Tom Wilson One-Shots
Casino Night
“I am here at the Washington Capitals’ annual Casino Night, where all the money made today goes to charity. And – cut.” You smiled at the cameraman as he turned off the camera and pointed it down. “How was that?”
“Everything was good…” His voice trailed off and your eyebrows perked suspiciously.
“There’s an ‘except’ coming along,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. “What is it?”
“Tom was, um, in the background… er, doing hip thrusts at you.”
You threw your head back and was about to groan when a pair of hands landed on your hips, causing you jump and shriek. You spun around to smack the culprit, and when you saw that it was your boyfriend, that was exactly what you did. You smacked him upright the head.
“Ow,” Tom whimpered, rubbing the back of his head while giving you his infamous boyish smile that made all the girls swoon. “What was that for?”
“Scaring me, but mainly for the hip thrusts.” You gave him another smack and he pouted.
“I’m bored and you won’t pay any attention to me.”
“Go talk to the guys or something,” you retorted, crossing your arms over his chest, as he wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you into his chest. “I’m trying to work.”
He kissed your cheek then under your jaw then you neck. “But none of them are wearing sexy dresses like you,” he mumbled, his lips moving against his skin. You knew you should be stopping him, but you liked it too much and he knew that. “You should be walking in with me when the event start. Everyone else are walking in with their dates.”
You had to pull away… You had to pull away… You gently placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, frowning. “You know I can’t, Tom. I have to be conducting interviews and giving an overview of the event… Walk in with Latts, or something. He doesn’t have a date tonight.”
“I have a girlfriend and he doesn’t,” Tom retorted, officially irritated. He let go of you to cross his arms over his chest. “I want to walk you in, Y/N.”
“Tom, I’m not going to start a fight with you,” you responded, gripping his forearm while going on your toes to gently kiss his lips, careful not to stain him with lipstick. “I only have to be on the red carpet to interview a few players then give a little tour of the event. I’ll be able to be at your side for the rest of the night.”
When he wasn’t happy, you kissed him again (a little firmer this time) and murmured, “I know you hate big events like this. We can sneak out early and do anything your heart desires.”
His eyebrows raised as a pleased look spread across his face. “Anything?” he echoed.
“Anything.” You smiled and stepped back. “Now, why are you even here? Go find Latts and I’ll think about interviewing the two of you when it’s time to walk down the red carpet.”
“I dropped you off, stupid,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “I’ll text Latts to meet me in the back. We’ll walk around to the front.”
“Good idea. Now, I need to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”
He pursed his lips and kissed you once more before reluctantly walking off, pulling out his cellphone.
*
“And here we have Michael Latta and Tom Wilson standing around on the red carpet,” you told the camera, smiling charmingly at the lens and holding up the microphone to your lips. You immediately rested a hand on Tom’s shoulder and leaned in, smiling. “Hello, boys.” You turned your head and found yourself face-to-face with your boyfriend.
“Hello, Y/N,” Latts greeted as an arm wrapped around your waist.
“So, are you boys excited for tonight?”
“I am,” Tom immediately responded, a sly smile making its way to his lips, and Latts added, “Yeah, same. It’s good to be doing fun stuff like this to raise money for charity.”
You looked over at Latts and asked, “Are you in charge of any of the games tonight? Or is it just going to be a surprise when you walk inside?” You held out the microphone to him, doing an amazing job ignoring the soothing circles Tom’s fingers made against your hip. It was most likely going to appear on camera, but hopefully the cameraman was recording above the waists.
“Well, last year I was in charge of blackjacks, so I hope I have the opportunity of doing that again.”
“Are you going to show this youngster the ropes on these big boy games?” you asked, squeezing Tom’s arm. You stole a glance at him before looking back at Latts. “I mean, he did just turn twenty-one this year.”
“Trust me, I don’t need this old man’s help,” Tom interjected smoothly, looking over at you with a lopsided smirk. “It can’t be too hard to play a silly card game like blackjacks.”
“Is that a challenge?” Latts inquired and you grinned, saying, “Yeah. Is that a challenge, Mr. Tom Wilson?”
Your boyfriend held up a fist to his teammate, his smirk becoming more smug. “It’s on.”
“Well, have fun tonight, boys.”
“Thanks, Y/N,” Latts replied, smiling cutely at the camera.
You looked at the cameraman and sang, “Cut.” You slid your hand up your boyfriend’s arm and draped your arm around his neck, pressing your body against his. “And that was my last interview,” you told Tom, smiling up at him. “I just have to do a quick little tour of the event then I’ll be yours for the rest of the night.”
“And we’ll do anything I want?” he responded, sliding his other arm around your waist.
“Only if you behave while I do that tour,” you said pointedly.
He groaned and kissed your lips. “Okay, Mom.”
You looked over and smiled sweetly at Latts. “Can you please keep an eye on him for me?”
“And we’ll do anything I want?” he inquired and dodged the punch aimed his way. He laughed, stuffing his hands into his dress pants’ pockets and smiling cheekily at you two. “Of course, Y/N.”
You patted your boyfriend’s arm and gave him another kiss then pulled out of his arms and walked inside with the cameraman.
*
You groaned against his lips while Tom pushed you into his apartment, hungrily running his hands up and down your bandage dress.
“You really don’t deserve this,” you grumbled against his lips, barely able to remember why you were pissed off at him in the first place. “Latts was supposed to help me, not you.”
He momentarily let go of you to turn around, slip a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door, then close the door and lock it. He turned back and lifted you into his arms, hungrily attacking your lips again. “Those were golden moments that fans would love to watch over and and over… and over… again.”
You skillfully (and hungrily yourself) unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it off his body. “Fortunately, I recorded some stuff before when you were gone, so I could just use your shit as bloopers.”
“Fortunately, you don’t stay mad for long,” he chimed, found the zipper on the back of your dress, and hurriedly unzipped your dress to – just as hurriedly – push it off. “Can we shut up now?”
You smirked against his lips. “Fine.”
