Hello from the Underworld
Title: Dying In English
Rating: PG-13-ish
Summary: If Evgeni and Jordan aren't fighting, they aren't talking at all.
Note: My first post. Rip into it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them because sex slaves are illegal.
I knew Evgeni Malkin didn’t like English. He told me so every day. Okay, so he told me he didn’t like me every day. Yep. Too bad the feeling wasn’t mutual. Of course not. I was the second youngest. My older brother (and best friend, I guess) is Eric freaking Staal. I got copped for underage drinking in Minnesota. If I didn’t have shitty luck, I’d have no luck, so it figures I’d have a crush on the damn Russian.
“Gronk, you suck,” he told me, watching me tie my left shoe.
“What did I do now?” I grumbled, moving to tie my right.
He threw a small pile of paper on the floor next to my hands.
“You think it is being funny?” he demanded, gaining the attention of the locker room.
“Sure, why not,” I picked up the papers, “now, what is it?”
Maxime Talbot broke into a fit of giggles. I sat up to look at Evgeni. His face was as red as my brother Marc’s hair. I looked at Max. He was leaning on our goalie, Marc-Andre Fleury to keep himself upright. I leafed through the pile of papers. The words “Oh, God, Evgeni,” caught my eye. I read from there.
When I was finished reading, I was probably red, too.
“What in the high hell is this, man?” I looked passed the Russian to Mad Max.
“Fanfiction,” he grinned.
“Fan? Fan of what? Hardcore kinky porn? Harlequin?” I threw the papers in his general direction.
“Hey, in the beginning him and I are making out!” Max pointed to Marc-Andre.
“Hm, too bad I wouldn’t kiss you,” the goalie replied thoughtfully, brushing his chin-length hair out of his eyes.
Max growled when Marc-Andre smiled at him.
“What the fuck?” Sidney Crosby picked a piece the story and read it. He looked Evgeni straight in the eyes, “You really that flexible?”
I wouldn’t have believed Evgeni could get any more red. He resembled a Red Wings jersey.
“Captain!” he pointed at me and spoke in Russian, then took a deep breath, “He put it in my stall! It is… it is…” Evgeni shuttred.
Well, fuck you Gino.
Max looked offended, and I just sapped.
“You fucking prick!” I growled. I didn’t even know I could growl. “You really think I’d shove something like that in your damn stall? I’m fucking in it! Why would I want to do anything like that with you?”
I shoved his shoulders and he stumbled backwards.
“You’re a fucking jackass!”
I wasn’t even sure he knew what a prick or a jackass was. He’d heard the terms enough, I’m sure.
He straightened himself and glared at me. I totally thought he was going to hit me. Instead he turned to Sergei Gonchar and said something, then walked out of the room.
I started slamming stuff into my bag, not really paying attention to what I was doing, but I was aware that a good chunk were watching me.
“Sorry, Gronk,” Max placed a hand on my shoulder, looking as shocked as I felt, “I didn’t think he’d blame my brilliancy on you.”
I snorted and swung my bag over my shoulder, leaving everyone to look at my back.
Half way down the hall, Sergei caught up with me.
“Hey! Gronk, wait for a second!” he called to me with his thick Russian accent, “Jordan!”
“Do not tell me to ‘be nice’, Gonch,” I snarled, turning around.
“I was going to say something else, but…”
I began walking away.
“He’s only pissy because he’s afraid of you!” he called at me.
I snorted and continued walking.
Gino? Afraid? Ha! Not ever. He could be staring God in the face and have Satan sitting on his head and he still wouldn’t be afraid.
I almost fell over when I saw Evgeni leaning on my car.
“Gronk,” he stood up straight.
Great, I thought, he’s gonna kick my ass in the parking lot, where Sid and Flower can’t save my Canadian skin.
“Gino,” I hissed, not meaning to sound so angry.
Evgeni cast his eyes toward the blacktop, suddenly looking sad. “I make mad you, Gronk?” his deep voice vibrating my spine.
“Yes. You made me very mad, Gino,” I spat, “I’d would totally love to hit you.”
That was supposed to have stayed in my head.
Evgeni took two steps away from my car and said, “You hit me then, yes?”
I pulled back my hand intending to punch him. His eyes met mine. They were glazed over and lighter than they usually are. His shoulders were shaking.
Fuuuuuck!
I let my arm fall, “No, Gino, I wont hit you. But you are a prick.”
He looked down again, “Sorry. I do not know how act. If I Evgeni, I not good enough, yes?”
Whaaaaaat?
“What, you…?”
“Are Gino, yes?” he looked at me eagerly.
“Gino’s just a nickname. You’re Evgeni,” I shook my head.
“No…” he shook his head.
English sucks.
I opened my mouth, then closed it, and then started to laugh.
“You laugh at me?” Evgeni’s face turned red again.
