Coyotes fic ~ Lost In Translation
Yaaay, fic! About time, I know, I know. And this wasn't even one of the requests I got in the beginning of the year. But I got to go where the muse takes me... ^^
Title: Lost In Translation
Author: Kai - missy7280
Team: Phoenix Coyotes
Characters: Viktor Tikhonov (the grandson you perv), Enver Lisin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,229
Summary: Inspired by Viktor’s blog here(and yes it is slashy)
Disclaimer: Not real, none of it. All made up. Well except for the fact that Viktor and Enver are roommates, that’s true. Also, I do not own either of the Russians (sadly).
“What are you doing?” Enver asked in Russian as he entered the hotel room, seeing Viktor lying down on his stomach on the bed, a pen in hand.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Viktor countered.
“It looks like you’re writing.”
“That’s right. So why do you have to ask?”
“Well now the question is, what the hell are you writing about?”
“The game. I’m keeping a log.”
“Of every single game?”
“Yeah.”
“…”
“What?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I don‘t know. I started with writing about my first game and I just didn’t stop.”
“So you’re keeping a diary.”
“It’s a journal.”
“But you’re writing in it like a diary.”
“No I’m not.”
“Well, do you just keep track of the final score, or do you write about how each game made you feel?”
“I talk a little bit about how the game went. How well I played and what I need to work on still.”
“Sounds like a diary. Let me read it.”
“No.”
“Why are you keeping this from me?”
“It’s in English, for one.”
“Why do you write in English?”
“I’m practicing my skills,” Viktor answered sarcastically. It seemed obvious to him that he should write in English.
“Why? You just need to speak the language, you don’t need to write in it.”
“Actually I do. I’ve also got my online blog.”
“You could just write in Russian and somebody would translate for you.”
“Nah, I like doing it myself. Besides I grew up speaking English too, remember? And I
like the language.”
“I always thought you were an odd one.”
For a minute there was silence, until suddenly Viktor said in English, “I don’t want to translate for you anymore.”
Enver took an extra moment to process what he had heard. He understood the words, but he could not figure out the underlying meaning. “Why won‘t you?” Enver finally asked, forcing himself to speak in English as well.
“You speak English well enough now. And how are you going to improve if I do all the work for you?”
Enver mumbled a reply too softly for Viktor to hear. “What was that?” he asked.
“I said I’m no good at it. I sound like a fool.”
“That’s not true, and I couldn’t help you even if it was. I’m not an English teacher. Either way, you‘ll be just fine without me.” Viktor then set his pen down, closed his journal, and started heading in the direction of the bathroom, obviously trying to put an end to their conversation.
Enver stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “But I need you!” he exclaimed quietly (an oxymoron that was not lost on Viktor), and with more emotion than Viktor ever heard him use before. Viktor was stunned for a moment, but finally shrugged him off and continued in the other direction.
“I’ll think about it,” Viktor said as he walked away. “And don’t look in my journal,” he said over his shoulder as he closed the bathroom door.
Enver waited until he heard the click of the door locking, and then preceded as quietly as he could towards the diary on Viktor’s bed, as if his teammate could hear his treachery through the thick door. He picked up the book gingerly, not wanting to leave any evidence behind. He began flipping through the pages, all the while wondering why the hell he was doing exactly what Viktor just told him not to do.
The diary really was written in English, and Enver cursed under his breath at the realization. He had been holding out hope that his roommate had lied to him, but it was to no avail. Enver stared at the still foreign language, trying to make sense of the alphabet, not to mention Viktor’s handwriting. He scanned the pages for a minute and was just about to give up on being able to understand any of it, when he stumbled upon something that hit him right in the gut with a force so strong it almost knocked him over, and his hands shook as he placed the journal back on the bed.
