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carpehistoryandthepens · 1 month

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Union! Geno is saving up for one night with Sid. Escort! Sid wishes for one night with someone who truly could love him.

yall want a not!fic based on @yabagofmilfs's prompt from like several months ago?

Prompt: Enough billionaire or CEO AUs; let's start romanticizing blue-collar workers. Give me a union man who has earned every cent he's ever made with his body, and tonight he's spending money that actually means something to him on a guy who's gonna treat him right.

Union! Geno is saving up for one night with Sid. Escort! Sid wishes for one night with someone who truly could love him.

Amorphous 1910’s – 1920’sish time frame. Don’t come at me with the historical correctness – this is not what I am here for, and it will not happen. Vibes ONLY. (My history degree is being used elsewhere at the moment.)

words: 1915

They met on the same riverboat that took them to Pittsburgh. Both teenagers, young and scared, were heading to a place for work that was far from the lives they knew. They meet on the deck of the riverboat. It's two to a room – they end up sharing; neither of them has money. Not yet. Geno clearly says that he is coming to Pittsburgh to work in the steel industry. Sid is very clear right back that he's going to one of the high-priced brothels in the city for work.

Geno is still Zhenya at the time. Sid only kind of had an idea of what he was getting into, but both knew they would be using their bodies for work and had more or less made their peace with that. Both are very taken with each other. They never go far on that trip—not even sharing a kiss before they have to separate at the docks. They both want it.

The kiss that never happened is their biggest regret for years.

But their thoughts stay with each other for YEARS. Just before they part, they exchange where they will be working. Geno makes a joke about buying a night. Sid laughs it off, knowing the average pay of that steel factory is far below where he was going. Both know it can be only one night, but it's not that night. Neither expects to see each other again.

What they didn't know then is that over the years, their lives will intertwine.

They could never stop running into each other. But it was always so causal.

Sometimes, it's at a bookstore – where Geno gets some Russian books sent to him or at parks where Sid likes to take people from the brothel for some fresh air. Sometimes, it's them running into each other as Sid goes to or from a party on the street. Once, memorably for both of them, it was at a party the Steel Union hosts happened to be in the same hotel that Sid was at a dinner.

Eventually (sometime in their mid-twenties), Geno puts two and two together and realizes what he wants.

They had just run into each other at a fancy bar that Geno would have never been in normally, but he got directly invited by the head of the Union. Sid looked so Radiant and Happy, and their conversation flowed so easily – it was so wonderful. Sid stopped looking so stressed as the night went on.

Until Sid’s date for the evening came by to pick him up so they could ‘go home.’ Then it was as if a mask came over Sid’s face, and all of the open happiness went away.

All Geno could feel was the frustrated rage that had nowhere to go, and he knew what that meant. One night with Sid would matter more than every night Geno had spent trying to get over him. It was worth more than every night Geno had spent lying to himself that he could be fine, never knowing how Sid felt or if he still laughed the same.

Because now he did. Sid still could laugh the same way he did on the boat trip to Pittsburgh.

Geno starts saving that night. Geno keeps tabs on the place Sid goes to and has a fair idea of what a night with Sid costs. It's more than six months of solid pay and can, and probably will, go higher. Geno figures saving at least a year's worth of pay will cover him if Sid gets even more expensive. And if not, Geno could get a good suit for the night. He doesn't hold much hope that he will get a second night.

While Geno gets teased by his coworkers and friends for always being willing to talk to the girls (and guys) of the night, it's always in good nature. They never judge him after Sid comes by as arm candy of one of the steel mill bigwigs on a tour of the mill and sees Geno's longing following the well-built escort. They would actually tease him if not for the fact that when Sid saw Geno - it's like Geno's longing is reflected in Sid's eyes. (because it is).

So Geno works and works and works and saves up for a little at a time.

Meanwhile, Sid never forgot Geno.

