hall/eberle, "pennies"
Title: Pennies
Fandom: ................ Oilers RPS
Pairing: Taylor Hall/Jordan Eberle
Rating: PG
Words: idk, like 400ish?
Summary: It’s not something he thinks about consciously, anymore. It’s more of a constant, low hum in the back of his mind, occasionally sparking behind his eyelids and making him smile. Making him warm, making him feel light and untouchable and happy.
Note: Just a quick little drabble for puckishsmile , written entirely too late at night (which you can see). Something new, so I hope you enjoy! Comments welcome.
It’s not something he thinks about consciously, anymore. It’s more of a constant, low hum in the back of his mind, occasionally sparking behind his eyelids and making him smile. Making him warm, making him feel light and untouchable and happy.
Ebs sits up halfway, propped up on his elbows on a mattress in the middle of IKEA, and says, “Okay, you’re creeping me out a little bit, dude.”
Taylor flushes a little. “Sorry.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
His thoughts? They should probably be something like for the love of god, Hallsy, don’t move in with the teammate you’ve got crush on, but no, instead they’re more along the lines of how much Taylor wants to sit next to Ebby on the mattress, press him down into the covers and kiss him until he can’t breathe.
“Hallsy?”
He’s so screwed.
“Taylor?”
Ebs is standing now, gazing at him curiously, and Taylor blurts, “I want to kiss you,” then clamps a hand over his mouth, horrified, because you do not say things like that out loud.
“You perv,” Ebs accuses, but he’s grinning wide and bright as he realizes. “I was wondering why you wanted to go mattress shopping with me. Taylor, you naughty -”
“Shut up,” Taylor mutters, blushing furiously. They’re still in the middle of an IKEA and there are salespeople milling around and this is so fucking embarrassing he can hardly stand it. But Ebs’s eyes are on him, the calm to Taylor’s agitation, and he looks so quiet and pleased that Taylor rocks back on his heels and stumbles.
Ebs catches him by the hand, fingers warm where they thread through Taylor’s, and he stares down at them. “Jordan…”
“Taylor,” Ebs returns, equally serious save for the smile toying at the corners of his mouth. As Taylor watches, Ebs dips his other hand into his jeans pocket and pulls it out, and a second later, he spreads Taylor’s fingers out to expose his palm and presses two pennies into the center of it.
Taylor swallows. “What’s the second one for?” He asks quietly, curling his fingers back in.
Ebs doesn’t take his hand again, but he does brush his fingers over the inside of Taylor’s wrist, so lightly that it tickles. His eyelashes are dark against his cheeks as he sweeps his eyes down and back up again, almost shy. He says, “You can kiss me when we get home.”
Fandom: ................ Oilers RPS
Pairing: Taylor Hall/Jordan Eberle
Rating: PG
Words: idk, like 400ish?
Summary: It’s not something he thinks about consciously, anymore. It’s more of a constant, low hum in the back of his mind, occasionally sparking behind his eyelids and making him smile. Making him warm, making him feel light and untouchable and happy.
Note: Just a quick little drabble for puckishsmile , written entirely too late at night (which you can see). Something new, so I hope you enjoy! Comments welcome.
It’s not something he thinks about consciously, anymore. It’s more of a constant, low hum in the back of his mind, occasionally sparking behind his eyelids and making him smile. Making him warm, making him feel light and untouchable and happy.
Ebs sits up halfway, propped up on his elbows on a mattress in the middle of IKEA, and says, “Okay, you’re creeping me out a little bit, dude.”
Taylor flushes a little. “Sorry.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
His thoughts? They should probably be something like for the love of god, Hallsy, don’t move in with the teammate you’ve got crush on, but no, instead they’re more along the lines of how much Taylor wants to sit next to Ebby on the mattress, press him down into the covers and kiss him until he can’t breathe.
“Hallsy?”
He’s so screwed.
“Taylor?”
Ebs is standing now, gazing at him curiously, and Taylor blurts, “I want to kiss you,” then clamps a hand over his mouth, horrified, because you do not say things like that out loud.
“You perv,” Ebs accuses, but he’s grinning wide and bright as he realizes. “I was wondering why you wanted to go mattress shopping with me. Taylor, you naughty -”
“Shut up,” Taylor mutters, blushing furiously. They’re still in the middle of an IKEA and there are salespeople milling around and this is so fucking embarrassing he can hardly stand it. But Ebs’s eyes are on him, the calm to Taylor’s agitation, and he looks so quiet and pleased that Taylor rocks back on his heels and stumbles.
Ebs catches him by the hand, fingers warm where they thread through Taylor’s, and he stares down at them. “Jordan…”
“Taylor,” Ebs returns, equally serious save for the smile toying at the corners of his mouth. As Taylor watches, Ebs dips his other hand into his jeans pocket and pulls it out, and a second later, he spreads Taylor’s fingers out to expose his palm and presses two pennies into the center of it.
Taylor swallows. “What’s the second one for?” He asks quietly, curling his fingers back in.
Ebs doesn’t take his hand again, but he does brush his fingers over the inside of Taylor’s wrist, so lightly that it tickles. His eyelashes are dark against his cheeks as he sweeps his eyes down and back up again, almost shy. He says, “You can kiss me when we get home.”