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[sp-oil-ed.livejournal.com]

Title: Shades of Grey
Author: Kaitie of

sp_oil_ed
Pairing: Dustin Penner/Jarret Stoll [Edmonton Oilers]
Rating: R
Summary: Something angsty and sweet, I wrote this very late.
Disclaimer: NEVER HAPPENED.

 

“You don’t love her.” It isn’t a question, but a statement. Jarret can’t meet his eyes. How can he respond to that? Dustin is trying to put it in black and white, when there are in fact infinite shades of grey on this relationship spectrum. He summons the courage to look up and is hypnotized by Penner’s eyes. They have a tendency to do that. How can he say he does when one look from Dustin makes him weak at the knees? How can he say he doesn’t when he dutifully goes back to her whenever he has a stretch of days off, makes excuses for her time and again? He looks down again, breaking the spell of Dustin’s gaze.

They both like it rough, and the emotion of the afternoon discussion gives it an extra edge. Both draw blood and neither is sorry. “Dustin... please...” Please stop or please continue? Jarret isn’t sure he knows. He twists in delicious agony, fighting the urge to scream and wake the whole team, who are no doubt all asleep in their respective hotel rooms at this point. At least the headboard on this bed is solid enough not to bang against the wall. Later, when they’re both relaxing under a sheen of sweat and stickiness Jarret reaches over and lightly traces the teeth marks on Dustin’s back and feels a twinge of regret. Not for the marks, because he sports a matching set. For the empty promise that he gives almost every night on the road, for what he takes and cannot return. He tries not to feel hurt when Dustin shrugs off his touch and leaves the bed.

Jarret stands in the shower, the water as hot as he can stand it. He wants a distraction, what he gets instead is the shower curtain drawing back and Dustin stepping in. Jarret slumps against the shower wall as he feels a set of hands settle onto his shoulders and begin to massage the tension out of them. He wants to feel nothing, he wants to remain injured and indignant at Dustin’s unwillingness to see beyond the black and white, but he can’t. He knows he’s been defeated when he allows those hands to turn him and tilt his chin up and wrap themselves around his back. The kiss is gentle and forgiving, because Jarret is the one who needs to be forgiven.

“You’re right.” He says when the kiss breaks. Dustin doesn’t need to ask what he means. The conversation is still fresh in both of their minds. The near-scalding water washes over them but neither notices. Penner’s hypnotic eyes are serene, his face betrays nothing. Jarret looks at him searchingly, hoping for some clue, something to tell him if it’s alright or all wrong. Dustin says nothing, but his arms are still around Jarret’s back and he pulls him in tightly. The embrace is nearly frictionless with the water running in rivulets down both of their bodies, but it doesn’t matter. The meaning is unmistakable.

Later, as they lie in bed and watch the moon dip lower and lower in the night sky, Jarret tries to articulate what he’s feeling, but the words are stilted and imperfect. He’s hushed as Dustin draws him in closer. They both know what will happen when he sees her next, but none of it matters. For once there are no shades of grey.