(no subject)
Title: Silent Night
Author: dragonblk17/Shelby
Pairing: Thomas Vanek/Derek Roy (Buffalo Sabres)
Rating: NC-17, language, violence, kindofsortof thoughts of suicide.
Disclaimer: I don't own these boys. I'm just a big fan.
He hated these arguments. He absolutely loathed them, and still could not understand why they had to go through this every once and awhile.
Thomas clenched his hand tighter around his coffee cup, and stared down at the newly polished, black table he had recently purchased when he came back to Buffalo. There were scratches on it now; unfortunately, not formed by having sex on the table. He couldn’t tell if they had been made by the first dish Derek had thrown at him, or the second. It didn’t matter now - the table especially did not matter to him now. All he cared about was Derek.
Taking a sip of his freshly brewed café latte, Thomas strolled over to the bedroom Derek and himself shared whenever they were home or had days off from practices and games. Usually, there was a bubbly atmosphere in the room - the older, yet smaller man could be found sleeping there almost all day, if Thomas would let him. He’d never tell Derek this, but after he coaxed his lover to get up and have his coffee (which Derek always gave Thomas a grumbled ‘Good morning…’ after being woken up from his slumber), Thomas would bend down and smell his scent that lingered on the silk material; a slight mixture of lilacs and lavender. Thomas adored that scent, and it’s what he looked forward to smelling every morning he woke up - or close to every morning. He looked forward to finding the smaller man cradled in his arms, and sleeping soundly against the younger man’s chest. That was the most perfect, ideal morning Thomas believed he could ever have.
Only now, the room was silent and dark. The bubbly atmosphere was missing, and Derek was not here.
He turned away from looking at the bed, and cast his gaze towards a picture of him, Derek, and Max together in the locker room. Max didn’t look so amused to be in the picture, but that was only because Derek had pulled him in when he was passing by, at the last second. Derek was glancing over towards Thomas, and was grinning madly, while Thomas was laughing. At a first glance, it looked like the three of them were cherished friends; like a group of friends you had during high school that you would never forget. It was quite the opposite. Thomas and Derek were the entwined lovers who would occasionally argue about the odd man out - in this case, Max. He knew that Derek had feelings for the Russian, and for most of the time, it didn’t faze him like it probably would other people. Tonight, it had turned out completely different than he had hoped…
October 7th, 5:00 PM - Four hours earlier…
“Thomas, I hope you don’t mind that I invited Max over for dinner. His girlfriend’s out of town visiting family, and since he doesn’t exactly know how to cook anything other than frozen Buffalo wings, I asked if he wanted to come. He should be here soon.” Derek Roy slowly stirred the sauce being cooked in the saucepan, and lifted up the spoon to taste it. He added a few more spices after a tasting test, and stirred them up. “Thomas, did you hear me?”
Thomas Vanek had his hand under the sink and was swearing to himself about the cut he had just gotten. Hearing the words ‘I invited Max over for dinner.’ didn’t exactly fare well with the twenty-three year old, and because of it, he had cut himself with the knife he was using to slice chicken. He watched the light trail of red mix with the warm water, and seep down into the drain. Sometimes Thomas wished that his heart could be visible to Derek, so that he could see how much it hurt him to hear about Max other than on the ice. He knew it was selfish of him, but how was he supposed to feel when his boyfriend mentioned the man who could break them up if he wanted to.
“Yes, I heard you.” Thomas finally said, after completely cleaning out his recent wound. “It’s fine.” Goodness gracious, no. It’s not fine. He glanced over at Derek, and began walking towards the bathroom. “I cut myself. I’m going to go get a band-aid.” He muttered under his breath soon after, “As not to ‘accidentally’ give Max a disease or something.”
“What’s that, Thomas?” Derek looked up from grating cheese, and had a small smile on his face, though his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.
“…Nothing.” Thomas sighed, and opened up their medicine cabinet. Band-aids…band-aids…where were they? “Hey Der, where are the band-aids?” Thomas peeked behind the cabinet door towards the kitchen. “Goddamn it, I knew I forgot to pick something up at the store…Um, there’s some medical tape you can use. It should be in there.”
“Thanks?” Thomas’ face scrunched together in confusion and he wrapped a piece of medical tape around his finger.
