imagine prof!tom picking up drunk reader from a frat party and taking care of her...swoon
i think drunk pickup from a party might be one of my favourite tropes :’) thank u <3
prof!tom fever night
*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧
The front lawn of the frat house is full of discarded solo cups, and as you sit in the grass, the blades are cool against your legs. You play around with the strands, pulling a few out with blurry fingers as you laugh softly to yourself. Time passes by quickly, interrupted only by a large shadow falling over your figure. You squint as you look up, tilting your head to the side as your tired eyes take in the person.
“Darling.” It’s Professor Holland—Tom, your boyfriend—, drowning in a hoodie. It’s a light lilac colour and he’s paired it with some grey jeans. He’s wearing an amused smile as he raises a hand in greeting. “Why are you sitting out here?”
You accept his hands, glad for his steady grip as you go stumbling to your feet. You’re very drunk. The frat party had been amazing for the first few hours, but as soon as the clock passed 3am, you’d started to flag. Now you’re tired, delirious, and ready for bed.
“Too hot in there,” you reason, winding your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. His features float in front of your eyes, his gaze kind and full of amusement. “It’s cold out here.”
“That’s most definitely true.” Tom reaches up and cups both of your cheeks, frowning when you sigh contentedly and nuzzle into his warm palms. “You’re freezing, Y/N,” he scolds, eyebrows furrowing. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“I did,” you complain, pouting. “You said to call you if I needed anything. So I did.”
Tom coos, then leans forward to softly kiss you. His lips linger there for only a second, but it’s enough to warm you up from the inside out.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. A moment passes then he squeezes your cheeks and steps back, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking with you down the long path. “I’ll take you home.”
“To yours?” you ask, fluttering your lashes despite knowing he’s looking at the path and not at you.
“If you want, darling.”
“Yeah.” You giggle softly and reach up to mess with his curls. You accidentally knock his hood from his head, and Tom rolls his eyes as he quickly pulls it back off. “No,” you whine. “Keep it down, I wanna see your hair.”
He squeezes your waist. “I’m flying under the radar tonight, sweetheart,” he reminds you, voice low. “Wouldn’t exactly be the best look to be seen picking up one of my drunk students from a frat party, would it?”
You giggle as you totter down the street, recognising his car. “But that’s what you’re doing?”
Tom kisses your hand before opening the passenger’s side for you and helping you in. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But you’re not just any student, are you?”
You wait until he’s walked around the car and buckled into the driver’s side to respond. “Aren’t I?”
He rolls his eyes and leans across the console to kiss your forehead. “No,” he stresses, eyes dancing. “I love you. You know that.”
You smirk as you cross your arms over your chest, blearily happily. “Love you too, Tom,” you reply.
Tom takes you back to his. You try to stay on your best behaviour, but you’re still very drunk, and when you’re drunk, you’re annoying. He’s patient with you, but it brings you great amusement to watch his jaw tense from irritation as he sits you up on the bathroom counter and tries to wipe your makeup off, only for you to dodge out of the way each time.
“Stay still,” he mumbles, frowning. Finally, Tom manages to hold your chin, grasping gently as he dabs at your cheeks with a wet cotton pad. “There you go.”
You pout your lips at him. “Kiss?” you ask, smiling widely.
He sighs, then leans closer. “If I kiss you, will you stay still?”
You nod your head immediately. “Yeah,” you reply. “Promise.”
Tom quickly learns that the easiest way to get you ready for bed is by punctuating every movement with a kiss, and once he makes a routine of pressing his warm mouth to yours every few seconds, you’re a lot more compliant. Eventually, he’s convinced you to down a pint of water, change into one of his old oversized hoodies and move over to bed, your lips connected as you pull him down with you.
“Y/N,” he murmurs, easily and effectively pushing you back onto your side of the bed. He rolls over, briefly sitting up as he throws off his t-shirt and struggles from his jeans. “Time to sleep.” As soon as he’s back beside you, he wraps you in his arms and you snuggle into his chest.
Masked by darkness, a sudden, tipsy thought strikes you. “Wait… What were you doing when I called you?”
“Sleeping.”
Your eyes snap up, and you fail to find him in the darkness. Tom reaches up, warm palm cupping the back of your head until you’re soothed.
“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling a little guilty. “This was probably really annoying.”
His lips grace your forehead. “It wasn’t,” he promises. “I’d come out and get you any time of day, darling. I care about you.”
A happy sigh falls past your lips, and your eyes droop shut. “Thanks, Tom,” you murmur. “Love you.”
He kisses the top of your head again. “‘Course, darling. I’m going to the gym at 6, do you want me to wake you up before I go?”
You growl into his chest, only stopping when you hear him laughing. “Do you even love me?” you lament. “What kind of question is that?”
He squeezes your waist. “I love you,” Tom says, voice softer than a lullaby. “Get some sleep.”
Tom tugs you closer, and despite being able to feel the hangover ache building in your temples, you fall asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around you, and his lips coming over your forehead every few minutes.
