Work Text:
“Will you come with me to Elizabeth’s party on New Year’s Eve?”
“Huh?” Tom responds, mouth full of toast.
“The trainer? From the gym I go to. You’ve met her like, four times. Come on, mid-thirties? Her husband spotted you on the bench that one time?”
“The one with the hot pink Nikes?”
Mike rolls his eyes, “Yeah, that’s the one. Now will you come or not?”
“Free booze?” Tom asks, still looking skeptical.
“Free booze.” Mike agrees, and that’s that.
-
There’s a formal invitation to the party and everything, Tom finds out on their way to practice the next day. “Look at all of the word clipart,” Latts says, grinning. He passes it around when they get there, showing off the fact that he has ‘friends that aren’t Tom and Andre’.
Tom leaves to level out his stick while they are discussing whether or not ‘gym buddies’ count as friends and if Mike is actually ‘the other woman’.
Holtby joins him a minute later, grabbing one of his sticks and smacking around one of the practice pucks. “Comin’ to the bars with us on New Year’s now that you’re finally legal?”
“Nah, I’m going to that party with Latts. It’ll probably be lame, but there’s free alcohol and it’s in some penthouse, so,” he trails off, partly because he needs to focus on getting the curve of this stick right and partly because Holts is now staring at him, eyes wide and stick clutched loosely in his hand. “Um,” he starts.
“Oh my god,” Holtby says, and promptly flees the equipment room.
Tom shrugs it off, because goalies are weird by nature, but when he gets back to the lockers everyone else is acting strange as well. Latts is the only one who even looks up when he walks to his stall, which is…
“What?” Tom finally snaps after a few minutes of the team refusing to make eye contact.
“Nothing,” Burky says with a smirk, pinching his lips like he’s trying to hold in giggles “it’s just, Latts doesn’t know what a plus one is.”
“I do, too,” Latts whines, tossing a glove at Burky’s head. “I didn’t want to go the New Year’s party alone, so I’m bringing a bro. She specifically told me to bring a guest.”
“The card says ‘It’s a pretty private party but I’ll give you a plus one, so feel free to bring someone, like that nice boy that comes to the gym with you sometimes.’” Kuzy reads, snatching it away from Andre.
“See, she wants me to bring Willy. Maybe she’s a cougar, or something. Backy help me.”
Nicky shrugs and goes back to taping his stick. Ovi answers instead. “Plus one mean date, Latts,” he giggles.
Tom decides then that enough is enough because they get enough shit about being married as is, “she just wanted him to bring a friend so it wasn’t all middle aged housewives flirting with him. He needs backup, calm down.”
“You picked a good boyfriend, Mike,” Nicky offers finally, tapping him on the shoulder on his way to the ice.
-
Exactly three minutes into the party Tom reluctantly begins to agree with his team. Elizabeth and her husband answer the door together, which isn’t out of place, but as she’s introducing everyone he can’t help but notice that all of them are coupled up. Not a single single person in sight.
And then there are the questions, which start with the more innocent, “did you two meet playing hockey?’
And progress to, ‘What did you get each other for Christmas?’ and ‘How long have you been living together?’
Latts, per usual, notices nothing out of the ordinary. He answers the questions honestly, smiling as he tells stories about them first moving in together. He’s right in the middle of describing their short-lived roommate stunt with Burky when one of the women winks and asks, “did he walk in on you two? That why he moved out?”
Tom tries to shut this line of questioning down before Latts gets grossed out when he realizes what all of these people think, but Latts beats him to the punch while Tom chokes on his champagne.
“Oh, this is pretty new,” Mike says, and what the fuck he’s actually blushing. “Andre probably knew before we did.” Okay so he’s playing along. Tom isn’t sure why, exactly, but he’s not going to question it in front of everyone.
“That is so cute,” Elizabeth says, “I knew something was different when I saw you last week.”
Latts turns a shy smile on Tom and he can’t help but put an arm around him, pulling him in to his shoulder and squeezing while the ladies coo. “Do you need more champagne?” He asks quietly while they are close, needing at least a minute away from all of this to comprehend exactly what is happening.
“Yeah, I’d love some. Thanks, babe,” Mike replies, equally quiet, and Tom nearly trips on his way to the kitchen.
Does Latta think we’re dating?? He sends Burky, answer now or never be invited to taco night again
??? Burky replies after a minute
Mike is acting like I’m his date.
You are his date, fucker.
This is serious, dick, let the plus one thing go.
No, I mean you are his date. Are you guys fighting? Did he forget to bring you the champagne we picked out?
Tom stuffs his phone in his pocket. Okay, so Mike thinks they’re dating. That… actually makes a weird amount of sense. Like why Mike slipped trying to get around the car to Tom’s door fast enough and then pouted when Tom opened it himself. It also explains the weird fancy bottle of Perignon he presented to Tom as they were leaving the house. Tom actually feels sort of bad now for responding, “It doesn’t count as free booze if we have to bring it ourselves.”
He experiments with this realization a little when he rejoins the party, standing a little closer, playing with the fringe at the nape of Mike’s neck while they listen to Bruce tell work stories. And Mike loves it; he leans in and hums happily every time Tom shows affection, which is nice, actually. And it definitely helps him figure out what he needs to do next.
“Mike, can I talk to you for a second?” Tom asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.
“Yeah, sure,” Mike says, looking a little bashful, “sorry Elizabeth was telling me a story about her dogs, I got distracted. What’s up?”
“I mean, like, in private.”
Mike’s face falls. “The ball is going to drop soon.”
“This is important.”
He manages to look even more devastated, so Tom reaches out and links their fingers together, using the grip to pull him out to the balcony. The air is crisp and cool, the house lights making the thin layer of snow sparkle.
“Hey, is this a date?” Tom asks softly, after a minute of staring at the city silently.
Mike jerks his hand away. “I knew I was reading this wrong. The guys were just so adamant, and I thought you thought it was a date. I was going to talk to you about it, but then I kind of wanted it to be a date, and, man I’m so-“
Tom cuts him off by grabbing Mike’s hand back and yanking him in, arms going tight around his waist. “I want this to be a date, Latts, am I wrong?”
“No,” Mike whispers, eyes wide, “by my count, though, this is about our hundredth date.”
“That’s it?” Tom replies, pulling Mike snug against his chest, threading his free hand through his hair to tilt his head closer.
“That’s just this year, and I didn’t even count-“
And because this scenario is already feeling a little like the marathon of Lifetime movies they watched in December, Tom shuts him up by kissing him.