#fwb!tom

warnings: unprotected shower sex. please practise safe sex!! condoms act as barriers against STIs as well as unplanned pregnancy. 

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When your flatmate Tom had asked if he could let his brother, Harry, bunk down at your place for the week, you’d been quick to agree. What you hadn't realised in your naivety was that you'd just signed up to the week from hell.

It’s not that Harry’s a difficult guest to have. Really, it’s quite the opposite: Harry is a lot quieter and neater than Tom, and he at least knows how to keep the kitchen tidy. He’s sleeping in Tom’s room, and whenever you’re home he’s either stolen away in there or he’s laying out on the couch, but he keeps to himself. He’s nice - friendly and warm, just like Tom - and you guys get along fine.

Just… Harry is an exceptional cock-block, and it’s beginning to get on your very last nerve.

To be fair to him, Harry doesn’t know that there’s anything going on between you and Tom. And really, there isn’t anything going on - you’re just friends with benefits who happen to live together. You’ve known Tom for years, and it had made sense to move in together for your third years of uni… Just like it had also made sense to act on that thick sexual tension that’d been hanging between you like a dark cloud.

So sometimes you and Tom shag. Usually in his room, or your room, sometimes in the shower, a few times on the couch… And it’s electric, and consuming, and completely fulfilling, but now his brother Harry is staying and you can’t seem to find the time or opportunity to jump Tom like your body aches to.

“Stop it,” Tom mutters. You’re sitting beside him on the sofa, watching one of Harry’s latest short-films through the banged-up tv that rests on the coffee table.

“Stop what?” You whisper, a smirk in your voice.

“You know what.”

You’ve got your hand resting on Tom’s thigh, beneath the blanket that covers you both. You’re pulled nicely into his side, his strong bicep keeping you close to him, and the position makes it oh so easy to just...let your hand wander up and down his inner thigh. You wouldn’t risk anything else - not with Harry sitting so close - but you’d be lying if you said you don't enjoy watching Tom’s jaw clench and unclench, his cheeks slowly rounding out with a pale pink blush.

“I miss you,” you mutter, tilting your mouth so it’s near his ear. Your eyes flicker out to Harry, and you note he’s still wrapped up in the scenes on the tv, so you add, “It’s been five days since you’ve fucked me, Tom. We haven't gone this long in forever.” 

Tom swallows, his eyes skittering over your face, and his gaze darkens as he takes in the aroused glint that dances in your stare. One of Tom’s hands wanders up from your shoulder to push some hair from your face, and he replies quietly, “You’re going to have to wait another two days.” 

You almost release a frustrated groan, but you remember to bite it back at the last minute.

“C’mon, Tom,” you coax instead, fluttering your lashes. “I know you want to.” Your hand twitches further towards his cock, and you can feel the strain on the material of his jeans. “Just one, quick fuck? Please.” 

“We can’t. He’s always around.” 

“Can’t you just… make him go out?” 

“You think I haven’t been trying?”

“Well, can you try a little harder-”

“You guys know I can hear you whispering, right?” 

Harry joins your conversation and you startle, an embarrassed smile curling around your lips. 

“Sorry, Harry,” you reply, hoping desperately he hasn’t heard the words of your conversation.

“What are you saying?” 

Tom clears his throat. “Just, uh, complimenting your camera work,” he lies, giving his brother a forced smile. “Hey, what was that technique just then?”

You tune out the conversation and remove your hand from Tom’s thigh, crossing your arms over your chest instead.

The rest of the evening passes by just as frustratingly. You try to corner Tom in the corridor, only to hear Harry approaching right when your lips were almost on his, and then Tom tries to bend you over the counter in the kitchen, but of course, Harry decides it’s the perfect time to grab a cup of tea. It’s so fucking annoying, and eventually, you call it a night and run away into the bathroom to sulk in the shower. 

But you aren’t alone for long. 

Just as you’re getting the final shampoo suds from your hair, you hear the bathroom door open and you jump, clutching at your chest. Your eyes make out the familiar figure of Tom through the fogged-up glass, and you relax as you call out, 

“Being a creep again, Holland?” 

His short laugh brings a smile to your face, and you watch as his blurry figure sheds his clothes in record time. You step aside and pull open the cubicle doors, inviting him into the warm space, and the moment Tom’s beside you, he’s got his lips on yours and you’re being pushed against the tiled wall.

“Shit, you’re eager,” you mutter, reaching up to curl your fingers into Tom's hair. Water droplets spray from the showerhead, loosening up Tom’s hair and causing it to slowly curl up into loose waves, and you enjoy the feeling of his wet strands wrapped around your fingers. He kisses you intensely, his hands running easily over every curve of your soft skin, cupping at your boobs and your hips and grabbing at your ass until you’re moaning quietly into his mouth.

