Archive of Our Own

Nate didn’t mean for it to all happen this way, honestly. He really only wanted Sid to be as happy for him as Nate was for Sid, back when he was on his mad playoff dashes to back-to-back Cups. Nate has changed over the years and distanced himself from rooting for the Penguins in the offseason, ever since it became likely again that the Avs would be contenders too. He just didn’t think Sid would be like this about it.

“So you’re not coming to Pittsburgh.”

Nate sighs, listening to the unreadable tone in Sid’s voice. “No, Sid. I have my own playoff series to prepare for now.”

Sid is silent for a moment and then says, “No, no, I get it. It’s just… our series don’t start for about 6 days and I just thought…”

Nate lets him trail off, biting his tongue at whatever response came to mind first. He knew it bothered Sid that Nate wasn’t all gung-ho about spending all their time together and making ridiculous trips just to fawn over his childhood idol. He thinks he let Sid get too used to it, that they’re steady friendship built into something that meant something different to each of them.

It stings a little.

“Do you remember when I got my teeth fixed and how you reacted?”

“You didn’t tell me,” Sid says immediately.

“Right,” Nate says slowly. “And then what did you say?”

“I… well, I liked your old teeth, Nate. It’s fine that you got them fixed, but you didn’t even tell me. I really did like them, I thought they were fine!”

“Right.”

Sid sighs. Nate can hear him shuffling, maybe his feet as he paces. “What’s your point, Nathan?”

Nate rolls his eyes fondly at the bitchy tone. “You don’t like when things change, I get that. Trust me, we all get that. But you like even less when they do change and you don’t get any say in it. But, Sid, this is my life and career we’re talking about here. I have to focus.”

“That’s fine! I said it was fine,” Sid responds quickly, his tone still sounding bitter and just- wrong. “I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me, I guess.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to, to be honest,” Nate says, a little taken aback. “It’s the playoffs, I thought you more than anyone would get why I’d need to stick around and focus.”

Privately, Nate wonders why Sid wants him in Pittsburgh so badly anyway. It can’t just be for his company. It’s true that in both 2016 and 2017, Nate made short trips there at the start to wish Sid luck before disappearing off to Cole Harbour. Part of Nate suddenly thinks it’s a superstition thing and-

“Are you serious, Sid? Is this a superstition thing? Because I came in ‘16 and ‘17 and you won both years?”

Sid is silent for a moment. Nate drops his hand holding the phone to grit his teeth and breathe deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He loves Sid so much, too much , the voice in his brain whispers, but that’s just mean.

He picks the phone back up to his ear to hear Sid saying, “-that at all, I honestly just want to see you. Yeah, I guess you’re my good luck charm, but I don’t need you, Nate.”

It cuts. Nate would be lying if he said it didn’t. He knows he can’t go, has no intention of going, but suddenly, after hearing that, he wishes Sid would beg him more than anything. He wants Sid to need him, he realizes, just once. But for him, he thinks. Not for any other reason, just because Sid needs Nate there, by his side, just because he can, because he wants to.

Nate wonders if Sid would even celebrate Nate’s Cup win, if it came to it. He swallows back the overwhelming disappointment as he realizes, probably not .

He realizes he hasn’t spoken as Sid starts to talk again, flustering, and he cuts in and says, “I got it, Sid. Understood.”

They’re silent for a moment and Nate wonders how they got here. He did his part, being helplessly in love with his childhood crush-turned-best friend. He wonders what he possibly does for Sid. He knows what Sid has said in the past to Andy, to friends who ask, to the media - he keeps me quick, Sid says, laughing, he keeps me young. Everyone just shakes their heads fondly, marveling at the relentlessness of Sidney Crosby, and he just smiles back, shrugging, he’s good competition. 

Nate thinks sadly, a little desperately, maybe he should get him McDavid’s number so they can be summer besties instead.

Sid talks again, quieter this time, “If we win again, you’ll be there though, right?”

