not your trophy - boyfriend!tom
“I hate my freaking job,” (Y/N) groaned as she barreled through the door of her apartment, slamming her bag onto the kitchen counter.
Tom pushed up from where he was sat at the table, giving her a quick kiss before asking, “Rough day?”
“The men I work with always think they’re so much smarter than me because I’m young and because I have a goddamn vagina,” she ranted, forcefully pulling off her blazer and kicking her heels across the room. “Like, why is that so intimidating to you that you have to interrupt me all the time and act like I don’t matter? I submitted a huge proposal yesterday and today I found out we won the job, and I barely heard a word of congratulations. Last week Mike won us a job half as big and got a fucking cake.”
“Congratulations on the proposal–”
“And the other thing is it’s SO boring! Who knew you could be this stressed and this bored with your work at the same time?”
“Yeah, that sounds–”
“I fucking hate–”
“I hear you.” (Y/N) stopped abruptly, surprised by the force in Tom’s voice. “I’ve heard you over and over again for the past several weeks about it, babe.”
“Okaaay, jeez, sorry. Thought it was okay to tell you about the things I’m dealing with, but if it annoys you…”
Tom exasperatedly sighed at the clear irritation in your tone. “It’s not that I don’t want you to tell me these things it’s just….you’re not doing anything about it! If it’s this terrible, do something about it, for crying out loud.”
“Oh, okay, and what do you suggest I do, exactly?”
“Get a new one.”
“Tom, this job gives me six weeks of vacation every year. SIX! That’s three times what anyone gets two years out of school. It’s the only reason I took it! If I get a new job, it’s two, if I’m lucky. So one for Christmas, where we’re either with my family or yours, and one for what? Visiting you somewhere while you’re working the whole time?”
“Then just quit! It would make both our lives easier!”
“What do you mean, ‘just quit’? I worked my ass off for my degree! I’m not just gonna sit around all day while you’re off living your superstar life!”
“How do you think I feel when I’m home and you still have to work all day?”
“I think you feel like you wish you had some trophy wife to come back to when–”
“That’s NOT what I’m saying.”
“Tom, working for myself means a lot to me. And when we have kids I’m for sure going to have to quit my job because you’ll still be traveling so much, so for now, no. I’m not gonna just throw my work away and mooch off you.”
“It’s not mooching if I’m giving it to you! And it’s not like you pay for much now anyway - I mean, you pay half the rent on this apartment just because you’re stubborn, but it’s not like it’s a huge contribution to our lifestyle.”
(Y/N)’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Thanks, Tom, thanks a lot.”
Backtracking, Tom started, “I just mean–”
“Yeah, whatever.” (Y/N) picked up her shoes from where she’d kicked them off. “I’ll be in the bath, not contributing.”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
An hour later, Tom cracked the bathroom door open. He watched (Y/N) lift her head from her book held just above the bathwater. Her hair was tied in a messy knot on the top of her head, and her feet were extended out on the edge of the top. The candles on the windowsill and the Norah Jones playing from her phone would’ve been romantic, had they not just had such a fight.
“Can I come in? I have a peace offering.” At (Y/N)’s quirked eyebrow, he opened the door a bit more and stepped in with a whole box of pizza. “I realized you never ate.”
(Y/N) pulled her feet back in the tub and set her book on the windowsill. Tom set the pizza on the floor, pulled out a slice, handed it to (Y/N), and sat on the edge of the tub with his own slice in hand. They ate without talking.
When they were finished, they sat for a minute, (Y/N) staring into the soapy water, Tom still perched on the tub’s edge facing away from her. He felt her gaze and turned to his side, meeting her eyes. She looked tired, and on queue laid her head on her arms just next to where he was sitting, still looking up at him.
“Thanks for the pizza,” she murmured.
Tom exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m an ass.”
The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched up. “You’re not an ass. It was an asshole thing to say, though.”
“It was. I know what you do is important to you. You are the smartest, most determined woman I know and I love how passionate you are about the things that matter to you.” Tom slid off the edge of the tub, sitting on the outside so that his face was level with hers. “I just miss being with you,” he said, resting his chin just a few inches from hers, “all the time.”
“I know that,” she said, reaching out to drag her fingers lightly around the outer curve of his ear before tugging on the soft curls at the base of his neck. “I was kind of being an asshole too. I shouldn’t spend our time together complaining incessantly. And I definitely don’t want to fight with you.”
Tom drew circles on (Y/N)’s extended arm with his fingers. “I just don’t want you to see you be miserable. Especially when it’s within my means to make it better for you.”
(Y/N) sighed. “Maybe I’ll freelance. Or take a sabbatical?” Tom chuckled. “But you’re right. I need to figure something out.”
“You can do anything.” Tom kissed the inside of her wrist, her hand still in his hair. “I believe in you.”
(Y/N) smiled, scooted forward, and pressed her lips to his. “I love you.”
Suddenly reenergized, Tom stood up, pulling his shirt over his head. He pulled down his pants and boxers, and (Y/N) laughed as he sunk into the tub across from her.
“So…,” smirked Tom after a minute, thinking about something she had said during their fight. “You’ve been thinking about having children with me, have you?”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes and splashed him, the sound of him fondly laughing echoing in the bathroom.
loooooved writing this shoutout to the anon who requested some regretful post-fight tom!