twentysomething: (no YOU nice)
Length: 33,000, 12,300 this part
Notes: More hockey, 100% more sex than the previous part.

They’re on the ice most of the morning and they’re scheduled to spend most of the afternoon reviewing the Czech team’s games so far. Alex is making noises about them all going to lunch at some place he heard about from the Ukranian women down the hall and Geno is feeling easy and amenable today, so he agrees. He’s in and out of the shower quickly, scrubbing his hair mostly dry, but he’s still the first one ready. He feels a little weird wearing the same thing every day for the better part of a week, but they keep throwing tracksuits at them, so Geno keeps putting them on.

He feels a little too warm after the hard skate and the hot shower, so he tells Alex and Sergei that he’s heading outside and will meet them there. But he’s walking past the entrance to the ice and he can hear skates and friendly yelling, so he curiously pokes his head out- and his eye catches on the maple leaf.

Geno thinks he’ll just look for a moment, just a minute, but he catches sight of Sid, zipping across the ice, barking out orders and it’s familiar and lulls him into leaning against the door to the bench, just watching her go.

“Oh, hey, Geno,” a voice says, startling him. Mikkelson is watching him from the ice, grinning.

“Hello, I just-“ Geno starts to try to explain himself.

She snorts and waves him off. “I’ll go get her for you,” she says, skating off. She hip checks Sid carefully, grabbing her hands, spinning Sid around. Mikkelson whispers something in her ear then points her over toward Geno, giving her a gentle shove in his direction.

“Hey!” Sid calls cheerfully, pulling herself back over the boards and onto the bench. “Didn’t think I’d see you until dinner.”

“Just finished skate, going lunch with team,” Geno explains. He’s not used to seeing her wearing the full mask, her features obscured.

“Is there something on my face?” Sid asks, before pulling off the mask. “Oh, yeah, it’s weird, right?”

“Make you look like goalie,” Geno says. “But Flower have nothing to protect under mask.”

Sid laughs. “Oh, and I do?”

It’s not fishing for a compliment, just a flip response, but Geno wonders if Sid realizes how beautiful she is- the big brown eyes, the pink, full mouth. “More than Flower,” Geno says, aiming for flippant like her.

Sid grins up at him. “Thanks,” she says. “I think.”

“Best at compliment,” Geno agrees.

“I have to get back out there,” Sid says with a nod toward the ice. “Text you later?”

“Go, go,” Geno cocks his hip against the door. “See you tonight.”

Sid shoots him another perfect grin. “Tonight.”

Geno watches her go over the boards, and as many times as he’s seen her go, he never gets tired of seeing it.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, which is when he remembers he’s supposed to be meeting Alex, Sergei and Ilya for lunch.

“Zhenya, did you get lost?” Alex asks.

“Sorry, sorry, I ran into Sid, where are you, I’ll be there in a moment.” Geno says.

“Typical, we let you loose, you find Crosby and get distracted,” Alex sighs. “Get outside.”

Alex has his arms crossed over his chest. Sergei looks amused and Ilya just looks confused.

“So, they’re dating?” Ilya asks.

Geno shakes his head as Alex nods and Sergei shrugs.

“Zhenya has a reckless young person’s relationship,” Sergei says. “I find it too confusing and distressing to ask about.”

“It’s confusing for you?” Alex demands. “I have to watch it.”

Geno resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I don’t know why you’re all so obsessed with the idea that Sid and I are dating.”

Ilya shrugs. “No, that part I get.”

“What?” Geno demands.

“It’s like star-crossed hockey love. When you get married, they’ll probably make a movie about it,” Alex says.

“Basically,” Kovalchuk shrugs. “But, so you’re not dating?”

“No,” Geno says emphatically.

Ilya makes a surprised face. “I honestly had thought you two had been hooking up for years.”

“Seriously?” Geno asks.

Ilya stares at him. “You pretty much try to punch out anyone who touches her. And have you ever watched any interview you’ve ever done together? I mean, the whole team thinks it.” Kovy pauses. “I mean the Thrashers. I’m guessing the Devils do, too.”

Geno lets himself put his face in his hands now.

“You never wondered why no one in the league ever tried to hit on her?” Ilya asks.

“I had honestly never thought it was because everyone thought I was sleeping with her,” Geno mutters. Through his fingers, he can see the fucking smug expression on Alex’s face.

“Cheer up,” Alex says. “I heard Toews struck out.”

“What,” Geno says blankly. How does Alex even find out about this shit?

“Canadians can’t compete with Russians when it comes to love, don’t worry.” Alex slings an arm around Geno’s shoulders. “Crosby would have to be crazy to pick him over you. Your children would be much cuter than hers and Toews’.”

“I don’t know what your obsession is with the idea of me and Sid having children,” Geno says slowly, trying to get out of Alex’s iron grip around his shoulders, “but it’s really freaking me out.”

“Sasha is just hitting that age,” Sergei explains, drawing Geno away. “Baby fever.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m a fourteen year old girl,” Alex says indignantly.

“When you stop acting like one, that’s when I’ll stop,” Sergei says soothingly. “Zhenya, don’t let them bother you. You and Sidney have an… unconventional relationship. You do things your own way. Things are just fine.”

“You’re the only one I’m still friends with,” Geno grumbles.

“That being said, Geno, you’re not getting any younger,” Sergei starts.

Geno violently shrugs out of Sergei’s grip. “You all are the worst,” Geno tells them.

“Man, I just told you the truth,” Ilya says with a shrug. “Harsh.”


Surprisingly, they drop it, sticking to everyone else’s personal life- or lack thereof, in Alex’s case- over lunch. It’s nice just catching up with all of them. He feels strangely at ease, laughing and talking shit, letting everything else slip away.

He’s in a good mood for tape review, and it gets even better when they head out in the early dusk, his phone buzzing in his hand: you free yet? starving

coming meet you 30 Geno sends back.

Sid is waiting for him in the dining hall, sitting at their usual table, biting her lip, tapping her fingers against the table.

“Sorry, I late,” Geno says.

Sid glances up and smiles brightly. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “But I’m dying, so-“

“Come, come, yes,” Geno says, motioning toward the dinner stations.

It isn’t until they’re mostly finished eating, that Sid turns an almost speculative look on him.

“After practice, Hayley invited me out to see some of Vancouver with her boyfriend and her son,” Sid starts, fiddling with her fork.

Geno raises his eyebrows when she doesn’t continue.

“It was nice, you know?” Sid says, sounding a little wistful. “Noah is a sweet kid. I mean, it’s crazy, Wick isn’t even ten years older than I am, but she’s… settled, you know?”

Geno makes an affirmative noise, mostly because Sid is on some kind of introspective roll and he doesn’t want to derail her.

“I guess he just sort of reminded me of Taylor.” Sid shakes her head. “I don’t know. Wick had Noah when she was my age- which- I can’t even imagine that. But she’s a great mom and a great player. I don’t know. I just want people to say that about me someday.”

Geno feels his chest tighten. There’s something so sad about the way Sid says it, like she doesn’t know if she’ll get to have that, and it feels like a punch to the ribs. It’s everything he’s ever wanted- for himself, for her. Sid can be reserved- uncomfortable- around adults in a way she never is with children; she clearly loves them and they love her.

“It just makes me think,” Sid sighs. “I have hockey all figured out, but…” She glances up to catch Geno’s eyes and there’s something there he can’t place, strangely earnest. “Do you ever think about this stuff?”

Geno takes a deep breath. “Course. Think about wife, children, dog. Cat, for surprises.” He manages to keep his voice even. “Big family. Like noisy house.”

Sid’s smile is small and perfect, a little enigmatic edge to it. “How much noise?”

Geno chuckles. “All noise. Never quiet.” On the few occasions he’s let himself day dream about it, there’s gear left all over the house, kids shrieking in the backyard in the summer and Sid, always Sid. “Need two babysitter.”