It hurts Nate a lot, he realizes. He’s not even a competitor to Sid. Not really. Sid has zero expectations that Nate and his Avs could get it done, not as a competitor in the NHL and not as Nate’s best friend. He knows how hard Nate works, how hard all the Avs are working, but it’s still not even on the table. Nate also knows how, well, bad the Penguins have been doing recently, and it’s boggling to him and so gut-wrenching that Sid still thinks his struggling, barely-Wild Card Pens have more of a chance at the Cup than his Avs, who finished 3rd in the league and are mostly recovered.

Gritting his teeth against the sudden hurt, he responds, “Maybe I’ll be there anyway. I’m sure you didn’t think of that though. See you in the Final, if you think I can even get there.”

He hangs up. He hangs up, and he throws his phone into the couch, watching it disappear into the cushions, and he throws on his running shoes. It’s not until he’s halfway through his run that he finally lets himself slow down and the hurt fully starts to crash over him, blinding him for a second, crippling him.

Nate sits down in a heap on a walking bridge he was crossing, leaning his back up against the rails and drinking from his water heavily. He’s so tired of not being enough, he thinks. He wants to be the priority for someone. His past girlfriends always tired of him, ultimately deeming him unromantic and boring and taciturn. His best friends, although his favorite people on earth, mostly all lived eons away from him now, caught up in their own lives. He thought he had something, something secret and incredible and scary, with Jo, but Nate fell second again as Jo drifted away, replacing him without even trying to.

He has half a mind to call Barrie, vent and cry and lose his shit, and he’s about to, when he remembers his phone is still stuck in his couch at home. It’s for the best, Nate thinks, slowly getting up again and wiping his face of its sweat and a few tears he won’t admit to. Ty’s probably busy.

So Nate heads home, and he gets caught up in the motions of preparing for their first round against Dallas. He ignores his phone, mostly, a move that the entire organization is fond of and recommends to everyone. Gabe seems to know he’s avoiding something, and Gabe seems to tell EJ, as he notices they are both watching him closely, waiting for him to do something.

He finally tells them to cool it the day before Game 1. EJ pulls back, still whispering with JT now about Nate’s moods, but Gabe becomes more annoying than ever.

“Can you captain someone else?” Nate asks after Gabe sits himself beside Nate on the plane to Dallas. They’re up in the series, 2-0, but Nate still isn’t letting himself be too hopeful. He barely checks his phone anymore. The few times he has, there’s been texts and calls from Sid, but he ignores them and deletes their conversation over and over. He thinks he got an email once from him too, but he always ignores his emails, so he doesn’t worry about it.

“Nope,” Gabe replies cheerfully. He reaches into Nate’s pocket, ignoring his yelp of outrage, and types in Nate’s passcode 2987 - Nate’s not proud of it - and flicks through things. “Now let’s see here what you’re avoiding so badly.”

Nate rolls his eyes, not bothered. He cleaned everything out that morning, even going so far as to offload some of his and Sid’s pictures and videos onto his computer so he doesn’t have to see them on his phone.

They’re silent for a bit, Gabe making occasional comments about whatever he’s finding, until he goes, “Oh?”

Nate jerks up, staring at Gabe’s face and then the phone, which is angled away from him. “What?”

“You just got a text,” Gabe says, eyeing Nate for a moment before opening it. “From Crosby, it says-”

“Don’t,” Nate says, grabbing the phone with the most strength he has and then turning it off and throwing it into the seatback in front of him. He settles back and relaxes his shoulders. It’s silent for a moment until he looks over at Gabe, who is staring at him incredulously.

He looks torn between laughing and hugging Nate before saying, “Are we not gonna address that reaction?”

“No,” Nate says sullenly, knowing they’re about to address that reaction.

“I think we are,” Gabe starts. Josty’s face pops up from the seat Nate just vaguely assaulted and he is about to say something - probably bitch - when Gabe says, “Not now, Josty, sit down.”

Nate chuckles as he does as he’s told. He feels the plane begin to take off and he tries to breathe deeply at the vague nerves that never really settled at the feeling of the plane lifting in the air. When he opens his eyes, Gabe is still staring at him, but looks softer now, sadder.

“What, Gabe?”

“What’s going on with you and Crosby?”

Nate sighs. He slumps a little and says, “Nothing.”

“Is that the problem?”