“Shhh, love,” Tom mutters. He kisses you again for good measure. “Harry’s waiting for me next door. Don’t make any noise.”

“Better be quick, then.” 

Tom settles closer, and you wrap your arms around his toned torso as you continue to kiss him. It feels so good to have his lips moving over yours, and you enjoy the feeling of him pushing his tongue into your mouth and kissing you messily. After a few moments, he steps in again, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Tom mutters, one of his hands trailing down to settle between your legs. You part your thighs further, allowing him to push two familiar fingers into your entrance. They sink into the knuckles and you whimper, your sensitive walls pulsing around him as he fucks you open quickly. “Missed feeling this fuckin’ pussy. Gonna be so tight for my cock, aren’t you?” 

You can only mewl in response as you buck your hips down to meet the tips of his fingers. 

“You want me to fuck you, eh? Right in this shower?” 

You grab at Tom’s shoulders and nod profusely, your body burning with desire.

“Please, Tom. Fuck me.”

“Shit, of course.”

His hand disappears, but before you can complain about your neglected pussy, Tom’s got his fingers on your waist and he’s carefully turning you around. Your shower has a series of shelves set into the wall, and they make the perfect handholds, so you settle your grip there and press out your ass, arching your back seductively. You throw your head over your shoulder and meet his dark, heady eyes, winking at him cheekily. 

“C’mon then,” you tease, grinning wider when Tom runs his cock through your slit. “Made me wait long enough, Tom, might as well- shit.”

Your taunts are cut off as Tom enters you in one slick thrust, and as he bottoms out, you groan in sync. The water drags your sounds away down the sinkhole, and you clench your fingers around the shelf. 

“So good,” he praises, his voice a whimper. Tom waits a few moments before pulling out and then entering you again, settling into an easy rhythm that satisfies you both. “Missed this so much, babe.”

There’s water flying everywhere, and the bathroom is echoey and noisy, but you don’t care because it feels so fucking good having Tom inside you again. He bends you over further, one hand on your waist as the other grabs at your ass, and you start pushing back against him to meet his thrusts, loud mewls falling past your lips every time he curves just right and nuzzles up against your g-spot.

“Tom, Tom, shit, I love your cock, keep going.”

It’s messy and he’s rough with you, but you love it. Love the burn of his hands grabbing at you, and the rough sounds of your wet skin slapping together. The sensations of his cock pounding into your desperate cunt makes you whimper, and it isn’t long before you’re bringing your hand down to fiddle with your clit.

“There you go, rub your clit for me, Y/N,” he says, his voice strained. “Getting so close, I want you to come as I fuck you.” 

Your bud pulses as you rub it harshly, feeling Tom’s thrusts growing sloppier as his quiet groans fill the room. He pushes you right to the edge, and then you find yourself falling over it, your body rolling around in arcs of pleasure as you try desperately to suppress your moans and whimpers. Tom curses, and you feel his cock twitch inside your pulsing walls as he empties his load into you. He fucks into you until you’re whimpering and panting, and then he’s quick to pull out and grab your waist and pull you flush against him, his lips finding yours as you moan into his mouth from surprise.

“That was so good,” he tells you, his eyes wide. Tom pulls away from your face, his tender gaze skittering out across your face. “I really missed being with you, Y/N. You… You’re incredible.” And there’s a softer tone to his voice that you’ve never really heard before, but you like it.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Tom,” you reply, licking your lips. You reach up and press your hand to his shoulder. “I missed you-”

“Y/N? You alright in there?”

For the second time this evening, you find the voice of Tom’s brother startling you. Harry’s concerned words drift in through the wooden door, and your eyes widen as you realise you’ve been taking a very long shower.

“Yeah! All good!” You call back, ignoring the way Tom looks incredibly amused as you flounder.

“Are you sure? I heard some noises…”

You curse, and you reach back to finally turn off the shower. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I was just… singing.” 

Tom’s really enjoying himself now - a big cocky smirk on his lips. You scowl at him and push playfully at his chest, only to have him wrap you up in his arms and press a series of soft kisses to your shoulder. 

“Right, okay.” Harry falls silent for a moment, and Tom presses a long, teasing kiss to the base of your neck. “If you and Tom can hurry up, I’d really appreciate it. There’s only one bathroom in this flat.”

Tom freezes, and you exchange wide-eyed expressions of alarm.