“I’m sorry we’re out.” Derek looked up at Thomas and his light blue eyes flickered from the sun setting. “Max had gotten a scratch earlier at practice and I always bring a box with me. He just happened to snag the last one. I was going to pick some up, but I completely forgot. I had this dinner on my mind, and every…” Derek trailed off, and put the grater down on the counter. “…Thomas, what’s wrong?”
Thomas was now staring out their front window and clenching his fists slightly in frustration and anger. Max, again. Max always seemed to creep into their conversations nowadays and he didn’t understand it one bit. It was supposed to be just those two - not Max. Television and the newspapers were understandable because they were the RAV line. One of the best third lines in the league last season (though, Thomas was pulling for Lindy Ruff to make a change between Drew Stafford and Max for obvious reasons.). He couldn’t take this anymore.
Yet, he still hid his true feelings from his lover.
“Nothing, Derek. I’m just thinking.” Thomas felt two hands creep up his stomach as Derek held him from behind. “Positive?” He could tell Derek was standing up on his tiptoes, because he could hear the slight strain in his voice. “Positive.” A slight smile appeared on his face, but oh, how fake that smile was. Whatever fakeness was there faded away as Derek delightfully said “The guest has finally arrived!”
Thomas’ only response was a groan.
-----
“Meal is delicious, Derek.” Max murmured in his thick, Russian accent. He took another bite of his chicken and pasta dinner, and flashed a small smile to the center. Derek gave him a smile back, and then turned to look at Thomas. “Do you like it, hun?”
If it wasn’t obvious from the stabbing motion Thomas was making with his chicken how much he was hating this moment, then he didn’t know what would be more obvious. He attempted to grin and said between gritted teeth, “It’s great, thanks sunshine.” He stuck another forkful of cheese, chicken, and pasta into his mouth to drown out some sorrow. “Thomas, you lucky. Derek make great dinner. Not saying girlfriend doesn’t, but homemade chicken and pasta is nice.” Max took a sip of some red wine, and gave another quick glance to Derek. He, thankfully, was not looking back. This time, anyways.
Then Derek coughed, and Thomas looked up to see a red tint to his face. Was he…blushing? “Thanks Max, I appreciate you saying that. Thomas is always telling me that my cooking is splendid too, but I’m pretty stubborn. I never want to believe him.” He then poked his tongue out towards Thomas, but he wasn’t feeling quite playful at the moment - especially with what he believed was the devil incarnate in front of him. “Oh no, believe me. This food is great. You and Thomas should come over sometime; maybe four of us could have dinner?”
“That would be lov-“
“That’d be great, but I’d have to pass.” Thomas’ fork clanged against his plate and he gave Max a nasty stare. Max’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t make any movements. “Derek might have to pass, too.”
“Thomas, what..?”
“By the way, we’re not having dessert. Plus, I have to wake up early tomorrow for some stuff I have to work on, so I suggest you pack up your things and go.”
“You not happy with me, Thomas?” Max placed his fork down slowly onto his plate, and wiped his mouth with the napkin provided. “No Max, I am not. I suggest you really do leave now before I do something drastic.” Now Thomas was standing up, and leaning over the table. He continued to leer at Max, while Derek got up and moved near the right winger. “Go Max. Just listen to Thomas, please.” He then shot Thomas a look which said ‘You’re going to explain yourself, or else’ all over his face.
“Fine.” Max grabbed his plate, and placed it into the sink. “Sorry for whatever I did.” His voice sounded so innocent, and Thomas hated that. Max then collected his belongings, and looked back and forth between the two lovers. “I know way out. Thank you for dinner, again.”
Then he was gone.
-----
“What the hell was that?” Derek pointed towards the front door after Max had walked out. Thomas just walked over to the sink and placed their empty dishes in it. “Don’t walk away from me! Something was wrong earlier, and I want to know what it was!” Derek was now right behind Thomas as he furiously scrubbed at the dishes. “There’s nothing to say.” He said in a cool tone, and placed one dish after another in the sink next to the first one.
“Like hell there isn’t.” Thomas snuck out from in front of Derek, and went back over to the table to pick up the napkins and bowl; still full of chicken and pasta.
Crash.