Even as he took high-paying clients and learned from the best at the brothel. While he enjoyed his work, none of the people he took to his bed ever loved him. Never gave him hope the same way that Geno did for the one night they had on the riverboat to Pittsburgh. Never treated him with the same kindness Geno did when he confessed he was going into this business so his sister would never have to. While his coworkers and friends knew his past, it was a common story enough – so it garnered little sympathy.

Sid was popular and well-liked. He was excellent at his job—because in what AU would Sidney Crosby not be the best at his chosen profession? He got bigger and more famous clients. He gained a foothold in Pittsburgh politics and culture by accident.

Sid, wielding his influence, has been trying to improve the working conditions and lives of the steel mill workers (in hopes that Geno—whom he remembers as Zhenya—would get the better life he wished for). Seeing Geno sporadically in the years since arriving in Pittsburgh, seeing how hard labor had changed Geno from a gangly teen to a strong man but had also put weary lines on his face only pushed Sid further.

Sid might have a career in politics nearly ready once he's no longer useful to the brothel, which is starting to get uncomfortably close as he ages.

But he doesn’t know for sure what his future holds—at all. All he’s known since he was eighteen is this life, taken by so many different people but no one who really cared for him as a person. Sid thought a few times that maybe this client would be different, but no. It was never meant to be; they always cared more for the status and the pride that came with being able to see Sid himself.

But something in Geno's eyes says he has to know at least once before he dies. What would it be to be with someone who would take care of him? Who could truly love him?

Then Geno saves up enough. He's in his mid-thirties. He's risen up in the ranks in the steel mill. He's not quite a manager, but he's one of the most trusted there. Most of his friends and coworkers have started families.

The night Geno walks into Sid’s rooms, as the man of the night, is one that Sid didn’t know he needed or truly wanted. He’s determined to make it the best night of Geno’s life. (he tries not to think how it’s the best night of his life either.)

The morning comes, and both of them know deep down that they won’t be able to go on with one night alone.

Then, the hard part begins.

Geno would be convinced that one night would be all he could get because he couldn't give Sid the life he's used to living. Meanwhile, Sid is like, "I can't rip away Zhenya’s independence!" (Sid has more than enough money – not a millionaire, but comfortable). Geno had been very clear when they first meant that he was proud he could make his own way in life – even if it meant working with his body differently than Sid would. Sid respected that and didn’t want to take that away.

They keep in touch with letters at first and the occasional phone call. (Geno works on making enough to have a phone in his apartment like Sid does. It takes time.) But they move on from being each other's teenage obsessions and then to each other's dreams to being actual friends.

They don’t sleep together again (Sid’s job keeps him very busy), but they do manage to spend a lot of time together.

Geno gets a promotion to work directly with the union to ensure proper pay and rights, which comes with a pay raise and new responsibilities that he has no idea what to do with. But the rights he can get for the workers matter to him, so he tries his best and makes some enemies. Geno’s Steel Mill owner hates him. (I've just decided this is Madden from that one radio network – he hates Geno for some reason and fuck that guy.)

Sid, meanwhile, finds his talent with people and accidental cultural pull starting to show as some of his clients start directly asking for opinions. When Geno’s Steel mill’s owner (the one who has always paid the most to have Sid come with them on dates, parties, and basically to show off) comes to Sid for advice on how to ‘deal with the annoying Russian that works for the union,’ Sid nearly throws the guy out of the window.

Sid runs to see Geno in the middle of the night because this makes him fear for Geno’s life. And it's all dramatic and takes place in Geno’s dingy apartment in a not-so-good area of Pittsburgh. For Geno, seeing Sid in this element – away from the glitz and the glam of his escort life – really takes it home that Geno is in love and…. It might be reciprocated.

Sid stays the night. And for the first time since he was eighteen, no money was exchanged.