You bit your lip when you saw his instagram story. He sure knew how to tease you, posing shirtless in front of the mirror with his broad shoulders and toned body on display for the world to see. A part of you wanted to believe he’d posted it just for you to see, but you knew that wasn’t true. That didn’t stop your fingers typing a direct message to Tom in response to his story though: yo, chill. You don’t expect an instant response, Tom was a busy man and you knew he was at the gym. But your phone buzzes almost instantly with his response; whatever do you mean ;). You roll your eyes, biting your lip again as you look at his story one more time.

your thirst is showing, holland :)

And with that you lock your phone, not wanting to get too caught up in the butterflies in your stomach. You carry on with some online work which you were doing before Tom’s instagram story got the better of you. Tapping away at your keyboard you distract yourself, immersing yourself into your work, until your phone buzzes again. Your eyes flit down to your screen, doing a double take when you see the notification is from Tom, who had just sent you a photo. And you just about combust there and then; he’d sent you another mirror selfie, this time in nothing but a tight pair of Calvin’s, the lighting better so you can see every muscle on his stomach, the dip of his v line disappearing deliciously into his boxers, making you want to kiss along his skin. His hair is messy and curly, wet from a shower, and he’s biting his lip. You feel your thighs clench as you continue staring at the image, thumb on the corner to keep it from disappearing. God, he’s going to kill me. You let the image disappear, but it’s engrained in your mind, and message him back: someone’s cocky ;). And before you can get back to your work, you see that he’s already typing so you wait until he’s done. What you don’t expect is another photo, this time with his hand gripping his hard on through his boxers, jawline sharp and broad shoulders on full display, his face covered by his phone but his abs on full display. You notice a droplet of water on his chest, presumably from his hair, but the way it glistens on his skin is so immensely sexy.

He’s captioned this one; what was that about my cock? and you swear your panties are soaked. You tell him to come over, now. before saving your work and closing your laptop. As you freshen yourself up, you get a text: already on my way. You change into something less comfortable, a black lace number that Tom’s mentioned he loved on you before. You smirk to yourself as you pose in front of the mirror in the bathroom, sending Tom a picture of yourself captioned don’t dm and drive. Your features are perfectly accentuated by the set; the black lace complimenting the curve of your boobs, your hips appear full and your skin looks smooth as silk. Tom types back a fuck, and before you know it there’s a knock at the door. You pull on a robe, heading to the front door to open it, when you do you’re instantly pulled into Tom’s arms, lips crashing together in a kiss of pent up sexual frustration. That’s the reason you started this agreement in the first place; neither of you wanted a relationship but you both missed having sex. When you got drunk and fucked that one time, it’s been that way ever since.

Tom lifts you off the ground, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he kicks the door closed behind him, not caring that it slams shut. You continue kissing as Tom walks you to your bedroom, you can feel his hardness through his joggers and you groan into the kiss, hands moving to tug on his messy curls. He growls at that, nipping your bottom lip before pulling back to catch his breath, both of you are panting, desperate for air. Tom throws you on the bed, your robe practically off at this point, before climbing on top of you, reconnecting his lips to yours. You run your fingers through his hair before gripping tufts of his curls, Tom’s own hands running down your body to your hips, his index finger moving to your inner thigh, caressing your skin and inching closer and closer to your underwear. You lift your hips up in response to his teasing, moaning against his lips. Tom’s tongue runs along your lower lip as his finger dips into your underwear, feeling your wetness as his tongue caresses your own. You whine against his lips, having enough of his teasing, Tom taking the hint, pulling back and chuckling at you as he undoes the tie on your robe, sliding the silk fabric further open and exposing the rest of your skin and the lacy set you’re wearing. He bites his lip looking down at you, you lift up and slide your robe fully off, throwing it across the room before pulling him into you for another fiery kiss.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Tom groans against your lips, your legs wrapping around his waist and his hips grinding into yours. One of his hands moves to your ass, squeezing the skin before spanking you. You moan against his lips, Tom pulling away to kiss down your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, your chest. “You know how much I like this set on you, don’t you love?”

“Yes, Tom, now fuckin’ get on with it,” you shoot a look at him as he stops his ministrations, causing him to smirk and wink at you. Tom goes back to kissing along your chest, your head rolling back against the sheets, one hand wrapped in his curls as Tom’s own move to your breasts, cupping them as he sucks a hickey on your skin.

“Someone’s needy today,” Tom laughs breathily, reaching behind you to unhook your bra. When he slides the lace fabric off your body his tongue circles your nipple, making you moan.

“Wonder why,” you retort, moaning as Tom’s hand wanders down to your underwear. He rubs your clit through your panties as he continues kissing and sucking the skin on your chest. Tom moves further down your body, cool lips meeting hot skin as he kisses down your torso, along the hem of your panties. He looks up into your eyes as he takes your underwear between his teeth, pulling them down your thighs. You kick them off, Tom kissing your inner thighs as you do so. You feel his hands move to your hips, then in a swift motion, Tom flips you so you’re hovering above his face, his hands still on your hips. You let out a gasp, and Tom pulls you down to his awaiting tongue, immediately licking a strip through your wet folds.