Sid’s smile turns a little dreamy around the edges and he wonders what she’s thinking of. “Enough for a whole shift on the ice, huh?” she asks and Geno laughs, surprised.

“Should have known Sid just want own team,” he teases.

“Can’t let the Staals beat me to it, they already have a numbers advantage,” Sid says cheerfully and Geno nearly spits out his drink.

“Have work cut out,” Geno finally says, once he can breathe again.

Sid just hums thoughtfully. “Looking forward to it, though.” She clinks her bottle of water against his. “Goals.”

“Goals,” Geno murmurs back, feeling happy for no real reason.


Looking back, that dinner is like the calm before the storm- the next few days he hardly sees Sid, or anything that’s not his apartment or the rink. They practice hard and it pays off- he gets two goals against the Czechs and they win, 4-2, regulation. It feels good, like shaking off the last of the ugly shoot out loss to Slovakia, finally.

Sid- of course- beats Finland the next day. They knock them out, 5-0, sending them to the finals against the US women, which is basically what everyone had known the competition would end up being, right from the start.

And when the Canadian men beat Germany to qualify for the finals, the moment Geno had been waiting for pretty much all tournament rolls around- they’re playing Canada.

He’s sort of glad they have less than 24 hours notice, because the pressure is unreal, making him think of World Juniors, back in 2005. Whenever Canada and Russia play against each other there’s a palpable tension in the air, a rivalry that feels as old as the game itself. He forces himself to sleep, but there’s an undercurrent in the apartment, in the air- the knowledge that tomorrow it’s going to be catastrophic for one team or the other.

He wakes up to a text from Sid on his phone: Play hard. Don’t hold anything back.

Geno takes a deep breath and gets ready for the day.

Practice is understandably anxious, nerves frayed. Geno tries to buckle down, push past everything else to the core of everything- he’s a good hockey player, they have a good team and a good chance. All he needs is a little luck.


He doesn't get it.

Canada scores first and just keeps scoring, relentless. Even when Dmitri scores, they end the period 4-1. There’s still that hope in the air- they can come back from that, but three minutes into the second period, Canada scores again- and again before they finally swap Bryzgalov in for Nabokov. Maxim scores, shooting right past Luongo, but it’s 6-2 and even Geno has to admit they’re not playing well.

Perry scores again, which is disappointing. Finally, Alex is distracting Luongo, and even though Geno can’t make the shot, he passes to Sergei who slaps it into the net and Geno thinks maybe the game is coming around.

And maybe it does, but they can’t seem to make it to the net, and the period ends, 7-3.

The third period is just a mess of penalties, back and forth and missed opportunities, including a shot Geno was sure of, blocked at the last second less than five minutes before the end of the period on a power play. It feels like skating through quicksand, the Canadian crowd screaming louder and louder and the scoreboard relentlessly broadcasts it- 7-3.

The buzzer sounds and that’s it- Geno’s Olympics are over again.


No one meets each other’s eyes in the locker room- especially because a lot of the eyes in the room aren’t particularly dry, his own included. Geno feels like he’s just stewing in disappointment- his own, the team’s, the coaching staff’s- the country’s. He’s lost games before, important games, even, but it feels like the last time he was here- like being young and waiting to get to the NHL, like starting all over again.

He feels like he gets why people say “crushing” before sadness, before disappointment- it feels like a vice around his chest, his lungs, the weight of their loss turning physical and overwhelming. Geno doesn’t know what to do, other than just head back to the apartment. Alex is nowhere to be seen, and Geno just sits down on the couch, numb.

His phone buzzes in his bag, but he can’t make himself answer it, even if it’s his parents, meaning the best. He just sits there, waiting for nothing- nowhere to go, nothing to do.

He must sit there for almost an hour before he hears the key in the door that must mean Alex has finished the press gauntlet, finally.

But when the door opens, it’s Sid.

She’s holding a bottle of Grey Goose, nestled carefully in the crook of the arm not quietly taking the keys out of the lock, hesitantly.

“Ovechkin gave me this,” Sid says after a second’s worth of fidgeting, holding the bottle out. “And his keys, obviously.” She closes the door, putting the keys down on the counter.

She hesitates again, just for a moment, but then she walks right over to the couch and sits down next to him, cracking open the bottle in a loud crunching snap that seems impossibly loud in the silence.

Sid passes him the bottle wordlessly- Geno sighs and takes a deep gulp.

She doesn’t say anything, just takes the bottle from him and knocks back a mouthful, pulling a little bit of a face, inhaling deeply.

He’s not sure how long it takes, but he just steadily works his way through the bottle, Sid taking maybe one more little drink by the time he’s a little over half way through. He’s not sure whether the faint burning in his throat is vodka or tears, honestly, and doesn’t really care at this point.

“Sid,” he finally says, not sure what, if anything he means to say after that. It’s all derailed anyway, because Sid gets this look in her eye and she just grabs him, hugging him tightly. He doesn’t- can’t- stop himself from holding her just as tightly, their knees bumping together as he clutches at her, his face buried in her hair.

And how terrible is his life that he has Sidney Crosby in his arms, and he’s maybe two seconds away from crying on her?

They stay just like that, even though it’s uncomfortable and maybe a little awkward, Geno on the edge of some kind of emotional outburst, until it passes. Until he just feels tired, Sid’s arms around his neck, her hand at the nape of his neck anchoring him steady.

“C’mon,” she says, leaning back but not letting go. “To bed.”

He knows she can’t stay- her game against the US for the gold is the next afternoon- but he almost hopes she might. Sid coaxes him into the bedroom, slipping his jacket off, her hands gentle but professional as she all but tucks him into bed, drawing the covers up over him. She walks out of the bedroom, but is back in a moment, putting a Gatorade and a bottle of water on the nightstand.

“Good night,” Sid whispers, looking conflicted and sad and all of a sudden it’s so important, it’s crucial that she know he wants her to win. He catches her hand in a clumsy clasp.

“Sid,” Geno says thickly, slow with exhaustion and alcohol. “Play hard. Win.”

Her breath catches and she sits on the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back with the hand not still tucked in his. “What, did you bet on me again?” she asks, her voice light, but shaky.

Geno squeezes her hand tightly. “Money always on you.”

Sid’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Bet big,” she says, squeezing back before she stands up and lets go of his hand.

She slips out of the room, turning off the lights as she goes.


The first time Geno wakes up, it’s mostly because he has to piss and judging from his stagger from the bed to the bathroom, he’s still drunk. He grabs the bottle of water from the nightstand as he goes and basically chugs it while pissing, then stumbles back to bed.

When he wakes up the second time, it’s probably a godlier hour, judging from the sunlight, which is aggressively friendly. He forces his eyes open to stare at his cellphone- it’s almost noon and he has about 10 various missed calls. He cracks open the Gatorade and sips at it gently while he waits for his body to adjust to consciousness, albeit extremely reluctantly.

Eventually, he gets up, and takes a hot shower, which goes a long way toward making him feel human. He doesn’t think he can handle his team tracksuit today, so instead he throws on jeans and a sweater and migrates to the couch, feeling relatively proud of himself for that level of functioning. Geno knows what he really needs is some food, but he still feels like the equilibrium in his body is delicate and he doesn’t want to disturb it.

“Oh, so you’re alive,” Alex says, sticking his head out of his bedroom. He shakes the vodka bottle at Geno. “Nice job- did Crosby even help, or is this all you?”

“You’re very loud,” Geno groans.

“You’re such a baby. C’mon, let’s go get breakfast,” Alex says, harassing Geno into his coat and out the door. He walks them out of the village and a few blocks away to a restaurant that’s basically a hole in the wall where he makes Geno order the biggest burger they can make.

“Next time,” Alex says, kicking Geno in the ankle. “Maybe we skate against your Crosby, too.”

