Eclipse (Taylor Hall/Tyler Seguin)
Title: Eclipse
Author:heartandmindxx
Pairing: Taylor Hall/Tyler Seguin
Rating: 14A
Summary: Their relationship leading to the draft.
Notes: This was inspired by a few things, mostly thanks to TSN. As an Oiler fan, these two are the only players that anyone cares about these days, and as I was at the point of deciding that I wasn't going to wrie anymore, the fact that they gave me any sort of idea kind of makes me love them a little more.
Disclaimer: You know the deal. I don’t claim anything except the story. It’s fiction.
AO3 Link: Here.
Eclipse.
1930 words.
Tyler grins at him as they walk the red carpet, the premier of some shitty vampire movie that he’s only heard of because, well, you need to know that kind of thing when chicks demand it, though he’s pretty sure that’s not why Tyler is excited.
He looks up at the giant poster- “Eclipse”, it reads- and he guesses it’s kind of a fitting setting for the last night they spend as rivals jockeying for draft position, with the whole “drama” of Tyler “stealing” or “taking over” the first spot, the throne of which he had been the heir to since he was in junior-frickin-high.
The whole thing has been surreal. First off, he’s in Hollywood, for chrissake, and that’s been insane from the sign to the walk of fame and the Chinese theatre to that crazy wax museum and Rodeo Drive - not to mention that tomorrow he’ll know what National Hockey League team he’ll be playing for in a few months.
He smiles stupidly back at Tyler- they’ve been friends for what seems like ages now but something about that boy still makes him feel like a little kid- and leans in close to speak low, just for him.
“So, are you team Jacob or team Edward?” He says, their shoulders brushing.
Tyler rolls his eyes, “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you,” and it’s not a question.
“I bet you’re team Jacob,” he continues, feigning a swoon, “he’s so dreamy,” he says.
“Dude,” Tyler replies, pushing him back a step, a smile on his face- it’s hard to tell if it’s the heat that’s making his face flush. “Shut up.”
“You so are. I knew it,” he says, prodding Tyler with his finger. ““Hey, I think Taylor Lautner is just over there, why don’t you go introduce yourself?”
“Seriously, you think you’re funny but you’re really not.” Tyler smiles for a camera and leans in, subtly. “Besides,” he pauses, “we both know he isn’t my favourite Taylor anyway.”
---
Tyler doesn’t remember their first meeting.
Taylor swears he does, but says he won’t tell him until he remembers correctly- Tyler takes this to mean that he’s full of shit.
What he does remember is their first game against each other- it feels like they were just kids back then, it feels so long ago- and he remembers being struck by this kid bee-lining around the ice as if he wasn’t playing a position, with such tenacity that it looked like he’d knock the moorings off with his teeth if it meant getting close to a scoring chance.
He remembers the way his stick flexed under his weight and he remembers the sound that Taylor’s skates made as he weaved his way across the ice, and the way that his body crunched and the sound of the boards shaking as he went in head-first. He remembers the way the rink went hush for that second, and the way even his own breath caught in his throat. He could never take seeing players get injured.
What he remembers most, though? The way Taylor was back up and skating towards the puck before anyone else knew what was happening.
So when he sees Taylor at the combine, just days after he’s won the Mem Cup and the MVP, again, he’s not so surprised when he sees Taylor’s body littered with bruises and the way his teeth clench when they ask him to do even the grip test, but he is a little surprised when Taylor withdraws from the rest of the event.
“Hey Champ,” Tyler calls out to him in the corridor of the hotel later, catching onto his hand as he’s walking away from him. Taylor winces and pulls his arm back tenderly, stretching it out a bit. Tyler frowns, “Are you alright?”
“Just a little banged up, that’s all,” Taylor replies, forcing a smile.
Tyler sighs and draws him in, hands on his hips instead of his arms. He ghosts his lips against the other teen’s shoulder, just the slightest brush of skin, but he feels a sense of satisfaction knowing that even that can make Taylor shiver.