“Already so wet for me?” Tom smirks up at you.

“Shut up,” you groan, one hand reaching for the headboard as your other hand moves to Tom’s hair. He runs his tongue through your folds again, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips grind against his face, his hands squeezing your ass cheeks, giving each a slap for good measure. You’re a moaning mess above him, moving with his tongue as he continuously flicks your clit, your hips picking up their pace as Tom’s own increases. He looks up at you, your head rolling back as your back arches and your thighs quake, hips juttering as you get closer and closer to that sweet release.

Tom pulls away just long enough to say, “cum for me, darling,” before his tongue is back on your dripping pussy, tasting all of you as he coaxes you to your orgasm. You let out your loudest moan of the evening as you cum on his tongue, hips moving rapidly and hand gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white, whilst your other hand grips Tom’s curls keeping his head in place. Tom’s hands are gripping your ass so hard you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark, and he gently licks through your folds as you come down form your high, your grip on the headboard releasing. You lift up off of Tom’s face, leaning down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. You let out a moan against his lips, your kiss a mess of tongue and teeth as you move down his body to straddle him, feeling the material of his joggers under you. Your hands move to the hem of Tom’s t shirt, he pulls away from the kiss just long enough to take his t shirt off, pulling you back in by your neck. Your hands fiddle with his joggers as you pull them down just enough so Tom can kick them, and his boxers, off. The kiss is sloppy and rushed, a passionate clash of teeth and tongue as you focus on what your hands are doing. When Tom’s clothes are completely off, you move your hips, gliding your wet folds on his hard cock, Tom letting out a whimper into the kiss. You continue teasing him like that for a while, getting him worked up and ready for you.

“Please just ride me, now!” He groans as he bites your lower lip. You chuckle, kissing him again before reaching behind you, gripping the base of Tom’s cock and lining it up with your pussy. You lower your hips down on him, your hands come to rest on Tom’s toned chest. You sink down fully on his cock, biting your lip as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him inside you, finally. You lift your hips up before lowering them back down, getting into a steady rhythm. You can feel Tom’s hard chest covered by his smooth skin, and you’re reminded of the picture again. You’re here, riding Thomas Holland; something many people could only dream of. And that gives you a sense of cockiness. You begin to ride him faster, your wetness perfectly lubricating him, and Tom moans at your tightness.

“Feels so good, Tommy,” you moan, mouth agape as your hips move faster. Tom’s hands are gripping your hips, helping your movements. The room is full of lewd noises; your wet pussy and the moans from the two of you accompanying, skin slapping skin as you ride Tom. He’s moaning, his eyes on where your hips meet his own, and when you clench down on him his head rolls back, letting out a loud moan.

“So tight and wet, fuck, baby,” he groans out, completely in bliss at the feeling of your cunt around him. Tom decides he’s had enough of your teasing; your switching of a fast pace to a slower, more sensual one. He wants to make you cum again, so he grips your hips, pulls you in for a kiss and flips the two of you over. You yelp, giggling as Tom smiles down at you; but it soon turns into a moan when he slides his cock back deep inside of you, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of his tip hitting your g spot. You bite your lip, a quiet ‘fuck’ leaving your mouth as Tom quickens his pace, hips slapping against your own as he fucks into you, his eyebrows furrowed as he does so, hair messed up and sweat dripping down his chest. He looks like an adonis. You pull him down by his hair, kissing him to keep yourself quiet, but it’s no use, Tom’s cock feels so good inside you that you’re moaning more frequently than ever; you grip his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom’s pace never falters, only egging him on further.

“Fuckin’ amazing pussy, jesus,” Tom’s breathless, his orgasm fast approaching. You bite his earlobe, causing his eyes to roll back as he hisses. “Get on your stomach for me, babe.”

You do as told, Tom pulling out so you can reposition. You lay on your stomach, hips up and arms out in front of you. You feel Tom move behind you, his hand slapping your ass cheek as his other grips your hip, guiding his cock back into your soaking cunt. You moan as he bottoms out, cock hitting deeper than before. Your hands grip the sheets beneath you as Tom picks up his pace, fucking you from behind in a fervour. Your raspy moans, along with Tom’s deep groans, and the sound of your wetness fills the room.

“Fuck, Tom!” Is all you can say, and all you can do is moan.

“Gonna cum, shit,” Tom’s pace never falters, hitting your g spot repeatedly he snaps his hips against your own. Reaching down he grips your hair in a fist, pulling your body up against his. You moan again, eyes rolling back as Tom’s hand snakes around to choke you, his other moving to rub circles on your clit, his voice in your ear as you both breathily moan, Tom’s cock fucking up inside your tight cunt. You’re close; you feel your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching.