Geno snorts. “Four years is a long time to wait for a rematch,” he mutters, but it’s just a dull ache now, the worst of the disappointment past. There’s always the Cup, after all.

“Well, you need the practice,” Alex says and just laughs when Geno throws a french fry at him.

“Thank you,” Geno says grudgingly, after Alex has stopping laughing at him. “For last night.”

“You sound like you’re thanking me for a night of regrettable sex,” Alex says. “Are you trying to hump and dump me?” He drops “hump and dump” into the sentence in English.

“There is just something… so wrong with you,” Geno tells him.

“Shut up, you wish you knew how to quit me,” Alex says, lofty, as he puts an insane amount of hot sauce on his burger.

“Clearly, the Olympics are only every four years so I don’t kill you. I can only take so much of this.” Geno sighs. He checks his phone- it’s almost 2. Sid’s game is at 3:30, and he’s wondering if he has it in him to go by himself.

“Whatever, finish your food, loser. I’m making you walk your ass to the stadium, it’s only 20 minutes.” Alex punctuates by taking a disgustingly huge bite of his burger.

“What?” Geno says, wondering if he’d spoken aloud, earlier.

“Crosby’s game is at 3:30, you’re the worst boyfriend ever,” Alex says, like Geno had forgotten.

“You’re coming?” Geno asks, still surprised.

“Of course, idiot. Someone has to watch your hungover ass, or she’ll shiv me.” Alex sighs.

Alex eats most of Geno’s fries then hustles them back out into the cold to walk around the creek to the arena. The fresh air is actually kind of nice, the wind keeping him awake and on an even keel. Between the food and the walk, Geno feels like he’s at about 85%- not great, but infinitely better than he expected.
Of course, the rapidly filling arena and the general noise puts him to the test. There seem to be about a hundred cowbells in the arena.

A couple of minutes before the game, Flower sits down right next to them. Geno hasn’t seen him since they shook hands on the ice yesterday, but he has no problem with him- Flower is a Penguin first and Canadian second in Geno’s mind, so he just half arm hugs him.

“I hear Gretzky here somewhere,” Geno opens with. “Is like your god, yes?”

Flower barks out a surprised laugh. “He’s like, everyone’s god.”

“He has such a crush on your girlfriend, Zhenya,” Alex laughs. “From like, disturbing young age.”

“Everyone crush on Sid hockey,” Geno says dismissively. It’s just a fact.

“Girlfriend?” Flower says, eyebrows up.

Geno shrugs. “Ovechkin crazy.”

“Crazy like fox,” Alex says, tapping the side of his nose like it makes him look wise instead of picking his nose.

“I hope she shows them no mercy,” Flower says, completely sidestepping Alex, which is the only smart option.

“Sid always play to win,” Geno agrees. “Where rest of team?”

“Oh, up there,” Flower says, waving a hand up toward the press box. “But if you can’t be on the ice, hockey’s always better in the stands.”

Geno can’t deny it- the arena is packed in essentially a sea of red. If he thought it was loud before, it’s nothing compared to when they take the ice, Sid facing off against the American captain.

The game is certainly exciting- the goalies on both sides being hard pressed to keep the game scoreless. There are some early penalties that come to nothing on the power play, but then Canada takes it in and a pass from Botterill to Poulin is knocked astray- and for a moment it looks like it’s going to be a turnover in front of the US goal, but then Sid has it and the puck disappears into the net. It happens so fast that they’re a little slow on the uptake, leaping to their feet as Sid’s teammates crash into her in a tangle of limbs.

The replay on the screen is like being hypnotized, the same unbelievable catch and fire every time when it should never have worked. It hardly takes three minutes for Canada to score again, Poulin nabbing a scorcher of a shot off a faceoff, firing it past the American goalie in the blink of an eye.

The arena erupts in frantic cheering, the feeling of excitement contagious. Game play is tense, but the Canadians manage to hold the Americans back, every minute a step closer to the win. They hold through the second period; they hold through the third.

The buzzer sounds and that’s it- Sid wins gold.


He texts her immediately, even though he knows she won’t get it until later, after the medal ceremony, which can’t even happen until they clear the ice of all the things thrown onto it- flags, signs, flowers.

sid best he sends, even as Flower is still occasionally shaking him excitedly, Alex flinging an arm over his shoulders.

They wait through the Americans being awarded their medals, the crowd politely and kindly cheering for the great game they put up, but the moment they start handing out golds the crowd loses it.

The overhead calls out “Sidney Crosby,” and the stadium cheer swells, Geno, Alex and Flower shouting as loudly as they can, the jumbotron showing the Crosbys and Mario cheering, cutting to Gretzky clapping loudly. Sid is grinning, her eyes bright, ducking down to receive her medal. She shakes the hand of the IOC representative, taking the bouquet she’s offered- even though the cameras have passed, Geno only has eyes for her.

When they play “O Canada,” the flags raising, they pan over the faces of the entire team- Sid’s grin seems permanently attached to her face and Geno can’t help but grin, too.

They stay through the pictures, letting the stadium empty out before attempting to leave. Geno always thinks Sid is beautiful, but she looks blissfully happy and he can’t stop watching her. Alex eventually drags him out and Flower has to leave them for bed due to an early practice before Canada’s game the next evening. It’s hard to come down off the adrenaline high of winning, even if it isn’t his own win, but Alex makes him walk back to the village too, even if it’s significantly colder than it was that afternoon.

They call up Sergei, who drags along Ilya and Maxim to go to dinner, nothing exciting, just relaxing at the dining hall. Maxim is talking about going out to see Vancouver the next day, seeing the sights before they all head back to their day job, so to speak.

He finally gets a text back from Sid as they’re leaving- oh my GOD thanks we’re going out but see you soon right?

whenever- maybe tourist things? Geno suggests, thinking about some of the places Maxim mentioned.

ok we’ll figure it out Sid sends back.

Geno heads back to the apartment, finally settling down to responding to emails and phone calls that have built up, including his parents, who are the least sympathetic and make him feel the best.

It’s shaping up to be a quiet night until he gets a phone call around midnight when he’s just gotten in bed. He reaches for the phone, seeing Sid’s smiling face on the caller id.

“Partying, Sid?” Geno asks, sitting up and flipping on the light, because if he’s about to get drunk dialed by Sidney Crosby, he wants to enjoy it.

“Oh, sorry,” says an unfamiliar voice. “Is this, um, Geno?”

Geno frowns. “You have Sid phone?” He’s suddenly wide awake and worried.

“Yeah, no, it’s okay, this is Marie Poulin? From Sid’s team? Hi, Meaghan and I took her phone about an hour or so ago, but she’s a little… um. Hammered.”

“Hammered?” Geno asks, confused.

“She’s been asking for you, she really wants to see you,” Poulin shouts over the loud chorus of “Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots!” Geno can hear in the background. This is not good.

“So, um maybe could you come? I can give you the address of the bar we’re at,” Poulin goes on.

“You keep there, coming now,” Geno says loudly. “Not let her leave!” He throws on his jeans again over his boxers, throwing on a t-shirt and a sweater, grabbing his coat. He’s toeing on his sneakers as Poulin tells him she’ll text him the address.

Geno is out the door a minute later, grabbing the keys and his wallet. The thing about Sid drinking is that she doesn’t, really. She’ll have a beer or two, a cocktail, but rarely ever more than that. She has about zero tolerance. From what she’s said the Canadian team can get up to, if she’s been trying to keep up with them, she’s going to be completely wasted.

He manages to catch a cab almost the minute he gets out of the village, giving the cabbie the address for the bar. It’s less than ten minutes away, luckily- he promises the cabbie an obscene amount of money if he’ll wait for him to come back with Sid.

When he gets past the bouncer, a wall of sound hits him as the doors open. There’s shouting and yelling and laughing and clapping and at the center of it, Sid is dancing with three of her teammates.