I shook my head, “No, this is just really funny,” I stifled another fit of giggles, “We cant understand each other to save our lives. Evgeni, English sucks.”
“I understand that!” he smiled. He looked sooo damn good. I almost fell over again, but I managed to smile back.
“You know, Max was totally offended when you blamed that prank on me,” I told him as I leaned on my car.
He looked hurt, “Sorry but I--”
“Hey, it’s okay!” I smiled again.
“May I ask…” he thought for a moment, “What is a prick?”
“Um, jackass?” I said not knowing how else to explain it.
“Um, like a jerk?”
I nodded and he smiled triumphantly, then frowned.
He moved forward and hugged me, “Sorry, Gronk.”
I put my arm around his shoulders and all but melted.
“It’s okay, Gino,” I told him, then stepped back.
“I’ll be nice now, yes?” he looked hopefully at me.
“Okay,” I nodded.
Then it felt awkward. If Evgeni and I weren’t fighting, we weren’t talking at all.
I moved to unlock my car and Evgeni caught my arm.
“You not mad now, yes?” he asked, concern tightening his features.
“Nah, I’m not mad anymore,” I sighted.
His body relaxed, but I could see his hands and his shoulders were still shaking.
“Are you okay, man?” I asked him.
He looked up at me, “Jordan…”
Evgeni pressed into me, pushing me against my car, his hands on my chest. I wrapped my arm around his waist reflexively. Then he put his mouth on mine. Man, his mouth was hot! It sounds cliché, but it was like when you turn on the shower too hot and get in anyway. Only it was much sexier than me naked in the shower…
He licked my bottom lip and I gasped. He pulled away.
“Sorry, Gronk! I really…” he looked at the blacktop again.
“Evgeni!” Gonch called from across the parking lot.
Evgeni looked from Gonch to me. I smiled at him. He smiled back a little, then left with the older Russian.
*~*
I lay in bed that night covers pulled up to my chin and thought about Evgeni.
Why did he stop? What was he really…? What did “if I Evgeni I not good enough,” mean? Why the hell did English have to suck so hard?
I looked at the digital clock by my bed. 1:29. And there was no way in hell I was going to get any sleep. Fuck, I thought, I’d try it anyway.
I rolled over and tired not to imagine myself pressed to Evgeni’s chest. Of course, that means I did. Hard muscle under my cheek, arm slung over my shoulders, hand resting on his chest, over his heart, his other hand covering mine. I closed my eyes, looking at my eyelids. Nope, could see him there, too.
“If I Evgeni, I not good enough.”
My mind kept wandering back to mull over this statement. What the hell did it mean? Maybe he just didn’t like his name… Nah, too much hurt in his eyes for that. Maybe he had multiple personality disorder… Never changed personalities, though.
Damnit all! I thought, then sat up and reached for my cell.
Eric would be really pissed, but I called him anyway. I hit speed dial 1 on the keypad and heard two rings before my oldest brother (and best friend, I guess) picked up.
“Jordan, you better be dead, mate, or damn close to it for calling me at 1:45 in the fucking morning.”
“Gee, I love to hear your voice too, big brother,” I hadn’t meant to sound like a prick. Oops.
“Dude,” I heard him sit up, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
I sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t have called. Fuck.
“Damn this! I totally have no idea why I called you!” I spat, even though I wasn’t mad at him, “I cant talk to you about this!”
“Hey!” Eric yelled before I could hang up, “Jord, chill, what do you think you cant talk to me about? Bro, you know I got your back!”
I ended up dumping the contents of my brain in my brother’s ear. I told him everything from the fanfiction, to the kiss, to the thoughts of Evgeni holding me in my bed.
“What the fuck does if I Evgeni, I not good enough mean?” Eric asked.
“Exactly!” I bounced on my bed.
“Do you want him, Jordie?” Eric asked with concern in his voice.
“Yes,” I didn’t hesitate to answer,” I’ve always liked him, then he kissed me, and now my head’s a huge mess. Help.”
Eric paused, thinking.
“Just talk to him? Nah, that won’t work, he cant understand English, right?”
“He can understand, he just can’t get the works to how he wants them to. I want him so bad it hurts, Eric. It makes my stomach just clench up and I feel sick,” I confessed, wishing my brother was here instead of Carolina.
“It’ll be okay, Jordie,” he reassured me gently, in that way only an older sibling can, “Just ask him if he wants you. Yes or no question.”
“But what if its no? Eric, I---”
“Shush,” he commanded. I obeyed. “No thinking about if’s. Jump in. Head first. Like we did hockey. That turned out well, right?”
I snorted.
“Everything will be okay, Jordan,” I heard the smile and confidence in his voice.
“Okay, but if he punches me, I’m calling you at 2:30 in the morning tomorrow,” I warned.
“Yeah, love you, too,” he chuckled.
“Love you,” I muttered and hung up the phone. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep.