This causes a lot of problems for Sid because Geno is not well-liked among his clientele, but he's Sid and kind of beloved in Pittsburgh. So, they choose to get rid of Geno rather than punish Sid. But that doesn’t go too well because it turns out Geno is well-liked as well. A few dates in public and the newspapers are on their sides (listen, Sid and Geno going anywhere in Pittsburgh is good for selling newspapers) (and Whoops! Tanger owns the newspaper, EK is a reporter, POJ is the lead photographer, and Rusty is the editor. They always have been on Sid’s side.)

The steel mill guy doesn’t do too well after that. EK goes to town on him. Jarry, Ned, and a few others take over the business and are much more willing to work with the union. Geno secures all sorts of rights with the steel mills (all of them) and doesn’t have to strike. Sid ends up in politics, but more like being engaged with the city, and pulling sports teams to the city. Things like that.

He and Sid never marry officially, but they know their vows were said the night Sid stayed.

#i write?#sidgeno #8771 #evgeni malkin #sidney crosby

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sonego · 4 months

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um okay i might've posted a sincaraz fic okay bye

#please don't expect it to be good i am not good #okay. lowkey nervous. ugh #nico.txt #i write?

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carpe-history · 1 year

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the aftermath of everything

SpyxFamily.

1800 words ish, one shot. Wrote with little editing, no beta, enjoy??

DamianxAnya, Damianya, background twilyor?

It's in the aftermath of everything that Damian really got his bearings.

Seventeen. Graduate of Eden. Drafted even before that. He's heartbroken, beaten up, and his head hurts. The bombs have finally stopped falling. Rifle at his side, uniform barely on his body. Damian took a stalk of it all.

God, he was so tired. He leaned back against the wall in the dingy one-room cabin that was the safehouse Loid Forger hid them in. He was getting supplies now.

Anya was unconscious in the only bed with her ancient dog next to her, protecting her. Her pink hair had fallen from the ponytail she had kept since the first draft letters had arrived at Eden. Damian was ready to cry. She was safe. But he wasn't able to. He hadn't been able to since the war started.

The last time he had seen her, determination in her eyes, was his last day at Eden. He had been drafted as an officer thanks to his education there. She had left her friend and ran up and hugged him too tightly. At the time, Damian had been thankful she was the firstborn of Loid Forger. So she was protected from the draft for a little longer. It was a consequence of the elite who ran the government wanting to protect their assets, a boon for them. And a relief for him.

They had never dated at Eden. He may have wanted it with every pore of his body, but with the war growing, it was never the right time. So instead, he had hugged back just as hard, poring everything he could into that hug, wishing to do more and kiss her, tell her how he felt, but that was not Damian Desmond. So instead, he would do anything to stay safe for her and protect their home.

He had been convinced that while the war was bloody and brutal, it was for a just reason. That had been a lie.

He's been betrayed by his blood family, and then he chosen to betray his blood family back.

Trapped in a cabin with his unconscious not-girlfriend, her spy father, assassin mother, old dog, and him. They escaped. The war would end because of their actions, but who knew if they would live to see true peace?

The thing is, the thing they never tell you as a child about war is that the end is never clean.

Becky was back at home, protected from most of the war, because of who her father and family were. She would take over the business if he died. Emmet was in the same boat—the firstborn child of an influential family. In other words: they were protected and exempt from the draft. Likewise, Demetrius was protected – not that Damian had seen his brother in years.

Well, he realized. Damian hadn't seen his brother in years, before this morning. So now his brother was dead.

He and Emilie weren't as lucky. He and Damian were among the last 'spares' drafted. Damian hoped like hell that Emilie was still alive.

Yor didn't move from her position at the end of the bed, knives in hand, but Damian was war trained now, and he noticed her shifting attention.

Three seconds later, a gentle knock came in code at the door. Damian responded just as softly, knocking on the floor. Loid entered the room a moment later, carrying a few bags of food.

No words were exchanged as Yor and Loid set up a meal at the table. It was small, so different than the meals he had eaten alone in the mansion or with friends at Eden Academy or the tiny meals he had been given in the field the past few months. The difference was that it was a family meal.