He laughs a little, short and raw, and shakes his head. “No, nothing ever would. You know that. Even if he wasn’t straight as an arrow and, like, 6 years deep with Kathy, he’s still older than me and I’m just…”

“What?” Gabe prods after Nate is silent for a beat too long. His voice is gentle and Nate can’t stand it. The entire plane feels silent, too, like everyone is listening, waiting for Nate to be weak and show too much emotion, again. He’s seconds away from just telling Gabe to fuck off when the man in question says loudly, “I know everyone here has very nice, very expensive, very soundproof headphones.”

There’s a moment of stillness and silence before the rustling of everyone doing as Gabe says. Nate looks around for a moment to see everyone avoiding gazing at them and putting music or a show on. He feels relieved to have Gabe as a captain.

Not that relieved though.

Gabe pokes his arm. Nate sighs and puts his head back, squeezing his eyes shut before saying as close to a whisper he can get, “I’m tired of being a second choice to everyone.”

It’s quiet and then Gabe says, “You did go first overall. And you won the Calder.”

Nate’s about to respond when Gabe continues, “I know it’s not the same, but it’s not nothing. And you struggled for a couple years, we all did, ” Gabe adds, his voice sounding old and weary suddenly, before continuing just as soft, “But you worked hard with people who wanted to help you to become legitimately one of the best players in the league. It comes with sacrifices, but you have to know, that’s not nothing, Nate. It’s not just about the points, or the standings, or the fact that we’re here now only a couple years after that season, it’s about the fact that you knew what you wanted for yourself and you got it, with a lot of hard work and determination.”

Nate’s letting it wash over him, comforting him. It’s not exactly what he’s upset about, but he’s finding it comforting, regardless. Like he’s enough anyway. He thinks maybe that’s Gabe’s point and he, once again, marvels at how much Gabe understands people and what they’re really saying and feeling. He wonders if he was always like this or if it comes with the territory of being thrust into leadership so young. He wonders if Gabe had anyone to help him, then. He realizes, suddenly, sadly, that he never asked.

Gabe continues after pausing to let Nate think and says, “And since I can see this clearly led to an issue with Sid, I know you’ve always been in his shadow and I know you never even minded, but, Nate, he’s your equal, now. Don’t forget that.”

“That’s the problem,” Nate starts, his voice a little desperate. He’s wringing his hands now, massaging at his palm and feeling its clamminess. “I think I really do know that now and I don’t think he likes it.”

“Well, then,” Gabe starts, and Nate knows what’s coming, “Maybe a little distance is a good thing after all.”

“He doesn’t think so,” Nate says, gesturing to his phone. “I lost track of how many texts and calls I’ve gotten from him since the fight.”

“Fight?” Gabe asks, his voice concerned.

Nate sighs, shaking his head back and forth consideringly. “Not like- a real fight, just… He asked me why I wouldn’t go see him before the first round and he, like, wouldn’t comprehend why I was upset about it. And then I got more upset when I realized the last times I visited him was for his back-to-backs, so I’m probably part of his weird superstitions now, and then I got upset that he just assumed I’d be there for him if they won the Cup, and he, like, never even considered that I might be the one to win the Cup. What if I wanted him there for me? You know? But no, it’s always me that has to jump when he says jump, and he knows I’ll do it. Sometimes I think he knows how I feel and just uses it to make himself feel better.”

Gabe’s quiet as Nate winds down, his hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. He reaches out and takes one of Nate’s hands in his own and Nate sighs as Gabe rubs his thumb into the soft skin there. “You don’t really think that of him.”

He droops, sighing. “No, I don’t.”

The plan is quiet as Nate waits for Gabe’s response. He knows Gabe is processing, thinking about everything he just threw on him, and Nate feels a little bad. This is the worst possible time to be having a big gay breakdown and what honestly feels like a break- up, even worse still to dump it on his captain who is trying to drag his team through the playoffs, but Nate didn’t plan it, that’s for sure.

Finally, Gabe asks, “Do you want him there?”