She catches sight of him and throws her hands up, looking ecstatic. “Geno!” she yells, pushing her way over to him on unsteady feet. Sid crashes into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You came, you came,” she says loudly in his ear. Sid is deliriously happy- and deliriously drunk.

“I come,” Geno steadies her as Sid stumbles down from her toes, back onto her feet. “And now we go, you need sleep it off.”

Sid grins up at him, wrapping her fingers in the lapel of his jacket. “Sure, okay, anything you want,” she agrees. “I’m going, bye!” She shouts it over at the mess of red jackets, who all holler back at them.

“Fucking get it, Crosby!” Mikkelson yells at her.

“Tap him like a maple tree!” someone shouts from the back of the crowd.

“Shut up, you hosers,” Sid yells back, but she’s still grinning. He can’t tell whether her face is flushed because she’s embarrassed of because of the drinking.

“You know, they’re nice, they’re great,” Sid says, as Geno leads her out to the cab, which is thankfully still waiting. “Not as great you, though, you’re great.” She’s leaning against him heavily, mostly tucked under his arm, which isn’t the easiest way to walk- but it’s not like he’s complaining about having Sid snug and warm against his side.

They manage to get into the cab and Sid doesn’t get any less… handsy when she doesn’t need him to stay upright. She locks her arms back around his neck, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I’m still excited you know, but I’m tired, I’m just a little sleepy,” she hums. “I’m just gonna lay here a little bit, okay? Everything is moving so fast.”

Sid’s half asleep by the time they get back to the village and this time he’s slinging her arms around him, half-carrying her. He has to shuffle her around to pull out his ID when they get to security, but Sid just waves her gold medal at them.

“She a little-“ Geno starts but the woman working security just laughs him off.

“Go on,” she says, waving him through.

Geno thinks it might actually be easier to just carry her, but they stumble back to his apartment slowly but surely.

“You ok?” Geno asks as Sid rubs her eyes sluggishly.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Can we go to bed?” she asks.

Geno swallows. “You go sleep,” he manages. “To bed.”

She gets her feet under herself, wandering into Geno’s bedroom, throwing her jacket off.

“I get you water,” Geno says, going to the refrigerator to get a couple of bottles of water- she’ll be hurting in the morning if she doesn’t get some water into her now.

“Thanks,” Sid calls back. She chugs down the first one before sighing.

“Okay, I’m just- I’m kind of uncomfortable, sorry,” she says, and before he can ask what she’s talking about, she tugs off her trackpants and is pulling her shirt off over her head, and Geno quickly spins around, but not quickly enough.

Because it’s one thing to fall asleep next to Sid, both of them fully clothed over the covers, it’s another thing when Sid is in her underwear and a tanktop. He can hear her swearing at her bra as she struggles to get it unclasped.

“I go sleep on couch,” he says, determined to be a gentleman, even if he can’t erase the knowledge that Sid’s wearing bright red underwear and a paper-thin tank top.

Geno has just gotten stripped back down and ready for sleep out on the couch when Alex sticks his head out blearily. “Zhenya?” he asks.

“Shut up,” Geno says, pointing a finger at him. “I’m giving a friend a place to sleep,”

“I said nothing,” Alex says, grinning. “But she is already making you sleep on the couch?”

Geno throws a shoe at him.


He wakes up to Sid pushing at his shoulder.

“Geno,” she whispers. “Geno, wake up.”

“Sid okay?” he asks, blinking.

“Yeah, I’m fine, come on, come to bed,” she says, persuasively.

Geno’s eyes open and focus enough for him to realize- “Sid, you still not wearing-“ He averts his eyes- there’s a lot of Sid on display. “Canadian lightweight. Still drunk?”

“No, I’m not,” she says, sulky- which is how Geno knows she’s probably still at least a little drunk. “Come on, the bed is too cold without you in it.”

Geno sighs and bites his lip. “Go put on clothes, be warm.” There’s just no point in torturing himself.

“Fine,” Sid huffs, stamping back to the bedroom. Geno can’t resist a glance and- there’s a big white maple leaf on the ass of her panties. He starts laughing, because seriously, what is his life? He chuckles drowsily to himself until he falls asleep.


He wakes up naturally what he guesses is a couple of hours later- stupidly early- and he’s about to go to sleep when he realizes what actually probably woke him up is Sid clumsily banging around the bathroom and groaning.

“Sid?” he calls quietly, walking into the bedroom.

“What was I thinking,” she groans out at him, and at least this time, she’s fully dressed. Well, rumpled and inviting, but fully dressed.

“Try to drink with team,” Geno says, leaning a hip against the counter, watching Sid try to finger comb her way through her hair. “They drink you under table.” He rummages in his toiletry kit and passes her his comb.

“Thanks,” Sid says, starting carefully at the bottom and working her way up. “I feel like I got checked into the boards at every rink from here to Nova Scotia.”

“Only one thing fix,” Geno shrugs.

Sid shoots him a curious glance.

“Grease,” Geno says.

Sid blinks, and then practically moans. “Oh my god, we’re getting McDonalds.”


“If you see my nutrition specialist, I was not doing this,” Sid says firmly, swiping her fries through ketchup.

“Our secret,” Geno agrees, nudging the rest of his fries over.

“Oh, um, hey,” Sid says, her face starting to flush. “If I said or did anything last night that was… weird…”

Geno waves her off. “You so drunk make bottle of vodka look sober.” He shrugs. It’s not like she normally wants to get in bed with him, half-dressed. Alcohol makes you do weird shit.

“Never again,” Sid groans. She blinks, and then pats her pockets suddenly. “Oh god, you don’t have my phone do you?”

He frowns. “No. Maybe Poulin have still?” he suggests.

“I hope so,” Sid sighs. “I should try to get it though, head back to my room.”

“Can get there by self?” Geno teases and Sid points a ketchup-covered fry at him.

“We are tied on drunken tuck-ins, don’t you start with me,” she says, but she’s smiling like she just can’t help it. “No extra points for effort.”

“No?” Geno asks, completely distracted by the way Sid is tangling up their legs under the table.

“Maybe a couple,” she concedes, moving on to Geno’s fries. “I should get going.” Despite what she’s saying, she takes another bite and makes no move to leave.

“I not going to make you,” Geno tells her. If his choices are more Sid-time or less, he’s not going choose less.

Sid sighs. “You’re a bad influence, Geno,” but she follows that with a long, slow rub of her knee against the inside of his knee, which isn’t conducive to Geno regretting anything.

Which is when his phone starts buzzing insistently in his pocket. Sid’s face is on the screen, which makes him instinctively glance over at her- she raises her eyebrows as if to say, “what?”

“Hello?” Geno asks.

“Hi- hope I’m not interrupting anything, this is Hayley Wickenheiser, Marie says you came and got Sidney from the bar last night and we were wondering if you still have her?”

Geno stifles a laugh. “Yes, I give you Sid,” he says, handing the phone to her.

Sid’s eyebrows are still raised, but she takes the phone. “Oh, hey, Wick,” she says after a second, sounding a little guilty.

“Yeah, okay,” Sid says, sounding a little guiltier. “Okay, I’m on my way, bye.”

“Problem?” Geno asks her as she hangs up.

Sid looks a little sheepish. “Apparently I have about 25 minutes to shower, get dressed and meet the team for the press junket today,” she says, already getting together the trash.

“Go, go, I get,” Geno says, shooing her off.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, though, right?” Sid asks, untangling their legs and standing up.

“Of course, go,” Geno tells her, completely unable to not watch her go, practically jogging through the dining hall, almost skidding into a group of Japanese athletes.


He spends most of the day with Maxim, Sergei, Alex, and Semin, the five of them roaming around Vancouver like tourists, even if most of the day is spent convincing Alex that it’s not whale watching season and they shouldn’t get in a plane basically smaller than they are to fly over glaciers.