“You gonna cum for me, love?” Tom whispers, voice raspy and taut. He’s fucking you so well, you can barely find the words; your own hips fucking back to meet Tom’s as you moan out; “yes, Tommy! I’m coming!” Tom’s lips are on your neck just below your ear as you cum, his hand holding you up against his toned torso. You clench on him again, Tom’s own orgasm following shortly after, he lets out a strained groan as his hips sloppily thrust up into you. “Fuck, gorgeous, you’re so good.”

You collapse forward, Tom chuckling as you do so. He gently pulls out, fingers reaching between your legs to collect his cum. He brings them up to your lips, letting you wrap them around his digits and tasting him, you twirl your tongue around his fingers to clean them. “So hot,” he bites his lip, you smirking up at him, winking. Tom makes his way to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. When he comes back into the room you’re on your side, hand under your pillow as you snuggle into the sheets. Tom admires the sight for a moment, before shaking himself out of it, moving to kneel on the bed beside you. He’s wearing his boxers again now, hand moving to clean up the mess between your thighs. Tom gives your ass another slap for good measure, noticing there are marks all over your body from his lips and hands. “Sorry about that,” he nods to the hickies littering your chest and the marks on your ass. You smirk up at him, and judging by the look in his eyes, he’s not sorry at all.

“You should thirst trap on instagram more often.” You wink.

The coffee machine on the other side of the room (the kitchen to be exact) taunts you and considering it’d been around four days since your last coffee, you were nearly ready to give in but with no knowledge on whether or not it’d affect your unborn, newfound baby you shove the thought to the back of your mind, reaching for a cup of tea instead. A singular row of decedent chocolate sits next to where the mug previously sat, adorned with golden wrapping.

If you were any younger then you would’ve made a joke that correlated to Charlie and the chocolate factory but you didn’t feel as if you’d just won some kind of lottery, that much was for sure. The chocolate was your guilty pleasure, your comfort snack after a series of hardships that were yet to be over.

Bringing the tea to your lips, you want to grimace upon tasting the flavoured drink. It had nothing on coffee but you were sure you’d cope. With the help of chocolate, you could do anything. So hesitantly, you take the chocolate and dip it into your drink.

Everything had seemed to be about the baby since you’d found out. Your google history was filled with questions about what foods were safe to eat and the safest way to sleep. You had even dared to try and work out how far along you were. You knew a doctors appointment was needed and one was coming. Soon. But not now.

The mug of tea warms nimble fingers and your phone buzzes beside you, jolting you out of your thoughts. You hardly need to look at it to know who it was but glance over anyway, sliding the screen across to reveal a series of texts from the same boy that you’d been trying to avoid. It’d been two weeks and four days since you’d last seen him in person. Blunt texts barely counted for anything.

It hadn’t been intentional at first, because at first you’d believed that you were just ill and you hadn’t wanted to get him sick too. But after seeing two little lines on the test you were almost more tempted to keep your distance. Distance, a stupid fucking word.

Maybe you missed his hands on yours in a little less then gentleman-like fashion, and lips pressed against bare collarbones, legs intertwined in a mess of sheets or couch cushions with some kind of show neither of you was too interested in paying attention too on the television, far too busy with one another, muttering small reassurances that you wanted this. You missed the buzz as you come down from a high. On your neck were fading purple and blue painted marks from the last time you saw him, telling stories of your most recent– but not so recent night with him.

But a little more then you missed the sex, you missed his company. From pizza at two am to natural pick up lines through text that didn’t come with ‘are you feeling any better?’ texts and ‘do you need to see a doctor?’ messages that reminded you of the little treasure building a home inside you. You missed your best friend.

Two weeks and four days since you'd last seen him, a long time for too close friends who had spent almost every aching second together up until this point.

Tom: Can I come over?

Tom: I miss you :( x

Tom: Y/N?

Tom: Read receipts, c’mon. I know you’re there.

Tom: You good?

Tom: I’m coming over

The last message comes through while the phone is still sitting in your hand and you quickly type out a response, the phone heavy and weighing you down as you struggle to type with one hand, a mug of tea hot in the other hand.

Y/N: coping. don’t come over, it could be contagious.

You highly doubted that your pregnancy was contagious.

Tom: Wow, are you really trying to get rid of me? 🤪

Tom: come to the front door x

The text makes you groan because he couldn’t have– he couldn’t be, but of course he would. You’re proved wrong by a harsh knock at the front door, three all too close together, the same way Tom always knocked when he came over and you’d forgotten to leave the spare key under the hallway plant or tucked between the ragged, old welcome mat.