That’s not really what Nate was expecting to hear. He tells Gabe so and the man shrugs, asking again. Nate thinks for a moment about having Sid with his mom, dad, and sister in the stands, cheering him on, being there after the game. He thinks more desperately about Sid being on the ice as he takes his turn with the Cup, about Sid being overjoyed for him, maybe even giving him a kiss when no one was looking. He thinks, hopeless and desolate, about Sid telling him when they’re alone, back in bed, how proud he is of Nate, how much he always knew this would happen, how happy he is to be with him in that moment.

It must show on his face, as obvious as he always is, because Gabe just scoots closer and rests his beautiful, big head on Nate’s shoulder. He leans his own head against him and shuts his eyes, closing off their glassiness from any on-lookers.

Gabe speaks up again and says, quiet as ever, “You should tell him that. Make him promise. If you get to the Final, and he doesn’t, he needs to be there. Or that’s that, you know?”

Nate swallows back his fear at being so bold, so aggressive with Sid. Gabe must sense it, as he rests a hand on his chest and cuddles up, probably for a nap.

“He’s a big boy, Nate, he needs to act like one.”

It’s not until Nate and the boys actually sweep the Stars that he texts Sid. They’re in the midst of celebrating, not too hard but pretty hard, when Nate decides to just do it. He breaks away from the commotion and steps into the hallway, his hands shaking a little as he types out the text to Sid. He’s not even drunk, just overwhelmed and hyper-focused all at the same time.

He carefully writes I miss you. I’m sorry I snapped and I’m sorry about the radio silence, but I’m not sorry about what I said. I’ll be honest and say I haven’t read anything you sent me because I’m trying to focus, but if you mean it all, I want you to promise me that you’ll come if /I/ win the Cup. If I get into the Final, I want you to be there. Good luck in the rest of your series.

Nate turns off his phone then, darting back into the celebrations so he doesn’t overthink it even more. After the team goes out to celebrate on the town, all of Denver brimming with energy, they all return to their homes to sleep and prepare for the next round. They don’t know their opponents yet, as the series between St. Louis and Nashville is still happening. Nate kind of hopes it’s not St. Louis.

He leaves his phone off, plugging it into the charge and that’s about it. When he wakes up in the morning, he feels dread when he looks at it, and continues to ignore it. It’s not until about noon when he finally turns it back on and lets the flood of congratulation texts and voicemails make it come alive.

Nate sits at his table, eating lunch, as he sorts through it all, sending off thanks and memes according to whoever it is that texts. He finally lands on Sid’s conversation in his inbox and sees he’s texted him back.

He drops his shoulders and sits up straight, taking a deep breath. He clicks on their conversation and sighs in relief.

There is a screenshot of a plane ticket, showing it was purchased a week and a half ago - the day we fought, Nate’s brain helpfully supplies - and Sid’s text saying I won’t miss it. Nate’s relieved he hasn’t said anything else, letting the discussion about it all lie until they see each other. He’s amused thinking about the logistics of Sid potentially having to buy a ticket to yet another place if it’s an away game before he thinks maybe he’d like it if Sid was in Denver anyway, waiting for him to come home.

He stops himself from thinking like that, thinking too far ahead, being too sure. Nate sends a yellow heart before he can think twice about it and locks his phone, shoving it away to finish his lunch.

Sid and Nate don’t speak anymore during the Avs’ playoff run, except for Nate’s I’m sorry, honestly he sends to Sid after the Pens are booted in 6 by the Capitals and Sid’s response I know and See you soon. Good luck. It warms Nate’s heart, even as he knows this is part of Sid’s whole apology. He thinks maybe he deserves a whole, drawn out apology, and lets himself feel important.

They win the second round against the Blues in 7, feeling absolute satisfaction. It’s a tough series, and Nate’s shoulder is definitely not where it should be health-wise, but he feels good about his 6 goals and 8 assists. He’s proud of his boys.

They face the Knights in the Conference Final and it’s some of the hardest hockey Nate has ever played. The warm, fuzzy feelings about the franchise being successful in the Vegas desert have worn off and now hockey fans are just brutal. Nate lays more hits that series than ever and he relishes in how satisfied everyone seems by them. The Knights lay them back, however, and EJ suffers a busted wrist for it. He sits games 5 and 6, the latter of which Josty also sits with hurt knee, but they’re both back in Game 7. Nate’s not questioning it. He knows what medicine can do now.