“Be real,” Alexander says. “We would crash because you wanted to touch the instrument panel in the plane and then we’d be forced to eat each other before the bears do. You look like you would be stringy, Sasha.”

“Shut up, Jizz,” Ovechkin barks at him. “You have no spirit of adventure!”

“No, I’m with him,” Maxim agrees. “Ovechkin looks like he’d taste terrible.”

“Fuck you guys, I’m delicious,” Alex sulks.

Geno laughs until his sides hurt.

They compromise by taking a harbor tour, which is pretty nice, actually- fuzzy otters coming up to the boat as if to say hello, the city gliding by peacefully as the boat goes about its business. It’s nice, but it’s also cold as hell after a while, so they all bundle into a restaurant for dinner as soon as they find one that looks remotely decent.

Dinner is fun and easy and everyone gives Ovechkin shit over everything, while Geno will never get tired of, ever. They keep catching bits and pieces of the game- Canada versus Slovakia on the television over the bar, and when they leave the restaurant Canada is up, 2-0. It’s been a long day, though, between the early wake up and all the walking, so Geno feels totally justified kicking off his shoes as soon as they get back and settling on the couch.

He and Alex manage to catch the entire last period. Slovakia makes a good effort to come back, but apparently they missed an extra Canadian goal getting back from the restaurant, so they win it in regulation, 3-2. Geno’s sort of thinking about getting ready for bed when his phone chimes loudly in his pocket.

you still up? can I come by? Sid asks.

don’t have to ask answer yes Geno sends back. He thinks maybe they’re going to show curling highlights next, that ought to make her happy.

okay on my way

“Crosby coming over?” Alex asks. He wags his eyebrows at Geno. “You want me to leave?”

Geno rolls his eyes. “No more than I usually do.”

Alex just laughs and heads into his room, unusually discreet for someone who has apparently seen Geno and Sid sleeping together twice.

Geno watches curling, still completely baffled as to what the point of the sport is, until there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey,” Sid says, shucking off her jacket, dropping it on the counter. “How was your day?”

“Nice, we go see harbor, no one push Ovechkin off boat,” he says, and Sid laughs. “You want water, anything?”

“Nah,” Sid says, catching sight of the television. “See, I told you it was good!”

“I leave on for you, still make no sense.” Geno sighs.

Sid rolls her eyes. “Shut up, I’ll explain it again.” She drags him over to the couch, sitting him down right next to her. “Okay, that’s the house, that target, and the red part inside of the ring, is the button.”

“He shove rock, sweep move in front aim for target, yes,” Geno says, amused. “I understand. Just make no sense.”

Sid gives him this look like she just despairs of him and it sends Geno into a gale of laughter.

“I know, I know, offend you Canadian heart,” Geno tells her.

Sid sighs and shakes her head. “Well, you tried.”

“I watch, you like for me,” Geno suggests.

Sid stares at him again, and this time, it’s not anything he can decipher, not playful or mock-offended. “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you,” she says finally.

Geno blinks. “For what?”

Sid bites her lip, but seems to make herself go on. “I know I’ve been… difficult, the last two weeks. I know I’m kind of… needy, well, clingy.” Sid tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and cuts Geno off with a hand. “No, I know I am- I don’t like change and I’ve been miserable and taking up all your time and you’re really sweet about it, always. I’m just saying I know I’ve been weird- well, weirder than normal, so I just wanted to say thank you.”

She takes a deep breath and leans over just far enough to kiss Geno on the cheek- feather light and so, so careful.

Geno feels like he’s short-circuiting, just a little, because Sid’s lips are soft against the evening stubble on his cheek and this is pushing the boundaries, even of this new, more physical friendship they seem to have. She’s watching him so closely, completely focused on him that it’s a little heady, makes his breath catch, just a little.

And because she’s so close, Geno can see the exact moment her eyes glance down at his mouth, those long eyelashes shading her cheeks, just a little. This is it, this is the moment he’s waited for- waited four years for- but he can’t make himself close the distance between them-

But Sid leans in, those last six inches, and kisses him.

It’s unbearably sweet, maybe because he had never imagined it happening like this, but this is perfect, overwhelming.

And when Sid pauses, hesitates, then asks, “Geno, is this- is this okay-“ it feels like a dam breaking inside him. Every moment he’s wanted to pull her close, to kiss her, is wiped away the moment he cups her face in his hands, kissing her breathless, kissing any doubts she might have about what he wants into impossibility.

“Sid, Sid,” he murmurs between kisses, letting himself reach for her, practically pulling her into his lap.

“Yes,” Sid sighs back, and she sounds satisfied, victorious. She throws her leg over his, straddling him, going in for another kiss.

Geno has kissed a lot of people, but it’s never felt like this before. Never felt like everything else comes second, and the only thing that matters right now is drawing hitching breaths out of Sid, little broken off sounds of pleasure that make him feel like he could drown in her.

“Geno, more, please,” Sid exhales, lashes fluttering as he kisses the hinge of her jaw, behind her ear, along her neck.

“Anything,” Geno says, and means, into the delicate, fragile skin at the base of her throat. He works one hand into her hair; the other slips down and instinctively squeezes her knee and the noise she makes is filthy- if it had turned him on before, it’s nothing to the way he feels with Sid arching in shivery pleasure on his lap.

Geno scrapes his teeth over her collarbone and Sid’s hands fly up to tangle in Geno’s hair, pulling him up to kiss her again, open, wet and promising.

“Can we-“ Sid gasps against his mouth. “I want you so bad.”

Geno manages to groans something he hopes sounds very positive before he has to kiss her again, which is when his brain reminds him that Alexander Ovechkin is an unlocked door away.

“Yes, yes, just- wait,” Geno can hardly stop kissing her long enough to get it out.

“Wai-“ Sid starts, confused and blinking at him and her mouth was already tempting enough- red and open and waiting for him is just unfair. “What?”

“Ovechkin,” Geno says, gesturing to the other bedroom door and Sid turns bright scarlet.

“Oh,” she says softly, shyly and Geno wants to see how far down that blush goes and Ovechkin has to leave now.

He lets Sid climb off of him and awkwardly bangs on Alex’s door.

“Ye—eeees?” Alex says, looking smug and shit-eating as he looks from Geno to Sid, back to Geno.

“I lie, earlier, I lie, leave, go, now,” Geno tells him.

Alex’s face is unreadable for a moment, but then he holds up a finger, asking for a moment. It feels like forever, but Alex comes back with his coat and shoes on, and- and-

He hands Geno at least twenty Olympic-issued condoms and walks right out the door.

Geno turns to look at Sid, helpless, as a couple of the condoms slip out of his hands, and Sid just bursts into laughter.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” Sid finally manages, standing up and coming over to him, taking half of the condoms, before they all scatter all over the living room.

“Ovechkin,” Geno says, before the sheer ridiculous hilarity hits him and he has to kiss Sid or maybe die laughing.

“Hey,” Sid is stretched up on her toes, laying lazy, amused kisses on his mouth. “He’s not wrong, though.” Sid glances up at him and sticks one of the condoms in Geno’s pocket. “Is he?”

Geno sucks in a surprised breath and drops the condoms in favor of wrapping Sid’s arms around his neck and catching her knees to pull her up, Sid locking her legs around his hips. “No,” Geno says, kissing her as he walks them straight into the bedroom. “Not wrong.”

She climbs down before they get to the bed and in a vivid flashback to last night- Sid pulls her shirt off, slips her pants down and off- except this time he can look- and touch. It’s not like he didn’t have a fairly extensive idea of the shape of her body, since under armor doesn’t exactly leave a lot to the imagination, and they’ve shared a locker room for a long time. But being able to reach out, put his hands on her, warm and wanting, makes him need a moment.

“Geno, come on,” Sid says, even as he can’t stop watching the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, can’t stop tracing his thumb where her hip rises out of soft cotton. “You’re still dressed.”