It’s a struggle to force yourself up off of the couch as you drag woollen covered feet to the front door and it’s a struggle to make yourself unlock it because In a way you’d lied and Tom had a tendency to see right through you– for you weren’t contagious and you definitely weren’t sick in the way he expected. You tug the door open with a rattle, revealing the face of your best friend with a tangled mess of brown, curly hair and crinkles beside his lips where a semi-permanent smile made way on his features. In his hands sat two movies and a share pack of popcorn and behind his back, yes, he went there, was a packet of marshmallows.

And yeah, you want to dive right into his chest. You want to throw your arms around him and let go of the waterfall of tears building inside of you but you simply pull your hoodie closer to your chest as well as the secret you were keeping, shrugging off the urge to smother your best friend in affection.

“For someone who’s really sick, you’re glowing.” He remarks first, stepping into your dark apartment. The first thing Tom notices besides the fact that you looked somehow great for someone with a rotting stomach bug was the smell of cherries and the candle that lit up whatever you’d been doing at the coffee table.

“I guess I should say thanks?” You tilt your head, closing the door with a thud as Tom steps in, dumping the gear and keys on your smaller than most kitchen table. He practically classed your place as home now, seemingly spending more time there than at his shared flat. “I told you not to come, I feel like shit and I don’t want to get you sick too.”

His face falls slightly and guilt worms its way into your stomach.

“We always make each other feel better when we’re sick and besides, I was seriously starting to miss my best friend.” He musters up a smile post frown, holding up the things he’d bought around. “I thought you’d like it if I got you your favourite movies and snacks– I know you always have hot chocolate powder but never the marshmallows so I got those too.”

Your mouth waters at the sight of sweets. “Was Harrison busy tonight?”

“No, I just wanted to see you.” Tom frowns again, reaching for your forehead. “If you’re really that sick then I think we need to call a doctor. How high is your temperature?”

You step back before you can touch your forehead, trying to bury yourself in your sweater as if you’d mould into the thing if you tried hard enough. Tom stares, looking fairly concerned and if it were the other way around you’d admit that you’d be worried out of your mind too. You were clearly distant and you couldn’t keep hiding behind a false stomach bug, not when it came to Tom anyway, who knew you better then he knew the freckles that littered his nose.

You should've known that he was going to give up on waiting eventually, this was Tom for crying out loud. He was always the first one at the doorstep of your tiny, one bedroom apartment when the slightest of inconveniences occurred. Once you called him only slightly tipsy and he mistook your giggles for sobs and was there in record time, huffing and puffing on your doorstep with open arms.

“Okay, okay, I’m fine now– recovering.” You lie right through your teeth. “I guess movies and junk food sounds good. Want to get the popcorn on and I’ll set up the movie?” You offer, taking the films from the bench where they sat. You smile upon seeing the old school Disney movies he’d picked up instead of the sci-fi movies he tended to pick when you gave him the opportunity.

“Yeah, I’ll make the drinks too.” He bids. But then Tom can’t help himself. Because you look comfortable tucked up in the sweater, but your hair hangs in tangles and you look only a little sick with bags beneath your eyes that tell him you haven't been sleeping as much as you should be. Carefully, Tom tugs you into his arms because he missed you– he missed his best friend and despite something feeling wrong in the way you hold him back, he shoves it away, yet to question the distance.

You pout but silently admit that being close to him again is nice. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Don’t care if I get sick, I haven’t seen my best friend for ages.”

It’s then that you relax into his arms, leaning on him for comfort for a quick moment or two. He’s so warm, smelling largely of his favourite cologne and somehow now yours too. You feel protected and safe in his arms and it’s not something you tended to admit– because you didn’t feel that you needed him around to be safe, but there was something about being held that settles your rapidly beating heart.

And Tom’s unaware as he rests his arms around you that you’re holding a secret yet to change both of your lives, so you take in every second of comfort while you still could.

When he finally decides to let go, Tom gives you a side smile and you recuperate. You were always a sucker for his warm brown eyes that reminded you of melted honey and a cheesy smile that seemed to appear on your lowest days.

“Go get the stuff ready–, oh and, Tom?”

He waits a moment, yearning to hear what you have to say next. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming over, seriously. I’m sorry if I was cold before.” You smile warmly, resting your hands at your side and give him a small glance. “And can you please get me extra marshmallows?”

Tom snorts. “Loser.” Taking your hand lightly, he gives it a squeeze to prevent the growing distance. “You’re lucky you’re sick or else you wouldn’t get off the hook so easily.”

It’s a joke, you know that much. Tom was practically incapable of being angry at you for longer than five minutes and you were nearly incapable of doing anything that you knew would upset him. The two of you just fit together, neither wanting to do anything to harm or affect the other in a bad way. You only wanted the best for each other, even if sometimes the best meant being brutally honest- or sometimes withholding information.