That night, in the hotel, when he’s curled up against Taylor- even though he teases him mercilessly for being a cuddler- he draws a circle with his thumb over Taylor’s bare hip as he whispers into the darkness, “I wish you wouldn’t do this all the time.”
They haven’t spoken about it in hours but it’s clear what he’s talking about. Taylor is reckless and sometimes plays with what Tyler thinks might be too much passion, but it’s the only way he knows. There isn’t another way, for him.
“I know,” he whispers back, his hands folded behind his head, “but I have to.”
---
Taylor will cite the World Juniors camp as the stage where their relationship changed. They’d had limited interaction to that point, especially not face-to-face, but this was different. Time spent on that incarnation of what would become Team Canada, together, that was something other than just hearing a lot about each other. Different.
The team spends a lot of time watching movies and just hanging out, playing pool and shooting the shit, swapping stories about girls and games and anything else they can think of.
While Taylor is confident and savvy, not intimidated by the gold medal winners and Canadian heroes in their midst, Tyler is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, bustling with nervous excitement and every bit playing the part of the rookie initiate.
One evening, after the noise of their designated common room has dimmed to a hush, with just he, Tyler, and Stefan finishing up the last of Die Hard, he watches as Tyler’s eyes follow Stefan’s every movement, almost unabashedly staring at the older player.
“Sorry kids, I’m too tired for this shit. I’ve seen it a thousand times anyway. I’m gonna hit it,” Stefan announces, standing up from the couch and stretching to his full length, “see you guys in the morning.”
He watches as Tyler’s eyes linger on the exposed skin of Stefan’s midriff a little longer than just a glance.
“‘Night Della,” he says nonchalantly, almost cut off by Tyler’s response.
“Yea, see you tomorrow, Stefan, uh, yea. Sleep well, er, and stuff,” he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as if hitting himself for sounding so silly.
Taylor waits until Stefan is well out of ears reach to bust out snickering.
“What’s your problem?” Tyler asks accusingly, brow furrowed.
“Could ask you the same thing!” Taylor laughs, “You got a crush on Della or something?”
“No!” Tyler blurts, “I- He- I just- I was... I don’t...” he trails off, knowing he’s probably nailed his own coffin. “I, well, don’t tell anyone.”
“Whoa,” Taylor says, eyes widening, “I- Tyler, I was just joking around.”
“Oh,” is all Tyler says, avoiding Taylor’s stare.
“I... I mean... are you like...” Taylor mumbles, unable to form his sentence quite the way he wants to.
“No!” Tyler exclaims, a shocked look on his face, “I mean, no, not really, I just... you know how it is...”
“Yea,” Taylor replies, scooting a little closer, “yea, I do.”
---
That was the night of their first kiss, and Tyler will always remember it. In the background, Hans Gruber dies and the credits roll but neither of them notice.
Everyone always makes fun of Taylor for his lips, those big, insanely plump lips that form a smile that Tyler’s become addicted to. He’s never told the other boy, and he definitely never will, but he’s always been fascinated by his lips. People called them fishlips, or DSLs, and he’d earned the nickname “Angelina”, but Tyler had only ever wondered if they were as soft as they looked, and what they’d feel like between his teeth.
Somewhere along the line, he learns the answer to both- yes, and awesome, respectively.
They kissed plenty of times after that night, but it took them a while to form any sort of exclusivity. Tyler remembers carrying the torch for Stefan Della Rovere for a lot longer than that, and well, neither of them is exactly like, you know, gay.
But Tyler learns a lot of things about Taylor after that night, and even though he ends up not making the team, which is one of the worst experiences of his entire life, they keep in touch and share a friendship after that, always meeting up whenever they can.
Tyler cites the day their relationship changed as the day the final Central Scouting draft ranking is released.
He’s surprised to see his name at the top of the list, to say the least, but he’s infinitely more surprised to open his door to those lips of Taylor’s staring him down.