Her hands slip under his shirt, running over his stomach and Geno doesn’t think he’s ever stripped that quickly before, down to just boxer briefs in a moment.

“Want to touch everywhere,” Geno murmurs, leading them to the foot of the bed with a finger hooked in the front of her bra. “Wanted to touch Sid forever.”

Sid sighs, that same pleased sound that makes Geno feel like he’s getting everything right. “Well, touch me,” she says, stepping close enough to be flush, chest to chest.

Geno tips them over carefully, bracing himself half on top of Sid, leaning over to kiss perfectly between her breasts.

Sid bites down on a little gasp and Geno pauses, looks up.

“Want to make you feel good, make you come,” Geno says, kissing her shoulder, her collarbones. Sid groans in the affirmative. “But if I go fast, you don’t like, you say.” He punctuates with a little nip, just at the rise of her breast.

“Well, I liked that,” Sid gasps out, arching against him a little.

“Serious, Sid,” Geno tells her, tracing a hand over her stomach.

“I’m guessing I’ll like everything,” she says, biting her lip.

Geno pauses again. “Never had… anything?” he asks tentatively.

Sid shakes her head. “Not nothing. I have a bunch of vibrators at home, I know what I like, when I’m by myself,” she starts and Geno swears low and quietly in Russian, thinking about that. “But with someone else, I uh, tried some stuff out in high school. It was kind of… it wasn’t bad? Anyway, Jack was really nice about it when I wanted to stop.”

“… Jack,” Geno says, because the only Jack he knows that Sid knew is high school is-

“Looking back on it, I think he was kind of upset,” she says and Geno can imagine how he’d feel if he hooked up with Sid and all she could say about it was that “it wasn’t bad.”

Geno raises his eyebrows at her.

“I sort of accidentally told him ‘good game’ after we were done,” Sid admits.

Geno laughs and laughs and laughs.

“What!” Sid cries, thumping him on the shoulder. “I panicked!”

“Oh, Sid,” Geno chokes out, still laughing and Sid laughs too, covering her face with her hands.

“Shut up,” she groans, still laughing a little.

“Don’t worry,” Geno says, and he’s sure the smile he gives her has to be so stupid. “I give you good game.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said th- at, oh my god, do that again,” Sid gasps, as Geno’s thumb circles her clit, pushing her underwear aside.

“Good,” Geno murmurs, almost to himself, as Sid’s breath gets rapid and shallow, using his other hand to undo the clasp of Sid’s bra, drawing the straps down, helping her shrug out of it. Her breasts are a perfect handful- and Geno has big hands. Sid is whimpering as he kisses his way across them, her pussy getting wetter and wetter as he slips a finger inside.

“Geno,” Sid sounds like she’s on the verge of a sob, her body tense, just on the edge of coming.

“I eat you out, after,” Geno tells her, whispering in her ear. “Come on, Sid.” He slips another finger in, crooking them up and Sid is crying out and her whole body arches for a few seconds, then she collapses like all her strings have been cut.

“Jesus,” Sid says, on a sharp exhale. “I haven’t come like that in years.”

Geno grins, kissing her, stroking his tongue against hers, lazy and hot. He’s hard as hell, but determined to take his time. “Not done,” he reminds her and Sid squirms as he kisses his way down her body, pulling her underwear down and off.

“Wait, seriously- oh my god, oh my god,” Sid whines as Geno licks into her. He’s always liked this, the taste, giving someone else pleasure, but he thinks he’s the first person to ever do this for Sid, and he has to stroke himself, just a few times to take the edge off. Because she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, because no one has ever touched her like this and he wants her to know how good it is, how good she can feel.

“Oh my- fuck, Geno, you’re so good, oh, fuck, don’t stop.” She sighs. Geno takes a moment to breath and to memorize the way she looks, like she’s about to fly apart, hands clawing at the sheets.

“You’re killing me, please, Geno,” Sid says, just shy of begging and he can’t handle how she sounds, wrecked and desperate for more. “Please.”

He holds her open and sucks hard on her clit, slipping his fingers back inside her and Sid shouts, inarticulate and wild, and he has to hold her hips down so he can keep going. She’s writhing underneath his hands and mouth, a high, constant litany of words too slurred or fast for him to catch.

Unlike the first orgasm, Sid just shakes and shivers her way through it- it’s longer and she clenches around his fingers, falling out of rhythm. He works her through it, slowing to one last slow rub against her g-spot that drags something almost like a mewl out of her.

“Geno, Geno,” she says, faintly, tugging at the arm across her hips, pulling him up toward her. He presses a slick kiss to her inner thigh and her legs twitch, involuntarily.

“Geno,” she says again, insistent, drawing him up to kiss her, sweet and soft.

He lets her collect herself for a moment, her eyes shut as she just breathes, clutching him close.

“I just- before we,” she whispers, and she opens her eyes and they’re big and brown and serious. “Before we go any further, I just-“ She pauses, biting her lip.

“Tell me anything,” Geno assures her, kissing her gently.

“This isn’t just tonight, right?” she finally says, looking up at him hopefully, a little worried. “Because I can’t do just tonight, not with you, I-“

Geno can’t even let her finish the sentence. “No, Sid… always,” Geno says, not sure how to make her understand. “Day I meet you I know. Special. That day, don’t know nothing. Sid better than special, Sid-“ Geno shrugs, helplessly. “Sid best.”

Sid stares at him and he’s not sure if she gets it until Sid blurts out, “I love you.”

Geno’s eyes close and he kisses her temple. “Yes, love.”

She pulls him over to kiss her, hot and demanding. “Show me,” Sid says, slipping a hand down the front of his boxers, curling around his dick.

Geno groans and his head falls down to nuzzle at her neck. “Sid,” he says, giving into the urge to bite down a little. Her hand falters in its smooth slide, but she’s falling back into rhythm in a second.

“I think it’s only fair I take care of you now,” Sid whispers in his ear. “I’m ahead, 2-0.”

“I gonna score?” Geno asks her, just to watch Sid laugh, her nose wrinkling.

“Only if I can find one of the seven thousand condoms Ovechkin gave you,” Sid says, rolling out from under him to fish around on the floor. “Ah ha!”

Geno pulls her back to curl up against him, a condom clenched in her hand like a prize. “Sure?” he asks.

“About you?” she shoots back, before grinning at him. “Always.”

Geno has to kiss her, wrapping her up in his arms and drawing her close, her hips grinding against his. He takes the opportunity to finally get his hands on her ass, which- unbelievably- feels even better than it looks. Sid moans into the kiss.

“Are you gonna tease me all night?” Sid stares at him earnestly. “I’m aching.”

“Killing me,” Geno groans, but he gets out of his boxers, flinging them off the bed before ripping open the foil.

“Can I?” Sid asks, biting her lip.

He hands it over and Sid rolls it on, her thumb brushing just under the head, rolling it down in an easy glide. Geno swears and flips them over, bracing himself on his elbows over Sid, kissing her until she’s squirming under him, leaning up to chase his mouth.

“Ok?” he double checks.

Sid rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, I’ll do it myself,” she says, reaching between them to guide him in, still slick from before, and if Geno thought he was dying before, slowly slipping into Sid is torture, wet, hot and perfect.

“Huh,” she says, shifting her hips a little in a way that has him seeing stars. “That was actually easier than I thought it would be.”

“For you, maybe,” Geno kids, staying as perfectly still as he can while Sid lets her body adjust.

“Oh, is this better?” she asks guilelessly, rolling her hips up, driving him deeper and making him drop a string of blasphemous profanity in Russian. “Because, oh, uh, wow, that- that’s really working for me, I hope it’s doing something for you.”

“Figures you as good at this as hockey,” he sighs, grinding down and Sid is gasping and scrabbling at his shoulders.

“Geno, Geno- more,” Sid demands, and that’s not something he can or could say no to.

Sid’s electric beneath him, arching into him, working him into a rhythm he can only describe as “dirty.” He pulls her knee up to his waist and Sid lets out an appreciative coo of a moan that Geno wants to hear every day. Geno leans down to kiss her breasts, teasing a nipple with his mouth and teeth, and Sid loses it.

She’s tossing her head from side to side on the pillow, completely overloaded, saying something that sounds like his name mixed in with who knows what. Trusting years of strength conditioning, he braces himself on one hand so he can go for Sid’s clit with the other, relentless tight circles right over it that have her practically bowing off the bed, coming suddenly and forcefully.

He’s been holding out for a long time, wanting to make sure Sid was completely satisfied before looking for his own pleasure, but watching her come for a third time is pretty conclusive- he doesn’t manage more than a few thrusts before letting himself come.

“Fuck, Geno,” Sid says weakly, as Geno slumps over her, totally spent.

“Amazing,” he tells her, unnecessarily.

“It’s never- never- been like that,” she says, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah?” Geno asks, cracking open an eye to glance at her face.

“We’re drinking a bottle of water, napping and then doing that again,” Sid says, dead serious.

Geno laughs but leans up and kisses her. “3-1.”

“There’s always the second period,” Sid grins.


They don’t get any further than the refrigerator for water or, memorably, the shower, until they’re absolutely starving the next afternoon. Geno hasn’t felt this loose in years, this stupidly, giddily happy. Sid keeps giving him little lingering kisses, tucking her fingers in his belt loops to pull him in.

“Lunch?” she asks, like they haven’t been trying to leave the apartment for an hour and a half, repeatedly failing because one of them will get handsy. He was just doing up his pants at one point and Sid had given him a look, and that had been another half an hour. They’re dressed and ready and he still can’t resist her.

“Stop distract me,” Geno whispers, carding his hand into her hair, thumb brushing the shell of her ear. “Starve to death this way.”

“Shut up, that one was your fault,” Sid says, brushing her nose against his.

“Blame me? When Sid look like this?” Geno asks. Her hair is a mess and her lips are red and even fuller from ten minutes ago- kissing against the wall- she’s wearing a pair of his boxers and there is a hickey shaped like his mouth on her breast.

Sid snorts. “They don’t deliver takeout to the village, you’re going to have to keep your hands off me for at least a little while.”

“Don’t got to like it,” Geno says, grinning.

“And who says I like it?” Sid wraps herself around him.

Geno opens his mouth to tease back, but instead his stomach gurgles, loudly.

Sid giggles, the unattractive honking one that Geno loves best. “Okay, okay,” she says, taking a step back, raising her hands up like it’s a hold-up. “Lunch.”

He doesn’t really know who he thinks they’re fooling, since they spend lunch with their legs tangled up together under the table- except they’ve been doing that all week, so maybe there was some merit to what Ilya was saying about everyone already thinking they’re a couple. Which is actually hilarious now that he’s not in the throes of unrequited love, so he tells Sid about it.

“Oh my god,” Sid says, covering her mouth. “So you’re saying you’ve been in love with me for years and everyone thought we were together and no one told me about it?”

Geno pats her hand. “I wait for you to catch up.” He traces a thumb over her knuckles and marvels at how little has changed between them, and yet.

“Sorry I took so long,” she says, biting her lip.

“Just means I winning,” Geno says cheerfully.

“Hey, I did my part to even up the score,” Sid says, pointing her fork at him. “8-4.”

“We see about that.” Geno rubs his thumb against the inside of her wrist.

“Is that a challenge?” Sid asks, warm and low. “Because I will take you up on that.”

“Eat, quick,” Geno says, picking up his fork and gesturing to her plate with the hand that’s not still holding hers.

Sid laughs, but she starts eating. She does keep shooting him these looks, not quite impatient, but- anticipatory. Like she can’t wait to get him alone again and Geno has to take a sip of water for a suddenly dry mouth.

“No fair,” Geno tells her.

Sid raises her eyebrows. “What?” she asks, but her face is a little pink and she looks a little guilty.

“Sid look… sexy, at me,” Geno insists. “Distracting.”

“Well, maybe I want to distract you,” Sid says, even as her cheeks flush full red.

“Not have to try,” Geno says, and he wishes he could lean across the table and kiss her, but they haven’t talked about this. He knows she wants more than just this from him, she loves him, but what that means outside of the bedroom, outside the relative isolation and insulation of the Olympics, Geno doesn’t know. “Always want you.”

“Okay, you can’t just say stuff like that to me,” Sid groans, biting her lip, hard. “Finish lunch, now, because I need to get you naked again, as soon as possible.”

Their plates are cleared in minutes.


They’re lounging in bed- 10-6- when Geno’s phone goes off loudly in his pants, somewhere in the living room. He would be perfectly content to ignore it, but Sid shoves him out to answer it.

Geno groans when he sees the caller ID. “You kick me out of bed for Ovechkin?”

Sid laughs.

“What?” Geno barks at his phone.

“Look, I’m really glad you two are getting it on, like no one is happier than me, but dude, I have to get some shit out of the room. My phone is about to die.” Alex says, actually sounding a little apologetic. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to come back and find you guys fucking on the couch.”

“Nice,” Geno sighs, covering his face with his hands. “Very kind of you.”

“I’m a thoughtful dude, Zhenya,” Alex says cheerfully.

“I’m hanging up,” Geno warns him.

“Wait, wait, is that an okay?” Alex says quickly.

“Yes, god, idiot,” Geno says, feeling unaccountably embarrassed. He walks back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“What did he want?” Sid asks, unselfconsciously naked and perfect on his bed, and what he is about to say next seriously pains him.

“He coming to get clothes, charger,” Geno explains. “Should get dressed.”

“Oh,” Sid says, wrapping the sheet around herself. “I should too, shouldn’t I?”

“Sid should never feel like have to get dressed,” Geno tells her, as seriously as he can manage with a giant shit-eating grin on his face.

Sid makes a face at him. “Ass,” she says, but she stands up, drags him close and kisses him deeply. “I meant I should go to my room, get new clothes?” She says it like a question.

“Welcome to mine,” Geno offers.

“Well, I can’t exactly show up to the game tomorrow, wearing your clothes, can I?” she says, running her hand down his chest.

“Not mind,” Geno brushes his thumb over the bow of her mouth.

“Yeah, it’d be a little obvious if I’m wearing team Russia’s tracksuit,” Sid teases.

“You not want to tell anyone?” Geno asks, thinking about lunch, wondering where they go from here.

“I do,” she says, suddenly serious. “But… not everyone?” Sid bites her lip.

“Follow you lead,” Geno assures her. “Tell my parents, mother cry from happiness.”

“Yeah, right,” Sid says, but she looks pleased. “I mean, we could tell Mario and Nathalie? But- it’s just…we spend so much time out there, lives on display. I just want you to myself. For now.”

“Yours,” Geno agrees. He doesn’t know why it’s still difficult, still a little scary to ask, “Mine?”

“Yours,” Sid stretches up to kiss him again and he can’t resist wrapping an arm around her and pulling her up to drop them back onto the bed.

Geno forgets Alex is coming back until he hears the front door open- Sid straddling his hips, kissing him again and again.

“Oh, shit,” Sid gasps.

“Maybe we just be quiet,” Geno whispers.

“Yeah, no don’t come out,” Ovechkin yells. “If I see it, I have to know it.”

“Shut up,” Geno yells back.

“Like, I’m hoping he makes you happy, Crosby. If he doesn’t, I can’t know either. I’ll be so sad.” Ovechkin sounds even more muffled, like maybe he’s in his own room.

“Shut up,” Sid shouts, covering her bright red face with her hands.

“I’m taking that as a “No, Alex, he is not man enough for me, but I’ll suffer through.” I’m sorry.” Alex says loudly and cheerfully.

