Fic: Silence
Title: Silence
Pairing: Marat Safin/Gilles Simon
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not true
The silence was very prominent in the room, highlighting the pitter-patter of the rain. Gilles walks into the room as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the lonely, sleeping occupant. Padding over to the bed, he cautiously lowers himself on the mattress and lets out a sigh as he pulls back the black silk sheets.
Marat continues to slumber, oblivious to the storm raging outside. The rain has been falling now for the last two hours, wind slamming into the windows, rattling the glass erratically. Gilles tried to get home as soon as he could, but fallen trees had caused his trip home to Marat to be delayed. But now that he is home, Gilles doesn’t know what to do.
They had parted after spending a lovely Christmas together, albeit rather hesitantly. However, both men had promised to spend New Years with their respective families and friends. After a phone call at midnight and a few text messages that followed, Gilles didn’t hear from Marat until three days later when Marat rang to tell him that he was in Perth already. Gilles didn’t know how to react. In those three days, he had worried, called and left messages frantically. But without wanting to cause conflict, he told Marat that he was glad to hear from him and that he couldn’t wait to see him. The duration of those hours were not pleasant for Gilles, being alone with his thoughts and all. He knows Marat is a private person, very private, but lately, it felt like Marat was opening up to him, letting him see the many sides that Marat’s own family probably haven’t seen.
Gilles shuffles forward to light a candle next to the bed. He doesn’t want to turn on the lights and disturb Marat’s much needed sleep but he does want to look at him. When he arrived at Marat’s house in Perth, Gilles nearly dropped his bags. Yellowing bruised eyes, crimson cuts, the blood in his eyes. But what got to Gilles the most was that Marat failed to mention anything. In the moment, however, the only thought was the concern for Marat and his wellbeing. After dropping his bags and jumping Marat, Gilles bombarded him with question. Who? What? Where? When? Why? Marat just pressed his lips against Gilles, silencing him in the most efficient way known to the man. And when Marat pressed him against the wall a few moments later, Gilles didn’t care at that particular moment in time.
He tried bringing up again later. All he got was a shrug and “bar fight”. Gilles figured as much and hated the fact that Marat wouldn’t tell him what exactly happened. He just wants to take care of him, not baby him per say, but genuinely take care of him. But Marat’s made it clear, crystal clear, that he can take care of himself.
Slowly, with the utmost caution, Gilles rests his fingers on Marat’s jaw, prickling hairs tickle his skin. Marat’s tan skin glows in the light and it has Gilles admiring with a smile. His fingers trace up and lightly touch the fading bruise marring Marat’s eye. Gilles throat tightens a little when he thinks about the pain Marat must have felt. Victorious or not, the “fight” left more than just visible scars. Marat is suddenly quiet when they are alone. He has never not voiced himself in public, especially when it comes to addressing the media. And he still is. Joking with them, answering their questions, flashing his winning smiles. But with Gilles behind closed doors, no longer does he spout off about anything and everything. Now, they sit in silence, unless Gilles decides to fill it. The only thing Gilles can say that has changed for the better is that Marat is more touchy, not out of lust but out of love… or what feels like love. There have been moments where Marat has to have his hand resting on Gilles’, or his thigh or any body part near to him. Another habit Marat has adopted is constantly running his fingers through Gilles hair. When Gilles thinks about it now, maybe they don’t always need words, that space filling chatter.
He runs the tips of his fingers down Marat’s cheek, down his collarbone before leaning in and kissing the same spots with feather-light touches. He pulls back to look at Marat one last time, before blowing out the candle and settling in next to Marat’s warmth.
Pairing: Marat Safin/Gilles Simon
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not true
The silence was very prominent in the room, highlighting the pitter-patter of the rain. Gilles walks into the room as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the lonely, sleeping occupant. Padding over to the bed, he cautiously lowers himself on the mattress and lets out a sigh as he pulls back the black silk sheets.
Marat continues to slumber, oblivious to the storm raging outside. The rain has been falling now for the last two hours, wind slamming into the windows, rattling the glass erratically. Gilles tried to get home as soon as he could, but fallen trees had caused his trip home to Marat to be delayed. But now that he is home, Gilles doesn’t know what to do.
They had parted after spending a lovely Christmas together, albeit rather hesitantly. However, both men had promised to spend New Years with their respective families and friends. After a phone call at midnight and a few text messages that followed, Gilles didn’t hear from Marat until three days later when Marat rang to tell him that he was in Perth already. Gilles didn’t know how to react. In those three days, he had worried, called and left messages frantically. But without wanting to cause conflict, he told Marat that he was glad to hear from him and that he couldn’t wait to see him. The duration of those hours were not pleasant for Gilles, being alone with his thoughts and all. He knows Marat is a private person, very private, but lately, it felt like Marat was opening up to him, letting him see the many sides that Marat’s own family probably haven’t seen.
Gilles shuffles forward to light a candle next to the bed. He doesn’t want to turn on the lights and disturb Marat’s much needed sleep but he does want to look at him. When he arrived at Marat’s house in Perth, Gilles nearly dropped his bags. Yellowing bruised eyes, crimson cuts, the blood in his eyes. But what got to Gilles the most was that Marat failed to mention anything. In the moment, however, the only thought was the concern for Marat and his wellbeing. After dropping his bags and jumping Marat, Gilles bombarded him with question. Who? What? Where? When? Why? Marat just pressed his lips against Gilles, silencing him in the most efficient way known to the man. And when Marat pressed him against the wall a few moments later, Gilles didn’t care at that particular moment in time.
He tried bringing up again later. All he got was a shrug and “bar fight”. Gilles figured as much and hated the fact that Marat wouldn’t tell him what exactly happened. He just wants to take care of him, not baby him per say, but genuinely take care of him. But Marat’s made it clear, crystal clear, that he can take care of himself.
Slowly, with the utmost caution, Gilles rests his fingers on Marat’s jaw, prickling hairs tickle his skin. Marat’s tan skin glows in the light and it has Gilles admiring with a smile. His fingers trace up and lightly touch the fading bruise marring Marat’s eye. Gilles throat tightens a little when he thinks about the pain Marat must have felt. Victorious or not, the “fight” left more than just visible scars. Marat is suddenly quiet when they are alone. He has never not voiced himself in public, especially when it comes to addressing the media. And he still is. Joking with them, answering their questions, flashing his winning smiles. But with Gilles behind closed doors, no longer does he spout off about anything and everything. Now, they sit in silence, unless Gilles decides to fill it. The only thing Gilles can say that has changed for the better is that Marat is more touchy, not out of lust but out of love… or what feels like love. There have been moments where Marat has to have his hand resting on Gilles’, or his thigh or any body part near to him. Another habit Marat has adopted is constantly running his fingers through Gilles hair. When Gilles thinks about it now, maybe they don’t always need words, that space filling chatter.
He runs the tips of his fingers down Marat’s cheek, down his collarbone before leaning in and kissing the same spots with feather-light touches. He pulls back to look at Marat one last time, before blowing out the candle and settling in next to Marat’s warmth.