They win after a grueling double OT against the Knights and it’s in that strange, tired, yet absolutely wired atmosphere that Gabe, Nate, and EJ pose with the Clarence S. Campbell Bowl and then they all absolutely lose their shit. Nate doesn’t think he’s acted like so much of a nutjob in his life, but he’s well-suited in this company to act that way. He even sees Bednar drink out of the side of a beer and crush it on his skull, he thinks.

Their work isn’t done, however, yet Nate is absolutely fried. He’s lazing around his house the day after, only 3 days away from the final, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this exhausted in his life. He moves to sit heavily on his back porch, not even bothering with a chair and sitting instead on the reclaimed wood with a cup of coffee. Nate stares out at the sky, bright blue and lit up by the sun, and tries not to think about how tired he is. He has a workout later, around 6. He’s hoping he makes it.

It’s then that he hears some movement inside his house. At first he’s fearful, but then it wears away as he considers it could be any one of his teammates. It sounds like it might be, as the footsteps move in a guided way, as if familiar with the place.

He’s still sitting there, waiting for whoever it is to come to him on the porch, when he hears the person stop and presumably stand in the doorway between the house and yard.

“Tired, eh?”

Nate flips around and his gaze lands on Sidney Crosby, looking comfortable in a soft t-shirt and nice joggers. He’s squinting slightly against the sun, his eyes trained on Nate, and Nate tries not to just crawl over. He looks beautiful, and warm, and comfortable, and like everything Nate has ever wanted but could never really have. Instead, Nate slumps over his coffee and nods.

Sid steps forward then and sits down next to Nate. He tries not to wince as he hears the cracks of Sid’s knees, tries not to stare as he takes in the ever-increasing amount of greys by Sid’s temple, the lovely wrinkles by his eyes. This sport ages you, he knows that, but he feels a little dread thinking about Sid retiring sooner rather than later. He doesn’t know what he’d do without him.

Sid reaches out and grabs Nate’s coffee, taking a sip. Nate used to drink his coffee very differently, but like with most things, now he drinks it mostly black with just a dash of milk and a dash of sugar, just like Sid. The man in question makes a pleased face and looks to the side at Nate. He doesn’t know what to make of Sid’s face.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Okay,” Nate responds quickly, curious. Sid just nods and hands the coffee back, watching Nate take a long drink.

They sit there in silence for a while. Nate stares out at the mountains, marveling at everything. He’s on the brink of taking on his first Stanley Cup Final, with the team that drafted him and believed in him, with a guy by his side he still can’t quite figure out but at least now he can maybe try.

“Did you bring anything?” Nate asks suddenly, thinking he didn’t hear Sid place a suitcase down inside.

Sid just smiles, flushing slightly, and responds, “No, I thought I’d just swim in your clothes, you absolute refrigerator.”

Nate laughs, blushing, and shakes his head, shoving at Sid’s arm. The guy just laughs alongside him and Nate tries not to burn up at the idea of Sid wearing his clothes. His mind is filled with an image of Sid in his jersey, the MacKinnon 29 bold on the back, cheering him on. His mind then quickly moves to Sid on his front in Nate’s bed, the jersey staring back up at him with nothing else on, and-

“That’s fine, maybe it’ll make you lift a weight or two,” Nate cuts into his own thoughts, replying as quickly as he can.

Sid just chuckles again, reaching out to push Nate back. He lets himself get pushed and they fall back into easy silence, only interrupted by more small questions and tired chirps. Finally, Sid asks if he’s eaten, which Nate hasn’t, and they head back inside. Nate leaves the backdoor open and opens a window too, relishing in the early summer breeze. He watches Sid move around his kitchen, despite never having been here before, and lets him make whatever he desires.

They’re sitting at his table soon, mostly in silence again, and Sid finally commits.

“I doubt you want to talk about it all now, so I’m more than happy to wait, but-”

Nate braces himself.