“Tay-” he starts, but he’s cut off by the lips attacking his own, and Taylor forcing him up against the wall, and all he can think of is how he’s glad he’s got the room to himself and how Taylor must have known that.
“I just want you to know that-” Taylor tries between vicious kisses, “that I don’t care. That it doesn’t change anything,” he says against his lips, “between us.”
Tyler starts to think, is there something between us?, and then Taylor whispers, “I want you.”
And then Tyler stops thinking at all.
---
The morning before the draft, he knows what he should be thinking about, but he just can’t tear himself away from watching Tyler.
They spent the night before kissing a little and talking less, and he can’t help but think of it as a goodbye, a night of farewell.
Part of him hates that this day will change so much. That much is certain. They will be definitely be split apart, one in the East and one in the West, and they both watch enough hockey to know that playing each other will be once in a blue moon, as rare and spectacular as their entire friendship to begin with.
He’s thankful that they got to spend these last few days together- people pit them out as enemies or rivals but he couldn’t think of a single person he’d rather have by his side in the time leading up to the most important day of his life- and knowing that Tyler felt the same way felt pretty good.
He tries not to feel any sense of entitlement as he does up his tie, seeing the reflection of Tyler getting dressed behind him, because he knows that Tyler deserves it too. But part of him just feels like he’s deserved it longer.
He knows Tyler would never be mad if he told him that he wanted to go first overall. That he needed to, or that he’d do anything, or that it meant everything. He thinks it’s because Tyler knows- knows that it’s what Taylor thinks or knows what it’s like.
He inhales deeply and closes his eyes, hands still smoothing out his tie as his chest moves in and out with every breath. Truth is, Tyler is pretty much perfect for him because he knows what it’s like. Because if nothing else, they share that and it’s the most important thing in the world. At this point, life without him would seem... incomplete.
He feels a hand come to rest on his shoulder and he moves his hand up from his tie to place it on top.
He once told Tyler that he didn’t care what team he went to... but in this moment he can’t help but think that it’s never mattered more.
---
Drop a line if you liked it.
Author:heartandmindxx
Pairing: Taylor Hall/Tyler Seguin
Rating: 14A
Summary: Their relationship leading to the draft.
Notes: This was inspired by a few things, mostly thanks to TSN. As an Oiler fan, these two are the only players that anyone cares about these days, and as I was at the point of deciding that I wasn't going to wrie anymore, the fact that they gave me any sort of idea kind of makes me love them a little more.
Disclaimer: You know the deal. I don’t claim anything except the story. It’s fiction.
AO3 Link: Here.
Eclipse.
1930 words.
Tyler grins at him as they walk the red carpet, the premier of some shitty vampire movie that he’s only heard of because, well, you need to know that kind of thing when chicks demand it, though he’s pretty sure that’s not why Tyler is excited.
He looks up at the giant poster- “Eclipse”, it reads- and he guesses it’s kind of a fitting setting for the last night they spend as rivals jockeying for draft position, with the whole “drama” of Tyler “stealing” or “taking over” the first spot, the throne of which he had been the heir to since he was in junior-frickin-high.
The whole thing has been surreal. First off, he’s in Hollywood, for chrissake, and that’s been insane from the sign to the walk of fame and the Chinese theatre to that crazy wax museum and Rodeo Drive - not to mention that tomorrow he’ll know what National Hockey League team he’ll be playing for in a few months.
He smiles stupidly back at Tyler- they’ve been friends for what seems like ages now but something about that boy still makes him feel like a little kid- and leans in close to speak low, just for him.
“So, are you team Jacob or team Edward?” He says, their shoulders brushing.
Tyler rolls his eyes, “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you,” and it’s not a question.
“I bet you’re team Jacob,” he continues, feigning a swoon, “he’s so dreamy,” he says.
“Dude,” Tyler replies, pushing him back a step, a smile on his face- it’s hard to tell if it’s the heat that’s making his face flush. “Shut up.”
