that’ll be your sign that everything’s gonna work out.” Tom and Harrison chuckle in unison as the man furiously mashes the buttons on the gaming controller. A few seconds later, however, both of their jovial expressions turn sour at the wimpy droning noise escaping the speakers. The words “GAME OVER” smeared across the screen become complemented by the phrase below:

Haz51 was killed by Cheesehead87

“Then again,” Harrison is turning back to Tom, who is already burying his face into his hands out of denial, “what do I know?”

“Hey!” You greet Tom with a hug at your front door before allowing him to step inside your apartment.

“Hi, love. You look excited.” He notes, scanning your perky expression with a smile of his own. Your happiness was the most contagious feeling Tom has ever witnessed to date.

“Because I have a surprise for you.” Taking his hands into yours, the two of you begin a saunter towards your kitchen.

“Oh, do you?” He laughs at the small sway of your hips. Once the two of you were stood in your kitchen, you halted your steps and blocked Tom’s view of the counter.

“I know you said your schedule was kind of cluttered today with everything and you would barely have time to eat, so…” you reached behind your frame to grab something and swiftly brought it up for Tom’s eyes to see. “Ta-da!”

“Grilled cheese.” He says, tone dry.”

“Not just any grilled cheese. My signature four-cheese grilled cheese with a side of tomato soup.” You present with a wide smile. “I figured it’d be nice to have lunch together before you’re swept off to another meeting or interview.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate that, but…”

“Hmm?” And as the words were ready to fall off of his tongue, his eyes bore into yours and acknowledged the small glint they captured. You were staring at him the same way you did the mops and rainbow soap during the carwash. To reap that from you would be a travesty he could not bear.

“I already ate.” He fibbed, hoping his almost guilty expression would cover the emptiness in his stomach. Unfortunately, a large growl intercepted the pause in the conversation, followed by a nervous chuckle from him.

“Already ate, huh?” You set the plate back down and fold your arms over one another. “Tom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think that?”

“Well for one thing you’re acting strange...and you just lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie! I swear, I’m just not hungry. Just had a big breakfast.” Another low rumble of his stomach objects, making him release a sigh. “Y/N…”

“Maybe you should go.” You murmur, eyes flickering back to your front door. Tom does not object, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to help the situation at hand. Succumbing to your orders, Tom’s head stays hung low during the trudge to your front door and back to his car.

The following week, you decided to reach out to Tom for an explanation. Some might label you weak for how the last interaction you two shared ate you up and had you caving for just a phone call from him, but you were still clueless as to what the cause for his suspicious actions were—more importantly, what drove him to lie right to your face over something as simple as not eating. For a few hours, you even questioned your signature dish and if he found just the sight of it a poor one. Impossible, you concluded, nobody hates grilled cheese!

Text messages were exchanged for a few minutes until finally, the two of you found a small gap in your schedules to squeeze in a conversation. The meeting would need to be tight, as it was following one of Tom’s press interviews and coming right before a meeting where your presence was necessary. Because you were so crunched for time (and feeling slight wanton that day) you sped up at a few yellow--almost red--lights on your way and arrived twelve minutes earlier than you had estimated.

“Sorry ma’am, you need a badge to be let inside.” A burly man, cloaked in black halted your quick steps with a hand. Dark sunglasses which made his eyes imperceivable bobbed up and down as he scanned your figure.

“I’m sorry, I’m just here to see Tom Holland. I’m his costar--”

“Wait,” the man’s hand reached up to remove his glasses, and his eyes grew swollen with recognition at the sight of you. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That’s me,” you giggle, a flush rising to your cheeks.

“My apologies, please,” He opens the large, metal door and darts a finger down to one of the sets. “Take the hallway down there, it should be three doors and to your left.”

“Thanks.” Exhaling a breath, you counted your blessings for being somewhat known before jogging to the direction the security had pointed you in. You heard a familiar, light laughter echo through the studio and allowed it to act as a guide. You stepped quietly through the halls and stayed silent as you approached the door. Placing your hand on the silver knob, you slowly turned it and peeked your head through the small sliver. The brunette curls and charming grin enraptured you immediately as you eyed Tom, sat at a table, and served various foods on a silver platter. When the next food item was revealed, you tilted your head at Tom’s hesitance towards the decently sized piece of cheese that sat on the plate. His nose crinkled in disgust. Why was he not devouring it right now? You sure as hell would be.

“I don’t really like cheese all that much.” He admits through an uncomfortable smile. “I’m not really that much of a fan of cheese.” Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose, you retreated into the hallway and closed the door back with a soft click.

“Oh my god,” you spoke quietly to yourself and brushed a hand over the top of your head. How did it not come to your attention sooner that Tom did not like cheese? You reminisce about your first date, imagining every word he spoke to you when asking you about your cheese fanatic ways to be spat in revulsion or something similar. The week prior returned to your brain, and you sought out glimpses of his face to match those of the one he was just making: eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched and high cheekbones to mask the large dislike he held for the food. Your favorite food.

The clicking of the door caught your attention, and your eyes averted from the figure with knowing.

“Y/N, hey.” You look up to find the source of the accented voice, shuffling his feet as though he didn’t know how to stand.

“Hi.”

“Look about last week--”

“You hate cheese.” You said.

He releases a sigh, glancing down at his shoes shamefully. “Yeah.” He is shocked to look back up and find you amid a boisterous laugh.

“I can’t believe you...you almost ate a grilled cheese I made for you.” You choked out, clutching your stomach. It ropes Tom’s laughter in as well, and soon the fiasco that the two of you were both feeling guilty over swirled into something laughable.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t like cheese?”

“I don’t know.” He grunted, a red now overcoming his cheeks. “Because you’re obsessed with it. And I feel like if I told you I hated something you’re in love with that you wouldn’t like me anymore.”

“Tom that’s crazy. You couldn’t tell me anything that’d make me like you less.” You shook your head. His head snaps back to look at your eyes. The glint from the car wash, the same one from last week, was still staring back at him. It might have even been brighter than before.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You grin, before cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his lips. He blows a breath out upon the two of you separating.

“That’s a relief.” The two of you chuckle once more until another sound of the door clicking brings your attention back to the entrance of the set. A man pokes his head out.

“Oh, thank goodness, you haven’t left.” He disregards your presence entirely and hands Tom a basket full of various foods. “This is from the LadBible team, as a thank you for coming and having an interview with us.”

“Awesome!” He takes the basket in his hands and studies all of its contents. “Thanks, mate.” The man waves goodbye to Tom and shuts the door back behind him.

“What’s in it?” You come around and rest your head atop Tom’s shoulder to observe the basket with him.

“Toxic waste, Gregg’s gift card...cheese.” The excitement in his voice dwindles to a murmur.

“I know someone who could take that off your hands.” A smirk climbs into your face, and Tom is soon mirroring it as he turns down to look at you.

“Maybe being with a cheesehead won’t be that bad.” You begin laughing to yourself, making Tom question, “what?”

“Cheesehead87...it’s just my name on this video game I play.” You snort through small laughs. It makes Tom, however, reach an epiphany.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, eyes darting to the floor in thought.

You are the curious one now. “What?”

“You killed Harrison.”

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