The Pickle Chronicles (Celebrity One Shots)

Jealous (Tom Hiddleston)

A/N: Sorry, don't know what came over me. Eep.

“You’re an asshole.” Carley brushed past Tom as they entered the house, not waiting for him to answer as she started taking off her coat. It had been a cold night, and they were dressed to the nines.  Carley in a long, elegant red silk dress and Tom in a black suit with a crimson tie.

“Oh am I?” He retorted, annoyance tingeing his voice.

“Yes. A bloody fucking asshole.” She spat out, stomping toward the stairs up.  She hoped he didn’t think he was sleeping in their room that night.  No fucking way.  He could sleep on the couch, and make good friends with his right hand for all she cared.

“I told you it was work, Carley. For christ’s sake—“

“OH, and I guess flirting with and eye fucking that fucking reporter was work as well.  Because you’re an actor.” She sneered with the last words, using air quotes, which she knew would infuriate him.  And it did.  Tom pulled off his black coat, tossing it carelessly over the sofa and yanked angrily at his tie.

“You’ve got a mouth on you.” His voice was steel as he raised an eyebrow, momentarily taking a step back.  Carley narrowed her eyes at him.

“Only because you’re a huge, unforgivable DICK.” She ground out.  Tom laughed, despite himself.

“An unforgivable dick. That’s a new one.”

“It’s true.” Carley said, her voice calming slightly.  No matter how mad he made her, he always had this way of talking her down from it.  Calming her, and catching her off guard.

Tom caught on that she was softening to him, and he stepped forward, reaching for her hands.  She let him take her hands and then pull her close.  He smelled so good—like clean clothes and something spicy and slightly sweet.

“Please, forgive this dick.” He whispered into her ear, and they both laughed softly.  Carley reached up and ran her hands up his chest, feeling the lean muscle just under his smooth, fine white dress shirt.

“Make me.” She said, her voice tinged with defiance.  She felt Tom tense under her hands, and Carley wrapped her hands tightly around the red tie that hung loose from his neck.  She’d been so angry when his interview had run late, messing up their dinner date plans.  And then she’d been even angrier to see it was because the reporter had requested extra interview time, which Tom had agreed to.  Calrey has stepped in for the last ten minutes of the interview, and had to use every ounce of willpower not to throttle Tom.  He’d been shamelessly flirting with the petite blond reporter, and he’d been staring at Carley the whole time he did it.  As if he’d done it on purpose, just to anger her.  And he’d done a good job of it.  Carley had stormed out as soon as the interview was over, demanded he drive them home and had told him she wouldn’t eat dinner with him if he forced it down her throat.  That had made him laugh, which had made her even angrier.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Tom leaned forward, his lips brushing past her ear.  Carley felt her whole body go on alert, a ripple passing through her making her skin come alive. 

“Did you want to fuck that reporter? Go fuck her then, what’s stopping you?” She squared her shoulders and looked up at him.  He was a good seven or eight inches taller than her, but with her stilettos on, they were closer in height.  Tom looked down at Carley, over the straight blade of his nose, his eyes darkened to a stormy blue.  She raised her chin, waiting.

“I thought about it.  About making you watch while I did.” His eyes widened ever so slightly, watching for Carley’s reaction.  A tiny hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, as if he couldn’t contain how much he was enjoying this.  Carley did what she could to control her reaction, but she knew Tom could see the clench of her jaw and the red blush of anger and…something else, creep up her chest and neck.