“You so are. I knew it,” he says, prodding Tyler with his finger. ““Hey, I think Taylor Lautner is just over there, why don’t you go introduce yourself?”
“Seriously, you think you’re funny but you’re really not.” Tyler smiles for a camera and leans in, subtly. “Besides,” he pauses, “we both know he isn’t my favourite Taylor anyway.”
---
Tyler doesn’t remember their first meeting.
Taylor swears he does, but says he won’t tell him until he remembers correctly- Tyler takes this to mean that he’s full of shit.
What he does remember is their first game against each other- it feels like they were just kids back then, it feels so long ago- and he remembers being struck by this kid bee-lining around the ice as if he wasn’t playing a position, with such tenacity that it looked like he’d knock the moorings off with his teeth if it meant getting close to a scoring chance.
He remembers the way his stick flexed under his weight and he remembers the sound that Taylor’s skates made as he weaved his way across the ice, and the way that his body crunched and the sound of the boards shaking as he went in head-first. He remembers the way the rink went hush for that second, and the way even his own breath caught in his throat. He could never take seeing players get injured.
What he remembers most, though? The way Taylor was back up and skating towards the puck before anyone else knew what was happening.
So when he sees Taylor at the combine, just days after he’s won the Mem Cup and the MVP, again, he’s not so surprised when he sees Taylor’s body littered with bruises and the way his teeth clench when they ask him to do even the grip test, but he is a little surprised when Taylor withdraws from the rest of the event.
“Hey Champ,” Tyler calls out to him in the corridor of the hotel later, catching onto his hand as he’s walking away from him. Taylor winces and pulls his arm back tenderly, stretching it out a bit. Tyler frowns, “Are you alright?”
“Just a little banged up, that’s all,” Taylor replies, forcing a smile.
Tyler sighs and draws him in, hands on his hips instead of his arms. He ghosts his lips against the other teen’s shoulder, just the slightest brush of skin, but he feels a sense of satisfaction knowing that even that can make Taylor shiver.
That night, in the hotel, when he’s curled up against Taylor- even though he teases him mercilessly for being a cuddler- he draws a circle with his thumb over Taylor’s bare hip as he whispers into the darkness, “I wish you wouldn’t do this all the time.”
They haven’t spoken about it in hours but it’s clear what he’s talking about. Taylor is reckless and sometimes plays with what Tyler thinks might be too much passion, but it’s the only way he knows. There isn’t another way, for him.
“I know,” he whispers back, his hands folded behind his head, “but I have to.”
---
Taylor will cite the World Juniors camp as the stage where their relationship changed. They’d had limited interaction to that point, especially not face-to-face, but this was different. Time spent on that incarnation of what would become Team Canada, together, that was something other than just hearing a lot about each other. Different.
The team spends a lot of time watching movies and just hanging out, playing pool and shooting the shit, swapping stories about girls and games and anything else they can think of.
While Taylor is confident and savvy, not intimidated by the gold medal winners and Canadian heroes in their midst, Tyler is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, bustling with nervous excitement and every bit playing the part of the rookie initiate.
One evening, after the noise of their designated common room has dimmed to a hush, with just he, Tyler, and Stefan finishing up the last of Die Hard, he watches as Tyler’s eyes follow Stefan’s every movement, almost unabashedly staring at the older player.
“Sorry kids, I’m too tired for this shit. I’ve seen it a thousand times anyway. I’m gonna hit it,” Stefan announces, standing up from the couch and stretching to his full length, “see you guys in the morning.”
He watches as Tyler’s eyes linger on the exposed skin of Stefan’s midriff a little longer than just a glance.
“‘Night Della,” he says nonchalantly, almost cut off by Tyler’s response.
“Yea, see you tomorrow, Stefan, uh, yea. Sleep well, er, and stuff,” he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as if hitting himself for sounding so silly.
Taylor waits until Stefan is well out of ears reach to bust out snickering.
“What’s your problem?” Tyler asks accusingly, brow furrowed.