"Sit, Damian," Loid said, gesturing at the chair. "Anya will be up in a while. She's just tired. Using that much of her powers… it takes a lot out of her."

"She will be all right?" he had to ask.

Yor nodded. "Yes. A headache at most. But nothing else."

Damian had betrayed his blood family this afternoon. He had woken up this morning with a group of kids no older than him and was told to lead them to his family's mansion in the forests, where he would get more orders for the next battle.

He had found his brother and his mother. It had been even longer since he had seen his mother than his brother.

Damian ate reflexively, realizing it didn't even hurt to think of his brother or mother. Both were dead, and he didn't care.

They had never cared about him.

The person whom he cared about and had cared about him had been tied to a fucking lab bench with scientists all around her. She had been conscious at first, then the was an experiment of some sort, and she had been in such pain.

He had seen them with Anya, and that was not how he had imagined them meeting on the few occasions he had even dared to think or dream about it.

His beautiful, fierce, proud Anya. She had looked just as defiant as the last time he saw her on the steps of Eden Academy.

So he had been shocked to see Anya at that table.

His brother had told him about their plan and how her powers would be the key to winning the war. And his unit had been chosen to make sure that happened.

They had expected him to side with them. They had expected him to let them kill Anya for their plans. For their stupid war. For their corrupt government. For their power. For his father.

At first, he had been so shocked that he went along with it, but he hoped that Anya knew he would be back. By the look in her bright green eyes, she knew something. He begged her in his mind not to abandon hope. He would get her out.

Despite her body's battered condition, her spark of determination had never been put out. If his brother's and mother's plans were right, she could hear him.

When the Forgers broke in to save their daughter, Damian was already on his way to ensuring that none of the scientists would be alive. As an officer, he had been given a handgun and a rifle.

When he broke into her lab, her first words to him were, "Good to see you, Sy-on. I've been waiting. A good friend waits for her friends." Her words were slurred, but she was going to be ok.

"Yeah. Friends." He said, knowing he would go to the ends of the world for her. "Let's go home then."

"Might be hard." Anya had laughed a little. "As home isn't the same anymore."

"I know. I have to follow you." He said.

She had laughed, then the guards, closely followed by her parents, burst in. He never let her go, keeping her close, even when she was doing absolutely terrifying things with her mental powers.

In the aftermath, his brother and mother were dead. However, Loid had a briefcase at the foot of the bed with enough evidence, plans, and information to end the war.

"Do you want to go?" Loid asked as they all went back to watching Anya sleep.

Damian shook his head even before he could really process the question. "As far as I care, Damian Desmond is dead." Damian Desmond died when he shot his brother for hurting Anya. "I just want to go home."

He felt their gazes in the silence.

"Home is…," Yor started to say gently, but Damian cut her off.

"Home is where Anya is." He said simply. He loved her too much to hide that now. The boy who hid and ran from that feeling had died on the battlefield long before his brother and mother had in the family mansion.

He had been worried about the letters when they stopped coming. They were barely legible letters, but they were his heart and soul at times. But he had been assured that it was a supply issue, nothing more. Some of his unit had thought he was waiting on a girl who was about to dear john him, but he knew better.

Yor nodded, accepting that.

"Love you too," Anya said from the bed, getting all three of them to jump.

As her family surrounded her, Damian stepped back, allowing them room. Yor pulled him close and held them all tight. Anya took his hand and held it tightly. He was wrapped in the arms of people who always cared for him. For the first time since he left Eden, Damian could cry. They were safe. She was alive. He was alive.

It was long before any of them could move from the bed.

When they all moved, it was so Loid could get some of the papers in the bags he had brought.

Loid glared at him for a heartbeat and sighed. "I only have plans for a family to make it over the border. Not family and friend."

"Papa. That plan will still work if Anya and Sy-on are married." Anya said, still sounding so weak, but there was laughter in her voice.

Because the statement was throwing a bomb into the conversation, Damian stared at Anya, unable to process what she had just said.

Or it should have been. But, instead, Loid looked contemplative, considering the papers. "It could work." He shrugged, "we don't even need the license when we get over the border. My word is good enough."

Yor giggled, a bright sound in the room. "That's about as romantic as our proposal, darling."

Loid sighed and kissed his wife on the forehead, "It's also about as legal."

"Am I marrying you?" Damian asked Anya, still a bit shaken, but really that was the least of his worries. He ignored the many questions that this one conversation brought up. He would get his answers soon, he thought.

She smiled so wide she looked just like the six-year-old he had a massive crush on, "Looks like it!"

"Then I want your name," he said, determined. He never wanted anything to do with the Desmond family again, especially his father. "Damian Forger sounds nice, right?" he had to admit that while he had never entirely written out his name and her's in notebooks, he had come close.

"Well," Loid said, surprising him, "We're going to be Briars now. Gotta let your bother know we're safe somehow," he said to Yor.

Yor smiled brightly, hugging him tightly.

"Damian Briar. Is that all right, Damian?" Anya asked, looking worried for a moment.

Damian had to kiss her. "I'm fine with it. Home is with you."

She smiled brightly and kissed him back.

Damian took stock in the tiny safehouse. He was going to be a Briar. Anya loved him too. They were all done fighting for now. In the aftermath of everything, Damion was happy.

#damianya #anya x damian #damian desmond #anya forger #spy x family #i write?

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blueboxbeagle · 26 days

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By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

#Tutorials & References #Gemstones #Jewels #Art Reference #Writing Reference #Gemstones Reference #If the original marker wants me to take this down I will

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butchfalin · 5 months

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the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

#yeehaw #1k #5k #10k #posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours?#also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that!#unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference #edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense #also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags #1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now #he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic #2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. 👌🏼 is an ok sign #like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock #3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing #it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is #extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once #it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life #i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about #Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect #if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it #aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week

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yeehawpim · 8 months

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a comic about fix-it fanfics

#original comic #fanfic #fix it fic #fandom #dr who #bbc sherlock #avengers #my comic #my art #been thinking about the truly dumb amount of time I've spent reading fanfic #i started writing fix-it fic like a couple months ago and I Get It #teenage pim was a dumbass

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sylvies-kablooie · 3 months

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i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

#i often wonder about how many things would be considered classic or high art had they only received the marketing #how many short films that were made for class could have been the most powerful thing you'd ever seen? if you'd seen them?#“you know the greatest films of all time were never made” etc etc #but like. these works of art ARE being made. it's just enjoyed by a smaller audience with equal impact though #i think about this one furry i used to follow on insta who had the coolest worldbuilding ever. it's been years.#thought prompted by that sketch of nimona from ten years ago that was just for a character design #posted to the creator's tumblr and now it's nominated for best animated feature film at the oscars #and by the genuine emotional reaction a fan comic made me feel. how much work had gone into it. how beautiful it was to me.#idk what to tag this but i hope whoever needs to hear it does #writing #writer #fandom #fandom culture #artist

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so-many-ocs · 4 months

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[on the verge of having a complete breakdown] i need to make some kind of list or perhaps sort things into categories

#🌿 misc #idk how to tag this #i just love making lists #and sorting things into categories #pinterest #??#this is part of what motivates me to write i just love making lists of scenes and then sorting them into categories #bangers

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monsoon-of-art · 10 months

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#I'm serious stop doing it #theyre scraping fanfics and other authors writing #'oh but i wanna rp with my favs' then learn to write #studios wanna use ai to put writers AND artists out of business stop feeding the fucking machine!!!!

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memendoemori · 3 months

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The best quality a fictional man can have is being deeply, pathetically, wretchedly in love with someone, I think

#doerambles #writing #I will not be swayed on this

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viaalterego · 7 months

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#i found this instead of sleeping #writeblr #writing #fanfiction #ao3 #whumblr #whump

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carpehistoryandthepens · 26 days

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Legacy (what is a legacy?) Part 11

It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me

Hamilton, the world was wide enough. LMM.

one, two, three, four, Five, six seven, eight, nine, ten

Summary: Mike is 13. Born May 2009. Sid didn’t know he had a son. All Mike had was hope and a prayer for his and his half-sister’s safety.