“I just need you to know before anything that I care about you more than you know. And I know that’s probably the problem, that I don’t tell you enough, but I do. You’re so important to me, just as you are, and I’m sorry I ever let you think otherwise.”

Nate feels decimated. He feels carved out and emptied and filled back up with something he can’t quite identify, he just knows it makes him feel good and whole. Nate has so much love for him in that moment that he almost just tells Sid to get out, that he doesn’t know what he’s saying, that he wouldn’t say it at all if he knew. But he doesn’t. He just gives Sid a constipated face that Sid must take for Nate-trying-emotions and puts a hand on Nate’s forearm. Nate chokes out a thanks and the two continue on.

Nate wishes they could all live and be as comfortable as Sid seems to live and be.

It’s on the eve of Game 4 that Sid finally touches on it again. Nate knew he wouldn’t be able to last the whole week, but he hoped. They’re one game away from sweeping the Capitals, and wouldn’t that be sweet, and Nate wishes he’d just let it ride a little bit longer.

Sid’s a little frantic though. He has been, this whole week, working overtime to make sure Nate has everything he needs, is doing everything he should be doing. His parents got in after Game 1 and opted to rent an AirBnB for the week rather than stay with Nate. He was pretty surprised by it at the time, but after his mom and dad shared dinner with him and Sid, he thinks they’re convinced they’re being polite. Sid is clearly, well, taking care of Nate. It’s honestly pretty annoying, but Nate loves him too much to tell him to fuck off. He likes it too, he thinks, knowing Sid is at his house, making it a home for Nate, just like Mel does for Gabe and Jackie does for EJ. He should maybe feel a little bad at relegating Sidney Crosby to the role of a doting WAG, but, well, what Sid doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He thinks Sid may have figured it out, though, because Sid looks tense as they sit in Nate’s study, quiet and pensive before Nate turns in for bed.

Nate finally bites and asks what’s wrong and Sid knits his eyebrows together and admits, “I feel like a housewife.”

Nate opens and closes his mouth a bunch, feeling like an incredibly stressed out fish. “I’m… sorry?”

That must not be what Sid wants to hear because he looks even more confused and maybe annoyed now too. Nate sits up, dropping his iPad beside him, and holds out his hands.

“No, I am, sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. That’s not why I invited you here, to be like… my girlfriend or something.” That makes yet another face pop up on Sid’s, this one even more boggling to Nate, so he carries on, now frantic himself. “Trust me, seriously, not my intention. I know it probably, like, weirds you out to act like this for me, I didn’t even think about it. It’s probably creepy, too, since you know I’m into dudes and-”

“What?”

Nate stops, staring at Sid with a quirked eyebrow. He looks frozen, his face stuck now on being passive and blank. His tone sinks in, and Nate feels dread as he realizes what he’s gotten himself into.

He tries to back out and adds, “No, no, never mind, forget I said that, I just-”

“You are?”

He doesn’t really say it like a question, like he’s confirming something maybe. This is the worst possible situation Nate could find himself in, he realizes, and it’s on the eve of a possible sweep and thus a possible Cup win. Everything is bad , he thinks as he stands up, moving towards the door of the study.

Nate starts talking, hoping he can dig himself out of this and make Sid not hate him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Sid did. He just really thought Sid knew, at the very least, that he was into guys. He’s definitely mentioned his relationship with Jo before. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this weird. Well, fuck, like, it’s already weird, weirder I guess. I just- I really like you, Sid, and I really want your approval on, like, everything, even down to the kind of broccoli I buy at the store, so if you actually hate gay people or something, like, I’m not gay, I’m bi, and the difference matters, but, like, can you just pretend you don’t until you pack your stuff and go? I mean, you can stay here, it’s totally fine, but I don’t see why you’d want to, I’m, like, super creepy and disgusting to you now, I know, but-”

He feels hands gently take his wrists and he backs up quickly into the wall, looking at Sid’s face. It looks vaguely hurt for a moment, but it’s mostly just sad and a little of something else Nate can’t determine. Every inch of Nate’s body is tense and he can feel how strained his wrists feel under Sid’s soft grasp. He could pull away if he wanted. He still doesn’t want to. He hates himself a little.