“Could ask you the same thing!” Taylor laughs, “You got a crush on Della or something?”
“No!” Tyler blurts, “I- He- I just- I was... I don’t...” he trails off, knowing he’s probably nailed his own coffin. “I, well, don’t tell anyone.”
“Whoa,” Taylor says, eyes widening, “I- Tyler, I was just joking around.”
“Oh,” is all Tyler says, avoiding Taylor’s stare.
“I... I mean... are you like...” Taylor mumbles, unable to form his sentence quite the way he wants to.
“No!” Tyler exclaims, a shocked look on his face, “I mean, no, not really, I just... you know how it is...”
“Yea,” Taylor replies, scooting a little closer, “yea, I do.”
---
That was the night of their first kiss, and Tyler will always remember it. In the background, Hans Gruber dies and the credits roll but neither of them notice.
Everyone always makes fun of Taylor for his lips, those big, insanely plump lips that form a smile that Tyler’s become addicted to. He’s never told the other boy, and he definitely never will, but he’s always been fascinated by his lips. People called them fishlips, or DSLs, and he’d earned the nickname “Angelina”, but Tyler had only ever wondered if they were as soft as they looked, and what they’d feel like between his teeth.
Somewhere along the line, he learns the answer to both- yes, and awesome, respectively.
They kissed plenty of times after that night, but it took them a while to form any sort of exclusivity. Tyler remembers carrying the torch for Stefan Della Rovere for a lot longer than that, and well, neither of them is exactly like, you know, gay.
But Tyler learns a lot of things about Taylor after that night, and even though he ends up not making the team, which is one of the worst experiences of his entire life, they keep in touch and share a friendship after that, always meeting up whenever they can.
Tyler cites the day their relationship changed as the day the final Central Scouting draft ranking is released.
He’s surprised to see his name at the top of the list, to say the least, but he’s infinitely more surprised to open his door to those lips of Taylor’s staring him down.
“Tay-” he starts, but he’s cut off by the lips attacking his own, and Taylor forcing him up against the wall, and all he can think of is how he’s glad he’s got the room to himself and how Taylor must have known that.
“I just want you to know that-” Taylor tries between vicious kisses, “that I don’t care. That it doesn’t change anything,” he says against his lips, “between us.”
Tyler starts to think, is there something between us?, and then Taylor whispers, “I want you.”
And then Tyler stops thinking at all.
---
The morning before the draft, he knows what he should be thinking about, but he just can’t tear himself away from watching Tyler.
They spent the night before kissing a little and talking less, and he can’t help but think of it as a goodbye, a night of farewell.
Part of him hates that this day will change so much. That much is certain. They will be definitely be split apart, one in the East and one in the West, and they both watch enough hockey to know that playing each other will be once in a blue moon, as rare and spectacular as their entire friendship to begin with.
He’s thankful that they got to spend these last few days together- people pit them out as enemies or rivals but he couldn’t think of a single person he’d rather have by his side in the time leading up to the most important day of his life- and knowing that Tyler felt the same way felt pretty good.
He tries not to feel any sense of entitlement as he does up his tie, seeing the reflection of Tyler getting dressed behind him, because he knows that Tyler deserves it too. But part of him just feels like he’s deserved it longer.
He knows Tyler would never be mad if he told him that he wanted to go first overall. That he needed to, or that he’d do anything, or that it meant everything. He thinks it’s because Tyler knows- knows that it’s what Taylor thinks or knows what it’s like.
He inhales deeply and closes his eyes, hands still smoothing out his tie as his chest moves in and out with every breath. Truth is, Tyler is pretty much perfect for him because he knows what it’s like. Because if nothing else, they share that and it’s the most important thing in the world. At this point, life without him would seem... incomplete.
He feels a hand come to rest on his shoulder and he moves his hand up from his tie to place it on top.
He once told Tyler that he didn’t care what team he went to... but in this moment he can’t help but think that it’s never mattered more.
---
Drop a line if you liked it.