Wither
title : wither
author : russian torque
team - pairing : washington capitals & pittsburgh penguins - evgeni malkin / alexander semin ; alex ovechkin / alexander semin
rating : pg-13
words : ~1500
note : this is probably the only time I am ever, ever going to write anything remotely Penguins related. I was at the game tonight and was inspired. never, ever thought I'd be making a Penguins tag on my journal.
note 2 : the prequel to this story is here -> [ Prelude ]
11 october 2011
Final Score : Penguins - 2 ; Capitals - 3, OT
The locker room practically explodes after the game. It’s to be expected- a shutout against the Penguins is always good news, especially when it’s pulled them out of a rather pathetic two game losing streak. There’s yelling, dancing, singing, and Chimera may or may not be prancing about the showers towel whipping people. For all intents and purposes, this is a night to be celebrating.
Sasha can’t really get into it. He smiles, nods, gives high-fives, whatever, but all he can really think about is all those turnovers he caused, or the way he missed that empty net. He’s replaying every second of the game in his head and picking it down to every single thing he did wrong.
Sure, he didn’t get any penalties and his ice time was higher than it has been in a while, but all he’s got two show for it is a measly two shots on goal. He knows he can do better- he can be that guy that makes hat tricks look like the easiest thing in the world and it’s frustrating.
Post-game celebrations are already being planned at one bar or another and every few minutes, someone stops in front of his bench and asks if he’s going out with the rest of the team.
He smiles, shakes his head. He would, he says, but he’s too tired. And Alex tries to wheedle him into hitting up a couple bars, it takes all of his self control not to simply tell him to fuck off. Even when Alex leans in a little closer and whispers in his ear filthy suggestions for a different sort of celebration, he recoils. No matter how noble Alex’s intentions are, he’s never been able to give Sasha what he needs. Not really.
Alex pulls back and he doesn’t even have to say anything for Sasha to know he’s hurt. It’s just another thing to feel bad about.
Everyone clears out pretty quick after that. Alex gathers his stuff together without so much as a ‘see you tomorrow’ and leaves in a brooding silence. By the time Sasha’s finally dressed and ready to go, the only people still lingering about are some of the veterans, too old to be partying it up after every win.
It’s a long walk to the parking lot and it gives him time to think. He recognizes this feeling- the despair of slowly sinking deeper and deeper into his own mind until he’s psychoanalyzing his entire reason of being. He wonders what he’d be doing without hockey, if his life would even amount to anything. His only functional skills are all completely focused on skating around an ice rink with a long stick chasing a piece of rubber and it’s disheartening.
He’s so engrossed in his own world that he doesn’t even see Geno waiting for him, which is an accomplishment in and of itself because the man is practically a lumberjack. His stats may say he’s only an inch taller than Sasha, but it feels more like half a foot just by the way he carries himself. He’s tall and a little lanky and people think he’s loud and clumsy just by looking at him.
They’re always surprised to find he’s got a certain grace to him, like one of those giant cats moving soundlessly across the savannah. Geno’s a little bit like a lion in that respect. His voice is more of a purr than a roar though and that’s the only think that keeps Sasha from jumping out of his skin when Geno suddenly says his name.
“Sasha, I thought you always drove in with Sanja?”
Sasha slows down to a halt, but he doesn’t turn around. He shouldn’t be talking to Geno, but it’s so painfully tempting. God only knows why, but Geno understands him.
“Sanja and I... have a different relationship now.”
It’s more his tone than his words that get the truth across- that whatever he and Alex used to have is gone and there’s really no way to get it back. It’s no one’s fault, but it still hurts.
“I’m sorry,” Geno says, moving in closer until he can wrap his arms loosely about Sasha’s shoulders. “I didn’t know.”
Sasha bites the inside of his cheek almost hard enough to draw blood. He and Geno barely talk anymore- what’s between them is in the past and he really wants it to stay that way.
It isn’t as if there’s bad blood between them, not like what’s going on with Geno and Alex. He just doesn’t want to dwell on the one reoccurring chapter in his life that’s legitimately made him happy enough to forget about all the bullshit because it’s the same chapter that always ends in the most painful heartbreak imaginable.
But Geno’s chest is warm pressed against his back, his arms loving and lips pressed so gently on his neck- it’s the worst sort of temptation and Sasha can’t even figure out what’s so wrong about it until he remembers that Alex will never forgive him for it. Not again.
“I have to go,” Sasha forces the words out and he tries not to sound brusque. “I’m-”
“Tired. You’re always tired.” Geno laughs softly and forces Sasha to turn around, ignoring the pained look in his eyes and leaning into brush their noses together. “But I’m so stupid that I told the guys I had a ride to the hotel. They already left without me.”
This is what Sasha hates about Geno, and Alex too for that matter. They both have a way of coercing him into doing things he knows he shouldn’t want to do.
“I’ll give you a ride to the hotel, but that’s it.”
Even Sasha doesn’t believe himself as he says it, but it’s too late to take any of it back.
“Good,” Geno replies happily, “It’s- ah- the Marriott.”