The word “Enver” glared up at him perfectly clear from the pages. He may not be able to understand English very well, but he recognized his own name immediately. He tried to read the rest of the words around it, but the meaning was hazy. Just as he was translating something about feelings and not being able to take it much longer, Viktor walked back into the room. Enver had been absorbed with trying to read the journal, but he dropped it immediately as if it was on fire and jumped nearly a foot in the air as he heard Viktor return.
“I told you not to look at that,” Viktor said, staring at a spot on the floor as he did so. Enver thought that the other boy would be angry, and so he quickly prepared himself for the worst. But instead of anger, Viktor just sounded very disappointed. Enver was reminded of the time his father had caught him at the age of 12 with a cigarette, and how his disappointed look was more effective than yelling could ever be.
“I’m -”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Viktor cut him off. “God I… oh what does it matter, you don’t understand English anyway, do you?”
“I understand it,” Enver said, his voice almost a whisper, trying his best to not reveal just how much Viktor’s statement stung. “But I can’t read it, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Really,” Viktor said, sounding doubtful. “Then why do you look so flushed, if you didn’t notice the part about you?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” he responded, knowing full well exactly what Viktor meant. There was only one way this could go. Enver had just given Viktor a way out, and he would mercifully take it and relieve them both of the awkward situation.
And so Enver was completely unprepared when it didn’t go that way at all. Viktor came closer to him until there was barely any space between them. “If you wanted to know how I felt, why didn’t you just ask me?”
There was only a couple inches of height difference between them, but the fact that Enver had to look up at the younger boy annoyed him. He looked up at Viktor nonetheless, and kept his expression blank. Or as blank as he possibly could keep it with Viktor being so close in his personal space. He unconsciously took a step backward to create some room between them.
“It’s ok, I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I just needed you to know,” Viktor said. Enver processed this for a moment, and gaped with surprise when understanding dawned on him.
“You wanted me to read your diary!”
“Journal. And yes.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to prove to you that you could read English,” Viktor said with a smile, and what Enver would swear was a twinkle in his eye. “You didn’t really think I actually trusted you not to read my journal when I left you alone with it, did you?”
Enver couldn’t help smiling back at him. “And did you really think I don’t have any feelings for you?” he asked, and kissed him before Viktor had a chance to answer.
Title: Lost In Translation
Author: Kai - missy7280
Team: Phoenix Coyotes
Characters: Viktor Tikhonov (the grandson you perv), Enver Lisin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,229
Summary: Inspired by Viktor’s blog here(and yes it is slashy)
Disclaimer: Not real, none of it. All made up. Well except for the fact that Viktor and Enver are roommates, that’s true. Also, I do not own either of the Russians (sadly).
“What are you doing?” Enver asked in Russian as he entered the hotel room, seeing Viktor lying down on his stomach on the bed, a pen in hand.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Viktor countered.
“It looks like you’re writing.”
“That’s right. So why do you have to ask?”
“Well now the question is, what the hell are you writing about?”
“The game. I’m keeping a log.”
“Of every single game?”
“Yeah.”
“…”
“What?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I don‘t know. I started with writing about my first game and I just didn’t stop.”
“So you’re keeping a diary.”
“It’s a journal.”
“But you’re writing in it like a diary.”
“No I’m not.”
“Well, do you just keep track of the final score, or do you write about how each game made you feel?”
“I talk a little bit about how the game went. How well I played and what I need to work on still.”
“Sounds like a diary. Let me read it.”
“No.”
“Why are you keeping this from me?”
“It’s in English, for one.”
“Why do you write in English?”
“I’m practicing my skills,” Viktor answered sarcastically. It seemed obvious to him that he should write in English.
“Why? You just need to speak the language, you don’t need to write in it.”
“Actually I do. I’ve also got my online blog.”
“You could just write in Russian and somebody would translate for you.”
“Nah, I like doing it myself. Besides I grew up speaking English too, remember? And I
like the language.”
“I always thought you were an odd one.”
For a minute there was silence, until suddenly Viktor said in English, “I don’t want to translate for you anymore.”
