#sidgeno photo challenge

[sidgenophotochallenge]

Round 8 Submissions

We already know that tumblr isn’t showing all our tagged posts so if we miss yours or anyone else’s fic, please let us know and we will add it.

Fermé à Clé by @8771eh​

The Colour of Heartache by @sequestering​

Three Shots by @secret-sidgeno-writer 

#sidgeno #SidGeno Photo Challenge #hockey rpf #round 8

[knifeshoeoreofight]

@sidgenophotochallenge

For those who haven’t seen it, The Interview He knows they’re going to be having a Conversation, capital “C,” when they’re back at the hotel. Sid is masterfully in control of himself in public, always, but Zhenya had seen the flash of surprised hurt in his eyes, behind the indulgent smile and the faux-casual swat to the arm.

He’s the first one back at the hotel, and he has time to stew a little. He knows Sid. He’s going to feel hurt for a little bit, and then the too-nice, too-rational little gears are going to start turning in his overthinking head. Zhenya always imagines them painted red, with little maple leaves embossed on them.

By the time Sid gets back he’s probably going to have come up with some kind of martyr-like bullshit about how he can see how Zhenya might feel held back by him and does Zhenya want out of his contract, and blah blah blah. Zhenya can feel his blood pressure go up just imagining it. Sid doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body. It’s absurd.

Zhenya is a mercurial man, he knows himself well enough to own to that. He can be passionate and possessive. He knows Sid isn’t like that. But sometimes.

Sometimes he wishes, just for a moment, that Sid was the kind to be possessive.

The temptation is there to say something rash, to jut his chin out and say that yes, he could go anywhere and be the face of a franchise, a star, someone who wouldn’t always be an afterthought, skimmed over for any fucking best 100 list. Just to see what Sid would say. Just to get him angry, light a fire in his eyes, make him prove that Zhenya is his and--

But Zhenya will do no such thing. Sid would take it at face value. He’d be so, so hurt by it, but he’d cover it with a bland veneer of acceptance, of reasonableness. Of wanting what was best for Zhenya, of letting Zhenya do whatever he pleases.

Sometimes, Zhenya needs someone to tell him no.

He gets so worked up that he Skypes his mother. Five pm is seven am in Magnitogorsk, so he gets her in her bathrobe, looking grumpy over a mug of strong tea.

“What is it, Zhenechka,” she says, already sounding exasperated with him. “I haven’t even gotten breakfast ready yet.”

“They asked me, today, in an interview with Sid right next to me, about that thing I said last year. About leaving the Penguins, being a big star somewhere else.”

“Ah.” His mother takes a noisy sip of tea. “And?”

“It shocked him, I think. And then we had media the rest of the day. He’s still in meetings now, we haven’t spoken yet.”

“And you’re, what? Afraid he’s going to be angry with you?”

Zhenya squirms. He feels hot and prickly, his emotions a soupy mess he can’t grasp in order to make sense of.

“I think... I think I’m afraid he won’t be.”

His mother gives him a long, unimpressed look, then sighs. “I’m getting your father. This is a conversation for him, not for me. You two can be unreasonable and have too many feelings together, I need more tea.”

Zhenya’s father is more sympathetic. “Love is hard, son. And it doesn’t always make sense. Talk to him when he gets back. Maybe a present? Roses or some good wine, show him that you love him, yes? What is that American expression you told me about? Ah. ‘Go big or go home’ right?”

Zhenya considers himself fairly amazing at the big gestures, but he’s not sure it would be a good idea this time.

He and his father are still talking when the lock on the hotel room door beeps as Sid slides his keycard in. And there he is, looking pinched and tired around the eyes, undoing the cuffs on his shirt and turning to set his wallet, watch, and phone on the dresser. Zhenya only takes the smallest moment to appreciate the way his ass and thighs strain the seams of his dress pants.

“I’ve got to go, Papa,” Zhenya tells his father. “He’s back.” His father winks at him and gives him a thumbs up.

“Was that your parents?” Sid says, still with his back to where Zhenya is sitting propped up in bed. Zhenya can see his face, though. There’s a huge mirror behind the dresser. His expression is as still and calm as an iced-over pond.

“Yes, little early, but. Want to talk to them.” Zhenya fidgets with the edge of the puffy white duvet. It’s goose down, he thinks. Light and soft. Earlier he’d wanted to pick a fight but now he he’s changed his mind. He thinks he wants to bury himself in the blankets. Hibernate, the the bear he’s always compared to.

Sid is on to unbuttoning his shirt, now, a kind of ruthless precision to his movements. He slides it off and takes it over to hang neatly in the closet, picking up Zhenya’s on the way from where he’d left it crumpled on the floor.

There’s a strange tension in the room as Sid slides his belt out of his pants, coils it, and stows it in a pocket of his garment bag. Next go the pants themselves, then the socks (surprisingly colorful, as most of his socks are), then his undershirt. All get folded and put away. Sid isn’t always this neat. This feels ominous.

He’s still not looking at Zhenya. He stands there in his black boxer briefs, facing the closet, shoulders looking stiff and tight even from across the room. Zhenya knows his body, knows what he movements and the way he carries himself mean.

He’d wanted a fight, but now he’s terrified.

“Did you eat?” Sid asks him, even and bland.

“No,” Zhenya says, and is hit with a sudden bolt of clarity. Surety. That’s what he’s after. That’s why he, perversely, wants Sid to be angry with him for leaving.

Sid is so intensely private. Their entire relationship, from its inception, has been clandestine and discreet. Neither one of those things come naturally to Zhenya. In anything, least of all love. He’s all unsubtle PDA, grand gestures, and ostentatious gift-giving. Or he had been, with the women he’d been with before he and Sid caved to years of pent up attraction and fell into bed together.

He hadn’t realized it had been bothering him this much until now. Sid is always in such consummate control of himself. Zhenya is frustrated, he realizes, with staying hidden, and not being completely sure what Sid wants out of their relationship. Their love languages are so different.

“If you ask me if I’m mean it, I’m scream,” he blurts. “Think about is not do, is not want. Is just think about.”

Sid still won’t fucking look at him. He just stands there, room service menu dangling loosely from his hand, face like a mask.

“Sid,” Zhenya says again, insistent, panic rising in his throat.

“I always thought,” Sid says slowly. “That things were fine. That I knew you and what you wanted. I guess didn’t know anything.”

“Sid,” Zhenya growls, and throws off the duvet, swinging his feet to the floor. “You not listening to me.”

“Mostly I didn’t know myself. It’s freaking me out. All day, all I could think about was…”

“What, Sid?” Zhenya pleads. “Just say.”

Sid looks up then, eyes dark, expression fierce. “It’s ugly, Geno. It’s really ugly.”

“Tell me,” Zhenya breathes. “Don’t care.”

Sid takes a deep breath. “Telling you that no fucking way was I letting you leave. Marking you up. Shouting from the fucking rooftops that you’re mine.” He nearly hisses the last word through his clenched teeth.

Zhenya feels relief flood him, cool as water. He wants to lie back and let him.

But Sid’s not done talking. “But, that’s just fucked up, you’re your own person and you shouldn’t--”

“Sid!” Zhenya barks, sharp enough that Sid stops talking. His breath is coming fast and shallow. “Look at me Sid. Fucking look, okay?”

Sid does. Zhenya watches him register the flush of Zhenya’s face and chest, the heaving of his chest. Zhenya tries to gentle his voice, but it still shakes. “Want you to, Sid. So tired of be so quiet always.” It’s now quite the right phrasing but close enough. “You tell me, I belong to you.”

Sid looks so lost. “You belong to yourself, Geno.”

Zhenya feels hot tears prick at his eyes. “Want to know I belong to you, Sid.”

Sid stares at him like he’s never seen him before, for a long, long moment. “Oh,” he finally breathes. “Oh.” He moves forward, takes Zhenya’s face in his hands, and tilts it to so Zhenya’s looking up at him. “Tell me what you want, G.”

“I want you fight for me,” Zhenya says, hating the wobble in his voice. “Not just say, ‘oh is okay, you go somewhere else, is no problem.’”

“Geno,” Sid rasps. “Losing you would destroy me, you have to know that.”

“Would?” Zhenya says, small and uncertain. Sid’s face crumples in dismay.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes. “You didn’t know. How could you not know? I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Zhenya buries his face in Sid’s abdomen, and clutches at him as he winds an arm around Zhenya’s shoulders and pulls him in.

“You’re everything, baby,” Sid says thickly.

Zhenya shudders. Sid has never called him “baby” before.

“I’d let you go if you really wanted it, or I’d buy you a ring tomorrow if you really wanted it. Part of me is always scared that--” his voice cracks. “That you’ll decide you want to go. Back home, back somewhere they speak your own language. Back to a woman who could give you babies-- I was always kind of bracing for it.”

“Don’t. Want,” Zhenya growls. “Don’t want to go home, be lonely. Don’t want some woman. Just want you want me enough to make me stay.”

“Stay,” Sid says, and pushes him down onto the bed.

“Stay,” he says, and presses biting, sucking kisses to Zhenya’s lips and neck and chest. Zhenya’s going to bloom with bruises by morning.

“Stay,” he begs as he fucks him, taking Zhenya apart, shattering him against the tangled white sheets of their bed.

“Stay, Zhenya,” he whispers into Zhenya’s sweat-soaked hair after, as Zhenya rests his head over Sid’s racing heart, listening to it gradually slow.

“Long as you want,” he tells him back. “Long as you want.”

Zhenya dimly hears Sid leave the room early the next morning, but decides it’s probably an exra morning workout because Sid is Sid, and rolls over and goes back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, it’s because Sid slides back into bed with him, and his feet are cold.

“Wake up for a sec,” Sid whispers. “Please.” Zhenya obliges, turning around to face him and to complain about his icy feet against Zhenya’s shins.

Sid’s lying there staring at him, eyes wide and nervous. He extends a hand across the sheets between them.

“You said as long as I want. This is how long I want.”

It’s a small, velvet box. Zhenya sits bolt upright.

The ring inside is absolutely gaudy, masculine but flashing with diamonds. It’s as far from Sid’s taste as it’s possible to get. It’s exactly Zhenya’s.

“Would have bought you one sooner,” Sid says, voice wet. “But was scared of the answer.”

Zhenya can only shake his head as he tries to slide it on to his finger. “Don’t have to be scared.” His hands are shaking and he nearly fumbles the ring into the bedding.

Sid leans over and helps him slide it on.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Oh man, G—Zhenya, are you crying?”

“Not,” Zhenya lies, and pulls Sid into his arms.

#sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #dana writes a thing #sidgeno photo challenge

[nomorelonelydays]

We’ll Be Young Forever, 3.7K. @sidgenophotochallenge

“I’ve never been on the West Coast,” Sidney says absently, as he unlaces his skates.

They’d lost the Cup again. So close, always so, so close that Zhenya had gone to sleep each night dreaming about lifting that weight and shouting into the crowd. Of Sidney’s glowing face, exuberant and pink and looking the way he does when he’s overjoyed and relieved all at once.

Now, he feels nothing save for his own heart, weighing down like a stone. He’d wanted to win the Cup for Sidney so badly. But he always does, every year, since the first time he saw Sidney on the ice.

“You’ve been on the West Coast,” Zhenya mumbles. “We go all the time for games.”

“Oh, well. It’s not really the same.” Sidney’s voice sounds a little funny. But then again, he’d never talked so much after a loss like this. “I think I wanna go back to visit. See the ocean.”

“Okay.” From his experience, there’s really no use asking Sidney to explain why he wants to do something. He looks up. “We go.”

Sidney turns sharply at him. “What? Seriously? You want to come?”

He shrugs. “Is our summer now. We can do whatever we want.”

Sidney gives him another look, then changes into something unreadable. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”

“I book ticket—”

“Can we drive?” Sidney asks abruptly.

Zhenya blinks. “Sure. But is going take forever.”

“It can be a road trip.” He looks a little cheerier. “It’ll be fun.”

Zhenya’s pretty sure the road from Pittsburgh to the other side of the U.S. is just going to be a lot of cornfields. At least ten hours of corn and the occasional gas station oasis, so he tells Sidney this.

“It’s okay,” Sidney says softly. Something about his tone worries at the back of Zhenya’s mind, but he’s too exhausted to dwell on it. “I want to see everything.”

-

“A road trip?” Flower says, sounding incredulous. “You hate road trips.”

“Yeah,” Zhenya agrees as he divides up the t-shirts and underwear he’s planning to pack. But he loves Sidney.

He doesn’t say that, though, but he thinks Flower can guess.

“Is Sidney okay?” he asks instead. “You know how he is after a loss. He takes it harder than anyone else.”

To be fair, Zhenya isn’t sure.

-

He drives to Sidney’s place on a Tuesday, bright and early so they can beat the traffic.

“We’re not taking your sports car, G,” Sidney says, fondly, as Zhenya pretends to pout in the passenger seat. “It’s not gonna fit all of our stuff.”

Which made little sense--the back of Sidney’s Tahoe is mostly filled with Zhenya’s luggage, boots, and backpack. Sidney’s isn’t exactly known for packing lightly, what with his good luck charms on roadies and his first aid kit that he always has in his bag. But all he had brought today seemed to be the essentials crammed in a single duffel bag.

“Where to?” Sidney asks, smiling brightly at him.

Now, without the weight of the Cup looming over his shoulders, he can’t believe he’s nearly forgotten how much he loves it when Sidney looks at him like that.

Butterflies, Zhenya thinks. That’s how Americans would say it. But it’s a modest word for what he truly feels. 

“Get out of Ohio, first,” he grumbles, and Sidney laughs.

-

Sidney gets them out of Ohio in four hours and fifteen minutes. Zhenya doesn’t think he’s seen Sidney floor it like he’s running for his life, and he was pretty sure Sidney would’ve kept going if Zhenya didn’t make them stop at a McDonalds halfway through before his ass melted into the seat entirely.

Sitting there with Sidney, inhaling an entire burger and watching Sidney steal his fries when he thinks Zhenya isn’t looking, fills him with something unspeakable, a little like he’s swallowed a lightbulb.

(He orders two McFlurries for them, watches Sidney hesitate, then dig into his share before going after Zhenya’s, too.)

He hates traveling. He’s never liked traveling, regardless of whether it’s in a car or by air, not with the way his legs are always cramped in the seats, or how everything has to go by a schedule and being late is pretty much his middle name. But listening Sidney hum to the radio as they barrel towards Missouri calms Zhenya hazy, post-loss mind; and seeing Sidney try to stifle his infamous giggle-honk as they pass by an unfortunate produce truck that keeps dropping their apples onto the road as they hit each bump in the pavement, is a such a wonderful, wonderful thing. So much that he starts to think that even without a Cup to drink champagne out of this summer, this is just as good. 

Even if Sidney does keep trying to change the station to country when he thinks Zhenya’s dozed off.

-

It seems that no matter where they are, the motel sheets are always too starchy, and the walls too thin. Zhenya spends the first night doing his best to not look over at Sidney on the other bed, in his reading glasses as he squints at the map on his tablet.

They don’t talk ever about the next season, or the Cup, or what they could’ve done differently, what they should’ve done.

Which is for the best, because all Zhenya can really think about at the moment is how much he actually doesn’t mind losing the Cup, if what he gets in return is spending time with Sidney.

“There’s a museum here,” Sidney reads, “for the town’s first and only saltwater taffy plant. Should we go check it out in the morning before we hit the road again?”

Zhenya couldn’t give less of a shit about taffy if he tried, but if it makes Sidney happy, he’ll buy him the entire candy factory.

-

There’s nothing particularly eventful until it’s Zhenya’s turn to drive and he makes a wrong turn in Kansas, and they end up at the World’s Largest Ball of Twine.

It’s the most boring thing Zhenya’s ever seen, even worse than the taffy plant, and that had been pretty bad. Sidney is fascinated.

He takes a picture of Sidney adding a piece of twine to the ball and sends it to the group chat.

Flower: What is that

G: biggest ball of twine in Kansas

Tanger: tf

Whatever.

That night at the motel (probably the only non-shady motel the town has to offer), Sidney’s face looks conflicted as he walks back to Zhenya from the front desk, holding a single set of keys for a single room with a single bed.

“How.” He’s not even annoyed at this time. He’s almost impressed that there’s literally no other available rooms in this town whose only attraction is a ball of twine.

“It’s the summer?” Sidney says, sounding unconvinced. “Maybe people are road tripping like us and they’re headed here.”

“Sid,” Zhenya says, very seriously. “This place is like Denny’s. You don’t go here, you end up here. We end up here.”

“Yeah, well,” Sidney shrugs. “I can sleep on the floor, or—”

Like he’s going to make Sidney sleep on the motel carpet after they’ve both been stuck in a car after a whole day of driving. He’s pretty sure that qualifies as a cruel and unusual punishment.

His thoughts pretty much all fly out of his head when Sidney slides himself into bed on his side, all soft t-shirt and pajama bottoms, his cheeks flushed from the shower as he towels at his hair. Zhenya just settles further into the mattress, his laptop burning a hole on his thighs as he tries to ignore how much he loves the idea of a scene like this, with Sidney freshly showered and settling in to bed next to him like a routine.

When he turns out the lights, his heart’s beating so fast that he’s afraid Sidney can hear it. He turns with his back facing Sidney for a while, shutting his eyes and trying to will himself to fall asleep—it should be easy, because he’s exhausted, but—

“G?” Sidney’s voice says, sounding very small. “Thanks for coming on this road trip with me.”

