(no subject)
Title: Not One to Tell
Pairing: Talbot/Geno with Sykora's perspective thrown in.
Summary: In a thousand little ways Petr can see what's going on.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: None of it happened, and none of it probably will. SIGH.
Author's Note: This is a brief pause in the "Whatever You Say" fic. I'll be back to it soon.
Petr Sykora wasn’t one to tell a secret. Talbot and Malkin might have taken time to appreciate that fact if they ever knew that they had told him one. It wasn’t as if either one of them had said something directly, Petr could just see it, like something spelled out clearly before him.
Every time Talbot told a joke and Malkin slowly repeated it before smiling, the slight nod that Talbot gave him. Every time Malkin repeated a swear word in three languages, the last one French. Every time they tried not to look at one another as they passed. In a thousand touches, glances, grins, or just the way Talbot stood when Malkin was next to him. Petr didn’t mean to find out, it just came to him.
Talbot couldn’t handle it sometimes. He didn’t know who to blame so he filled in the blanks with himself. He knew he couldn’t be the cause of every missed shot on the ice, but with each one he saw what he had turned Malkin into. Every new low they sunk to, every time Malkin begged, every time he writhed in the sheets, Talbot was turning him into someone that he wasn’t. Every time a game wasn’t going their way all he could see were Malkin’s eyes gazing at him, lips parted, silently asking for more.
Maybe his guilt couldn’t be justified, but that didn’t make it any better. Sometimes in the morning he couldn’t even look at Malkin’s face, couldn’t meet his eyes. He wasn’t even sure what he was ashamed of, maybe too many things to count.
Petr didn’t know what it was, still. If it was dominance, if it was friendship, or if maybe it was love. It was hard to tell some days, especially on those that Malkin sunk into the background, not even making an effort to speak to the others. It wasn’t so bad when Talbot would glance over worriedly, but Petr couldn’t stand the days that he didn’t. He wondered why the others couldn’t feel the pressure, like magnets repelling.
He guessed he was silently rooting for them. He tried not to have an opinion but it was hard. He didn’t know if it was good for them or bad for them, but the team wasn’t suffering any and mostly they seemed happy. He imagined how hard it would be. All of that pressure and nowhere to go. He almost considered letting them in on the secret they shared. Petr just had to remind himself that it wasn’t his story.
Malkin wanted to disappear most days. He didn’t understand what Talbot wanted from him. He didn’t know why he kept coming back. Malkin never wanted something so entirely, never wanted to win so completely. On the ice he wanted glory so badly he could taste it. Talbot he had tasted countless times, and still the draw was stronger. He wished he could just vanish and never have to think about Talbot or glory or any of it ever again. The only problem was that Malkin couldn’t ever tear himself away.
He didn’t know if he could call it love. He couldn’t understand most of what Talbot was saying to him anyway. Watching movies, playing video games, he spoke in rapid English and rarely repeated anything, claiming it would help him learn faster. In the bedroom the English lessons ended, French and Russian mixing together, both nothing and everything being understood.
Petr saw it change. It didn’t happen slowly, something must have happened the night before. He was taking his shoes off in the locker room when they walked in and it fell together in his mind, like puzzle pieces locking into place. Talbot’s sweater only half covered the small bruise on his collarbone. They walked close enough that their arms could accidentally brush.
Before heading to his equipment shelf, Malkin turned to look at Talbot, a grin plastered on both their faces. Peter couldn’t help but smile as well, and when both turned to give him a questioning look, he raised his hands in the air, declaring innocence.
Anymore when Talbot sees Malkin miss a shot, that is all that he sees. When Malkin looks at him, asking for more, that is when he understands him the most. Anymore, Malkin doesn’t think about disappearing. Mostly he wants to hang around even longer. As long as Talbot keeps looking at him like that. As long as he can watch Talbot fall asleep at night.
Malkin tried to tell Talbot early on that Petr knew. Talbot waved him away, claiming that there was no way to tell. That night, Talbot fell asleep wondering how long Petr had known. Wondering if he knew that things were better now. Wondering if he worried for them or about them. Malkin watched Talbot drift off, uneasy with questions. In the morning he would find a way to tell him not to worry. The smile on Petr’s face had been enough to let him know. Peter Sykora wasn’t one to tell a secret.