There went the first dish that nearly missed Thomas’ right hand. He dropped the bowl back onto the table, but thankfully it was still upright. Looking down at the floor, he could see remnants of the recently thrown dish on the porcelain floor, and he looked back up to see Derek glaring at him. “Either you tell me what the fuck your problem is with Max now, or I’m throwing this dish too.” He held up the same kind of dish in his left hand.
But Thomas just stared right back at him.
“It’s not important.”
Crash.
That time, it completely missed Thomas and hit the table again. Derek was horrible at throwing with his left hand. “Okay, okay!” Thomas held out his hands, and walked slowly over to Derek. “Damn, just stop breaking the dishes! And stop trying to kill me!”
“Like you were going to kill Max during dinner?”
“That’s different.” Thomas’ breathing slowed down, and he glanced out the back window towards the moon.
“Tell me, then.”
“You’d hate me if I did tell you.”
“…With after all we’ve been through, you tell me that?” Derek’s voice changed, then. Thomas looked back to see water forming in his lover’s eyes. Thomas hated himself the most when he did that - make Derek cry. Why did he insist on doing that?
“Derek - no - you don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly well, Thomas.” He choked on his words slightly, before gliding over to pick up his car keys off of the nearby countertop. “You don’t trust me enough to tell me what you’re thinking, and why you’re mad at Max. So you know what? I’m going to stay at a friend’s tonight; maybe even tomorrow, and the next day. Until you fucking decide to trust your boyfriend for once, I’m not coming back.”
“You’re not serious.” Thomas stood his ground, and stared blankly back at Derek, who was already heading towards the door.
“Just watch me.” Derek opened the door to the house they shared together, and took a quick look back towards Thomas. “Trust is supposed to be a major part of this relationship. I don’t understand why you can’t trust me - and I don’t understand how we’re still together.” Just like Max, he was gone.
How was Thomas supposed to trust Derek when he knew how he felt about the ‘other’ linemate?
-----
That was what happened. Now Thomas was alone in his house, for perhaps what would be a couple of days until he could learn to trust his boyfriend with information that he didn’t want Derek to hear.
Trust. What a simple, yet also, complicated word.
Maybe Derek needed to learn that while he was gone.
Author: dragonblk17/Shelby
Pairing: Thomas Vanek/Derek Roy (Buffalo Sabres)
Rating: NC-17, language, violence, kindofsortof thoughts of suicide.
Disclaimer: I don't own these boys. I'm just a big fan.
He hated these arguments. He absolutely loathed them, and still could not understand why they had to go through this every once and awhile.
Thomas clenched his hand tighter around his coffee cup, and stared down at the newly polished, black table he had recently purchased when he came back to Buffalo. There were scratches on it now; unfortunately, not formed by having sex on the table. He couldn’t tell if they had been made by the first dish Derek had thrown at him, or the second. It didn’t matter now - the table especially did not matter to him now. All he cared about was Derek.
Taking a sip of his freshly brewed café latte, Thomas strolled over to the bedroom Derek and himself shared whenever they were home or had days off from practices and games. Usually, there was a bubbly atmosphere in the room - the older, yet smaller man could be found sleeping there almost all day, if Thomas would let him. He’d never tell Derek this, but after he coaxed his lover to get up and have his coffee (which Derek always gave Thomas a grumbled ‘Good morning…’ after being woken up from his slumber), Thomas would bend down and smell his scent that lingered on the silk material; a slight mixture of lilacs and lavender. Thomas adored that scent, and it’s what he looked forward to smelling every morning he woke up - or close to every morning. He looked forward to finding the smaller man cradled in his arms, and sleeping soundly against the younger man’s chest. That was the most perfect, ideal morning Thomas believed he could ever have.
Only now, the room was silent and dark. The bubbly atmosphere was missing, and Derek was not here.