“Of course,” he replies, turning his body so he’s curved towards Sidney. “No big deal.”

“No.” Zhenya can’t make out his face in the dark, but Sidney sounds like there’s a stone lodged in this throat. “I know you have vacation plans, usually, like Florida. Or you go home to Magnitorgorsk, to family. I’m just a—I’m not—”

“Sid.” He fumbles to find Sidney’s shoulder, before Sidney can say anymore. “I want to be here. Happy be here, with you.”

Sidney doesn’t say anything for the longest time, until Zhenya realizes he’s crying.

“Sidney,” he breathes, then gathers Sidney into his arms without sparing a second thought. “Oh, Sid.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t win us the Cup,” he hiccups, and it tears at Zhenya at how inconsolable he sounds. “I wanted to win it together—”

“Sid, no, no, can win next year, is okay—” He rubs Sidney’s shoulders, holds him close, like he can contain all of Sidney’s grief.

“There’s no time,” Sidney says, shaking his head. Zhenya feels Sidney’s hands, gripping the back of his t-shirt. “I’m out of time.”

Sidney’s not making sense. “What you mean?”

He scrambles to turn on the lights, nearly knocking off the lamp in his hurry to do so. Sidney face is raw and blotchy as the dim, butter-yellow light bursts to life, and it cuts into Zhenya something fierce.

“Sid, what you mean?” he repeats, more urgently. Something’s off. This whole trip, so impromptu, so unlike Sidney to just suggest it out of the blue without already having planned every gritty little detail for months and months, and the way he packed—it was like he never intended to come back. “You hurt? You retire? You—”

Sidney doesn’t look up, but he’s so close that Zhenya can feel his shuddering breath against his neck.

“I’m dying,” he says, and it sounds exactly like he’s admitting something he’s known for years.

It just about stops Zhenya’s heart.

-

(Years ago, Sidney Crosby’s knees should have been shattered irreparably in a peewee game. He would’ve never been able to play again, much less even make it into the NHL.

Sidney remembers the moment the spirit came to him—the old god that inhabited the rink, gazing over him as he lay in a broken heap on the ice. Invisible to the coach, the paramedics, invisible to his mother crying as she hovered helplessly over Sidney.

Potential too great to be wasted here, it had intoned, almost musing to itself. What would you like me to do?

Time slowed. The pain in Sidney’s knees dulled into the background as the noises faded.

“I want to play,” he’d begged. “I want to make it to the NHL.”

What would you give for ten years?

“Anything,” he’d said, and even then he knew that he’d said something very, very terrible.

The spirit shimmers. Ten years in the league, it says, waving its hand over Sidney’s legs. In exchange for your heart. You will always live on borrowed time, and the end of your tenth year will be your last. Do you accept?

“Yes,” Sidney had whispered. “Please.”

When Sidney blinks again, he’s standing on the ice again, five minutes before the hit happens.

This time, he dodges it, and goes to score the game-winning goal.)

-

Zhenya’s attempts to persuade Sidney to see the team doctor, or a registered curse breaker, goes unheard.

“They’ve looked at it. It’s marked me,” Sidney tells him when they cross the border into Colorado. Miles and miles of desert road stretches between them, front and back, so far that that the Pittsburgh they left just days ago seems a century instead. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. But they can’t even touch the mark because it’s been woven in so deeply. It’s old magic. It’s not Cup magic."

“Have you tell anyone else?”

Sidney smiles, still looking out the window at nothing in particular. “Just you.”

He manages to croak out a pathetic, “Sid.”

“I’m glad I told you,” Sidney murmurs. “I’m glad it was you.”

“When--” He can hardly speak. “When you think--”

“I don’t know.” Sidney’s staring down at his lap, picking at the cover on his phone. “I’d always thought at the end of the season. Soon, I think.”

Zhenya says nothing.

“It’s not so bad,” Sidney says, at last. “I got to meet you this way.”

Zhenya concentrates on the road ahead of him, and thinks of nothing, nothing at all, so the stinging brimming in his eyes don’t overflow.

-

They drive through the night, the Colorado skies above them sparkling.

Sidney doesn’t say anything. He brushes his teeth when they get to their room and goes to sleep on the separate bed without turning off the lights.

-

It’s dim in the motel room, and Sidney’s back is facing Zhenya on the other bed, but Zhenya’s known Sidney long enough to know that neither of them are asleep.

“Want get fries?” Zhenya asks, towards the ceiling.

Sidney doesn’t respond immediately, and Zhenya thinks for a moment that he might’ve been wrong, after all, that Sidney had never actually been awake.

“Can we get chicken nuggets too?” comes the reply, timidly.

“Only if you share McFlurry.”

Sidney rolls over on his side so he can turn on the light. His eyes are a little red, but he’s giving Zhenya a warm, shy smile. It suddenly reminds Zhenya of the Sidney he met, years ago, when Zhenya spoke no English and Sidney no Russian but both of them still full of hope for their futures, for each other.  

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll share.”

It’s a peace offering. An apology, even, for everything he’s unable to say.

-

It’s one A.M. in a nondescript Utah motel when Zhenya dares to say, softly, “Sid, come here.”

Sidney does, wordlessly, from the other mattress. Zhenya scoots back enough on his own bed like an invitation. He’d only meant for Sidney to share the other side of the bed, like they did back in Kansas, but Sidney takes his outstretch hands and folds himself into Zhenya’s arms, carefully, like he’s always belonged there.

His breathing evens out as soon as Zhenya turns out the light. He presses his nose against Sidney’s nape and tries to memorize his scent, the span of his back against his body, and the way he feels solidly, blessedly warm—alive—beneath Zhenya’s fingertips.

-

There’s a small town county fair halfway across Nevada, all bright lights and delighted yelling of children begging their parents to go on the roller coasters, or for another ice cream cone. They hadn’t intended to stop, and Sidney hadn’t asked to, but Zhenya took one look at his face and signaled right to go into the parking lot.

Hours later, they’re sitting on the grass with their prizes—a hard-won teddy bear after Sidney battles it out with the ring toss about six times in a row, and Zhenya with his funnel cake and ice cream—waiting for the fireworks.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it to California,” Sidney laughs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so far. I don’t even know if I want to go see the ocean anymore.”

“What you mean, you didn’t realize? We drive for days and now you say you not want to see?” It’s a relief, being able to joke around.

“No, I mean, I figured it was gonna take a while.” He sighs contently. “When I said I wanted to see the coast, I think I was treating this whole trip as a bucket list.” His clears his throat, pointedly not meeting Zhenya’s eyes. “But I think, uh, I just wanted to spend my last summer not being by myself again. So. Thank you.”

Sidney’s face is lovely, illuminated by the carnival lights, and even more so when his eyes crinkle. Zhenya can’t quite decide if he wants to cry or kiss him.

Sidney straightens, then turns excitedly towards Zhenya. “I think they’re gonna start soon—”

Zhenya leans in, his mouth pressing gently against Sidney’s lips as the first round of fireworks explodes into stardust in the sky above them, all pinks and reds and whites and greens like the colors of Zhenya’s heart.

When he pulls back, Sidney’s quiet. For an awful moment, Zhenya thinks he’s ruined it all. “I’m sorry—”

“Kiss me again,” Sidney says suddenly. “Please.”

Zhenya does.

-

“Oh,” Sidney breathes out, his eyes fluttering as he sinks onto Zhenya’s dick, the slide velvet and hot and tight and just about enough to kill Zhenya a thousand times over. He’s a mess as he squirms on Zhenya’s lap. “Oh, o-oh—G—”

The motel sheets are starchy and scratchy as they’ve always been, foreign against their skin. But Sidney makes everywhere feel like home, so it hardly matters anymore.

Zhenya flips them both over--his hand gripping Sidney’s thigh like he can’t get enough--so Sidney’s on his back. He hooks an ankle over his shoulder, pressing in slowly until Sidney’s toes curl and his eyes flutter. With every angle change, Sidney sucks in a breath like he’s drowning, his cheeks flushing deep red, as if he’s never—

“Sid, you—you do before?”

Sidney’s eyes fly open. His hands, both pressed against Zhenya’s chest, start to pull away as if ashamed. “I—um. No, not…no.”

Zhenya grabs Sidney’s hand before he can retract, pressing the knuckles to his lips. Then he bends down to kiss Sidney sweetly, until Sidney’s shuddering and mewling against Zhenya’s lips again.   

“Don’t leave me,” Sidney pants--it’s a plea and a prayer all at once, as he digs his fingers into Zhenya’s back.

“I won’t,” Zhenya promises. “I won’t. I’ll take care.”

-

There’s something shapeless in the corner of the room when Zhenya blinks awake the next morning, shifting and stirring like fog. Sidney is still asleep in his arms, snuffling as he tucks his head in the crook of Zhenya’s neck.

The thing doesn’t come closer, but it doesn’t leave its place in the shadows either. Zhenya holds Sidney close, his heart racing.

“I know who you are,” he says in Russian. “I know why you’re here. You’re not taking him.”

When the thing speaks, its voice thin and crackling like ice breaking against steel, comes not from the room where it stands but as if echoing from inside Zhenya’s mind.

I’ve been waiting.

“You’re not taking him,” Zhenya repeats. “I won’t let you.”

I know, it says simply. I have no claims to what he doesn’t own.

“What are you talking about?” Zhenya demands, feeling braver than he had any right to, talking to an old god like this. “You made a deal with him. A heart for ten years.”

His heart was never his to give. I knew this when I offered him the deal.

“I don’t under--”

You already laid claim to his heart then, as he’d done to yours.Your mark is all over him.

(‘They can’t even touch the mark because it’s been woven in so deeply,’ Sidney had said. ‘It’s old magic. It’s not Cup magic.’)

“That’s not possible--” He’s not a magic user, he doesn’t--

Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin, the thing says, cocking its head quite unnaturally, did you think that this was the first lifetime that you’ve loved him? 

Zhenya’s mouth goes dry. “Then why did you help him?”

Potential too great to be wasted, it says. Then, after a pause, What would you have done to save him?

“Anything,” Zhenya says, because it was the truth.

Stupid, the thing says, but it sounds amused. But you said the same thing last time, too.

When Zhenya blinks again, the shape had vanished, like it’d never been there. Sidney lets out a soft sigh, like he’s been unwittingly holding in his breath for decades.

“Geno?” he croaks, his voice heavy with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“I—” He shakes his head, nuzzling into Sidney’s curls and kissing his forehead. He’s pressed close enough to Sidney that he can just about imagine feeling the continued beating of Sidney’s heart, counting down the moments to the next season, and the season after that, like a promise. “I think everything going to be okay, Sid.”

-

How’s the road trip going? Flower’s text asks. You two kill each other yet?

Zhenya takes a long, indulgent look at Sidney, who’s got a ratty Malkin t-shirt on as he fishes another vending machine tortilla chip out from the bag. He’s completely focused on the shitty motel television that’s doing its best to play Groundhog Day. Sidney’s head is pillowed on his shoulder, close enough that Zhenya can lean over to press a kiss on Sidney’s hair whenever he wants.

He sends a photo of TV instead, the angle barely concealing their tangled legs.

Zhenya almost wants to laugh when Flower calls them immediately. He’s still grinning all the way through Flower’s frantic exclamations that he can barely understand as Flower’s accent starts to become more pronounced, because he’s so, so fucking happy.

He lets Sidney take the phone, and he hears Sidney murmur, gently, “Mhm. Yeah. Yeah, he’s--Yes, we’ll come over--mhm. Yeah. It’s good. It’s really good.”

-

“There it is,” Sidney says, leaning over the railings from their motel room deck, looking at the span of the waves lapping against the California sand. “The other side.”

Zhenya plasters himself against Sidney, his arms wrapped securely around his waist.

“What now?” he asks.

“Do you enjoy long walks on the beach?” Sidney teases, reaching up to card his fingers through Zhenya’s hair.

“I do,” Zhenya tells him. “If is with you.”

Zhenya thinks he can hear the smile in his voice. “We can sightsee before we have to go home.”

He loves the way Sidney says the word ‘home,’ loves the curve of his mouth and the fullness in his chest at the implication. “No more twine.”

“No more,” Sidney agrees. “Maybe we can go to Disneyland or something.”

“And then go home, win another Cup?”

Sidney laughs quietly, but he sounds confident and in love when he replies, “For sure.”

#sidgeno photo challenge #round 4 #magical realism #probably plot holes too but just if you see one just file that under magical realism #road trip AU #omfg here we go I HOPE IM POSTING AT THE RIGHT TIME AJGALKDGAL #i've went back to edit this post too many times in the last 3 days just take it

[eighteaseven]

Title: Mango

word count: ~1.1k

tags: Grad Student Sid, Hockey Player Geno, AU, Misunderstanding, Angst & Fluff

rating: G

warnings: miscommunication resulting in fears of infidelity

My submission to the @sidgenophotochallenge 

He’s sitting in the library working on his thesis. Or trying to, at least. He’s done nothing but work on it for the last twelve days, and, honestly, he’s a little burnt out. He’s so close though. His advisor reviewed his draft three days ago, and only suggested a few edits.

He just wants to be finished. But he’s so tired of staring at the stupid thing. He’d throw his laptop out the window if he knew he wouldn’t immediately regret it.

Maybe that’s a little dramatic. And maybe it’s not just his thesis frustrating him. Maybe the fact that, until this morning, the Pens have been on a ten-day West Coast road trip, playing their way through Western Canada and the California teams is also frustrating him.

Maybe he also misses Geno.

Maybe he’ll go see him after he’s done reviewing his bibliography. He looks down at the clock at the bottom right of the screen. 4:15.

Forty-five more minutes, he decides. Forty-five more minutes and he’ll pack up and head home, where surely, Geno is waiting for him. He always is, after a long road trip.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have forty-five minutes. Fifteen minutes after he makes his decision, he is pulled from his work by the sound of heavy footsteps clacking across linoleum, echoing in the high library ceilings. He glances up from the corner of his eye and a broad smile graces his face.

Geno walks toward his table, hands in his pocket, and half smiles back at him, looking nervous or maybe tired. Sid can’t tell.

He stands up from his table to meet Geno in a quick kiss.

Sid pulls back and whispers, “Hey, babe. Long time no see.”

“Hi, Sid. Missed you,” he replies softly.

“I missed you too. Nice job against Calgary. That goal in the second was gorgeous.”

Geno mumbles through his thanks and he won’t meet Sid’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Sid asks and furrows his brows.

“Sid… I’m… maybe I do bad thing, something I shouldn’t… I’m… Please don’t be mad,” Geno mumbles.

Sid raises an eyebrow.

“It’s just… I’m see him and can’t resist… Can’t say no. Know I need say no. You will be mad, but I… He’s… he’s so cute, and sweet… I can’t say no.”

Sid stares up at Geno, heart collapsing in his chest.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“I… I bring him home.”

Sid turns his head away sharply, and bites his lip, trying to focus on steadying his breathing.

“His name is Max. He’s so nice. Most nice. And, and he’s very pretty! I don’t know why nobody take him before me. He’s so good. And give very nice kisses, and h-,”

“That’s enough!” Sid says much too loudly. Several people in the library turn to look at them, some in nosy interest, some in irritation.

Sid swallows the lump in his throat. He pushes his chair back and it scratches across the floor.

“I have to go,” he says, and begins to loudly close his laptop and his books and shove them into his bag.

“Sid?! Where you going?”

That’s a wonderful question, he thinks. Where is he going? He can’t go home. It may technically belong to both of them, but Geno paid for it. He doesn’t know where he will go, but he does know where he won’t be.

“Somewhere you aren’t,” he says, and keeps walking fast, down the stairs and past the circulation desk. He shoves open the library door, and doesn’t hold it open for Geno.

“Sid! I know you mad, but just give him chance! Meet him and I know you like him,” he pleads.

Sid stops dead in his tracks and turns around, “Meet him? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Geno’s eyebrows furrow, confused at the vitriol.

“I see you very mad. I’m most sorry. But he’s very good puppy! Know if you meet, you’ll like. Very good dog. Very sweet.”

Sid stares at Geno blankly.

Geno keeps talking, faster and faster.

“I take him back if you don’t like him. I’m sorry! Don’t leave! Or I find him new house! He’s good dog. Know somebody’s want him. Very good at listen. Don’t go, Sid. Please,” he pleads.

Sid starts laughing. He starts and he can’t stop.

“Sid?”

He drags both of his hands down his face and presses them together against his lips.

“Sid?” Geno asks again.

“You didn’t say ‘dog’.”

“What?”

“You never said ‘dog’. You just said ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

“I’m not understand you, Sid.”

Sid smiles at Geno and shakes his head, “You kept saying he was so cute and sweet and you took him home with you. I thought you were talking about a man, not a dog.”

The confusion on his face morphs into horror. He steps toward Sid and wraps his arms around him, resting his nose in Sid’s hair.

“No, Sid, never. I’m never cheat on you, Sid.”

“I know that. That’s why I was so shocked.”

“I’m sorry for big scare.”

Sid looks up at him and pushes up on his toes to press a kiss to Geno’s lips.

“You’re forgiven.”

Geno smiles down at him.

“Do you have a picture?” Sid asks.

“Hmm?”

“Of our new dog. Do you have a picture of him?”

Geno’s face lights up.