Rating: PG-13-ish
Summary: If Evgeni and Jordan aren't fighting, they aren't talking at all.
Note: My first post. Rip into it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them because sex slaves are illegal.
I knew Evgeni Malkin didn’t like English. He told me so every day. Okay, so he told me he didn’t like me every day. Yep. Too bad the feeling wasn’t mutual. Of course not. I was the second youngest. My older brother (and best friend, I guess) is Eric freaking Staal. I got copped for underage drinking in Minnesota. If I didn’t have shitty luck, I’d have no luck, so it figures I’d have a crush on the damn Russian.
“Gronk, you suck,” he told me, watching me tie my left shoe.
“What did I do now?” I grumbled, moving to tie my right.
He threw a small pile of paper on the floor next to my hands.
“You think it is being funny?” he demanded, gaining the attention of the locker room.
“Sure, why not,” I picked up the papers, “now, what is it?”
Maxime Talbot broke into a fit of giggles. I sat up to look at Evgeni. His face was as red as my brother Marc’s hair. I looked at Max. He was leaning on our goalie, Marc-Andre Fleury to keep himself upright. I leafed through the pile of papers. The words “Oh, God, Evgeni,” caught my eye. I read from there.
When I was finished reading, I was probably red, too.
“What in the high hell is this, man?” I looked passed the Russian to Mad Max.
“Fanfiction,” he grinned.
“Fan? Fan of what? Hardcore kinky porn? Harlequin?” I threw the papers in his general direction.
“Hey, in the beginning him and I are making out!” Max pointed to Marc-Andre.
“Hm, too bad I wouldn’t kiss you,” the goalie replied thoughtfully, brushing his chin-length hair out of his eyes.
Max growled when Marc-Andre smiled at him.
“What the fuck?” Sidney Crosby picked a piece the story and read it. He looked Evgeni straight in the eyes, “You really that flexible?”
I wouldn’t have believed Evgeni could get any more red. He resembled a Red Wings jersey.
“Captain!” he pointed at me and spoke in Russian, then took a deep breath, “He put it in my stall! It is… it is…” Evgeni shuttred.
Well, fuck you Gino.
Max looked offended, and I just sapped.
“You fucking prick!” I growled. I didn’t even know I could growl. “You really think I’d shove something like that in your damn stall? I’m fucking in it! Why would I want to do anything like that with you?”
I shoved his shoulders and he stumbled backwards.
“You’re a fucking jackass!”
I wasn’t even sure he knew what a prick or a jackass was. He’d heard the terms enough, I’m sure.
He straightened himself and glared at me. I totally thought he was going to hit me. Instead he turned to Sergei Gonchar and said something, then walked out of the room.
I started slamming stuff into my bag, not really paying attention to what I was doing, but I was aware that a good chunk were watching me.
“Sorry, Gronk,” Max placed a hand on my shoulder, looking as shocked as I felt, “I didn’t think he’d blame my brilliancy on you.”
I snorted and swung my bag over my shoulder, leaving everyone to look at my back.
Half way down the hall, Sergei caught up with me.
“Hey! Gronk, wait for a second!” he called to me with his thick Russian accent, “Jordan!”
“Do not tell me to ‘be nice’, Gonch,” I snarled, turning around.
“I was going to say something else, but…”
I began walking away.
“He’s only pissy because he’s afraid of you!” he called at me.
I snorted and continued walking.
Gino? Afraid? Ha! Not ever. He could be staring God in the face and have Satan sitting on his head and he still wouldn’t be afraid.
I almost fell over when I saw Evgeni leaning on my car.
“Gronk,” he stood up straight.
Great, I thought, he’s gonna kick my ass in the parking lot, where Sid and Flower can’t save my Canadian skin.
“Gino,” I hissed, not meaning to sound so angry.
Evgeni cast his eyes toward the blacktop, suddenly looking sad. “I make mad you, Gronk?” his deep voice vibrating my spine.
“Yes. You made me very mad, Gino,” I spat, “I’d would totally love to hit you.”
That was supposed to have stayed in my head.
Evgeni took two steps away from my car and said, “You hit me then, yes?”
I pulled back my hand intending to punch him. His eyes met mine. They were glazed over and lighter than they usually are. His shoulders were shaking.
Fuuuuuck!
I let my arm fall, “No, Gino, I wont hit you. But you are a prick.”
He looked down again, “Sorry. I do not know how act. If I Evgeni, I not good enough, yes?”
Whaaaaaat?
“What, you…?”
“Are Gino, yes?” he looked at me eagerly.
“Gino’s just a nickname. You’re Evgeni,” I shook my head.
“No…” he shook his head.
English sucks.
I opened my mouth, then closed it, and then started to laugh.
“You laugh at me?” Evgeni’s face turned red again.