Enver took an extra moment to process what he had heard. He understood the words, but he could not figure out the underlying meaning. “Why won‘t you?” Enver finally asked, forcing himself to speak in English as well.
“You speak English well enough now. And how are you going to improve if I do all the work for you?”
Enver mumbled a reply too softly for Viktor to hear. “What was that?” he asked.
“I said I’m no good at it. I sound like a fool.”
“That’s not true, and I couldn’t help you even if it was. I’m not an English teacher. Either way, you‘ll be just fine without me.” Viktor then set his pen down, closed his journal, and started heading in the direction of the bathroom, obviously trying to put an end to their conversation.
Enver stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “But I need you!” he exclaimed quietly (an oxymoron that was not lost on Viktor), and with more emotion than Viktor ever heard him use before. Viktor was stunned for a moment, but finally shrugged him off and continued in the other direction.
“I’ll think about it,” Viktor said as he walked away. “And don’t look in my journal,” he said over his shoulder as he closed the bathroom door.
Enver waited until he heard the click of the door locking, and then preceded as quietly as he could towards the diary on Viktor’s bed, as if his teammate could hear his treachery through the thick door. He picked up the book gingerly, not wanting to leave any evidence behind. He began flipping through the pages, all the while wondering why the hell he was doing exactly what Viktor just told him not to do.
The diary really was written in English, and Enver cursed under his breath at the realization. He had been holding out hope that his roommate had lied to him, but it was to no avail. Enver stared at the still foreign language, trying to make sense of the alphabet, not to mention Viktor’s handwriting. He scanned the pages for a minute and was just about to give up on being able to understand any of it, when he stumbled upon something that hit him right in the gut with a force so strong it almost knocked him over, and his hands shook as he placed the journal back on the bed.
The word “Enver” glared up at him perfectly clear from the pages. He may not be able to understand English very well, but he recognized his own name immediately. He tried to read the rest of the words around it, but the meaning was hazy. Just as he was translating something about feelings and not being able to take it much longer, Viktor walked back into the room. Enver had been absorbed with trying to read the journal, but he dropped it immediately as if it was on fire and jumped nearly a foot in the air as he heard Viktor return.
“I told you not to look at that,” Viktor said, staring at a spot on the floor as he did so. Enver thought that the other boy would be angry, and so he quickly prepared himself for the worst. But instead of anger, Viktor just sounded very disappointed. Enver was reminded of the time his father had caught him at the age of 12 with a cigarette, and how his disappointed look was more effective than yelling could ever be.
“I’m -”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Viktor cut him off. “God I… oh what does it matter, you don’t understand English anyway, do you?”
“I understand it,” Enver said, his voice almost a whisper, trying his best to not reveal just how much Viktor’s statement stung. “But I can’t read it, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Really,” Viktor said, sounding doubtful. “Then why do you look so flushed, if you didn’t notice the part about you?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” he responded, knowing full well exactly what Viktor meant. There was only one way this could go. Enver had just given Viktor a way out, and he would mercifully take it and relieve them both of the awkward situation.
And so Enver was completely unprepared when it didn’t go that way at all. Viktor came closer to him until there was barely any space between them. “If you wanted to know how I felt, why didn’t you just ask me?”
There was only a couple inches of height difference between them, but the fact that Enver had to look up at the younger boy annoyed him. He looked up at Viktor nonetheless, and kept his expression blank. Or as blank as he possibly could keep it with Viktor being so close in his personal space. He unconsciously took a step backward to create some room between them.
“It’s ok, I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I just needed you to know,” Viktor said. Enver processed this for a moment, and gaped with surprise when understanding dawned on him.
“You wanted me to read your diary!”
“Journal. And yes.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to prove to you that you could read English,” Viktor said with a smile, and what Enver would swear was a twinkle in his eye. “You didn’t really think I actually trusted you not to read my journal when I left you alone with it, did you?”
Enver couldn’t help smiling back at him. “And did you really think I don’t have any feelings for you?” he asked, and kissed him before Viktor had a chance to answer.