(Sid is a dad of a teen he didn’t know about AU) Sidgeno.

Warnings: (for the total story) post-child abuse (all off-screen but it affects things and is spoken about often), learning how to parent, panic attacks, anxiety, based on last season, OCs?, realization about sexuality. Post breakups. Desperate lack of in-depth research for CPS in both PA/CA, melodrama?, kidfic, angst, slowburn, playing fast and loose with the law for drama/storytelling purposes.

Zhenya woke up the next morning feeling quite different than he did the day before. He crashed out on Sid's very comfortable couch. That much he was sure of, but he wasn't sure of anything else.

He could hear the soft voices of his family in the background of his fuzzy mind. Zhenya followed the sounds until he sat up from the couch and looked around. The room was just as fuzzy as his brain. He reached out to the small coffee table to find his glasses. Most of his contacts were in the house; the trainers had a few of his prescriptions at the rink, but his glasses would work for now.

Once he could see, Zhenya could hear voices. It seemed he was the last one to wake. Anna was in the kitchen, quietly talking to Sid and making breakfast. Mike entertained Nikita and Marisol at the table, quietly working on Nikita's homework with him.

Sid noticed wake him first. "Geno! Good morning!" he greeted in Russian.

Anna hid her snort in her coffee at his accent. She always found Sid's very heavy accent delightful.

Sid shot her back a mock glare, not really upset. He is always up to be chripped by his friends and teammates.

Zhenya stared at him blearily, hoping to remember why things were so different. It usually took him a few moments to turn on his brain entirely after waking up. Then it all came back to him: the house, the gas leak, Sid's offer of his home.

Zhenya signed and sank back onto the couch. "Good morning," He replied back.

"Morning, Papa!" Nikita practically yelled from the table after hearing Zhenya's voice.

There was an extra bedroom free, but to be honest, after the day he had yesterday, he sat down at the end of the night and fell asleep. At least, that's what he's assuming happened since there was a blanket draped over him and a pillow under his head.

Mike glanced between them back and forth for a moment before asking, "Dobroye?" he botched the pronunciation.

Sid turned red. "It means 'good morning' in Russian."

"You speak Russian?" Mike asked, puzzled.

Zhenya answered for him because Sid didn't know how to answer that question correctly. "Badly. Sid speaks Russian badly."

Sid laughed. "I've been learning since we were, what, 19? 20? So, I'm rather ok with it. Not perfect, but ok."

"Bad." Anna agreed with Zhenya, smirking at Sid. "But it's cute anyway."

Sid sent her a mock, wounded look.

Mike nodded, sending them a weary look before returning to the homework Nikita had just brandished at him.

After everyone had all been fed, the day started officially. The adults met up in the kitchen to talk while the kids stayed at the dining room table. Zhenya made sure to steal the best chair from Sid – the one with a good back. His back let him know he was too old to spend the night on the couch after a day at training camp – he would need to have a trainer look at him before they started to skate.

"So, what's the plan?" Sid asked, looking between Anna and Zhenya.

Anna tossed her hair back as she stared at her phone; the calendar app pulled up. "I leave in three days to Miami for a photo shoot." Her conflicted feelings toward leaving Nikita behind and being able to go back to work were written all over her face.

Their shared calendar is now more of a Nikita Calendar. Zhenya fished out his phone and checked his own sechdual. Just practices and a few sponsorship commitments. Another meeting with Goorin bros about his hats.

"Three days, eh?" Sid said, leaning back on the countertop, consideringly. "If you guys need to stay that long, it's fine."

Zhenya frowned. "What if the house takes longer?" He felt that his home would take much, much longer. Anna agreed with a frustrated sigh.