I shook my head, “No, this is just really funny,” I stifled another fit of giggles, “We cant understand each other to save our lives. Evgeni, English sucks.”
“I understand that!” he smiled. He looked sooo damn good. I almost fell over again, but I managed to smile back.
“You know, Max was totally offended when you blamed that prank on me,” I told him as I leaned on my car.
He looked hurt, “Sorry but I--”
“Hey, it’s okay!” I smiled again.
“May I ask…” he thought for a moment, “What is a prick?”
“Um, jackass?” I said not knowing how else to explain it.
“Um, like a jerk?”
I nodded and he smiled triumphantly, then frowned.
He moved forward and hugged me, “Sorry, Gronk.”
I put my arm around his shoulders and all but melted.
“It’s okay, Gino,” I told him, then stepped back.
“I’ll be nice now, yes?” he looked hopefully at me.
“Okay,” I nodded.
Then it felt awkward. If Evgeni and I weren’t fighting, we weren’t talking at all.
I moved to unlock my car and Evgeni caught my arm.
“You not mad now, yes?” he asked, concern tightening his features.
“Nah, I’m not mad anymore,” I sighted.
His body relaxed, but I could see his hands and his shoulders were still shaking.
“Are you okay, man?” I asked him.
He looked up at me, “Jordan…”
Evgeni pressed into me, pushing me against my car, his hands on my chest. I wrapped my arm around his waist reflexively. Then he put his mouth on mine. Man, his mouth was hot! It sounds cliché, but it was like when you turn on the shower too hot and get in anyway. Only it was much sexier than me naked in the shower…
He licked my bottom lip and I gasped. He pulled away.
“Sorry, Gronk! I really…” he looked at the blacktop again.
“Evgeni!” Gonch called from across the parking lot.
Evgeni looked from Gonch to me. I smiled at him. He smiled back a little, then left with the older Russian.
*~*
I lay in bed that night covers pulled up to my chin and thought about Evgeni.
Why did he stop? What was he really…? What did “if I Evgeni I not good enough,” mean? Why the hell did English have to suck so hard?
I looked at the digital clock by my bed. 1:29. And there was no way in hell I was going to get any sleep. Fuck, I thought, I’d try it anyway.
I rolled over and tired not to imagine myself pressed to Evgeni’s chest. Of course, that means I did. Hard muscle under my cheek, arm slung over my shoulders, hand resting on his chest, over his heart, his other hand covering mine. I closed my eyes, looking at my eyelids. Nope, could see him there, too.
“If I Evgeni, I not good enough.”
My mind kept wandering back to mull over this statement. What the hell did it mean? Maybe he just didn’t like his name… Nah, too much hurt in his eyes for that. Maybe he had multiple personality disorder… Never changed personalities, though.
Damnit all! I thought, then sat up and reached for my cell.
Eric would be really pissed, but I called him anyway. I hit speed dial 1 on the keypad and heard two rings before my oldest brother (and best friend, I guess) picked up.
“Jordan, you better be dead, mate, or damn close to it for calling me at 1:45 in the fucking morning.”
“Gee, I love to hear your voice too, big brother,” I hadn’t meant to sound like a prick. Oops.
“Dude,” I heard him sit up, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
I sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t have called. Fuck.
“Damn this! I totally have no idea why I called you!” I spat, even though I wasn’t mad at him, “I cant talk to you about this!”
“Hey!” Eric yelled before I could hang up, “Jord, chill, what do you think you cant talk to me about? Bro, you know I got your back!”
I ended up dumping the contents of my brain in my brother’s ear. I told him everything from the fanfiction, to the kiss, to the thoughts of Evgeni holding me in my bed.
“What the fuck does if I Evgeni, I not good enough mean?” Eric asked.
“Exactly!” I bounced on my bed.
“Do you want him, Jordie?” Eric asked with concern in his voice.
“Yes,” I didn’t hesitate to answer,” I’ve always liked him, then he kissed me, and now my head’s a huge mess. Help.”
Eric paused, thinking.
“Just talk to him? Nah, that won’t work, he cant understand English, right?”
“He can understand, he just can’t get the works to how he wants them to. I want him so bad it hurts, Eric. It makes my stomach just clench up and I feel sick,” I confessed, wishing my brother was here instead of Carolina.
“It’ll be okay, Jordie,” he reassured me gently, in that way only an older sibling can, “Just ask him if he wants you. Yes or no question.”
“But what if its no? Eric, I---”
“Shush,” he commanded. I obeyed. “No thinking about if’s. Jump in. Head first. Like we did hockey. That turned out well, right?”
I snorted.
“Everything will be okay, Jordan,” I heard the smile and confidence in his voice.
“Okay, but if he punches me, I’m calling you at 2:30 in the morning tomorrow,” I warned.
“Yeah, love you, too,” he chuckled.
“Love you,” I muttered and hung up the phone. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep.