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“He has one,” Geno said with a smirk. “It say ‘Evgeni’.”
The reporter laughed even as Sid giggled and elbowed Geno in the side. Geno grinned at him, hugely pleased with himself.
“You are such a troll,” Sid told him fondly.
“We get Sid very drunk after Stanley Cup win in ’09,” Geno said, clapping Sid on the shoulder. “Everyone decide to get Cup tattoo, but Sid just get little one, no room for all team names. Only one name on there, Evgeni.”
“I can’t even say his name properly,” Sid said to the reporter, still smiling. “Let alone spell it. You want to talk tattoos, you should see Daley’s wings. They’re awesome.”
The subject shifted slightly to their team members and Sid breathed a sigh of relief when the interview came to an end. He smiled and shook the guy’s hand when he left.
As the door shut, he turned and punched Geno solidly on the shoulder.
“You are going to fucking kill me, G, Jesus.”
Geno beamed at him.
“No one ever think I’m serious.”
“I know, I know but,” Sid sighed and ran a hand over his face, but the smile was still there when he looked up at Geno. “It’s gone beyond a joke into the realm of lore now, you know. Fairytale,” he added at Geno’s blank look.
“Is legend,” Geno told him happily. He glanced around the room, making sure the door was shut and everyone had gone. Then he stepped forward and curled his hands around Sid’s waist, pressing his thumb into the divot in front of the left hip bone.
Right over the tiny tattoo of Geno’s name.
“Fucking menace,” Sid grumbled, but it was half-hearted at best. He could feel the smile on Geno’s lips as Geno dipped his head to brush his mouth over Sid’s.
“Menace you love best,” Geno reminded him, murmuring the words into the kiss.