“Yes! Many pictures! So many. Most,” he rambles as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone.

Sid smiles, listening to Geno speak.

“When we get back, Jen says I have to come take pictures. Very quick, she says. And I’m want to go home, but she says is for help animals, so I say ‘Okay’. Then we get to animal shelter, and I’m see best dog. He’s so cute. And he’s so nice. So many kisses. I say ‘This one is mine,’ and I pay $125 and he’s come home with me.”

Geno holds out his phone and Sid can’t help but laugh at the photo.

Geno is sitting on the floor with the scraggliest looking dog Sid’s ever seen. He has wiry gray hair, one of his legs is shaved, and he’s missing an eye. His tail is a blur, mid-wag and he’s licking Geno’s face. And Geno is smiling so wide.

“They say his name Max, but I think I’m want to change. Want to call him ‘Mango’.”

Sid raises an eyebrow.

“Mango?”

“Because Mango is very sweet. Is good name, yes?”

Sid shakes his head.

“Okay. Mango. Let’s go meet him, then. Our one-eyed dog. Named ‘Mango’.”

#SidGeno Photo Challenge #sidgeno #my fic #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #au

[71tenseventeen]

Say Goodnight and Stay Together

Rated E. @sidgenophotochallenge 

 Warnings: Extremely vague reference to possible past bullying.

A little boy looks anxiously at his stuffed penguin sitting in the bin next to his little backpack. His hazel eyes are wide and worried behind his glasses when he looks up at Sid.

“Why can’t I just hold him?” he asks.

“Remember bud? We talked about how they need to give our stuff an xray to make sure it’s safe.”  

“What if something happens to it?” He’s squeezing Sid’s hand tighter now and Sid squats down to see him better.

“I promise, Iceburgh is going to be fine when he comes out on the other side. They’ll make sure nothing happens to him and in a couple of minutes, you can have him back.”

The little boy glances at the bin again and nods. “Okay.”

Thirty minutes later the boy is still clutching the penguin as he sits sideways in the chair looking out at the ramp and runways.

Sid leans down and looks out the window with him, “Cole, look. There’s a plane about to land. See?”  He points and the little boy watches as the plane touches down.

“Is it scary?”

Sid looks down at him. “Is what scary? The plane?”

Cole nods.

“Well, I don’t think it’s scary but I’ve been on airplanes a lot of times. It’s a little like being in a car but with a lot of other people and it goes a lot faster. This is your first time and it’s okay if you feel scared. I’ll be with you the whole time, okay?”

“Grandma said where we’re going it’s really hot. What if it’s too hot for Iceburgh.”

Sid grins and smooths Cole’s dark curls back. “Well, I happen to know that your Iceburgh is very, very special. He’s not too much like a regular penguin. When I found him for you, it was in the middle of summer in Pittsburgh and it was really hot. So he’s a special penguin that can live in hot and cold. Pretty cool, huh?”

Cole eyes him skeptically.

“Besides, we’ll have air conditioning if he gets too hot.”

That finally makes Cole smile. “And a pool for us?”

“Yup. A pool for us.”

“Will the people be nice?”

Sid aches at the hope he sees in Cole’s eyes and squeezes his hand. “We’ll make sure to find nice people, okay?” Because he can’t promise his little boy that everyone will be nice. Cole is only six and he already knows that all too well. “I bet there will be so many nice people. Kids and grown ups. It’s going to be so great, buddy. You’ll see. It’s like we’re going on a great adventure.”

“Like in Magic School Bus?”

Sid nods. “Yeah, sort of like that! Except with me and you instead of Miss Frizzle.”

Cole grins up at Sid. “Okay Dad.”

--

“Bonjour! You must be the Crosbys!”  A lanky man with a friendly face and a wide smile extends his arm to shake Sid’s hand. “Marc-Andre’ Fleury. We’ve been expecting you.” He looks down at Sid’s side where Cole is clinging to his hand. “Ah, this must be Nicholas.”

Sid shakes the man’s hand and says, “Nice to meet you Marc. Cole is a little shy. He’ll warm up.”

“Ah, no problem. You can call me Flower.”

Cole looks up at Sid, confused and Sid asks the question for him. “Flower?”

“Nickname. Acquired it playing hockey growing up and it just kind of stuck. It’s what everyone calls me now.”

Sid grins. “I get it. They used to call me Sid the kid.”

Flower’s grin is friendly and comforting. “So you’re technically scheduled to meet my wife Vero first but her last meeting is running a little long. She’s our Conservation Outreach Coordinator. “I’ll show you where your office is while we wait.”

The man—Flower—leads them through the main building, pointing out various spaces and offices before leading them to Sid’s office which is attached to a pretty big lab and he can see another office across from his. “That’s Geno’s office but he’s not in there much. He’s out in the field as much as he can be but I suppose you will be, too. You’ll be working closely with him so it makes sense that the two of you share this space. The main greenhouse is out that way,” Flower motions with his thumb towards an exit. “G will show you all of that. Vero will make sure you have everything else you need.”  

Sid nods, smile slowly blooming as he glances down at Cole. “What do you think, bud?”

Cole shrugs which, yeah, Sid can see how this isn’t the most interesting part of his day. It’s certainly not why he brought him. Sid chuckles. “It’s okay, we’ll see more interesting things soon.”

They make their way back to the main office just as Vero’s door finally swings open and Sid hears an exasperated, “Geno! She pooped on my desk.”

Cole’s eyes go wide and Sid looks at Flower for answers when a tall man with dark hair saunters out holding what appears to be a tiny baby duck in his hands. It’s peeping away as the man grins over his shoulder at her. “Not her fault, Vero. She have big lunch.” He looks over then and stops when he sees them. “Oh, hello.”

Flower steps forward. “Hey, G. Harassing my wife again?”

Geno tips his chin up. “I do no such thing. Becky just eat a little too much lunch.”

They both laugh, then, and bump fists before Flower motions to Sid. “G, this is Sid. He’s the new Marine Botanist. Sid, this is Geno, our lead Marine Biologist and Wildlife rehabilitator. He also does a lot of outreach, particularly with local schools, which is why he was taking up Vero’s time.”

Geno rolls his eyes at Flower before extending a hand to Sid with a charming smile. “Nice to meet. And who this?” He glances down at Cole who is peering out from behind Sid’s leg.

Sid can never stop himself from smiling when he introduces his boy. “This is my son, Cole.”

Geno’s eyes twinkle. “Hi Cole! Nice to meet.  You new worker here too?”

Cole giggles and ducks his head.

Geno crouches down a couple of feet from Cole and extends his hands, carefully wrapped around the duckling. “I just kidding. This my friend Becky. She was having some trouble in the pond she live in so she come to live with me for few weeks. You like to pet her?”

Sid figures that, at most, Cole will shake his head. So he’s surprised when Cole steps out tentatively and looks up at Sid. “Go ahead, buddy,” Sid says with a smile. “Just be very gentle.” And then Sid watches in amazement as Cole steps right next to Geno and smiles as he gently rubs a finger over the duckling’s head. Geno starts talking quietly, telling Cole little tidbits about ducks and, specifically, Becky.

Flower shakes his head and grins at Sid. “I haven’t seen one yet who hasn’t been totally charmed by Geno.”

“Ducks or kids?”

“Both.”

Vero steps forward with a fond glance at Flower before meeting Sid’s eyes. “You must be Sid. I’m Vero, nice to meet you!”

Sid spends a few minutes chatting with Vero while keeping a close eye on Cole who is listening with rapt attention to Geno who is now sitting on the floor helping Cole gently hold the duckling. Something unexpected bubbles up inside of Sid as he watches them and he has to give himself a mental shake. That’s not what he’s here for.

When Geno is finally on his feet again, Becky tucked safely against his big body Sid notes (It’s just an observation, he tells himself) he grins widely at Sid. “Going to show you and Cole around today. I usually give tour when most elementary schools come.” He turns to Cole next. “What you think, Cole? Want see more animals?”

Cole gives an enthusiastic, “yeah!” and Geno leads them off on their tour.

--

Later, as Sid tucks Cole in he’s still trying to push thoughts of his charming and passionate new co-worker from his head. Which is unfortunate because Cole can’t stop talking about him and Sid finally has to gently shush him with a grin. “Okay bud, I’m glad you had a good day but it’s time to settle down if you want stories.”

Cole always likes to have bedtime stories so that tactic works in that it gets him to settle down. It doesn’t do anything to clear Sid’s thoughts.

--

There are still a couple of weeks until Sid’s official first day of work and Cole’s first day of Kindergarten. Sid tries to take advantage of the time, settling them into their new little rental home and spending as much time with Cole as he can. Everything, including the climate, is brand new and they spend a lot of time just exploring their new environment.

Even though he hasn’t started work yet Flower has already invited them to a beach day with his family and a couple of other families they work with. Sid is grateful when Cole seems to warm up to the other kids. Geno is there too and Sid is a little surprised to find that, after a few minutes, Cole is as fascinated with him as he’d been the first time they met.

Sid waits until Cole is busy with the kids to sidle up next to Geno and Flower. “I just wanted to thank you guys for being so great to Cole. He’s really shy, you know?”

“He’s great, Sid,” Flower says with a smile. “Really sweet kid. Of course we’re going to be good to him.”

“It means a lot. All of you have been great.”

Geno gives him a kind, thoughtful look and Sid can feel his cheeks heat up under the scrutiny. “We like family at preserve. You one of us now, we take care.”

“Well...thanks.” He can’t help but smile.

Later, when things are winding down and Sid is helping Cole gather his things, Geno joins them and picks up a few toys before turning to Sid. “Going to take boat out tomorrow afternoon, was wondering if you two like to come with? Usually see a few fish, maybe manatee and even whale sometimes.”

Cole perks up “We saw a manatee at the zoo!” He looks up at Sid questioningly and Sid only has to consider it for a moment.

“What do you think, bud? Want to go out on a boat and try to see some more?”

Cole beams and nods vigorously. “Yeah!”

Sid turns to Geno with a laugh and finds Geno grinning at him. “I guess that’s a yes.”

--

Geno meets them at the marina and leads them to his boat, pointing out the Russian lettering to Cole who looks confused. “Is name of boat, means Russian Bear,” he says with a grin. “Is me!”

Cole crinkles up his nose under his glasses. “I thought your name is Geno.”

Sid tries and failed not to chuckle. “Come on, let’s get your life jacket on. I’ll explain on the boat.”

Cole sticks very close, clutching at Sid’s arm as they ease out of the marina. Sid sees Geno cast a glance at Cole every so often, knows he’s keeping their speed careful for Cole and he appreciates Geno’s thoughtfulness. It’s not long before Cole starts to relax a little and by the time the boat slows to a stop he’s eagerly pointing out things along the coastline in the distance.

It’s impressive and Sidney finds himself filled with gratitude for Geno giving Cole this experience. It’s so hard to watch Cole struggle with his shyness, his caution when dealing with new situations and people. Making this move was a big deal and Sid worries all the time that it was the wrong decision. Seeing Cole like this though, full of happy, carefree energy renews Sid’s hope that moving here was the right thing to do.

He tries to stay focused on Cole, on the experiences they’re having but it’s impossible not to notice how Geno’s face lights up every time he shows Cole something new, how he grins at Sid excitedly when he sees a crane on the coastline, how much thought he’s put into this outing. Sid decides not to overthink this. It’s a good day.

Sidney loves Cole’s enthusiasm but it’s nothing to his excitement when Geno points out a couple of manatees. Sid doesn’t think it can get any better than this.

That’s when Geno stands and points out over the horizon and says in a hushed tone, eyes wide, “Cole, look. You see that movement over there?”

Cole shakes his head. “Where?”

“Okay I lift you up?” He waits for Cole’s affirmation but glances at Sid, too, as though for permission and SId gives a nod.

He lifts Cole and points again, talking quietly and Sid leans closer and spots them just as Cole goes wide-eyed and shrieks “whales!”

Geno is beaming when he looks over at Sid. “Sid you see?” he says, excitedly.

Sid nods, grinning back at Geno. “They’re amazing!” They share a look, smiling softly at each other for a moment before Cole’s delighted chattering draws their attention back to him.

--

Sid’s excited for his first day on the job. He’s less enthusiastic about Cole’s first day of Kindergarten. He knows Cole is ready and that this is an exciting milestone but that doesn’t make it any easier. He’s a mess but he can’t let Cole know that or they’ll both fall apart so he plasters on a calm expression and tells himself over and over that they can handle this. He hopes it’s true as he says goodbye to a teary-eyed Cole, his teacher shooting Sid a sympathetic look before crouching down next to Cole. Sid is grateful for it, doesn’t know if he could bring himself to leave if she wasn’t right there with Cole working hard to help him feel comfortable. He gives another wave to Cole and then retreats to his car where it’s a good ten minutes before he’s up to driving. He hopes his eyes aren’t still red by the time he gets to work.

When he walks into his office for the first time there’s a basket on the desk filled with baked goods and a stuffed whale. He plucks the small card out of it and reads:

Welcome to team!

Hope for good first day for you and Cole. Whale for him, for being brave on first day of school and pastries for you. Excited to work with you!

Geno

Sid glances over at Geno’s office door but it’s closed. He’ll make sure to thank Geno later, he thinks, as he plucks a banana nut muffin from the basket with a smile.

--

He doesn’t get the chance until lunchtime. Although he’ll do a fair amount of training alongside Geno, he spends the first morning with Vero going over basics while Geno is out on a minor field emergency with a manatee. Sid doesn’t see him until he steps into the staff cafeteria for lunch. He spots Geno almost immediately, waving a long arm at him from a table with Flower and a couple of other people he met through the course of the morning.

Sid gratefully drops into the chair that Geno pulls out next to him and greets everyone as he unpacks his lunch bag.

Conversation flows easily between everyone at the table and though Sid is mostly quiet, they all make sure to include him. When there’s a lull, Sid turns to Geno and says quietly, “Thanks for the basket. You didn’t have to do that.”

Geno opens his mouth to reply but before he can Flower butts in. “Basket? What basket?”

Geno rolls his eyes. “To welcome on first day at work, nosy.”

The blonde man sitting next to Flower who introduced himself as “Patric but everyone just calls me Horny” looks affronted. “I didn’t get a basket when I started.”

Geno glares. “You start three years ago and not even work in same department then.” Sid can’t tell if he’s imagining the faint pink on Geno’s cheeks.

Flower’s face lights up in a way that Sid doesn’t really understand and he says, “You could have gotten him a basket when he moved over to our department.”

“Why you not get him basket then?” Geno juts his chin up and narrows his eyes.

“That’s not the question, mon amie.”

Geno stabs his fork into a chunk of watermelon and points it at Flower. “You trouble,” he says with a glare and stuffs the fruit into his mouth. “Besides,” he continues with a mouthful, “was also Cole first day of school.”

“It was Estelle and Alex’s first day, too!” Flower exclaims and Kris—a man with meticulously styled hair from PR—nods in agreement.

“First grade! Cole go to Kindergarten. First day ever!”

Flower grins at Sid and says, “He must really like you, Sid,” and Geno glares at him before spearing another chunk of watermelon and grumbling, “Shut up”

Sid’s not sure what’s happening but he’s grateful when Flower turns his attention away from Geno. “Anyhow, how’d it go this morning?”

Sid shrugs. “Not the easiest thing ever but it had to be done, you know?”

Kris and Flower both nod knowingly. “It’s rough. I had a hard time when we dropped Estelle off last year.”

“Hard time?” Geno says, incredulously. “You cry all day!”

Kris chokes on his drink and snorts as he tries not to laugh and Geno looks at him. “You cry all day, too!”

“I did not cry all day! And you shut up, asshole. You teared up too and you know it!”

“Of course I do because I know since baby and am sensitive guy.”

“Oh brother,” Flower rolls his eyes. “That’s rich.”

Sid can’t help but smile as he sits back and listens to their banter. Like a family he thinks again and he really thinks he’s going to like it here.

--

Sid likes his new job. It’s more responsibility than he’s had in the past but he feels good about the work he’s doing and he already likes his co-workers a lot. It feels a little bit like a family which is nice since they’d moved so far away from their own. He’s relieved when Cole comes home after his third day of school and says he made a friend. After that, it’s easier for both of them to settle in.

It feels like a natural progression to start spending time with Flower and Geno and some of his other colleagues outside of work, especially since some of them have kids too.

Geno doesn’t have kids but that doesn’t matter. Sid spends most of his days working alongside Geno and, other than Flower’s family, spends the most offtime with him. It’s just so easy to be around Geno—he’s so friendly and they never run out of things to talk about. The fact that Cole likes him so much is the icing on the cake. This is what Sid wanted—Cole surrounded by good people and Geno is good people.

Before Sid realizes it, almost four months have passed. It’s New Year’s Eve and he and Cole are getting ready to head to the department party at Geno’s.  When he got the invitation he was a little hesitant.  Any New Year’s Eve party he’d been to in the past had been pretty rowdy but Geno was quick to assure him that it was a family affair, that he and the others took turns hosting every year and everything would be appropriate for the kids. So Sid’s excited and Cole is too.

Just before they head out the door, Cole stops to grab his stuffed penguin and whale. Geno had been delighted that Cole had taken to carrying the whale around just as much as his stuffed penguin. Both stuffies are well loved.

Flower’s car is already in the drive when Sid pulls in. He’s been there before but he still gets a warm feeling every time he shows up. Sid loves Geno’s house, loves all the work Geno has obviously put into making it a home, the kind of space that feels familiar and comfortable even if you’ve never been there before. Geno has made no secret of the fact that he wants to have a family of his own someday and it shows in every detail of his home and life.

As promised there are plenty of kid friendly treats and activities. Sid lets himself get lost in a game of shinny with the kids and is thrilled when Geno joins in. The kids eventually get bored but Sid and Geno keep at it until Flower finally pokes Geno with a spare blocker and threatens to revolt if he doesn’t eat soon.

Sid’s having a great time. He knows he’s gravitating towards Geno a lot but he doesn’t realize just how much until he finds himself alone with Flower who is grinning at him like a cheshire cat.

“What?! Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just wondering when you two are finally going to stop dancing around each other and make it official.”

“What are you talking about?” Sid feels his cheeks warming up and struggles to keep his expression neutral.

Flower snorts. “Oh come on. Do you really think no one has noticed?”

Sid casts his eyes around for anything at all to look at other than Flower. “There’s nothing to notice.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s obvious you two are crazy about each other.”

Sid turns his worried gaze on Flower then and realizes there’s no use denying it at this point. He lowers his voice.  “I shouldn’t… I mean…”

“Why not? What’s the hold up?”

Sid swallows hard. “I don’t even know if he feels like that. About me,” he mutters, cheeks definitely heating up.

“Oh Sid, seriously? He’s so into you! He’s been pining after you since the day he met you!”

“What?” Sid’s eyes are wide. Flower can’t really mean that.

“I’m not even kidding. He talks about you all the time. I keep telling him to get his head out of his ass and just ask you out.”

Sid gapes. “But we work together. Wouldn’t that be unprofessional? Wait… He talks about me?”

Flower smirks. “Nonstop. He’s gone on you Sid. But he didn’t want to come on too strong and he said the same thing about work but honestly, how do you think I met Vero?”

“Really?”

“Of course! We started together. I think I fell in love with her the day I met her. Sometimes it happens, regardless of where you are.”

“But what if…”

Flower puts his hands on Sid’s shoulders and looks him in the eye. “I can’t tell you what to do. All I can say is that you’d have all of our support and if it didn’t work out, I know both of you are mature and professional enough not to let it affect your work.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask, mon amie,” he says with a grin.

Sid sighs. “I should probably go check on Cole.”

Flower motions over Sid’s shoulder. “Looks like G already found him.”

Sid’s breath catches in his throat when he turns and sees Geno holding a sleeping Cole in his arms, head flopped heavily on Geno’s shoulder.

--

Geno lays Cole in the big bed in what Sid is slowly realizing is Geno’s room. “G…” he tries to protest but Geno just says, “shhh” and bustles him out of the room, quietly pulling the door closed behind him.

“Sorry Sid,” he says speaking quietly. “I find him and Alex passed out on rec room floor watching TV. Scarlett crying so I bring him here so he don’t wake up.”

“Thank you, G. Really. But… I mean he can take a guest room.”

Geno shrugs. “Is not a big deal, Sid. My room closest. Don’t worry about it.”

Geno turns to go and Sid has a choice to make.

He decides to take a chance.

“Geno wait.”

Geno turns around looking every bit as cheerful and sweet as he always does. “Yeah? What is it, Sid?”

“I…” The words aren’t coming easily but he really doesn’t want to blow this so he gathers all his courage. “Would you like to go out sometime? With me? I mean…” he trails off, heart pounding.

Geno is quiet for a moment, considering and when he speaks, it’s slowly. “You mean like… date?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to. I know we work together and I don’t want to make things weird or awkward and I—” Who knows how long he would have babbled on if Geno hadn’t stopped him then, gently taking his hand.

“Sid,” he breathes out and smiles before he leans closer into Sid’s space. “Would love to go out with you,” he says and then closes the distance between them.

--

Sid wakes up slowly the next morning, the sleep fuzz in his head taking longer than normal to clear. The night before comes back to him in stages—the party, his talk with Flower, Geno tucking Cole into bed and then…

Sid smiles as he remembers the kiss. And then the next one and the stolen kiss at midnight. He remembers Geno insisting that Sid take his bed with Cole and one last kiss before Geno retreated to a guest room.

Sid glances over and is a little alarmed to find Cole’s spot empty. He sits up and pushes a hand through his hair before setting out to find Cole.

He finds him in the kitchen, sitting across from Geno chattering away at each other as they eat french toast.  Geno glances up, meets Sid’s eyes and holds his gaze for a moment with a soft smile before he says softly, “morning,” and motions to the chair next to Cole. This time Sid doesn’t hesitate before sliding into the chair and smiling back at Geno. “Morning G.”

Epilogue

“Cole, breakfast!” Sid calls down the hall before popping back into the kitchen and sliding eggs from the pan onto the three plates waiting on the counter.

“K Dad, coming!” is the response he gets back and Sid smiles as he hears the heavy footsteps running down the hall.

“Hey kiddo, good morning,” he says as Cole is already carrying his plate to the table.

“Morning Dad,” he says around a mouthful of toast.

Sid sets the other two plates on the table just as Geno comes in with Maya cradled to his chest, fingers stroking absently across the thin layer of soft, black hair on her head. Sid smiles and reaches his arms out as Geno passes their baby daughter over to him. “You sure, Sid?” He says with a smile. “Can hold while you eat.”

“Nah,” he smiles back at Geno before leaning in for a kiss. “I got her. You eat. Today’s your first day back.”

“Going to miss being home with you guys so much. Been a good paternity leave.”

Sid gazes lovingly down at his daughter. “Yeah it has.”

Geno turns his attention to Cole. “You ready for big first day of third grade?”

“Yup! I hope I get to sit by Amir!”

Sid smiles. Cole’s happiness here will always be something he’s grateful for. Geno smiles, too, and nods. “Yes. Is most important to sit by best friend. Get in lots of trouble for talking.”

Cole giggles. “I won’t!”

“We see.”

In Sid’s arms Maya yawns with a soft squeak and stretches her arms and legs before curling back in towards Sid’s chest. He stares at her in awe, like he’s done so many times since they brought her home eight weeks ago. He only looks up when Geno reaches over and squeezes his hand.

Sid looks at Geno the same way he looks at his daughter because no matter how many times he wakes up in this reality, to him it will always be a dream come true.

#sidgeno photo challenge #Open challenge 1 #my fic #Say Goodnight and Stay Together

[miss-emrys]

The Sea Is Calling

Read on AO3

“Back again? Second time this morning, Sid.”

Sidney blushes and Geno wishes he could see past the wetsuit zipped up tight on Sidney’s neck, to follow that enticing flush further down.

“It never hurts to be cautious,” Sidney replies after a moment. He bites his lip before adding, “She’s a bit restless today.” Then he’s already walking back in the direction he came from like he knows Geno will follow.

Geno does.

Even though he’s been working at the Coastal Marine Rescue Center for almost ten months, Geno’s still one of the newest veterinary hires. He also can count on both hands the number of personal details he knows about the elusive Sidney Crosby, despite having grown quite close to the rest of their tight-knit staff. That personal information is hard-won. Sidney resides in a league of his own, keeping to himself for the most part; he seems to prefer it that way. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem altogether bothered when Geno’s curiosity gets the better of him and he shamelessly peppers Sidney with questions from time to time. It’s a delicate game of give and take, learning tidbits of information about him. Geno makes sure to offer up details of his own life so it’s less of an interrogation and more like an actual conversation. He always feels a special kind of accomplishment when he learns something new about Sidney.

They don’t speak much as they walk through the facility, comfortable in each other’s presence, and Geno has to force himself to focus on something other than the view of Sidney right in front of him. That damn wetsuit is the bane of his existence; it never gets any easier to see him walk around in skin-tight neoprene without any idea of the effect it has on the rest of them. Geno might even think Sidney is entirely oblivious to the world around him if it weren’t for the glances Geno catches aimed his way every so often when Sidney thinks he’s not looking.

As they enter the large enclosure, Geno’s eyes shift from the broad line of Sidney’s shoulders to their patient in the water. Weighing only a couple of tons, the humpback whale calf that had been rescued less than a week before is still severely malnourished. Geno estimates she’s about four or five months old, which means she should weigh significantly more than she does and likely still be nursing for awhile yet. He can still remember how disturbing it felt when the emergency call came through, when they found her beached and alone on the shore with a dangerously low body mass, so far from any of the local pods. They had truly arrived in the nick of time; it’s a wonder she’s still alive considering her condition.

Geno and Sidney crouch down at the edge of the expansive tank in unison, watching as she rises up to the surface in the slow, gentle way they’ve become familiar with over the past few days. She’s moving a bit more steadily today than she has been, attempting to break the surface of the water more and more as is her nature.

“You know humpbacks playful, Sid,” Geno remarks after watching her swim around for a couple minutes, breaking the surface a few more times. “Lacerta just try breaching little bit.”

Geno knows better than to name a wild animal, especially one whose stay is only temporary. But that didn’t stop him from referring to the young calf as Lacerta the first time he examined her in the water, due to the distinct constellation-like pattern on the underside of her fluke. Sidney has yet to comment on it, but based on the tiny smile that quirks up on his lips each time Geno says her name, he figures he’s not being judged for doing so.

“You think?” Sidney asks. Lacerta resurfaces again further away, blowing out a spray of condensation and slapping the water with her tail. “She’s been so lethargic since she arrived. It’s strange for her to be attempting a breach.”

Geno doesn’t mention that it isn’t strange behavior for a humpback though. Sidney knows that, just as Geno knows Sidney has a tendency to fret over the marine life that makes its way into their care. It’s part of what makes him so amazing at his job. He never misses a thing when it comes to the animals they work with, often putting in extra hours without pay to see that they’re taken care of. It can be a thankless job to rehabilitate animals when the ultimate goal is to successfully see them return to the wild. But Geno has seen firsthand the positive impact Sidney’s precision and attentiveness has on the wildlife they work with, so he doesn’t mind indulging in Sidney’s idiosyncrasies.

“Think maybe we increase feedings,” Geno says instead, changing the subject. “She not reject meals yet, is moving around more. Could use extra calories.”

Sidney nods, dropping his hand to run the tips of his fingers through the water. “The additional fat would do her good. I spoke with Shaw last night and he said her nutrient levels are starting to rise a little.”

“See?” Geno smiles and nudges Sidney’s shoulder with his own. “Nutritionist happy. Vet also happy,” Geno replies, pointing to himself. “Not need to worry. Lacerta grow big and strong, do pretty lobtails for Sid.”

Sidney turns his face away, but not before Geno catches the grin spreading across his face. Geno slaps his thighs lightly and stands once more, ignoring the catch in his breath at the sight of Sidney’s smile. He stretches out the ache in his right knee as Sidney stands up, too, turning to face him.

“You get milk for Lacerta, find me later after more feedings. I’m check on sea turtles now before Letang bore them to death.”

Sidney snorts helplessly, covering his mouth with his hand to stem the unexpected giggles. “He can’t bore them, Geno. They don’t even understand what he’s saying.”

“Nobody understand what he say. French always so messy,” Geno jokes, rolling his eyes.

Lacerta swims closer just then, spraying the two of them with her blowhole and prompting a sigh from Geno when his dress shirt and right side of his trousers cling wetly to his skin. It’s not the first time this has happened, considering he works in a facility that is literally filled with water at every turn. That doesn’t make it any less inconvenient though. Especially since Geno used his last spare shirt the other day after assisting with an unexpectedly messy emergency surgery that left him in need of a change. He hasn’t remembered to bring in a spare set of clothes since then, so hopefully there are some clean scrubs in the supply closet.

“Look, Sid,” Geno whines pitifully. “You distract and now my shirt soaked.”

Sidney stands unfazed by the spray of water on his wetsuit, although the dripping hair forming dark curls across his forehead is sending butterflies dancing around in Geno’s stomach. It’s entirely unfair how beautiful Sidney looks in a generally unflattering piece of clothing, especially when Geno’s own wetsuit makes him look like a gangly giraffe wrapped in rubber. He looks away before he can get caught staring and begins unbuttoning his shirt, the cool water making the fabric feel tacky and uncomfortable against his skin. A crash makes him jump, startled by the loud noise. When he glances up, Sidney is bent over a bucket of cleaning supplies which are now scattered across the ground, that charming blush spreading across his cheeks once more.

“So clumsy, Sid,” Geno chides gently. He pauses in his undress to go help, but Sidney quickly bounces up just as Geno walks over, already backing away towards the storage rooms.

“I’ll just—I’ll see you later, G,” Sidney stumbles over his words before making a fast retreat.

If Geno watches him walk away for a few moments longer than necessary, well...he’s only human.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s been almost three weeks since Lacerta was rescued, and she’s an entirely different whale from when they first found her. Her weight is up, she flits about the large enclosure with increased amounts of energy, and her overall playfulness and demeanor is encouraging to see.

“I can never decide if I love or hate this part,” Sidney remarks, walking up to stand beside Geno as he preps his diving gear. Sidney’s actually wearing regular work attire today: khaki cargo shorts, a navy blue polo with the rescue center’s logo embroidered on the chest, and his ever-present yellow crocs. It’s rare to see him out of the water for a day, but Geno knows it’s Sidney’s way of avoiding the goodbyes.

Geno hums in agreement, soaking in these last few moments. It’s always bittersweet releasing an animal back into the wild. They spend so much time together, working so closely with them with the intent to rehabilitate them for this very purpose, but that can make it all the more difficult to let go when the time comes. The animals that reach their facilities tend to arrive with severe injuries or needs, so even with the care they receive here there’s still a decent chance they won’t survive long after being set free. That is the true hard part.

“Lacerta need to integrate back with a pod before too late, Sid,” Geno eventually replies.

“I know,” Sidney sighs. “I wish we could’ve found her mother, though. She’s so young.”

They’d attempted to locate any local cows who may have given birth this season or lost their calf, but the efforts had been fruitless. Most of the employees believe Lacerta’s mother was likely the victim of an orca attack. Geno knows Sidney is worried Lacerta won’t survive without her mother. She is still quite young to be out on her own, but they are reaching the point when it will do more harm than good to keep her here. Whales aren’t meant for captivity; even these past few weeks are pushing the limits of her care.

“She strong and fast,” Geno says rather than voicing his thoughts. “Will travel to feeding ground with pods and make new family.”

A technician calls out to Geno before Sidney can reply, so Geno grabs his diving gear and finishes strapping on the equipment. He needs to tag Lacerta and run some final exams on her before she can be officially released, but Geno knows she’s ready. They’ve been counting down the days for most of this week.

“Tell her goodbye for me,” Sidney requests, like he does every time.

Geno makes a silly face behind his diving mask just to see Sidney smile once more, then pats him comfortingly on the shoulder and heads down the ramp that hangs over the water.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“What’s this, Geno?” Sidney walks into Geno’s office unannounced three days later, holding his hand out in front of him.

Geno doesn’t bother to look up from the report he’s typing. He’s used to Sidney letting himself in by now. “What?”

“This,” Sidney replies, thrusting his hand out further. Resting on his palm is the silver keychain Geno had purchased on a whim yesterday. He could only take so much of Sidney’s moping about Lacerta’s release before attempting to do something about it.

“What it look like? Is whale charm for keys. You always lose.”

Sidney huffs. “Look, I appreciate the thought, but you can’t just—”

“Lacerta not forget you, Sid,” Geno cuts him off. “She smart, you kind. Is special bond.”

“That’s not even—”

“Sid,” Geno interrupts again, putting his work aside. This is clearly going to take his full attention. “You allowed to feel things. Okay to be sad. We not think you weak or silly. You amazing, best at your job, always try hardest to help. That makes goodbye hard.”

“I...you think I’m amazing?”

Of course that’s all he got out of that explanation. Smiling, Geno rises and walks over to Sidney, standing a little closer than he would normally dare. “Most amazing. All animals love. Care so much all the time. Nobody else like you, Sid.”

Sidney looks away, Geno’s steady gaze tracking the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a fortifying breath. “There are many people who could do my job, Geno.”

“Not just a job to you,” Geno disagrees, gently guiding Sidney’s chin up so their eyes meet. “You best.”

“I don’t think—”

“Why always argue?” Geno chuckles. “I know best. Just accept.”

“You just want me to admit you’re right about something,” Sidney replies with a petulant huff, still arguing, the tiny beginnings of a smile starting to appear on his face.

“Yes, reveal master plan.” Geno rolls his eyes, taking another step closer. “Can’t just say thank you, Sid?”

Sidney blinks as though just realizing how rude he’s been. The thought doesn’t quite seem to compute with his polite, Canadian brain. “Of course. Thank you, Geno. It’s lovely.”

“Will use it?” Geno presses.

“I—” Sidney’s breath catches as Geno moves closer still.

“Find it in store,” Geno continues softly. “Think of Lacerta, remind me of you, work so hard with her. So beautiful swimming around in water.”

“She really was,” Sidney agrees.

Geno shakes his head. “Not talking about her, Sid.”

Their eyes meet again, a question in Sidney’s dark eyes that he doesn’t seem willing to voice. They are standing close enough now that Geno can feel Sidney’s warm exhales against his neck where his collar lies open, the sensation sending goosebumps across his skin. Geno bends down slowly, so as not to startle Sidney, their noses just brushing.

“So beautiful, Sid,” he whispers, helpless to resist the pull of Sidney that draws him ever nearer.

He remains there, waiting, the sound of their breaths the only noise in his quiet office. They’ve been dancing around each other for weeks, months even, Sidney always moving close and then away like a sunbeam dancing upon the open water. Geno doesn’t want to scare him off, would wait months more for Sidney, but the ache in his chest feels nearly unbearable right now in the tense silence.

“Geno,” Sidney finally says, so many unspoken words layered into his voice as he reaches up, one hand settling on the side of Geno’s neck, pulling him down the few inches necessary for their lips to meet.

Geno sighs into the kiss, the tense set of his shoulders melting away as he gathers Sidney closer, arms around his waist. Sidney tastes like the salt water he so often works in, his lips soft and warm against Geno’s. Time feels like it’s moving in slow motion as they kiss and Geno is content to linger there, savoring the feeling. Their lips gently separate what feels like hours later, yet altogether too soon, exhales mingling between them as neither of them move any farther apart than necessary. Geno strokes his hands gently up Sidney’s back, urging away the nervousness he can already feel gathering there. He delights in the flush that returns to Sidney’s cheeks and knowing he’s the cause of it.

Sidney hides his face in Geno’s neck, but Geno can feel the curve of Sidney’s lips and an answering smile blooms on his own face. He commits this moment to memory, somehow knowing that Sidney’s going to make him work for another one like it. If there’s anything Sidney’s always been entirely genuine and open about, it’s his dedication to his job. That’s part of what drew Geno to him in the first place. As good as this feels, Geno can almost guarantee Sidney won’t want to jeopardize their assignments by letting Geno distract him with kisses and touches at work.

Geno looks forward to testing this theory in the very near future.

Thank you for letting us participate in this, @sidgenophotochallenge!

#sidgeno photo challenge #sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #my fic #my writing #this is my first time actually writing hockey rpf #i hope i did alright #this was so much fun #my knowledge of whales is painfully limited #just go with it okay?

[burning-up-ao3]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas  for @sidgenophotochallenge

After Geno kicked him out, Sid lived in a cold, lifeless apartment. Sharing custody of their 2 year old is hard, especially on Christmas Eve.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of cheating (there's no cheating by the MCs), accusing Sid of Lying

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123777

#hockey rpf #sidney crosby #Evgeni Malkin #angst to happy ending #sidgeno photo challenge #My writing

[fourthlinefic]

@sidgenophotochallenge

Ngl, this is kind of a weird one.

The glove had been on the seat when Sid entered the carriage compartment, lying there as if it were waiting for someone. It was black leather, soft and buttery and clearly well cared for. The sharp animal smell of the leather was mellowed with the scent of pine and something dark and smokey, what Sid thought must be the cologne of the lost glove's owner. It was lined with cream coloured cashmere, perfect for keeping out the November chill, and in the spot that would fall just over the pulse, were the letters 'E.M.’ monogrammed in dark blue thread.

Sid had brought a book with him to read on the train ride from Montréal to Toronto, but he found his imagination was captured far more successfully by the lone glove in his hand. He found Hemingway dull, anyway, had only picked up his latest novel because one of his writer friends had insisted. But this glove...

It belonged to a man, of that much Sid was certain. Unless there was a young woman out there with unusually large hands, which Sid supposed was not beyond the realm of possibility. An Amazonian perhaps, and Sid allowed himself a moment to imagine what that would look like, a warrior goddess crammed into a second class compartment. Her sword and bow would have to go in the overhead rack. She had probably bought the gloves because she couldn't stand the Canadian winter, coming from the Mediterranean and all.

Except, most likely, the glove belonged to a man. But what sort of man?

Sid turned the glove so that he could get another look at the monogram. It was professionally done, neat and crisp, but the letters themselves were simple, block capitals. No frills or embellishments. A man with not a lot of money to spare then, spending it where he could on one or two luxuries. Sid knew that he would much prefer a new set of notebooks and fountain pen to a pair of monogrammed gloves, but they were charming in their own way.

Ernest Miller. Maybe that's what it stood for. Sid pursed his lips, trying to picture what an Ernest Miller looked like. A mousy man, in his late thirties, probably starting to bald. He would be going soft around his middle, which caused him great distress, not least because he only had one good suit, which he wore to his job at a bank somewhere, and couldn't afford another. He probably let his boss shout at him too much, and went home to a wife too polite to tell him that she thought their marriage boring. He was not the sort of man who wore gloves like these, and Sid decided that he didn't like him all that much anyway.

Emmett Montgomery. Now there was an interesting name. A viscount perhaps, elegant and cultured, yet fallen on hard times after the war. He had come to Canada for a fresh start, carting with him trunks full of books, and of velvet, silk and brocade, and it would all be smothered in sickly sweet perfume to hide the smell of rot. That was the problem the peerage, Sid thought. They seemed interesting until you actually peeled back the gold gilt, and underneath it all, it was just worm infested wood.

Elliot Morgan. That was a name you could trust. He’d be tall, broad shouldered, but with kind eyes. A straightforward sort of man, with an easy laugh, but a stubborn streak a mile wide. The sort of man who, if it were possible, Sid might want to take home to his mother one day. He laughed ruefully to himself at that, shaking his head to dismiss the fantasy before it got too out of hand. Nothing to be gained from going down that road.

He pulled the Hemingway from his satchel with a sigh. The man's prose might bore Sid to tears, but it at least beat pining over an imaginary man.

Night had fallen by the time the train pulled into Toronto, later than Sid had been planning. The station lamps were already lit, and the people moving through the steam coming off the trains looked like ghosts in the dim light. Sid pulled his suitcase down from the overhead, and, after a moment's hesitation, he slipped the glove into the pocket of his greatcoat. He would hand it in at the ticket office and hope it got back to its original owner.

He made his way quickly through the station - he had missed the earlier connecting train halfway between Montréal and Toronto, and he didnt want to keep Taylor waiting so late at night. The taxi rank was probably heaving with people by now, but if he got there fast enough he might at least find himself in the middle of the crush, and not right at the back. He was in such a hurry that he didn't notice the shadow looming out of the haze until he had collided head first with it. He bounced off the shadow’s shoulder, and he was so tired that he probably would have fallen had the shadow not caught him.

“Okay there?” the man (for it was actually a man) asked him. He was taller than Sid, and he had to look up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, should look where I’m walk.”

“No, you’re fine. I mean, I’m fine. It’s fine.” Sid finished with an embarrassed little laugh. There was warm concern in the man’s eyes that felt just a little too personal, and Sid couldn’t help but feel like he’d seen him somewhere before. “I...have we met? I feel like I know you.”

The man gave him a quick up and down look, a slow smile on his face that made Sid feel warm right down to his toes. He couldn’t help looking back, at the man’s clean shaven face, his full lower lip. Those huge hands that had steadied him were warm, even through Sid’s coat. It was completely inappropriate for so public a place as Union Station, and Sid shrank into his coat collar, not wanting to be caught out by a careless stranger.  “Think I would remember if we had.” said the man, and his deep voice, combined with that lilting accent, meant that the words came out practically as a purr.

“My mistake, then,” said Sid. There didn’t seem much more to say, but the two of them stood there for a second, as if waiting for something else to happen. Sid couldn’t say what. A handshake? A hug? A kiss? All horribly inappropriate. He needed to break the tension, crackling between them like static. “Well-” he started, just as the man started to speak. They laughed the awkward laughter of people not quite sure what the hell they’re doing, before the man gestured to Sid to continue. “I uh...suppose you’ll be wanting to catch your train.”

“Oh, yes.” the man said, as if it had completely slipped his mind. “Of course! Yes, best to go, don’t want to miss.”

Sid nodded, stepped aside so the man could get past. As they moved away from each other, Sid caught a sudden whiff of pine and woodsmoke. It took a few more steps for him to remember where he recognised that scent, and by the time he spun round to call after him, the other man had vanished into the steam and smoke as abruptly as he had emerged. Sid stood there for a second, trying to shake the feeling that something about that encounter should have gone different somehow. And then the station clock chimed eleven, and he remembered that he had somewhere to be.

The taxi rank wasn’t as busy as he had thought it would be, and in good enough time he was outside Taylor’s door. Taylor must have been watching for him, because he didn’t have to knock, the door opening as he got to the top step. She was already dressed for bed, her dark blonde hair wrapped in her curling papers, her face scrubbed clean.

“We’ve already eaten, I’m afraid,” she said after she had greeted him with a hug, taking his hat and hanging it on the rack for him. “Tristan’s got to be at the press early tomorrow, and Lydia was getting cranky.”

“That’s fine, I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“We did save you a plate, but it’ll need reheating. Beef stew, if you want it. Were the trains awful?”

Sid moved into the kitchen, and sank into one of the white washed chairs that he had gifted the Jarry’s on their wedding day. Taylor lit the stove. “They were fine.”

“Really?” she said with a frown. Trust his sister to know when something was up. “You just seem a little shaken. And you’re two hours later than you said.”

“Yes, really. I just-” Sid paused, thinking of that lone glove still in his coat pocket. “I just missed a connection.”

#sidgeno #photo challenge #hockey rpf #my writing

[ao3feed-sidgeno]

the colour of heartache

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uX7IEp

by sequestering

There's a door where it shouldn't be.

Zhenya's played on this section of lake a hundred times, a thousand times. He's collected stray pucks from every inch of the surrounding bank and he is certain that the door shouldn't be there. For one, it's set into the bank at such an angle that it leads into the middle of a thornbush. For another, it wasn't there yesterday.

Written for the Sidgeno Photo Challenge.

Words: 3480, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Men's Hockey RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Malkin Family (Hockey RPF)

Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Additional Tags: Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uX7IEp

#ao3feed #sidgeno #Hockey RPF

[ao3feed-hockey]

the colour of heartache

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uX7IEp

by sequestering

There's a door where it shouldn't be.

Zhenya's played on this section of lake a hundred times, a thousand times. He's collected stray pucks from every inch of the surrounding bank and he is certain that the door shouldn't be there. For one, it's set into the bank at such an angle that it leads into the middle of a thornbush. For another, it wasn't there yesterday.

Written for the Sidgeno Photo Challenge.

Words: 3480, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Men's Hockey RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Malkin Family (Hockey RPF)

Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Additional Tags: Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uX7IEp

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #hockey rpf

[orangecuties]

SidGeno 12ish Days of Christmas - Day 1

Around The World in One Night - ao3 link

(I’m going to try to post one every day hopefully, but as you can see I’m already behind)

“Hey mom, is everything okay?” Sidney answered the phone with a worried note to his voice, his mom usually didn’t call this late, especially when she knew he had a game the next day.

“Sidney, your father is sick. Nothing serious, don’t worry! But we could really use your help back home since it’s so close to Christmas.”

Sidney groaned, this was the worst time of the year for his dad to get sick, this was the busiest month of the season and if he was sick there was no way he could get everything finished in time.

But Sidney couldn’t exactly drop everything and go home either, they were well into the season and the Christmas break wasn’t for a few more weeks.

“Mom, you know I want to come help, but I can’t exactly leave for a few weeks without any explanation,” Sid said, feeling guilty about it.

“Tell them your father is sick and needs help, I’m sure they’ll understand. Family is important, Sidney,” she said with a scolding tone.

Sidney flinched a little at the reproach, he knew she was right but he still hated missing games, “What about Taylor? Can’t she help dad and I can come down later?”

“Your sister has to finish her finals, and then she is coming down to help. I expect you to do the same.”

Sidney sighed, “Okay, I’m sorry, you’re right, I’ll see what I can do.”

Turn’s out Sidney wouldn’t need to do much though. A wrong turn and a bad hit that had his hand taking the brunt of the fall in the game the next day, left him with a hand fracture that was going to put him out for about three weeks, looks like he was headed home.

Normally he’d stay in Pittsburgh with a minor injury but since it was his hand and there wasn’t exactly a ton of PT to do other than let it heal, and some exercises he could do on his own, management gave him the clear to head out. But he wasn’t headed to Nova Scotia, he was headed to the North Pole.

Yeah, Sidney’s dad was Santa Claus, and he needed help preparing for Christmas because he was sick. Honestly, Sidney should’ve known before his mom had called him, his magic was acting up a little more than usual. Yeah, Sidney had magic too. Nothing major that could somehow give him an edge on the ice, just small stuff; make a little bit of snow appear, fix a broken toy with a small tap, make a toy appear out of thin air, basically anything within the realm of a small Christmas miracle. But lately he’d been able to do a bit more. Part of the “Santa” magic was being able to travel from place to place, Sidney could usually do small distances, like from his house to the grocery store, since his magic wasn’t as strong as his dads, but the other day he was staring at a photo of a lake back home and suddenly he was standing on his own dock all the way in Nova Scotia.

Whenever their dad got sick, Sidney and Taylor’s magic would hike up a bit just in case it was time for their dad to pass on the mantle to one of them. When Sidney was little, he didn’t really have any control over his magic and would sometimes snow over the house or make a pile of toys appear, but as he got older, he learned how to keep it under wraps, but it still went a little haywire for him when his dad was sick since he wasn’t used to controlling that level of magic.

Sidney was watching highlights of the Penguins game he was currently sitting out of while he was packing his stuff to head home for a month. They had played the Rangers and Geno got the OT goal to finish it up. As he was watching Geno’s celly on the screen his name flashed on Sidney’s phone with a text.

G: you watch game? got goal for you ))))

Sid: Yeah, I was just watching the highlights, good game G.

G: team miss captain ((((

Sid: haha I miss you guys too, I’ll be back in no time

G: know you miss me most ;)

Sid took a break from packing and was staring at the message on his phone and smiling. Him and Geno had been dancing around each other for years now but as they got older, they seemed to care less and less. They weren’t young rookies anymore with something to prove, and one-night stands weren’t enough anymore. They both flirted and teased the other but neither would make the first real move.

As Sid was staring down at his phone, he realized he did miss Geno a little and wished he could’ve been at the game tonight. As soon as the thought left his head though, Sid realized his mistake, but it was too late. He was now sitting on a hotel bed in New York in what he assumed was Geno’s room. Sid was freaking out and was trying to get himself to transport back to his house before Geno appeared when suddenly the bathroom door opened and out came Geno in nothing but a towel around his hips and one draped around his neck.

Geno jumped in shock at the sight of Sid and backed into the wall next to the other bed, “Sid? What you doing here!” Geno yelled out.

Sid had no idea what to do in this situation, he could just poof back to his house and just deny anything happened and tell Geno later he must’ve been dreaming, but he couldn’t really focus with Geno’s whole chest on display, still wet from the shower he just took, if anything, Sid wanted to get closer. So of course, Sid suddenly transported from sitting on the farther bed to sitting on the bed by the wall, right in front of Geno.

Geno stared wide eyed and looked like he was one second from fainting.

“I can explain.”

“Sid how you explain! You just poof and then you sitting in front of me! How you even here? Thought you were in Pittsburgh!”

“I was, I was, but then I was watching highlight and you messaged me and I showed up here without meaning to and I promise I can explain just please stop yelling,” Sid said placatingly, the last thing he needed was the team finding out he was actually here, in Geno’s bedroom, with Geno only wearing a towel.

Geno seemed to calm down a little but was still skeptical and was clutching the towel around his neck like a life-line. “Okay, explain.”

“Could you maybe put on some clothes,” Sid asked as he could feel his blush getting worse.

“Oh sorry, didn’t know was going to have guests,” Geno said sarcastically. “Plus! You one who scared me, why can’t I be in towel!”

“It’s a little distracting!” Sid yelled back, his entire face turning red now from embarrassment. Geno smirked as he walked past Sid to put his pajamas on, not at all subtly dropping the towel as he did so, at least he wasn’t freaked out anymore.

Geno took a seat in the chair across from the bed and Sid explained everything. Only a handful of people outside of his family knew about them and it felt nice to share it with someone else, he completely trusted Geno with the secret and knew he wouldn’t tell anyone, what he didn’t, but probably should’ve, expected was Geno to not believe him.

“I not believe you, this just big Christmas prank.”

“What, G, you literally saw me move from one bed to the other!”

“Magic trick, plus, I just come out of shower, eyes all foggy from steam, maybe I just see wrong.”

“How could you have seen wrong! Also, how could I have even gotten here from Pittsburgh you were messaging me earlier!”

“Mmm, still not believe, if real, show me some other magic, give me a toy,” Geno said with his tongue in his cheek trying to fight back a grin, he was totally fucking with Sid at this point, but probably just to make him give up his prank, not actually prove he had magic. But Sid is nothing if not one to never refuse a challenge, so he closed his eyes and then Geno was holding a teddy bear.

Geno turned the bear over in his hands and stared at it as if it was somehow in on the prank as well.

“Okay fine, I believe you, your dad Santa, but still don’t get how you get here?”

“Well, my dad needs to be able to move around fast you know? And like I said, when my dad gets sick it makes my powers get a bit stronger, so I was able to travel from Pittsburgh to here.”

“Yes, I get magic part already. But why you here, why you poof here, to my room Sid?” Geno asked with a hopeful look in his eye. The same look both of them had been wearing for months hoping the other would finally make a move.

Sidney looked to the side trying to avoid eye contact, clearly embarrassed, but he didn’t want to lie to Geno, “Well, I uh, when you texted me, I realized I missed you guys and my powers made me show up here,” Sidney said, which wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Why you not show up during game then? Or show up in Tanger’s room or Phil’s room? Why you show up in my room Sid?” Geno asked, clearly a little frustrated with Sid’s answer. “You miss everyone Sid?” Geno asked softly, putting his hand gently under Sid’s chin to raise his eyes up to look at him.

“I missed you, G, my magic brought me to you.”

Geno used the hand on Sid’s face to pull him forward into a kiss. It was soft and gentle and everything Sid had been dying for, for years.

They pulled apart and were both wearing huge grins, laughing softly.

“You know we could’ve been doing this for years,” Sid said, his forehead leaned against Geno’s.

“We both too stupid to make move,” Geno said, leaning back in to kiss Sidney again.

They moved from sitting to laying on the bed together making out. Sidney could feel the magic in him swirling with his happiness, no doubt there would be a small flurry of snow falling outside Geno’s window and a mistletoe plant growing above their heads. As much as he hated to do it, Sidney pulled away and sat up.

“I really do have to go G,” Sidney said a little breathless, caressing Geno’s face with his hand.

“You go save Christmas, will be waiting for you when you get back,” Geno said, grabbing Sid’s hand and kissing his palm.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell my dad to leave you a nice present, although I’m sure you’re on the naughty list.”

“Don’t worry, I already got what I wish for.”

#sidgeno #sidgeno fic #hockey fic #hockey rpf #christmas fic #sidney crosby #evgeni malkin #pens #pittsburgh penguins #kass writing

[sidgenophotochallenge]

Round 6 Submissions!

Again, a great turnout this round. Thank you all for participating and putting your awesome stories out there! I wish everyone a lovely day tomorrow, whatever that looks like for you, and a very happy New Year! 

Tumblr is being horrible and erratic as per the usual, so if we accidentally miss your story please let us know.

 -Mod Dana

Ho Ho Hopefully by lukeskyywalkr

Mistletoe Kiss by hockeyrpffanman

Fiery gems for you, only for you by jiggyknowswhatsup (for some reason tumblr won’t let me see it so here is the AO3 as well)

follow your star by genobell

Mont-Tremblant by eighteaseven

I’ll Be Home For Christmas by burning-up-ao3

A Home To Rest My Heart by 71tenseventeen

All Is Bright by secret-sidgeno-writer

i just want you (for my own) by knifeshoeoreofight

All I Want For Christmas Is You by sadhockeytrashbaby

#sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #Sid/Geno #SidGeno Photo Challenge

[knifeshoeoreofight]

@sidgenophotochallenge

The new second officer is cute, alright? Geno can’t be blamed for taking one look at him across the crew’s mess, and deciding then and there that he was going to get to know Commander Crosby.

He’s been hearing about him for ages now. He’s the youngest Starfleet graduate to assume the rank of second officer of a starship, ever. Geno’s no run-of-the mill ensign himself. He never even attended the Academy. Captain Lemieux found him on a backwater space station working for a private corporation, and offered him the opportunity of a lifetime. And here he is, second in command to the chief science officer. Everyone thinks he’ll assume the post himself within the next couple of years.

Anyway. It’s with some confidence then, that he approaches Crosby, darling of the Academy. Fuck he’s cute. Geno doesn’t know much human he’s got in him, but it’s enough to make his black hair curl charmingly around his very Vulcan ears. When Geno says his name, he looks up with these big hazel eyes that make him look incredibly disarming.

This is the most promising leader the Academy’s produced in a generation? Well. Appearances can be deceiving and all that.

“Hello,” Geno says, and gives him his most charming grin. “Nice to meet, Commander Crosby. I’m—”

“Lieutenant Malkin, I know,” Crosby says, face impassive. “I’d been meaning to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh really,” Geno says, flirtatiously. His tone is lost on Crosby.

“Yes,” he says seriously. “I wanted to speak with you about the training simulation we ran yesterday. Our performance was within the parameters of acceptable, but I had some ideas about how to best use the science division in such a scenario.”

“Er...sure,” Geno says, before getting sucked into a conversation so intense and technical it feels akin to being smacked in the face with the entire Starfleet Officer’s Handbook.

***

And that’s how the situation continues, regarding Crosby. Behind the baby face and the plush, kissable mouth lies the sharpest, most analytical mind Geno’s ever encountered, And he’s met multiple full-blooded Vulcans.  

There are moments Geno can catch glimpses of the captain Crosby is undoubtedly going to be someday, and it makes his hair stand on end sometimes. He also can feel himself falling for him hopelessly. Not in a romantic way. 

Or, not just in a romantic way.

He’s lying in his bunk one night, after a slightly terrifying away mission, the realization dawning that he’d follow Crosby anywhere. Die for him, even. He can tell he’s going to be a captain like Starfleet’s never seen.

And it might be sooner rather than later. Captain Lemieux is a legend, but his health isn’t what it was. There have been endless hushed conversations along the ship’s corridors and common areas, all trying to guess when Captain Lemieux will step down, and if Commander Crosby will be chosen to take his command. Geno scoffs at the speculation. Of course Crosby will be captain. There isn’t doubt in his mind.

He doesn’t know how much attention Crosby pays to the rumors. If he’s listening to them, he’s just working even harder, taking his perfectionism to even more exacting heights.

He’s not as emotionless as he pretends to be, though. Geno’s seen him whenever they have children on board, how gentle and soft he goes with them. He’s seen him calm and soothe anxious refugees, mediate interspecies disputes, and take out a hostile and attacking alien lifeform with such efficiency and skill that Geno might have… visited the image when all alone in his bunk. A… few times.

Basically, Geno is fucked. He’s Commander Crosby’s man for the rest of his life. Mostly content to serve loyally under him, without trying again to see if he’d ever look at Geno as more than his fellow officer.

If he gets a little wasted on Skagaran whiskey one night and maybe does a little crying about how Commander Crosby doesn’t love him back, well. At least he did it alone in his quarters where no one could find out.

***

The mission that results in Captain Lemieux’s retirement leaves the ship damaged and them all a little shaken. Crosby assumes the mantle of captain in sickbay, sworn in with his uniform torn and his pale face smudged with soot. His shoulders are set straight and strong, and only Geno catches the tremor in his hands and the tightness of his lips as he takes the oath. They leave Former Captain Lemieux to the care of the medical staff, and file out into the corridor.

“Wait,” Crosby says, putting a hand on Geno’s sleeve. “Lieutenant Malkin— Geno. I want to, um. To talk to you. But, not here.”

Crosby’s lips are set and pale, and he has dark circles under his eyes. “Of course,” Geno says gently. He follows Crosby to the holodeck, and waits without asking him what he’s doing as Crosby tells the computer to “run simulation 87.”

“This is my favorite,” Crosby says quietly, as the holodeck begins to shimmer around them. Geno isn't sure what he was expecting, maybe the dry red deserts of Vulcan. It certainly wasn’t a warm tropical beach, with towering palms rustling in a fragrant breeze beneath a star-drenched sky.

As soon as the simulation solidifies, Crosby’s shoulders slump, and he covers his face with his hands. He draws an awful, shuddering breath.

“I can’t do this, Geno,” he says, voice muffled and watery. “I can’t— what if—”

Geno is only human. He heart is feeling too soft and blown open to do anything but reach out to enfold Crosby— Sidney, in his arms, and pull him into his chest. Miracle of miracles, Sidney not only doesn’t pull away, he collapses into Geno, fists clenching Geno’s blue uniform shirt. Geno rests his chin on top of Sidney’s curls,

“Shhhh,” he says, restraining himself with difficulty from dropping a kiss onto Sidney’s hair. “You gonna be fine, I’m know this. Never see anything like you. You amazing, Sid. Would follow you anywhere, forever.”

“You—” Sidney leans back to look at Geno. “You think—”

“I know,” Geno says fiercely, with all the belief he has in him. Sidney stares at him, tropical stars shining in his eyes. “I say already. No matter what, would follow you anywhere. For me, my captain can only be you.”

Sidney breathes in sharply, and ducks his head back into Geno’s neck. He’s very, very still for a long moment.

Then, Geno feels him press his lips to Geno’s skin. Soft, and hesitant, two things he’s never known Sidney to be.

“Sid,” he says softly, unable to stem the raw affection and longing in his tone.

Sid doesn’t answer, only tilts his face up. “Thank you,” he says. “For— just being here.” He laughs a little, ruefully. “Here for me to collapse on.”

“You strongest person I’m know, Sid,” Geno tells him, laying a hand on his cheek. “Best person. You should know, is okay to let someone hold you up sometimes. No one can do this job alone. And you not alone.”

Brave with hope, he leans down, and does what he’s wanted to do since he first met Sidney:  he softly kisses that impossible mouth.

Sidney leans into the kiss with a sigh, and his hands find their way from Geno’s uniform front to his face, the back of his neck.

It’s not a heated kiss, not an urgent one. But it’s warm, and feels full of promise.

It feels like a beginning.

The light in Sidney’s eyes when he breaks away, the determined curve of his smile, that feels like a beginning too.

Geno grins back at him, fierce and proud.

“Well then, Lieutenant Malkin. Let’s show the universe what we’re made of,” Sidney says.

“We show,” Geno says. “We show, together.” And he leans down to kiss Sidney again, the stars glimmering bright above them.

#SidGeno Photo Challenge #sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #dana writes a thing

[ovinickyphotochallenge]

Welcome!

Welcome to the OviNicky Photo challenge!

This is a bi-monthly photo fanfic challenge, inspired by the SidGeno Photo Challenge. Idea used with the permission of the creators of that fic challenge.

Check out How the Challenge Works for the process and the rules. We hope you’ll join up and enjoy a different sort of challenge.

The challenge will open officially on Sept 1st, and the first photo will be posted then.

#post type: info #welcome #fic challenge #ovinickyphotochallenge #hockey rpf #fanfic #alexander ovechkin #nicklas backstrom

[eighteaseven]

Title: Mont-Tremblant

word count: ~3.7k

tags: valet!Sid, gentleman!Geno, 1920s au, PWP

rating: E

warnings: explicit sex, implicit cultural homophobia

My submission to the @sidgenophotochallenge

The most beautiful man Zhenya’s ever seen opens the door and smiles kindly at him.

“Bienvenue à Chateau d’ Mont-Tremblant, Monsieur Malkin.”

Zhenya stares, starstruck, but only for a moment until the wind blows snow against the back of his neck and he steps into the warmth of the mansion.

He smiles back at the footman and rummages through his limited repertoire of French phrases.

“Merci beaucoup. Parlez-vous russe ou anglais?”

“I can speak English, sir,” he says as he shuts the door firmly.

“I’m relieved! My French, it’s very bad. English is little bit better.”

“Glad to be of service, sir. I’m Crosby, the first footman.”

“Nice to meet. They will bring my things inside?” he asks gesturing vaguely to the door.

“Yes, sir. And they’ll take your horses to the stables.”

“Good. Tell them take extra care of my horses, yes?”

“Of course, sir,” Crosby says as he leads Zhenya through the entry hall.

“They very good ponies. I rent them in Montréal. Stableman says they called Valeur and Victoire, but I say is too serious. They funny ponies. Call them Iceberg and Penguin. Like to play in the snow. Give them lots of carrots!”

The footman tries to stay professional, but he can’t help the laugh that escapes.

“Iceberg and Penguin? I’ll make sure the stable-hands are informed.”

“Thank you. Is very important,” he says with a grin.

Crosby smiles back and asks, “Would you like to see Seigneur Lemieux before dinner or should I take you to your rooms?”

“Like to see Lemieux first, if he’s not busy,” Zhenya replies.

“Very well, sir.”

Crosby stops in front of a large, ornate door and knocks.

“Seigneur Lemieux?” he asks.

“Entrez!”

“Mon Seigneur, Monsieur Malkin est arrivé. Allez-vous le recevoir?”

“Oui!”

Crosby opens the door wider and steps back, gesturing Zhenya forward.

“Seigneur Lemieux, Monsieur Malkin. Mister Malkin, Lord Lemieux.”

Lemieux stands up from behind his desk and walks toward Zhenya.

“Malkin, you scoundrel! It’s been ages!” he says and gathers him in a friendly embrace.

“Not long enough, Lemieux!” Malkin jokes, returning the hug.

“How have you been?”

“Good. Your footman very nice, put up with my English!”

Lemieux smiles.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’d forgotten your deficiency in French. I suppose we’re both lucky Crosby’s the most competent footman in Québec, no?”

“Yes, very lucky,” Zhenya says as he smiles at Crosby.

Crosby’s cheeks flush just a hint, and he demurs, “You’re too kind.”

He steps back and turns to Lemieux, “Is there anything else I can do for you, mon Seigneur?”

“There is. I planned to have Letang valet Malkin, but he only speaks French. Would you be willing to valet through the winter?”

“Of course, mon Seigneur.”

“I have some business to finish up here. Would you take Malkin to his rooms, prepare him for dinner?”

“Oui, mon Seigneur.”

“I’ll see you at dinner, Malkin,” Lemieux dismisses kindly.

Malkin nods, “Lemieux,” and follows Crosby out of the study.

Crosby leads him down a corridor, then up a flight of stairs, and down another hall.

“So you my valet for winter here?” Zhenya asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m very happy for this,” he says sincerely.

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” Crosby responds.

“I’m never have valet before, so you have to teach me, yes?”

“Never?”

Zhenya shakes his head.

Crosby stares at him for a moment, then says, “Well, it’s quite simple, sir. Whatever you need, I provide.”

“Anything?” Zhenya asks teasingly.

Crosby smiles, “Yes, sir.”

“What if I’m need very big elephant? You find for me?”

Crosby laughs, “The work of a minute, sir.”

“If I’m need piece of the moon, you get for me?”

“Easily, sir,” he teases back with a crooked smile.

“If I need sweets from the kitchen, you bring to me?”

“Well, now you’ve gone too far, sir,” he jokes.

Zhenya laughs.

As they turn the corner, a servant passes by. Crosby’s smile is replaced with a professional reserve. He straightens his back and clears his throat.

“Your bags and suitcases should have been brought to your rooms. Is there a particular suit you would like to wear to dinner?”

“You pick which one you like best.”

“Yes, sir.”

At the end of the hall, Crosby stops and opens the door and gestures Zhenya in. The rooms are beautifully decorated and a fire is crackling in the sitting room. Zhenya’s suitcases and bags sit next to a chaise lounge. Several large, arched windows provide a beautiful view of the snow blanketing the estate.

“Very beautiful,” Zhenya observes.

“I’ll pass the complements on to Dame Lemieux.”

Zhenya starts to unbutton his outercoat.

“Allow me, sir,” Crosby says as he steps forward and begins to open Zhenya’s heavy coat.

Zhenya’s arms fall to his sides and he stares at Crosby’s face, focused on the buttons of his coat. His hands move efficiently down Zhenya’s front. When he’s finished he walks around to Zhenya’s back and gently pulls the coat off him.

“This what valets do?” Zhenya asks with a rough voice.

“Yes, sir,” he responds with a gentle smile as he walks across the room toward the fireplace.

Zhenya clears his throat, then walks to the chaise lounge and lays down on it. He watches as Crosby hangs his coat by the fire to dry the melted snow, then begins to unpack Zhenya’s belongings.

He’s beautiful in the way he moves, Zhenya thinks. Graceful. He tries not to stare too much, but it’s so hard to look away.

He unpacks Zhenya’s clothes first, opening garment bags, pulling the suits from them and hanging them in the closet, neatly organized by level of formality. His travelling suits on the left of the closet to his black tails on the right. He pulls a suit from the center right of the closet and turns to Zhenya.

“Will this suffice for dinner?”

Zhenya nods.

Crosby sets it aside and continues unpacking Zhenya’s belongings while Zhenya continues watching him.

“Would you like to dress for dinner now?” Crosby asks after he has finished with Zhenya’s luggage.

Zhenya stands up as an answer. Crosby walks up behind him and deftly pulls his already unbuttoned suit jacket from his shoulders then lays it on the chaise lounge. He turns back and gently pushes on one of Zhenya’s shoulders to turn him around.

He smiles at Crosby once they’re face to face and Crosby smiles back. He holds his hand out and Zhenya stares at it.

Crosby’s lips twitch, and he kindly says, “Cufflinks next.”

Zhenya lifts his right arm and places his hand in Crosby’s. Zhenya absentmindedly rubs his thumb across the delicate bones of Crosby’s wrist.

Crosby glances up at Zhenya’s face. He looks just for a moment then back down. When Crosby switches to his left cuff, Zhenya again drags his thumb along Crosby’s wrist, this time deliberately. Crosby clears his throat and turns to put the cufflinks in the jewelry box sitting on the table near the chaise.

Maybe, Zhenya thinks.

Crosby returns and lifts his hands to Zhenya’s neck, gently pulling at the knotted tie. With his hands against his neck, Zhenya knows Crosby can feel his blood racing.

He lifts his chin and Crosby pulls the knot loose, then pulls the end through the knot and lets the tie drape over Zhenya's shoulders.

His fingers slide beneath Zhenya’s shirt collar. When he flips it up, his thumb brushes across the apple of Zhenya’s throat and he swallows reflexively.

He can hear Crosby’s breath catch.

Their eyes meet as he pulls the silk tie off Zhenya’s shoulders and drops it to the floor.

Though Zhenya’s never had a valet before, he knows that jackets, cuffs, and ties are all the undressing a valet usually does. When Crosby places both hands on his shoulders, Zhenya's breath catches.

Maybe this flirtation hasn't been imagined. Not just him longing for a beautiful man, but something real, something returned, Zhenya hopes.

Crosby drags both his thumbs across Zhenya’s collarbones and Zhenya tenses. After a couple of passes, back and forth, he pushes Zhenya’s suspenders off his shoulders and they fall to his sides.

He reaches back up to Zhenya’s neck and unbuttons the two buttons near his collar, then rubs his thumb against the base of Zhenya’s throat. Zhenya releases a long-held breath.

Crosby drags his palm down the crisp white shirt covering Zhenya’s chest and his fingers dance down Zhenya’s body, easily pulling the buttons from their openings. When he reaches the bottom he firmly grips the shirt and pulls it up, untucking it from Zhenya’s trousers.

He slides his hands beneath Zhenya’s unbuttoned shirt, against his stomach and slowly ghosts them up his body until they sit under his shirt on top of his shoulders. Crosby steps forward and Zhenya can feel his breath against his throat as he pushes the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. Crosby looks back up at him and drops to his knees.

Zhenya can’t help but moan.

Kneeling like he is, Zhenya knows it’s impossible for him to miss the way Zhenya wants him.

He reaches for Zhenya’s left foot and unties his boot while rubbing his thumb up and down the back of Zhenya’s calf. He runs his hand up Zhenya’s leg, stopping at the back of his knee, bending it to help pull off his boot and sock, then switches to Zhenya’s right leg to repeat the process.

He kneels up, and his nose brushes against the cloth drawn taut at the front of Zhenya’s trousers. He slides his hands up the outside of Zhenya’s legs, up to his hips.

Zhenya curls his toes against the floor, doing everything he can not to spend in his trousers.

The long minutes of teasing from this beautiful man and the absolute relief of this dangerous desire reciprocated have brought him so close to the edge. He’s right there and Zhenya knows it won’t take much to push him over.

He brings his hand to rest against the front of Zhenya’s trousers, palm flat against Zhenya’s cock. Zhenya groans and his hips instinctively jump forward. A small smile graces Crosby’s face as he moves his fingers to the buttons of Zhenya’s trousers.

He holds his hands still, staring up at Zhenya until Zhenya finally begs, “Please.”

Crosby acquiesces and easily unfastens both buttons. Zhenya’s trousers fall to the floor. They pool around his ankles. Crosby lifts each of Zhenya’s feet, pulling the fabric off and away, leaving Zhenya in nothing but his boxer shorts.

Crosby sits back on his heels and stares his fill. He runs his palms over the pale skin of Zhenya’s legs before resting them behind Zhenya’s knees. He looks up in silent askance and Zhenya tightly nods.

Crosby pulls his hand from behind Zhenya’s left knee and hesitantly lays it on his kneecap. He softly runs his fingers across the mottled scars that adorn his knee.

“The war?”

Zhenya nods again. Crosby leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the inside of his knee. Zhenya almost sobs at the sweetness, at how innocent it is.

He drags his lips a few inches up and lays another reverent kiss on his inner thigh. He moves his mouth to Zhenya’s other leg, pressing another kiss, switching sides back and forth up his thighs until he meets the hem of Zhenya’s shorts.

He kneels back up and drags his nose along Zhenya’s cock, teasing him through his shorts. He pulls back just a bit and lays wet, open-mouthed kisses from base to tip, leaving his lips resting against the damp fabric at the head. He stares up at Zhenya with an ardent gaze, devout and deep. Zhenya stares right back, completely awestruck.

Crosby pulls back just the slightest and licks his lips. He reaches up and unfastens the two buttons of Zhenya’s shorts and they fall to the floor.

He grabs Zhenya’s cock, wraps his hand around the base, and takes the tip into his mouth.

Zhenya throws his head back and bites his lip.

Crosby bobs his head a little, taking a bit more into his mouth

“ну ты даешь,” Zhenya admires.

He wants this to last, wants it more than anything. Beautiful men like this, men of this persuasion are so rare, so scarce and it’s precarious, so risky to seek them out. Zhenya knows he’ll never find another man like this, a man this beautiful and sweet.

He wants this moment to last- God, does he want it to last- but he knows it can’t. He’s so close to the edge, right there on the precipice. And this beautiful man is sucking his cock, his plush lips wrapped tight around him, his tongue striking timid glances against the tip, and, God, it’s the most gorgeous thing Zhenya’s ever seen.

Crosby looks up at him from his knees and meets his gaze. Zhenya reaches down and runs his hand through Crosby’s lush, dark hair and Crosby moans around his cock.

That’s all it takes.

He spends in Crosby’s mouth and it’s perfect. His hips jump and he comes. Crosby hums and swallows it down. Zhenya still can’t catch his breath. His chest heaves and he wants to fall over but instead he just keeps running his fingers through Crosby’s hair, petting him.

Eventually, Zhenya’s hand falls to his side, and Crosby sits back on his heels, letting Zhenya’s cock withdraw from his mouth.

Zhenya stares down at him in wonderment.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes.

Crosby’s cheeks flush and he looks away.

Zhenya offers Crosby his hand and helps him to his feet. Crosby self-consciously dusts off his knees, and refuses to meet Zhenya’s gaze. His cheeks are still flushed, his hair is mussed, and his lips are red and swollen.

He looks absolutely sinful.

Zhenya raises his hand and lays it against Crosby’s cheek. His breathing stutters. Zhenya drags his thumb along his red bottom lip, pulling gently at it. All Zhenya can think about is the fact that he's the one who debauched this beautiful man. His lips are so raw and flushed because he sucked Zhenya’s cock.

It’s hard for Zhenya to look away from those perfect lips, so soft against his finger, but when his eyes meet Crosby’s, he’s glad he did. His pupils are blown wide. Beautiful brown eyes, once with a warm gaze, now stare hotly back.

The grandfather clock tolls, marking the hour, and Crosby jumps back and clears his throat.

“I’ll go get your suit, Monsieur. I’ve laid it out jus-,” Crosby rasps.

Zhenya pulls him forward and cuts him off with a kiss. Crosby moans into Zhenya’s mouth. He places his hand on Crosby’s abdomen and drags it down, grasping him through his trousers. Crosby moans again and bucks into his hand, then pulls back.

“Dinner will be served soon. I need to get you dressed,” he gasps as Zhenya kisses down his jaw.

“Won’t take long, I think,” Zhenya replies into his ear, before he gently grazes it with his teeth.

“This, or dressing you?” he asks breathlessly.

“Both,” Zhenya retorts as he moves his hand up to unfasten the buttons of Crosby’s jacket.

Once he has it open, he brings his hand to the waist of Crosby’s trousers and unfastens one of his suspenders. He yanks Crosby’s white shirt upward, untucking it from his trousers and slides his hand beneath it. He can feel Crosby shudder under his hand.

“Oh… that’s so… oh, God, please keep going. Don’t stop,” he moans.

Zhenya slides his hands into his trousers and inside his underwear. It’s tight against his wrist and the angle is awkward but the way Crosby moans in response more than makes up for the discomfort.

He wraps his hand around Crosby’s cock, and the way Crosby whimpers, the way his eyes flutter, makes Zhenya wish he were young enough to go another round. Crosby’s face contorts in pleasure with every stroke, and Zhenya would happily do this for the rest of his life just to watch Crosby respond. It’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen.

Zhenya keeps stroking him, and Crosby is getting closer and closer to the edge. Zhenya can hear it, in the way his whimpers move to higher and higher pitches, and in the way his hips jump roughly toward Zhenya, seeking more contact, more touch.

He goes back to kissing Crosby’s neck, and Crosby gasps and tilts his head, giving Zhenya more room to kiss and taste.

Zhenya knows he shouldn’t, knows it might leave a risky mark, but he can’t deny the opportunity, can’t resist the impulse to lightly bite at the delicate skin, just a gentle graze of his teeth.

The little bite to his neck is enough to push Crosby over the edge. He releases a quiet little moan and his cock jumps in Zhenya’s grip. Zhenya feels Crosby’s release stripe his arm and wrist. His hips stutter a bit and Zhenya presses soft kisses to the side of his neck and strokes him until he’s finished.

Crosby falls forward, and rests his forehead against Zhenya’s shoulder, his warm breath drifting across Zhenya’s collarbone. Zhenya’s wraps his free arm around Crosby’s shoulder and rests his hand against the back of his neck, soothing him with gentle strokes of his thumb.

The two of them stand there, catching their breath, Zhenya entirely undressed and Crosby completely disheveled.

Eventually, after his breathing has evened out, Crosby steps back, huffs out a laugh, and bashfully smiles up at Zhenya. Zhenya beams back.

Zhenya awkwardly pulls his hand out of Crosby’s trousers, trying his best not to stain Crosby’s trousers with the wetness on his hand.

After he manages to extricate it, he looks around for something to wipe his hand on, but finds nothing. Crosby reaches down and grabs Zhenya’s old shirt from the floor and cleans Zhenya’s hand with it. Zhenya raises his eyebrows.

Crosby quirks his lips and offers, “I was going to have it cleaned anyway.”

Zhenya huffs a laugh in response and pulls him in for an indulgent kiss.

Crosby pulls away breathless and says, “I really do need to dress you for dinner.”

“Yes, okay. You right. But we get you dressed first, yes?”

Crosby looks down at himself, and for the first time, notices his state of disarray.

“Oh! I hadn’t realized!” he says, a little embarrassed.

He straightens his trousers and neatly tucks his shirt back into them. He finds the stray suspender strap and twists it the right way around and attaches it to the waist of his trousers. Then he rebuttons his jacket and smooths his hands down his front.

“Am I all straightened up?” he asks, turning to Zhenya.

Zhenya laughs. Crosby’s lips are still raw, and his cheeks are still a little pink, and his hair is an absolute mess.

“Not quite,” Zhenya says and steps forward.

He raises his hand and begins to comb Crosby’s hair back. He does the best he can, but it still looks a wreck.

“Wait right here,” Zhenya says, and he goes to his case to pull out a tin of pomade.

He walks back to Crosby, twists open the tin, and reaches up to slick Crosby’s hair back.

When he’s finished he steps back, checks Crosby once over, and says, “Now, you’re perfect.”

Crosby dips his chin and murmurs, “Thank you. Your turn.”

He walks over to the closet and grabs the suit the he’d set aside earlier. He returns to stand in front of Zhenya. He lays the suit on the chaise and gathers the pieces of Zhenya’s travel-worn suit. His jacket, shirt, trousers, and tie are all laid on the chaise.

Crosby helps him step into his boxers and socks, and then his trousers. He pulls Zhenya’s arms through his crisp new shirt and buttons him up. He ties a beautiful Windsor knot with a new silk tie and pins the new cufflinks to Zhenya’s sleeves. Lastly, he steps behind Zhenya and helps him into his suit jacket.

Crosby turns Zhenya around. He straightens knot of the tie, brushes some imagined lint from Zhenya’s shoulder, and steps back.

Zhenya can see the professional reserve settle back over him, in the set of his shoulders and the countenance of his face.

Zhenya can’t stand the coolness, not from this man, not after the heat they’ve just shared.

“Call me ‘Zhenya’,” he urges.

“Pardon?”

“You say today you do whatever I need. I need you call me ‘Zhenya’, not ‘sir’.”

“Sir, Seigneur Lemieux has strict-,”

“In my rooms, you call me ‘Zhenya’, outside you call me ‘sir’, yes?”

Crosby bites his lip and pauses before nodding.

“All right, Zhenya,” he says.

He’s quiet for a moment before he says, “In here, you can call me ‘Sidney.’ If you want. You don’t have to.”

“I want, Sidney.”

He dips his chin and shyly smiles, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Zhenya?”

“You show me to the dining room, Sidney?”

“Of course.”

Sidney takes him back down the hall and down the stairs, and just as he makes to turn the last corner, Zhenya reaches out and gently grabs his wrist.

Sidney raises an eyebrow.

Zhenya pauses for a moment, making certain he has the words he needs in English before he speaks.

“Sidney, if you are not wanting to be my valet, is okay. Understand? If you are not wanting this, Letang can be my valet. I tell Lemieux I want to practice my French. I’m not make problem for you if you are not wanting this, yes?”

Sidney stares at him for a moment.

“I’ll see you after dinner, Monsieur Malkin.”

Zhenya smiles at Sidney and says, “After dinner, Crosby.”

Sidney gracefully bows his head and steps back and Zhenya watches him walk down the hall. Just as he turns the corner, Sidney looks back and softly smiles at him. Zhenya’s heart jumps.

#sidgeno photo challenge #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #sidgeno #1920s au #pwp #valet!sid #gentleman!geno #my fic #oc

[71tenseventeen]

For A Smile They Can Share The Night

Rated G

Content Warning: Some past homophobia and emotional abuse. 

@sidgenophotochallenge

Sid wakes at dawn.

He doesn’t particularly want to be awake but his brain isn’t getting the memo. He tosses and turns for a few minutes before admitting defeat. He tries to rouse Sam but even she just lifts her head and wuffles at him before burrowing back under the covers until all he can see of her is her tail. With a sigh, he shuffles off to start coffee.

He glances at his phone; It’s almost eight in Cole Harbor, he could probably call Mom back. She left a message yesterday which means she’ll call again today if he doesn’t call her back but he pushes his phone away and opts to fill the dishwasher first. After that he busies himself doing laundry and sweeping the porch.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to her. Of course he does, of course he misses his family. But lately any time they talk, she has so many questions. She asks about his plans, asks why he moved to Florida when Pittsburgh didn’t work out and why an island so far south? Isn’t he ready to come home yet?

He doesn’t know how to tell her that Cole Harbor was suffocating him, that even though Montreal and Minneapolis and Pittsburgh didn’t work out for him, that doesn’t mean he’s coming back. He doesn’t know what to say when she asks what he’s doing, what he’s looking for because he doesn’t know the answer to that himself. He doesn’t know how to tell her that even if this place doesn’t work out, Cole Harbor won’t be his next stop, that he might visit but he doesn’t want to live there.

He just doesn’t know how to say any of that to her so he ignores his phone and does the housework and waits for Sam to wake up.

It takes her another hour to be interested in getting up but once she does it doesn’t take any convincing to get her to come along with Sid on a morning run.  They’ve only been here a few months but the route is familiar to them both. Sid was lucky enough to find a tiny bungalow on a private beach with the next house being a quarter mile away but with all the trees, it’s not visible until he’s right up on it. Not that it matters—it’s not in great condition and has sat empty the entire time Sid has been here. He likes it, likes the privacy even if sometimes he thinks it’d be nice to have a friendly neighbor.

They’ve run this route enough times that they could probably both run it in their sleep. Sam frolics around the edge of the water and catches up to Sid every couple of minutes. Occasionally he throws her favorite tennis ball as far out ahead of him as he can manage and she chases after it happily, resurfacing after just a minute or two. It’s a comfortable routine.

He winds up to throw the black and yellow ball and watches her bound off into the trees before it even has a chance to hit the ground. And that’s when he hears someone curse. “Ow! Что за черт?!”

“Shit.” Sid takes off in the direction of the voice. It only takes him a moment to find the source directly in front of the run down house, a man with dark hair and dark, amused eyes crouching next to Sam as she nudges the ball out of his hand. Sid skids to a stop and puts his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

The man stands and brushes sand off of his basketball shorts before extending his hand. “Evgeni. I just move in.” His expression is cautious but his words are polite enough.

“Sidney. I live a quarter mile that way,” he says, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s Sam. Sorry about the ball. I hope it didn’t hurt you.”

Evgeni snorts. “Not too much. Just surprise to have ball come out of nowhere and then big dog run at me. But she good dog, very polite, not trample.”

“God no, she’s a good girl.”

Sam trots past Sid and back towards the water’s edge. “I guess that’s my cue. Listen, I’ve only been here a few months but if you need to know anything about town, let me know. I’ll try to help.”

“Thank. I think I’m good to go but will keep in mind. Nice to meet you, Sidney.”  

Sid recognizes it for the dismissal that it is and gives a wave before heading back off towards Sam.

After dinner Sid cleans up and then walks with Sam to the water’s edge to throw the ball around for awhile. He smiles as he watches her jump around in the surf and chase whatever tiny fish she sees below the surface. When she tires herself out they walk out on the boat slip and sit at the end of the long dock, watching the sunset together.

Sid tries to gather his thoughts and wonders not for the first or last time what it is he’s looking for, what it is he wants. He’s no closer to figuring it out when he looks over and spots what has to be Evgeni’s silhouette walking along the water’s edge in the distance. Sid can’t make out much, can really only tell that it seems like he’s walking in the opposite direction of Sid and that his shoulders are hunched. Sid hopes having a neighbor doesn’t cramp his style but he supposes if it does it won’t matter much. He’ll move on eventually anyhow.

Contrary to cramping his style, Sid barely even sees his new neighbor and other than a quick wave here and there, usually when he’s on his morning run. He wonders if he should just bring over a housewarming gift or something but Evgeni hasn’t exactly given any indication that he’s up for visitors. Sid’s not really sure what he’d bring anyhow. By the time a few weeks have passed, he doesn’t know any more about his new neighbor than he had the day they met.

He doesn’t actually speak to Evgeni again until a month has passed. He’s out on his normal morning run and Sam is bounding around, just like she usually does. Sid can see Evgeni is out working on his back deck and he throws up a quick wave. Evgeni gives a nod in Sid’s direction and goes back to his work. Normally, Sid doesn’t even pause his run, just keeps going.