“You should be so lucky to get fucked by Geno,” Sid yells angrily. Then, seeming to realize what she said, rolls off of Geno and smothers her face in a pillow.

Alex cackles his way out the door.

“Oh my god,” Sid groans.

“Good to know,” Geno says, loving the way the flush trails down her throat, kissing where her neck meets her shoulder.

“You shut up, too,” Sid says, but she arches her neck to let him keep kissing lower, across her collarbones.

“Sid saying I have better things to do with my mouth?” Geno asks softly, mouthing at the rise of her breast.

“Oh, fuck,” Sid sighs as Geno licks at her nipple, sucks gently. “You better believe you do, come on.”

They’re never going to make it out of bed.


It’s the second day in a row Geno has woken up with Sid curled against him, and he wonders if two days is enough to become addicted. Addicted to the way that Sid will tuck her head under his chin, slip her leg between his, curl as close as she can.

“Mmm,” Sid hums, her lips vibrating against his chest. “Morning.”

“Up early,” Geno murmurs.

“I have to go to my room,” Sid says, reluctantly.

“Why?” Geno kisses the top of her head.

“So I don’t show up to the game looking like I’ve been having sex for the last two days?” Sid suggests.

“No problem with me,” Geno says, laughing.

“Uh huh,” Sid says, tilting back her head to roll her eyes at him. “I gotta go.”

“Sure?” Geno asks, kissing her on the cheek, then a quick closed-mouth brush against her lips.

“Stop that,” Sid fusses, but she curls even closer. “You say I’m distracting?”

“Like to distract you,” Geno tells her, smiling.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t like it, too,” Sid says, but she’s smiling too. “But really, I have to go, I bet everyone thinks I’m dead.”

“But we go to game, yes?” Geno asks, resigning himself to the reality that Sid is going to be out of arm’s reach for at least an hour. Although, realistically, he could probably stand to take a shower and eat a bunch of protein.

“Yeah, of course,” Sid says, kissing him softly, then rolling out of bed.

Geno unashamedly watches her walk to the bathroom, because Sid naked is something he never gets tired of.

“Meet before?” Geno calls as Sid tries to pull her hair into order.

“Yeah,” she says absently, then comes back out to point out the hickies in various states of darkness. “Really?”

Geno shrugs, but feels extremely pleased with himself. “Sid taste good.”

“Yeah, you taste good, but I didn’t try to eat you,” Sid grouses. She pokes at one and gasps a little, which makes Geno’s dick sit up and take notice. “That’s… interesting.”

“Yes?” Geno asks, rolling over to watch her more closely.

“Um, yeah,” Sid says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Well, they’re from you, no wonder I like it.”

Geno buries his face in the bed. “Killing me. Put clothes on or get back in bed.”

“Really?” Sid asks, a little surprised. “I smell and my hair is a mess.”

“Yes,” Geno says, as firmly as he can manage.

“Oh,” Sid says, before smiling in an extremely smug way. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up when I’m out of the shower and it’s your turn.”

Geno flops over, throwing an arm over his eyes and trying not to give into the temptation to think about Sid, slicky, soapy, wet and naked a few feet away. He actually does doze off a little before Sid is shaking his shoulder gently.

“Geno,” Sid says, the cold, damp tips of her hair brushing over his shoulder before she sweeps it away. “Hey, wake up.”

“Mm, awake, awake,” Geno mutters. “Morning again, beautiful.”

Sid wrinkles her nose at him. “I’m going. I’ll text you when I’ve gotten my stuff together?”

“Yes, yes,” Geno says, pulling her down for one more kiss.

“I’ll see you in an hour,” Sid says, but she lingers, watching him for a moment. “An hour.”

“Soon,” Geno agrees, leaning up to kiss her again.

“Okay, okay,” Sid says, mostly to herself, another quick kiss before backing up quickly. “Later!”

“Soon,” Geno calls again. He sighs as the door shuts, making himself get up and into the still wet shower.


The game is actually a lot of fun. Both sides are playing to the top of their ability, and Geno loves watching hockey with Sid. She’s constantly leaning over to chirp the Americans, pointing out plays, calling people out. She keeps squeezing his thigh, though, which now has a totally different context for him that he can’t keep separate, so instead of getting a socially inappropriate erection, he takes her hand instead. She crushes his hand on a couple of close plays, always apologizing absently after, and Geno can’t help but shake his head at her fondly.

“Can you fucking believe this?” Sid demands as the Americans tie the game. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Going to go overtime,” Geno says, glancing up at the time- there is less than a minute to go. The American fans are going insane and the Canadians are all dead silent or shouting furiously.

USA sends in a fresh goalkeeper, anticipating overtime, but the faceoff goes wild, and suddenly Toews is streaking across the ice, suddenly blocked and passing to Richards and there’s a scuffle and Geno thinks they’ll be going to overtime after all, but then the siren and the buzzer go off at the same time and the stadium erupts in unbelievable noise.

The game is over and Canada won.

They replay the last few seconds on the screen and the other angle, slowed, shows the puck dinging off the bar, shoved in by Miller’s skate and that’s it- it’s more lucky than good, but it’s done, Canada wins gold again and Sid is deliriously excited, shouting and pulling him up to hug tight.

“Geno, Geno!” Sid yells, shaking him a little. There’s basically a riot going on in the stadium, no sign of stopping. Sid flings her arms around him, pushing herself up to kiss him full on the mouth. He barely has time to respond, completely surprised, when Sid is letting go and screaming excitedly again.

“Holy shit!” Sid is shouting repeatedly, totally ecstatic. She actually leaps up into his arms, and Geno scrambles to catch her. “We won! We won!”

Geno wraps an arm around her waist, the other trying to stop her from falling on her ass. “Sid, careful,” he yells back, trying to get her back on her feet.

“Fuck careful, we won!” Sid yells back, kissing him again. She drops down and throws her arms up in the air triumphantly.

Everyone in the stadium is losing their mind and it doesn’t slow down until the medal ceremony when it’s just a different, more contained apeshit. The arena is mostly empty when Geno convinces Sid to leave.

“Come, we miss closing ceremony,” Geno tells her.

“Oh, we have other plans,” Sid says, slipping her hand into Geno’s. She gives him a look that’s absolutely filthy.

“Not have to tell me twice,” Geno says, hurrying out of the stands.


Geno’s not sure how they make it out of bed to frantically pack before their flight the next morning. He’s pretty sure half of his things are still in the Olympic village, but he and Sid make it to the airport, by the skin of their teeth.

“Nice of you two to show up,” Flower says, grinning.

“I’m surprised you’re alive,” Sid shoots back, because Flower is looking a little pale and he’s wearing sunglasses indoors.

“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Flower says, eyeballing Sid’s hair, which is- admittedly- a little mussed.

“Shut up, butthead,” Sid sits down next to him, jostling him just to watch him press his lips together hard.

Geno takes the seat across the aisle from Sid, next to Sergei. “Flower know Sid gold medal bigger than his.”

“It- no!” Flower makes a face like he wants to check. “…. No!”

Sid just smiles at Geno, reaching over to squeeze his hand where it’s resting on the armrest. She has to pull back when the flight attendant walks by, but she looks like she wishes she could keep holding it.

“Oh god,” Brooksie says bleakly. “Is this- is this actually going to be worse than when you two weren’t together?”

“What?” Sid demands, blushing.

“Yeah, don’t play like you two didn’t hook up, Ovechkin went to stay with Gonch and Semin,” Flower says.

“But seriously,” Brooksie goes on. “Are you- oh god, this is the honeymoon period.” He buries his face in his hands.

“Well, then,” Sid says, and reaches back across the aisle again to hold Geno’s hand.

“Still sure?” Geno asks her, half-teasing, half-serious.

“You can keep asking, but the answer is still going to be yes,” Sid says, steady and certain.

Geno ignores Brooksie miming throwing up, leaning across the aisle to kiss her. “Sid best.”


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