"I don't mind guests." Sid shrugged as if it wasn't that big of a deal. "Mike and Marisol also say they are fine. They know you, Geno, and don't seem to mind Nikita."

Zhenya and Anna shared a speaking glance; this was Sid's inexperience at parenting showing through. He didn't know for sure if that would be ok with Mike and Marisol; he took them at their word instead of thinking the whole situation through.

Still, it was better than moving Nikita into a hotel for a few days. One reason they wanted to have Nikita start school was to have a more stable life rather than one that had him flying around the country several times a month.

"How about you stay with Sid for a few more days after I leave, if it comes to that?" Anna suggested in Russian, sounding done with trying to make things make sense in English.

Zhenya sighed. He had been sighing a lot in the past few days.

Sid agreed with little prompting, "I'm sure we can figure out what to do next. Come on. It's time for camp." Sid's complete acceptance to have them over as long-term house guests didn't surprise Zhenya. Sid loved having company over as long as they were close to him.

Four days later, Mike watched the adults in the room try to argue over his case without really arguing. Mike was already finding it hard to breathe; he wondered if anyone else was having problems, too. He fiddled with his shaker bottle while twisting back and forth in the spinny chair. The metal ball was long lost, but the plastic loop was on top, which was a good thing to do with his hands.

Mr. Brisson was arguing with Helena over something at the other end of the conference table. Mike tried not to pay attention to them; it was related to him and Marisol.

Sid was talking to Marisol, Ms. Jen, and Sully.

They were in a conference room, and it felt like everyone was there for some reason. Mike wasn't sure why so many people needed to be there. There were so many people in the office that Mike was surprised there was room to breathe.

The babble in the room grew louder as each new person ducked in. Mike couldn't make out any conversations, but it was still becoming rapidly overwhelming. He couldn't really make out what was being said anymore. He needed to leave, to get out of the room, but he couldn't. Marisol was still here.

"If that's what Sid wants, then that's what he'll get!" Mr. Brisson's voice cut through the chatter, and the rest of the room fell silent, watching the man.

Helena glared at him, not backing down, "It's not just about what Sidney Crosby wants here!" Mike was sure that she meant it differently, but most of the Penguin's employees looked mildly scandalized by that statement. "It's what's best for Mike and Marisol!"

Mike wasn't sure what to make of Mr. Brisson. They had met very shortly a few days ago, and Brisson had taken one look at him, nodded, proclaimed that he believed Sid, and disappeared shortly afterward.

Marisol pushed herself into Mike's side, upset at the yelling. Cynthia and Rodger both had done that a lot, at each other, at Mike, at Marisol, at random strangers, and once at Mike's overwhelmed science teacher for daring to ask how was Mike's home life. Mike held onto Marisol's hand tightly.

He reminded himself that they hadn't been separated. That was the most important thing. They were together, and Marisol was safe. Mike hadn't spent longer than a few moments separated from his sister since they had run away, and he didn't want to know what that was like. He already had to fight a tight feeling in his chest when he was separated from Marisol for as long as it took him to go to the bathroom.

The results of the paternity test weren't back yet. Hopefully, if the test said Sid wasn't his father, Helena could keep them together anyway.

God, Mike hoped that Sid was his father, like he thought.

"You think Sid isn't thinking about that?" Brisson snorted.

"It doesn't matter what you or Mr Crosby thinks. It's what's right for them. We need to figure this out now," Helena said. "I need to talk to Mr Crosby and not his agent."

Sid looked a little sheepish. "Agents always help. Them and lawyers."

"That may be how it works with hockey, but this is children's lives we are talking about," Helena said, trying to sound patient, but to Mike's ears, she failed.

Marisol climbed onto his lap. Mike slowly rubbed up and down her back until she had calmed down more.

Sidney's lawyer, whom Mike hadn't met yet, entered the room as the last person they were waiting for. She struck Mike as a no-nonsense sort of woman.

