Scarlett Johansson | One-Shots (1)

Met Gala

Callie:
"You look amazing," my wife comments from behind as I examine myself in the full-body mirror.

"I don't know, I feel like it's missing something."

She turns me so I'm looking at her and flattens out the chest of my suit and tie. "I can't imagine what."

"I guess you're right." I grab her waist and position her in front of me in front of the mirror.

"We look so good together," she purrs, admiring the view of us.

"We really do."

"I'm assuming you're all ready to go then?"

"Yes ma'am." I lead us down to the lobby of our New York hotel.

When we get there, we're greeted by our driver for the evening. We climb into the slick black Audi SUV and we're driven to the Met Gala.

"How do you feel?" Scarlett asks right before we reach the entrance of the red carpet.

"Honestly, nervous," I admit.

She lovingly takes my hand in hers. "You'll do great. Remember, we're here because of you. You should be excited!"

"I know and I am excited. It's just so strange being in the spotlight for once."

"Well, I'm really proud of you."

I shoot her a warm smile since we've made it to the start of the red carpet. We step out of the car and Scarlett wraps a hand around my bicep as we start our walk up the huge staircase. Press and photographers crowd the edges of the walkway.

Once we reach the top of the first set of steps, we stop to let people take our picture in our matching colored outfits. I wrap an arm around my wife's waist and she places a hand on my back, both of us smiling gorgeously at various cameras.

"Hey, Callie." I turn to Taylor Swift coming up to me.

"Hey, Taylor!" I greet her with a light hug.

"So glad to see you here!"

"I know! It's been a while!"

"It has! I'll see you at the after-party," she smiles then walks away.

Scarlett wraps her hand back around my bicep and we make our way further up the steps of the gala. It takes us a while since we're stopped by many photographers and I meet many of my celebrity friends along the way.

When we finally make it to the top of the steps, we're stopped one last time by an individual photographer. He asks to take our picture in front of a gorgeous backdrop. We let him before heading into the vast dining room. Throughout the formal dinner, many performers play in the background for us to enjoy.

"Finally came out of your cave I see," John Legend teases me at dinner.

I playfully roll my eyes with a huge smile. "Yeah. Vogue should be lucky I even came tonight," I joke, earning laughter from the table.

"Don't listen to that. She was over-excited to be invited," Scarlett refutes me.

"Busted," Nick Jonas laughs.

"Way to make me seem like a child," I blush to my wife.

"That's my job," she smiles, tapping my knee under the table.

The rest of dinner is full of talking and laughing with the table and getting to know the few people I don't already know. When the formal dinner is called to an end, the after-party is called to a start. We all file out of the current room and to a whole different building, separate from the Met Gala.

The after-party is full of celebrities, some in different outfits, some in the same ones as before. The dark large room is only lit up by LED lights of various colors. Booming music blasts through the room. Scarlett and I spend the party mingling in between dancing a little to the upbeat music. Hours later, the party is over and people start to file out. We call for our driver and when we get the notification that he's outside, we say our goodbyes to our friends and leave. Even after the event, press and photographers surround the pathway from the building to the cars, taking pictures of us as we walk to the car.

-

"That was some event," I say as I'm getting changed out of my suit in the hotel room.

"Can I be honest?" Scar asks.

"Yeah, of course."

"I didn't know you knew the people you knew."

"Really? Hun, I've been to so many parties and events with them. How did you not know?"

"I don't know," she laughs, flopping down on the bed in her comfy clothes.

"It's called connections, baby." I pull up my sweatpants and crawl on top of her between her legs, hovering above her.

"It was attractive seeing you with all those celebrities."

"Scar, you're literally one of them. Hell, you're one of the top actresses. What are you talking about?"

"But you being friends with someone like Ariana Grande is just-"

"No." I cut her off with my lips on hers.

She gives in by slipping her hands in my hair and pulling my face harder into hers. We make out until we're both too tired to keep going. When we reach that point, I collapse on top of her and she wraps her arms around me.

"I'm really proud of you," Scar whispers through the darkness.

"What for?"

"Making it so far in your career. We literally went to the Met Gala tonight because Vogue invited you. That's something to be proud of."

I smile against her chest, blushing. "I love you," I yawn.

"I love you more." She kisses my head then goes silent, telling me she fell asleep. So I do the same.