He turned away from looking at the bed, and cast his gaze towards a picture of him, Derek, and Max together in the locker room. Max didn’t look so amused to be in the picture, but that was only because Derek had pulled him in when he was passing by, at the last second. Derek was glancing over towards Thomas, and was grinning madly, while Thomas was laughing. At a first glance, it looked like the three of them were cherished friends; like a group of friends you had during high school that you would never forget. It was quite the opposite. Thomas and Derek were the entwined lovers who would occasionally argue about the odd man out - in this case, Max. He knew that Derek had feelings for the Russian, and for most of the time, it didn’t faze him like it probably would other people. Tonight, it had turned out completely different than he had hoped…
October 7th, 5:00 PM - Four hours earlier…
“Thomas, I hope you don’t mind that I invited Max over for dinner. His girlfriend’s out of town visiting family, and since he doesn’t exactly know how to cook anything other than frozen Buffalo wings, I asked if he wanted to come. He should be here soon.” Derek Roy slowly stirred the sauce being cooked in the saucepan, and lifted up the spoon to taste it. He added a few more spices after a tasting test, and stirred them up. “Thomas, did you hear me?”
Thomas Vanek had his hand under the sink and was swearing to himself about the cut he had just gotten. Hearing the words ‘I invited Max over for dinner.’ didn’t exactly fare well with the twenty-three year old, and because of it, he had cut himself with the knife he was using to slice chicken. He watched the light trail of red mix with the warm water, and seep down into the drain. Sometimes Thomas wished that his heart could be visible to Derek, so that he could see how much it hurt him to hear about Max other than on the ice. He knew it was selfish of him, but how was he supposed to feel when his boyfriend mentioned the man who could break them up if he wanted to.
“Yes, I heard you.” Thomas finally said, after completely cleaning out his recent wound. “It’s fine.” Goodness gracious, no. It’s not fine. He glanced over at Derek, and began walking towards the bathroom. “I cut myself. I’m going to go get a band-aid.” He muttered under his breath soon after, “As not to ‘accidentally’ give Max a disease or something.”
“What’s that, Thomas?” Derek looked up from grating cheese, and had a small smile on his face, though his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.
“…Nothing.” Thomas sighed, and opened up their medicine cabinet. Band-aids…band-aids…where were they? “Hey Der, where are the band-aids?” Thomas peeked behind the cabinet door towards the kitchen. “Goddamn it, I knew I forgot to pick something up at the store…Um, there’s some medical tape you can use. It should be in there.”
“Thanks?” Thomas’ face scrunched together in confusion and he wrapped a piece of medical tape around his finger.
“I’m sorry we’re out.” Derek looked up at Thomas and his light blue eyes flickered from the sun setting. “Max had gotten a scratch earlier at practice and I always bring a box with me. He just happened to snag the last one. I was going to pick some up, but I completely forgot. I had this dinner on my mind, and every…” Derek trailed off, and put the grater down on the counter. “…Thomas, what’s wrong?”
Thomas was now staring out their front window and clenching his fists slightly in frustration and anger. Max, again. Max always seemed to creep into their conversations nowadays and he didn’t understand it one bit. It was supposed to be just those two - not Max. Television and the newspapers were understandable because they were the RAV line. One of the best third lines in the league last season (though, Thomas was pulling for Lindy Ruff to make a change between Drew Stafford and Max for obvious reasons.). He couldn’t take this anymore.
Yet, he still hid his true feelings from his lover.
“Nothing, Derek. I’m just thinking.” Thomas felt two hands creep up his stomach as Derek held him from behind. “Positive?” He could tell Derek was standing up on his tiptoes, because he could hear the slight strain in his voice. “Positive.” A slight smile appeared on his face, but oh, how fake that smile was. Whatever fakeness was there faded away as Derek delightfully said “The guest has finally arrived!”
Thomas’ only response was a groan.
-----
“Meal is delicious, Derek.” Max murmured in his thick, Russian accent. He took another bite of his chicken and pasta dinner, and flashed a small smile to the center. Derek gave him a smile back, and then turned to look at Thomas. “Do you like it, hun?”
If it wasn’t obvious from the stabbing motion Thomas was making with his chicken how much he was hating this moment, then he didn’t know what would be more obvious. He attempted to grin and said between gritted teeth, “It’s great, thanks sunshine.” He stuck another forkful of cheese, chicken, and pasta into his mouth to drown out some sorrow. “Thomas, you lucky. Derek make great dinner. Not saying girlfriend doesn’t, but homemade chicken and pasta is nice.” Max took a sip of some red wine, and gave another quick glance to Derek. He, thankfully, was not looking back. This time, anyways.
