NHL Imagines

Michael Latta (Binghamton Devils)

After an excruciatingly long week of being tormented by my boyfriend and his best friend, I decided on a plan to get my revenge, managing to time it just in time for Michael's birthday. I had a rag full of shaving cream in my hand, Tom following close with a camera.

I crept quietly into mine and Michael's shared bedroom, making sure he was asleep before I continued. Bringing my hand up, I slapped the rag down onto his cheek, recoiling back when he jolted up.

His hands immediately went to his face, trying his best to wipe the cream from his eyesight. I had ducked behind our dresser as he did this, Tom being the first thing he saw.

"Really? You're a dead man, Wilson," Michael muttered, standing grumpily from the mattress.

Tom's eyes widened in mock fright as he held up his hands, then bolted out of the room, Michael following close behind him.

A crash sounded from the living room after the two of them ran out. I tip-toed out of our room while the two of them were distracted, making my way into the kitchen to sit at the table.

Michael walked in a few moments later, spotting me drinking out of my mug, scrolling through my phone. I looked up at him and smiled innocently. His mouth hung open slightly before a wicked grin grew on his face.

"Michael Latta, don't you dare," I warned.

He lunged towards me as I sprinted out of the chair, running to the living room where I expected Tom would be. I stopped and contemplated my next move, only realizing my mistake when I felt arms wrap around me, locking me tightly against a hard body. Michael spun me around, rubbing his face against mine, getting the shaving cream all over me and in my hair, too. I squealed in shock and wriggled out of his grasp, rubbing away as much as I could.

He brought me into his arms again, this time more gently than the one before that. I looked up at him and he leaned down, softly placing his lips on mine. I smiled through it, eliciting one from him as well.

We broke apart, hearing a shutter click. Turning to where the sound went off, we saw Tom standing there, phone in hand, grin on his face.

He looked up at us and stuttered out a quick apology. "What? You guys looked cute,"

Michael and I both laughed at this. He grabbed both my hands in his, interlocking our fingers and kissing the ring on my finger.

"Happy birthday, Michael," I whispered.

"Thank you, baby," he murmured back. A smile fell upon his lips as he leaned down, connecting our lips once more.

My phone suddenly went off, signaling a Twitter notification. The picture of me and Michael popped up with the caption "Couple of beauties. What a great way to spend your birthday, eh Latts ;)"