The meeting started in earnest. It was about getting long-term plans started for Mike and Marisol. Helena was not happy that the pens organization would be so involved that they had two separate people in the room as representatives. Sid was confused as to why they wouldn't be. Brisson was very good at making sure Sid's interests were represented. Sid's lawyer just took notes and listened.

Mike listened for a while and answered questions when they needed it, which wasn't often, to be honest, surprising for a meeting that was about him. Mike had to make it clear to Helena and Sid that he wanted Marisol to be safe first and foremost, but he didn't want either of them to return to their Aunt's house afterward.

When pressed, Mike didn't have anything else he wanted.

"Is this what you want?" Helena asked. After Mike had answered the questions, Sid's lawyer took many notes, and a lot of discussion went over Mike's head. There were lots of forms and laws, and some quick comparisons to California and PA law.

At first, Mike thought she was asking Sid, but she met Mike's gaze evenly, and Mike realized that the rest of the room was waiting for him.

They were all waiting for him.

Mike took a deep breath. Was this what he wanted? Mike had been moving on instinct for so long, just trying to protect Marisol.

Sid reached over and briefly squeezed Mike's shoulder in reassurance. It was something their papa used to do—not that Sid would have known that—and it made Mike feel stronger.

He could do this.

"Yes," he said, tightening his grip on Marisol's hand. She squeezed back just as tightly, knowing this moment was important. "This is what I want."

The office was immensely filled with noise. Ms. Jen and Mr. Brisson started discussing plans and what to do next. There were questions about health care and education. Mike was a little overwhelmed with how fast the conversation seemed to go.

"So, they can stay with me?" Sid suddenly asked, bringing silence to the room. "Both of them?"

Helena nodded, reading over the paperwork the lawyer had filled out, "Yes. For now, at least, I see no reason to move them. Marisol is Michael's half-sister.

"Do you want to stay?" Sid asked Mike, ignoring the rest of the room. "We can deal with everything that comes later, but I want to know if you want to stay. If the last week has shown you this isn't the place to be, I will find you and Marisol a better place. But. I would like you to stay."

Mike stared at him. A million things ran through his mind. In the corner of his eye, Helena looked approvingly at sid for the first time since the meeting started.

This was what he wanted, right?

Sid asked for an honest answer. That's what he wanted. Mike looked down at Marisol – who was staring up at him with wide eyes. Marisol was safe here. Sid made sure of that. They both got to eat what they wanted and could sleep through the night without fear.

Marisol wanted to stay. She liked it here.

She had never seen snow. It snows in Pittsburgh, right? That's a thing that happens in places that aren't Southern California by the Pacific Ocean.

Mike wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay with the man who might be his biological father. He wanted to stay with Sid, who was obsessed with hockey as Mike was, who laughed and snorted, who spoke Russian, and that morning had turned on a Telemundo version of Sesame Street for Marisol, and Mike heard him muttering some of the basic words under his breath. Mike wanted to stay with Sid, who was asking about his school options rather than telling him where he was going.

Mike wanted to stay with the man who had seen the bruises from his Aunt and her husband and looked horrified and like he wanted to fight a man simultaneously.

Mike wanted to stay with the person who had very gently asked if he could get a few of the photos printed from Mike's phone so they could hang pictures of their parents and family up in the room Mike and Marisol shared.

Mike wanted to stay with the person who, so far, hadn't tried to make either of them feel weak, broken, or stupid for their choices.

Mike wanted to stay with the man right then, who looked like he would accept any answer Mike gave, but it would break his heart if they left.

Mike nodded slowly but firmly. "I want to stay."

"Me too!" Marisol said. "I want to stay too!"

The fear on Sid's face faded away, and he hugged them both.

Mike hadn't felt safe like that in months. No, that wasn't entirely right. He hadn't felt loved like that in months.

Mike hugged back just as tightly.

#'sid has a teen he didn't know about' au #sidgeno #8771 #i write?#this will take a while to write #working title: Legacy (what is a legacy?)

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