This late at night, the roads in DC aren’t the nightmare they usually are and it takes less than ten minutes to get from the Verizon Center down to Pennsylvania Avenue. They banter back and forth the whole way and Sasha learns that since the last time they saw each other over the summer, Geno’s been painfully close to calling him at least a dozen times. It isn’t something he wants to know, but the knowledge makes his heart warm regardless. And he's kind of wondering why Geno is in such bright spirits after a loss and he remembers- he's just like that, he's not the brooding sort.
He almost wants Geno to invite him up to his room even though he knows he isn’t going to say yes to the offer. It’s gotten to the point where he just wants to know he’s wanted and he thinks Geno knows it.
When they reach the hotel, Sasha doesn’t let him off at the main entrance. He drives into the parking garage, stops the car right next to the stairwell and puts it in park, but doesn’t turn the engine off. Geno gives him a sidelong glance and smiles.
“You’re going to let me kiss you, right?” he asks, unbuckling his seat belt even as he says it and leaning over the center console. “You didn’t let me last time I saw you.”
“That’s because Sanja was sitting right next to me,” Sasha shoots back, keeping his gaze trained strictly out his driver’s side window. The second he looks at Geno, he’s going to give in.
Actually, the very moment he agreed to even talk to Geno, he had already given in.
“Sanja isn’t here now.”
Sasha turns his head slowly- as if moving too fast will bring this all to a crashing halt. But Geno’s still there, lips still curved up into a mischievous grin and eyes soft. He lets himself be kissed and enjoys it- slow at first until Geno’s tongue is sliding along his lower lip and he tastes like home. Geno’s fingers curl into his hair and he pulls him impossibly closer, stealing his breath away even as he’s putting Sasha’s heart once more under his cruel spell.
He tries not to whimper or moan or even breathe too loud, but Geno’s just too good at this.
“Come up to my room,” Geno murmurs, hands already roaming down to where Sasha’s dress shirt is tucked in.
Sasha’s inches, seconds, milliseconds, just so close in every way to simply giving in when his leg vibrates. He fumbles, cursing, to get his phone out of his pocket and when he sees who the text is from, his heart lurches a few feet closer to the floor.
“I have to go,” Sasha whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Geno gives him a look- one of those indistinguishable sorts that can be either complete and utter disgust or total understanding, but Sasha’s never been that great at figuring out which is which. It doesn’t particularly matter anyway because Geno gets out of his car without another word and he doesn’t look back.
There’s something final about the way he moves, how he pauses for a moment before letting the stairwell door close behind him. But Sasha will never be that person to fight or run after what he wants, day after day he’ll just let it slip through his fingers until there’s nothing left of him but withered skin and bones.
author : russian torque
team - pairing : washington capitals & pittsburgh penguins - evgeni malkin / alexander semin ; alex ovechkin / alexander semin
rating : pg-13
words : ~1500
note : this is probably the only time I am ever, ever going to write anything remotely Penguins related. I was at the game tonight and was inspired. never, ever thought I'd be making a Penguins tag on my journal.
note 2 : the prequel to this story is here -> [ Prelude ]
11 october 2011
Final Score : Penguins - 2 ; Capitals - 3, OT
The locker room practically explodes after the game. It’s to be expected- a shutout against the Penguins is always good news, especially when it’s pulled them out of a rather pathetic two game losing streak. There’s yelling, dancing, singing, and Chimera may or may not be prancing about the showers towel whipping people. For all intents and purposes, this is a night to be celebrating.
Sasha can’t really get into it. He smiles, nods, gives high-fives, whatever, but all he can really think about is all those turnovers he caused, or the way he missed that empty net. He’s replaying every second of the game in his head and picking it down to every single thing he did wrong.
Sure, he didn’t get any penalties and his ice time was higher than it has been in a while, but all he’s got two show for it is a measly two shots on goal. He knows he can do better- he can be that guy that makes hat tricks look like the easiest thing in the world and it’s frustrating.
Post-game celebrations are already being planned at one bar or another and every few minutes, someone stops in front of his bench and asks if he’s going out with the rest of the team.
He smiles, shakes his head. He would, he says, but he’s too tired. And Alex tries to wheedle him into hitting up a couple bars, it takes all of his self control not to simply tell him to fuck off. Even when Alex leans in a little closer and whispers in his ear filthy suggestions for a different sort of celebration, he recoils. No matter how noble Alex’s intentions are, he’s never been able to give Sasha what he needs. Not really.
Alex pulls back and he doesn’t even have to say anything for Sasha to know he’s hurt. It’s just another thing to feel bad about.
Everyone clears out pretty quick after that. Alex gathers his stuff together without so much as a ‘see you tomorrow’ and leaves in a brooding silence. By the time Sasha’s finally dressed and ready to go, the only people still lingering about are some of the veterans, too old to be partying it up after every win.
It’s a long walk to the parking lot and it gives him time to think. He recognizes this feeling- the despair of slowly sinking deeper and deeper into his own mind until he’s psychoanalyzing his entire reason of being. He wonders what he’d be doing without hockey, if his life would even amount to anything. His only functional skills are all completely focused on skating around an ice rink with a long stick chasing a piece of rubber and it’s disheartening.