Then Derek coughed, and Thomas looked up to see a red tint to his face. Was he…blushing? “Thanks Max, I appreciate you saying that. Thomas is always telling me that my cooking is splendid too, but I’m pretty stubborn. I never want to believe him.” He then poked his tongue out towards Thomas, but he wasn’t feeling quite playful at the moment - especially with what he believed was the devil incarnate in front of him. “Oh no, believe me. This food is great. You and Thomas should come over sometime; maybe four of us could have dinner?”
“That would be lov-“
“That’d be great, but I’d have to pass.” Thomas’ fork clanged against his plate and he gave Max a nasty stare. Max’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t make any movements. “Derek might have to pass, too.”
“Thomas, what..?”
“By the way, we’re not having dessert. Plus, I have to wake up early tomorrow for some stuff I have to work on, so I suggest you pack up your things and go.”
“You not happy with me, Thomas?” Max placed his fork down slowly onto his plate, and wiped his mouth with the napkin provided. “No Max, I am not. I suggest you really do leave now before I do something drastic.” Now Thomas was standing up, and leaning over the table. He continued to leer at Max, while Derek got up and moved near the right winger. “Go Max. Just listen to Thomas, please.” He then shot Thomas a look which said ‘You’re going to explain yourself, or else’ all over his face.
“Fine.” Max grabbed his plate, and placed it into the sink. “Sorry for whatever I did.” His voice sounded so innocent, and Thomas hated that. Max then collected his belongings, and looked back and forth between the two lovers. “I know way out. Thank you for dinner, again.”
Then he was gone.
-----
“What the hell was that?” Derek pointed towards the front door after Max had walked out. Thomas just walked over to the sink and placed their empty dishes in it. “Don’t walk away from me! Something was wrong earlier, and I want to know what it was!” Derek was now right behind Thomas as he furiously scrubbed at the dishes. “There’s nothing to say.” He said in a cool tone, and placed one dish after another in the sink next to the first one.
“Like hell there isn’t.” Thomas snuck out from in front of Derek, and went back over to the table to pick up the napkins and bowl; still full of chicken and pasta.
Crash.
There went the first dish that nearly missed Thomas’ right hand. He dropped the bowl back onto the table, but thankfully it was still upright. Looking down at the floor, he could see remnants of the recently thrown dish on the porcelain floor, and he looked back up to see Derek glaring at him. “Either you tell me what the fuck your problem is with Max now, or I’m throwing this dish too.” He held up the same kind of dish in his left hand.
But Thomas just stared right back at him.
“It’s not important.”
Crash.
That time, it completely missed Thomas and hit the table again. Derek was horrible at throwing with his left hand. “Okay, okay!” Thomas held out his hands, and walked slowly over to Derek. “Damn, just stop breaking the dishes! And stop trying to kill me!”
“Like you were going to kill Max during dinner?”
“That’s different.” Thomas’ breathing slowed down, and he glanced out the back window towards the moon.
“Tell me, then.”
“You’d hate me if I did tell you.”
“…With after all we’ve been through, you tell me that?” Derek’s voice changed, then. Thomas looked back to see water forming in his lover’s eyes. Thomas hated himself the most when he did that - make Derek cry. Why did he insist on doing that?
“Derek - no - you don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly well, Thomas.” He choked on his words slightly, before gliding over to pick up his car keys off of the nearby countertop. “You don’t trust me enough to tell me what you’re thinking, and why you’re mad at Max. So you know what? I’m going to stay at a friend’s tonight; maybe even tomorrow, and the next day. Until you fucking decide to trust your boyfriend for once, I’m not coming back.”
“You’re not serious.” Thomas stood his ground, and stared blankly back at Derek, who was already heading towards the door.
“Just watch me.” Derek opened the door to the house they shared together, and took a quick look back towards Thomas. “Trust is supposed to be a major part of this relationship. I don’t understand why you can’t trust me - and I don’t understand how we’re still together.” Just like Max, he was gone.
How was Thomas supposed to trust Derek when he knew how he felt about the ‘other’ linemate?
-----
That was what happened. Now Thomas was alone in his house, for perhaps what would be a couple of days until he could learn to trust his boyfriend with information that he didn’t want Derek to hear.
Trust. What a simple, yet also, complicated word.
Maybe Derek needed to learn that while he was gone.