Except today there are loons.

It’s not unusual to see the birds but it is unusual to see a whole flock of them several yard ahead. So unusual that Sam loses her composure entirely and before Sid can even react she’s bounding out of the shallows.

Sid doesn’t change his course, trusting her to watch where she’s going. It’s a mistake. “Sam, no! Sam—Whoa! WhOAA!!”  She hits his leg so hard it knocks him sideways and the next thing he’s aware of is the fact that he’s laying on the beach with a face full of sand.

“Ughhh,” he groans and slowly pushes himself up, trying to shake the sand out of his face and quickly discovers that there is sand everywhere. It’s all over his hands and in his hair. His whole front side must be covered but it’s hard to tell because he can’t wipe it out of his eyes. “Sam,” he starts, wanting to scold her but he has to stop and spit sand off of his lips. He swears he’s never buying her a new toy again.

Before he can figure out what to do, there’s a voice. Deep and with an unforgettable accent. “Sidney! You okay?”

“Evgeni?” Sid blinks in the direction of the voice and winces. “Ugh, I have sand in my eyes.”

A big body is next to him then. “Keep eyes closed, need to rinse out. You okay? Hurt anywhere?”

Sid takes stock. His palms and knees both feel scraped but other than that he’s pretty sure it’s just his dignity that took the biggest hit. “I don’t think so. Some scrapes maybe? Nothing major.”

“All right. I’m help you up now, want you to keep eyes closed.”

Sid does as he’s told and hopes his neighbor is trustworthy as he’s led in the direction of Evgeni’s house. “I can’t leave Sam out here.”

“She right here.” As if on cue, Sid feels her brush against his leg.

“She’s never done that before. I can’t believe she knocked me over.”

“I see whole thing. Big flock of loons. You had no hope,” he says and Sid thinks he hears a hint of laughter in his voice.  

Sid does his best not to be a baby as Evgeni doctors him up. The hardest part is rinsing out his eyes at what he assumes is Evgeni’s kitchen sink. Over and over until he can finally see again and then he heads back out to the deck to finish de-sanding himself. Once all the sand is dusted off and washed away, Evgeni brings out a first aid kid and sits down across from Sid. “Give me hand?”

Sid stares for a moment at the very large hand that’s been extended to him before he offers up his own. Evgeni is gentle but efficient making sure Sid’s knees and palms are cleaned and applying ointment and band-aids to a couple of scrapes that actually drew blood. Sid watches his careful hands. “You’re good at this.”

Evgeni shrugs and turns Sid’s hand over in his to check the fingers. “Used to coach little kids hockey. Lots of little injury.”

“No way, you coached hockey?” Sid lights up. “I love hockey.”

“Yes?” Evgeni glances up at him. “You play?”

“Sure. Off and on the whole time I was growing up, when we could afford it.”

“I do same at home in Russia. Who you root for now?” Evgeni raises his eyebrow and this feels like a watershed moment.

“Pens.”

A slow smile spreads across Evgeni’s face. “Was worry for a second that I help dirty Flyers fan.”

Sid throws his head back and laughs, delighted. “That would be terrible.”

“Would have to take back band-aids. Maybe throw sand at you.” He’s grinning, tongue poking through his teeth.

“No one could blame you,” Sid says on another laugh as he holds up his hand to look at it. “So what do you think? Am I going to make it?”

Evgeni wobbles his hand back and forth but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “Was touch and go for moment but I think you recover.”

“Thank you for helping me. I’m sure I looked ridiculous.”

Evgeni grins at him. “Well, definitely was sight to see but I’m glad you okay.”

Sid feels his cheeks heating up and he should get back to his run but he kind of wants to just stay here. “So, you’ve been fixing this place up, eh? The deck is looking great.”

“Thanks. Is a lot of work but I think, is good project, keep me busy, I make it my own.”

“Definitely. Hey if you ever need help with something, I’m happy to try to help. I used to help my Dad with stuff like this when I was growing up.”

“Careful, might take you up on that.”

After that, Sid loses track of how long they sit there talking. It’s not until his stomach is growling and Sam is whining for her breakfast that he stands to go .”Thanks again, you know, for helping me out.”

“Of course. Is what good neighbor would do,” he says.

Sid says his goodbyes but as he makes his way down the beach back towards home he hears Evgeni call after him, “Watch out for loon!”  

Sid laughs the rest of the way home.

After that it feels a little easier to approach Evgeni and somehow, over time they develop something of a routine. Evgeni is almost always outside when Sid runs so Sid usually waves when he runs past the first time and stops to chat on his way back. Evgeni is guarded—they talk about things like his house renovation and hockey but anytime they approach anything that seems too personal, Evgeni backs off so Sid doesn’t push.

The thing is, Sid is really starting to look forward to their daily chats. Maybe they don’t talk about anything too deep or personal but it’s nice just having someone to talk to again. And Evgeni is interesting. He’s funnier than Sid ever would have imagined and so smart. It’s nothing for him to rattle off some interesting fact about a bird flying by or one of the many plants he’s potted around his back deck.

It’s only accidentally that Sid learns he used to teach in Moscow. It slips out while he’s telling Sid all about the cordyline he planted. Sid is amazed at his knowledge and can’t help asking, “How do you remember all of this? It’s amazing.”

Evgeni grins and moves on to the next plant. “Used to be botanist, taught at University in Moscow. Plants very interesting to me, you know? Make it easier to learn about them and remember.”

“I had no idea,” Sid says, smiling. “Moscow, huh? What’s that like?”

Evgeni’s smile fades as he turns his back to Sid. “Is… difficult. Where you grow up?” And Sid knows they won’t be talking about Moscow any more today.

“Oh, um, a little town called Cole Harbor in Nova Scotia.”

Evgeni looks interested when he glances up. “Canada? I thought maybe i hear little bit accent.”

“Yeah, Canada.”

“What you do there?”

“I owned a gym, did personal training. You know—fitness, nutrition, all that.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It is. I mean it was. I just… Back there, the types of clients I was getting were just hard to deal with after awhile.”

“So you quit?”

“Yup. Sold the business, left all that behind.”

“Is how you end up here?”

Sid doesn’t begin to know how to explain everything that happened between Cole Harbor and here so he just shrugs. “Something like that. It’s complicated.”

Evgeni nods. “Yeah. I’m understand that.” And he sounds like he really does.

A few weeks after the loon incident, Sid helps Evgeni demo some old walls and install a new support beam before resheeting the remaining walls. It takes the better part of a week and Evgeni is frustrated when Sid won’t accept any kind of payment for helping.

“Sid, come on. Was almost a whole week of work.”

Sid shrugs. “I didn’t do it for money. I did it to help you out. Besides, you bought dinner every night.”  It’s true. Evgeni had ordered takeout that they ate out on the deck every night when they finished up work for the day.

“And you buy lunch every day so dinner not count.”

“You’re not paying me.”

“You stubborn,” Evgeni says, with a glare and Sid figures that’s the end of it.

It’s not.

Sid probably shouldn’t be surprised when Evgeni shows up at his door the next evening, arms weighed down with bags.

“Evgeni?”

“I make dinner and bring for thank you.” He tips his chin up defiantly and Sid laughs.

“Now who’s stubborn, hm?”

“You make me stand here all night?”

Sid sighs but he can’t hold back his smile. “Come in.”

In the kitchen Sid watches wide-eyed as Evgeni unpacks what must be at least ten tupperware dishes. “Oh my god! How much did you make?”

Evgeni shrugs. “Make you Russian feast and…” He trails off and pulls one last container, a cardboard box that has the name of a bakery in town printed on the side. Evgeni opens it with something of a flourish and a smug grin. “You say cheesecake your favorite so I get one with many flavor. In case you hate all the rest of the food,” and he looks cheeky as he says it.

“Okay first of all, I won’t hate the rest of the food. And second…” Sid pulls the cheesecake closer to himself. “You’ll be lucky to get any of this.”

Evgeni laughs. “We see. Where you keep plates?”

They eat on Sid’s back deck this time, at the little table with an umbrella that he keeps out there. There’s still enough natural light to see well but the heat of the day has passed and it’s nice, sitting in the breeze.

“This food is amazing,” Sid says, halfway through his second serving of khinkali. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

He shrugs. “Mama teach me. Grow up learning, you know?”

“Remind me to thank her if I ever meet her.”

Something dark passes over Evgeni’s face and Sid changes the subject. “So did you live anywhere else in the states before here?” And they settle back into more comfortable conversation.

It’s long past the time the sun has set when they finally make their way back into the kitchen and start packing up the leftovers. Evgeni pauses as they work side by side and says quietly, “Should call me Zhenya.”

“Oh. That’s like a nickname, right?”

Evgeni—Zhenya looks a little surprised but pleased. “Yes. In Russia, friends call by this name. I think we friends now, yes?”

Sid catches his gaze and there’s a lot going through his mind right now but he just says softly, “I hope so.”

Zhenya holds his gaze a little longer. His smile is a little subdued but it makes Sid feel warm inside.

After a moment or two Zhenya ducks his head and goes back to packing up the leftovers. He takes it upon himself to put half of them in Sid’s fridge and he lingers there for a moment.

Sid’s not sure what changed but Zhenya gets quiet after that. Sid offers him a drink, asks if he wants to watch some hockey highlights and for a second he thinks Zhenya is considering it as he looks around Sid’s living room.

But then he takes a deep breath and his expression is guarded again, in a way it hasn’t been for weeks. “Is getting late. Need to get home.”

“Oh. Right, sure. Well, thank you, Zhenya, for dinner. It was great.”

“You’re welcome, Sidney.”

The next morning Zhenya’s outside when Sid runs past the first time and even returns his wave but when Sid comes back around, he’s gone. After that, it’s hit and miss. Sometimes Zhenya’s outside and they chat but it’s more like when they first met again, careful and cautious.

Sid’s not sure what to make of it. That night at his house had felt like a turning point, like maybe there could be something more between them and if he’s being honest with himself, that’s exactly what he was hoping for. But that’s not something he can force and if Zhenya needs to keep him at arm’s length to be comfortable, then Sid can deal with that.

Still, the whole experience has made him realize that maybe he misses hopeful thrill of being with someone who could be more than a friend.

That’s probably why he finds himself at the Blue Flamingo on a Friday night a few weeks later. He’s been here before and it’s more comfortable for him than the other gay bars in the area, a more relaxed atmosphere and less frenetic pace. Plus the drinks are good and they make a killer coconut shrimp so even if he doesn’t meet anyone, he’s got that to look forward to.

Once he’s seated and placed his drink order, he scans the crowd. It’s not too busy yet but it’s not deserted, either. It’s one of the things he likes about the place—you can breathe but there are still people around. Despite living here for months now, he hasn’t really gotten to know many people so he doesn’t expect to see anyone he knows. That’s probably why it’s so surprising when his gaze lands on a pair of dark, familiar eyes.

Zhenya.

He wonders for a moment if Zhenya will shy away like he has been but he smiles when he sees Sid, raises his glass in a hello. Sid gives a little wave and tips his head back, inviting Zhenya over. For a second he thinks Zhenya will say no but then he’s making his way to Sid’s booth with a soft smile.

“Hey Sid, not expect I see you here.”

Sid grins and motions to the seat across from him. “They have the best coconut shrimp, you know? Want to join me?”

Zhenya looks thoughtful for a moment but then he slides into the seat across from Sid. “Coconut shrimp?”

Sid grins. “It’s my favorite thing on the menu.”

“Maybe I try. Usually get lobster puff. You try it before?”

Sid shakes his head. “I don’t get out very often, I guess. Maybe I’ll try them tonight.”

“Good plan. We order lobster puff and coconut shrimp and share, yes?”

And just like that Sid finds himself having dinner with Zhenya again.

It’s nice and the conversation flows in a way it hasn’t in a few weeks. Zhenya is so funny, Sid can’t remember the last time he laughed so much. Or the last time he liked someone so much. Everything is going so well and maybe it’s that or the relaxed buzz his drink has left him with but when Zhenya smiles at him over their empty plates and says, “This fun, Sid. Glad I run into you tonight,” Sid decides to take a chance.

Smiling shyly he reaches over and rests his hand gently on Zhenya’s. “Me too. Zhenya, I— I like you.”

In an instant, Zhenya’s expression shuts down and he pulls his hand away. “Not okay with this Sid.”

Sid pulls his hand back as quickly as if he’d been burned and drops his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— I’m really sorry.”

Zhenya sighs. “I like you too and think about you a lot but can’t do this,” he says, motioning between them and Sid feels his cheeks grow hot with the shame of rejection. “Can’t be side thing, Sid.”

Sid looks up, confused. “What?”

“Not judging you, okay? Just, for me, need to be only one.”  

“I… I don’t understand.” Sid shakes his head. “Only one? You think… You think I’m with someone?” Sid is so confused.

“Very obvious you are, I see pictures of pretty girl all over your living room, on your fridge. Hard to deny, Sid.”

“Pictures… Wait. You mean Taylor?”

Zhenya shrugs. “I not want to ask her name when I realize. She know you do this, Sid?”

“Zhenya, I’m gay. I don’t have a girlfriend. Taylor is my sister.”

Zhenya opens his mouth to reply and then snaps it shut. Sid watches pink heat slowly creep up his cheeks as he drops his mouth open again to speak and nothing comes out. “Sister?” He finally croaks out.

“Yeah. My kid sister.”  Sid turns on his phone and shows Zhenya the home screen. Sid and Taylor together as kids.

Zhenya stares at it, speechless for a moment before clearing his throat. “Feeling most stupid right now, Sid,” he says, avoiding Sid’s eyes and maybe Sid should be annoyed but all he feels is relief as a grin lights up his face.

“Oh my god, you thought I was dating my sister?” He giggles, then, covering his mouth with his hand.

“How I supposed to know?” Zhenya retorts, a little defensive but holding back his own smile just before they both dissolve into laughter.

Eventually their snickers die down and Zhenya smiles over at Sid. “I’m so sorry, Sid. Make big assumption.”

Sid’s smile falls away and he sits up straighter as understanding hits him. “That’s why you left that night after dinner. I didn’t know what you were looking at. You thought...Oh my god, you must have thought I was such a jerk!”

Zhenya shrugs. “Not jerk but… Also not a situation I’m interested in. Sorry now I didn’t ask.”

Sid sighs. “It’s okay. I could have probably told you but you usually seem uncomfortable when the subject of family comes up so I just kind of avoided the topic. I probably could have mentioned I had a sister.”

Zhenya gives Sid a somber smile before reaching over to gently touch his hand. “Sid, you think maybe we get out of here? Go somewhere and talk?”

Sid doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

Forty minutes later they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder on Zhenya’s back steps, staring out at the dark ocean.

They’re both quiet at first but Sid doesn’t try to fill the silence. He has a feeling Zhenya has something to say so he waits. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes, Zhenya sighs. “I tell you before, I teach in Moscow?”

“At a university, yeah. Botany right?”

“Yes and some biology. Was in good position to get tenure.”

“So why did you leave?” Sid immediately wants to take back the question. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

Zhenya shakes his head. “Want to answer. I leave because administrator find out I’m have relationship with man and they fire me on the spot.”

“Oh my god. Zhenya, no. I’m so sorry.”

Zhenya won’t look at him. “Man I was with was assistant. I work with him many years and trust him but when they question us, he lies and say I harass him.”

Sid swallows hard and reaches out to take Zhenya’s hand, squeezing gently. “That’s...that’s horrible.”

Zhenya huffs out a humorless laugh. “Feel so stupid, you know, think maybe could love this man but he’s willing to lie. If he tell truth, we would be lucky, they just fire us both. But if he say I harass him? They tell police and I’m in big trouble. In Russia, this kind of thing mean bad punishment.  I hide in my parents house for couple of days but my brother, he doesn’t like me being there. Think I’m disgusting person and threaten to call police on me if I’m not leave. What choice I’m have? I pack up and leave country.”

“Zhenya…” Sid is speechless. He’d always assumed there was something in Zhenya’s past that made him look the way he did anytime they mentioned family but this is worse than he ever suspected.

Zhenya squeezes his hand, though, and looks over at Sid with a hint of a smile. “I guess is why I kind of have hard time trust people now.”

“Of course it is.”

“I leave Moscow, come to New York, meet guys but everything there so fast, so hard to find kind of relationship I’m looking for. I start to think maybe is not meant to happen for me but then I read about the Keys. Tropical paradise where everyone accept you, not have to hide who you are. So I come here and first day I meet you. Feels like a dream, you know?”

Sid ducks his head, suddenly feeling more shy than ever but Zhenya reaches over and uses his fingers to gently tip Sid’s chin up. “Hey. Want to tell you how sorry I am for way I act, for making assumption and not giving you chance you deserve.”

“It’s okay. Anyone in your shoes would have done the same thing.”

“Like you a lot, Sid. But need you to know, I’m not kind of guy who can do one night stand or friend with benefits. I’m want more and don’t want to start something with you if that not what you want, too.”

“Zhenya, that’s all I want.”

Zhenya smiles and his expression is full of hope. “Sure?”

“Completely sure.”

Zhenya leans in close as he says softly. “Then maybe we try. Sid, would like to go out with me sometime?”

“I’d really like that,” he says with a smile and closes the gap.

#sidgeno photo challenge #Round 2 #For A Smile They Can Share The Night #my fic