He’s so engrossed in his own world that he doesn’t even see Geno waiting for him, which is an accomplishment in and of itself because the man is practically a lumberjack. His stats may say he’s only an inch taller than Sasha, but it feels more like half a foot just by the way he carries himself. He’s tall and a little lanky and people think he’s loud and clumsy just by looking at him.
They’re always surprised to find he’s got a certain grace to him, like one of those giant cats moving soundlessly across the savannah. Geno’s a little bit like a lion in that respect. His voice is more of a purr than a roar though and that’s the only think that keeps Sasha from jumping out of his skin when Geno suddenly says his name.
“Sasha, I thought you always drove in with Sanja?”
Sasha slows down to a halt, but he doesn’t turn around. He shouldn’t be talking to Geno, but it’s so painfully tempting. God only knows why, but Geno understands him.
“Sanja and I... have a different relationship now.”
It’s more his tone than his words that get the truth across- that whatever he and Alex used to have is gone and there’s really no way to get it back. It’s no one’s fault, but it still hurts.
“I’m sorry,” Geno says, moving in closer until he can wrap his arms loosely about Sasha’s shoulders. “I didn’t know.”
Sasha bites the inside of his cheek almost hard enough to draw blood. He and Geno barely talk anymore- what’s between them is in the past and he really wants it to stay that way.
It isn’t as if there’s bad blood between them, not like what’s going on with Geno and Alex. He just doesn’t want to dwell on the one reoccurring chapter in his life that’s legitimately made him happy enough to forget about all the bullshit because it’s the same chapter that always ends in the most painful heartbreak imaginable.
But Geno’s chest is warm pressed against his back, his arms loving and lips pressed so gently on his neck- it’s the worst sort of temptation and Sasha can’t even figure out what’s so wrong about it until he remembers that Alex will never forgive him for it. Not again.
“I have to go,” Sasha forces the words out and he tries not to sound brusque. “I’m-”
“Tired. You’re always tired.” Geno laughs softly and forces Sasha to turn around, ignoring the pained look in his eyes and leaning into brush their noses together. “But I’m so stupid that I told the guys I had a ride to the hotel. They already left without me.”
This is what Sasha hates about Geno, and Alex too for that matter. They both have a way of coercing him into doing things he knows he shouldn’t want to do.
“I’ll give you a ride to the hotel, but that’s it.”
Even Sasha doesn’t believe himself as he says it, but it’s too late to take any of it back.
“Good,” Geno replies happily, “It’s- ah- the Marriott.”
This late at night, the roads in DC aren’t the nightmare they usually are and it takes less than ten minutes to get from the Verizon Center down to Pennsylvania Avenue. They banter back and forth the whole way and Sasha learns that since the last time they saw each other over the summer, Geno’s been painfully close to calling him at least a dozen times. It isn’t something he wants to know, but the knowledge makes his heart warm regardless. And he's kind of wondering why Geno is in such bright spirits after a loss and he remembers- he's just like that, he's not the brooding sort.
He almost wants Geno to invite him up to his room even though he knows he isn’t going to say yes to the offer. It’s gotten to the point where he just wants to know he’s wanted and he thinks Geno knows it.
When they reach the hotel, Sasha doesn’t let him off at the main entrance. He drives into the parking garage, stops the car right next to the stairwell and puts it in park, but doesn’t turn the engine off. Geno gives him a sidelong glance and smiles.
“You’re going to let me kiss you, right?” he asks, unbuckling his seat belt even as he says it and leaning over the center console. “You didn’t let me last time I saw you.”
“That’s because Sanja was sitting right next to me,” Sasha shoots back, keeping his gaze trained strictly out his driver’s side window. The second he looks at Geno, he’s going to give in.
Actually, the very moment he agreed to even talk to Geno, he had already given in.
“Sanja isn’t here now.”
Sasha turns his head slowly- as if moving too fast will bring this all to a crashing halt. But Geno’s still there, lips still curved up into a mischievous grin and eyes soft. He lets himself be kissed and enjoys it- slow at first until Geno’s tongue is sliding along his lower lip and he tastes like home. Geno’s fingers curl into his hair and he pulls him impossibly closer, stealing his breath away even as he’s putting Sasha’s heart once more under his cruel spell.
He tries not to whimper or moan or even breathe too loud, but Geno’s just too good at this.
“Come up to my room,” Geno murmurs, hands already roaming down to where Sasha’s dress shirt is tucked in.
Sasha’s inches, seconds, milliseconds, just so close in every way to simply giving in when his leg vibrates. He fumbles, cursing, to get his phone out of his pocket and when he sees who the text is from, his heart lurches a few feet closer to the floor.
“I have to go,” Sasha whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Geno gives him a look- one of those indistinguishable sorts that can be either complete and utter disgust or total understanding, but Sasha’s never been that great at figuring out which is which. It doesn’t particularly matter anyway because Geno gets out of his car without another word and he doesn’t look back.
There’s something final about the way he moves, how he pauses for a moment before letting the stairwell door close behind him. But Sasha will never be that person to fight or run after what he wants, day after day he’ll just let it slip through his fingers until there’s nothing left of him but withered skin and bones.