Maybe that’s why your little arrangement worked so well. It was something you both so desperately wanted and neither of you could explain why you craved the other as much as you did. Tom didn’t know at first why he’d wake up in warm sweats after dreaming of your nails raking down his back despite only having you earlier that day, and you didn’t know why you’d crawl into his lap at the simplest of times and go to town on one another.

You constantly used the excuse that your friendship was just stronger than most. To the two of you, it was just one of those things.

And for a moment you think. You take a deep breath and hope that you threw the pregnancy test in the bin instead of leaving it scattered across the bathroom table. You hope that he doesn’t question your nerves or the fact that you were distant and you hope that he doesn’t flip when he finds out. Because he had to find out.

You were worrying, but how could you not?

-

The movie draws on. The two of you finish oversized mugs of hot chocolate and you savour sweet, half melted marshmallows with a thick undertone of chocolate. You even share a blanket and at times he would pop pieces of popcorn in your mouth.

Every now and then, you’d steal quick, secretive glances at him. You’d catch Tom at the smallest of moments where he’d crack a smile at something that happened in the movie, or his brows would be drawn together in concentration or he’d be wetting his lips carefully. He looks almost carefree and at the same time, you feel almost too much weight on your shoulders to cope.

One hand– your own, lightly rests on your stomach, fingertips dusting over your clothed abdomen. In a way, you felt torn. But just as quickly, your eyes are cast back on the movie.

Maybe you feared telling Tom because it made it all too real. Maybe that’s another strong reason why you feared telling him so much. Because it wasn’t the positive pregnancy test sitting in your bathroom or the morning sickness that made it real but him knowing, Tom being aware of the life he helped create.

It’s around thirty minutes into the film when he gets closer, breaking barriers that wouldn’t be broken by two people who were just friends. A hand rests on your upper thigh, drawing circles over your clothed leg and tugging on the drawstrings. It’s innocent at first, touches gentle and he seems distracted enough as coffee brown eyes remain on the television.

Your living room isn’t all that dark anymore, besides the candle that had long burnt out both of your features were highlighted by the television. Gentle hues paint your faces bright, fluorescent colours.

Then his warm breath is fanning across the side of your face, fingers lightly gripping your chin as he guides your face towards his, inching closer but not yet pressing his lips against yours. Not yet giving you the satisfaction you secretly craved.

“Fuckin’ missed you, ya know?” He says softly, lips brushing against your own. “You weren’t answering any of my messages, blocking all my calls. Harrison told me that if I didn’t stop talking about you then he’d throw me out but what else was I meant to do when my best friend had dropped off the grid?”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of closing the gap, so you allow his lips to ghost over yours and respond without hesitation. “I was tired.”

“Thought you were sick, huh?” He teases. The hand that was previously sitting on your lap runs up beneath the sweater. Naturally, you lean into his touch. Naturally.

“I was tired and sick.” You defend yourself, however lying was growing old and you were growing guiltier by the second. “Stomach bugs take a lot out of you. I hate the damn things.”

With that, he closes the gap, silencing you but not your racing thoughts. It’s soft at first, two best friends with benefits warming up to one another after a week or so with little to no contact. But your body recognises him almost instantly, succumbing to the desires.

“What’re you doing?” You breathe out.

You feel him smirk against your lips, “Kissing my best friend, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’m sick, Tommy, I don’t wanna get you sick too.” You whisper hastily between messy kisses. He travels down your neck, slowly making his way down, only stopping to highlight fading purple coloured splotches. They were the ones you’d trace your fingers over at night when he couldn’t make it over and the ones you’d desperately try and cover with layers of makeup when it was hot out.

He shakes his head, messy curls brushing against your neck and you bite your bottom lip to prevent a breathy moan from escaping as warm lips trace patterns on your collar bones.

“Don’t care, just need you right now.” He speaks, words competing with the television in the background. You were unsure what part the movie was even up to currently, too wrapped up in the boy that you’d somehow found on top of you, legs on either side of your own and hands roaming your body, exploring every inch he had access to. In any other circumstance, you would’ve allowed your eyes to flutter shut and take in every little action and pleasure. You would’ve been begging him to continue, body reacting to every touch.

But you can’t let him go any further while you knew what he didn’t. The little secret had been eating away at you, picking your brain apart piece by piece until not even the feeling of his hands riding up the front of your old school sweater can get you going and you’re more focused on the smell of a burnt out candle then the beating of his heart that’s nearly pressed against your own.

“I’m pregnant.”

There’s an awkward silence, a moment of hesitation as all actions halt and you can’t breathe. You don’t want to breathe. Breathing seems nearly impossible.

Tom moves back, clearly shocked and his face morphs from amusement to confusion and disbelief. “You know, there are other ways of saying ‘I don’t want to have sex right now,’ right?”

You swallow harshly, clamming hands falling from his biceps to your lap where they fall together, fingers locking together like magnets and you mutter the same words, like a record stuck on repeat. “I’m pregnant.”

Tom grimaces, forcing himself to sit up beside you and in a hurry, he straightens his shirt out, removing the evidence of your previous endeavours. “Now’s not the time to kid around about that–”

“I’m fucking pregnant, Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you?” You sit up too and despite Tom long moving away and in result, putting a fair amount of distance between the two of you. You can still feel his fingertips against your skin. Hot, gentle.

Somehow it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your chest but still, you feel suffocated and struggling to come to terms with it yourself so it’s no shock when tears of pure frustration well in the corners of your eyes. Toms reaction didn’t seem to be helping diminish your fears but it wasn’t like you expected him to shower you in reassurances straight away.

“And it’s mine?” When you don't respond, Tom gapes like a fish, eyes widening. “I thought you were on the pill?!” 

“I was you fucktard, it doesn’t always work! You never should’ve cum inside me. Have you never heard of pulling out?” You scoff, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. “I can’t believe you.”

Tom wets his bottom lip, feeling himself calm down from whatever confusion and temporary anger had previously been clouding his brain and sighs. He knew that this wasn’t your fault, as well as that you were both in this together.

“I mean, you’re hot and it was good… how could I not?”

You choke. “Now is not the fucking time for you to say things like that!” However, his remark makes you laugh lightly between sniffles. “I’m pregnant and the baby’s yours, that much I’m sure of.”

The baby’s yours.

Tom stares off into the distance, the words sitting in the front of his mind but he couldn’t work out if they were taunting him or if that small, spark of something in the pit of his stomach was excitement. Nerves were evident and shock? That too. In fact, there was a ton of that. Almost too much to accept.

“I’ll take your word on that,” Tom utters, admitting to himself that he knew you well enough– and long enough to trust you on that statement. Harshly, he chews on the inside of his mouth for a moment before looking down at his nails. “Are you scared?”

You nod your head, lips trembling. “I’m terrified.”

Breathing in the fading scent of cherries and hot chocolate, the smell of buttered popcorn regretfully forgotten he comes to a realisation and sighs. 

“And you’ve known about this all week?”

You nod but more hesitantly this time, being careful as the news settles. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

I don’t want to lose you. Six words were spoken a rare few times in your few years of friendship. There was the time you were in a club and it was shouted over partygoers, the two of you being tugged either way despite wanting to stick close. There was the time you got in an argument about your new boyfriend (now ex) that he despised and then there was the time you started sleeping together.

‘I don’t want to lose you’ was always followed by ‘you won’t’ and that small ‘you won’t’ was always filled with promise.

“You won’t– You can't lose me, I’m your best friend.” He promises.

Tom sits back, still feeling some kind of way that he wasn’t able to comprehend. Taking your legs and kicking them over his lap, he relaxes, knowing that stressing wasn’t about to do anybody any good. “We were so careful…” 

You agree, but only to an extent. “What are we going to do?”.

“I don’t know.” He stops, hesitating for a moment before he opts to continue. “I really don’t know, but I do know that you’re not in this alone and we’ll sort this out together, whatever it takes.”

That’s all the reassurance you need to visibly relax. The tension on your shoulders loosens and you allow your head to fall against the side of the couch, far too close to his shoulder but you steer clear. There’s still a weight larger than life sitting on your shoulders, almost resting on your chest.

He licks his bottom lip, tasting what was left of your lip balm and allows himself to draw patterns on your legs over your clothing, allowing the silence to simmer for a few moments.

Both of you knew it wasn’t exactly meant to happen. It was merely a small incident that involved the two of you that now had a huge effect on both of you but neither of you want to get onto the gritty topics yet. Like what you’d do after the baby was born, or how you’d tell your friends and family. So you stick to making jokes and laughs about of the situation, something the two of you did oh so well. Suppressing the looming topics you both wanted to avoid for as long as possible. It was why you got along so well, you tended to distract each other– sometimes with sex, and sometimes with witty jokes.

But maybe the reality of the situation hadn’t kicked in yet– for either of you. The reality of pregnancy was more than a little morning sickness and sleepless nights.

It was making the best decision, and from there it was raging cravings and hectic mood swings, appointments and scares and even more decisions. For the two of you, it’d be telling people that you were bringing another life into the world before you'd even sorted your own out and admitting that you’d probably been a little less than careful.

It’s losing all selfishness and learning to love and be loved in return.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” You question, shifting your gaze. Tom stares back and there’s clear fright in his eyes, surely you wouldn't expect anything else. You were both thrown into the deep end here. But you had each other and sometimes that was enough. However, in this situation, whether your friendship was enough was unclear.

He smiles, though he looks slightly unsure. “Whatever it takes.”

PART 2

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