“I want to make one thing perfectly clear before I say anything else and it’s that I could never, ever hate you. I mean it, there is quite literally nothing you could do or say that would make me hate you, bar, like, committing violent crimes or something.”

Nate feels himself relax, despite danger still being on the horizon. He hates how calm Sid makes him. Sid lets him go, Nate’s hands dropping heavily to his sides and they stare at one another for a moment before Sid leads him back to the sofa they were lounging on.

“Now, I need you to know something about me. It’s probably gonna piss you off, and I’m sorry I waited till now, but I haven’t told anyone except, like, 6 or 7 people, so I hope you understand. I think you might, but you’ve been pretty angry with me lately in general, rightfully so,” Sid tacks on, quickly. “I’m gay, Nate.”

Nate blinks. He blinks and blinks and blinks. He feels his world shift a bit, re-orient itself, click back in somewhere else. Water is wet, the Avs might win the Cup tomorrow, Gabe is handsome, Nate’s been in love with Sid since he was 10, and Sid is gay. Things that are, apparently, true.

He opens and closes his mouth again, clueless how to respond. Sid waits him out and it’s then that Nate realizes just how nervous he is, his entire body tense and his face strained. Nate reaches a hand out to touch Sid’s knee and he feels the man relax immediately under his grip.

“Thank you. I do understand,” Nate says, embarrassed by how soft and quiet his voice comes out.

Sid swallows, his eyes a bit shiny as he looks openly and desperately relieved. Nodding, he shrugs and looks a little cagey again before continuing, “I thought you picked up on it.”

Nate’s confusion must show on his face, as Sid glances over, because he gestures vaguely and adds, “I thought…” He looks back at Nate’s face and swallows, clearly deciding against something. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“Does that have anything to do with you feeling like a-” Nate blushes again “-housewife?”

Sid blushes now, looking intently at the wall across from them. “Yeah. It doesn’t matter though. I was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sid says, his voice a little desperate.

Nate’s extremely confused. He’s about to ask for more clarification, try to understand how Sid feeling like a housewife turned into Nate being bi turned into Sid being gay turned into Sid being wrong about something. He wishes he was, like, Gabe or something. He knows Gabe could figure this out.

Suddenly, though, Sid stands up and checks the time and says, “You need to go to bed.”

Nate honestly thinks he’d have this reaction even if they weren’t in the middle of something. He rolls his eyes and stands, grabbing his iPad to plug into its charger.

“Fine. But we’re not done with this,” Nate threatens. He’s kind of surprised by how authoritative he sounds, like he really is the one in charge between the two of them, and he looks back at Sid to see him looking like he’s thinking the same.

To his surprise, however, Sid just nods and says quietly, “Okay.” They move upstairs, Sid to the guest bedroom and Nate to his room, bidding goodnight to one another.

The next morning, Sid makes him breakfast again, Nate’s mind stuck on both Sid feeling like a housewife and the important day ahead of him. He’s a little surprised when Sid offers to take him to practice and pick him up, but he’s grateful, and he’s thankful too when Sid stays relatively quiet during lunch with his parents and Sarah, who got in the night before. They go home and Sid lets him nap without much chatter before or after.

Sid makes him his sweet potatoes and chicken after he wakes up and it’s only when Nate is dressed in his burgundy and navy suit, hopefully his last of the season, when Sid touches on the weird night before. He’s in the middle of fixing Nate’s tie for him when Nate realizes Sid is also dressed, just in a button-down and jeans.

He must notice the moment Nate processes it because he smiles, shrugging slightly, and says, “Your mom asked after lunch if I was going. You never did, but I can bail if you don’t want me there.”

Nate stares at him, watches as he schools his face into something relaxed and bland, like it wouldn’t matter if Nate said no. He thinks about Sid’s reactions the night before, the fact he lit up Nate’s phone for ages after their disagreement, how readily he prepared to come to Denver and spend time here. He considers Sid acting like a housewife, clearly feeling some kind of way about it, yet continuing to happily do it anyway. He thinks about standing in the foyer, an hour before the game of Nate’s life up until this point, with Sid tying and adjusting his tie, all in his space, with Sid ready to go to the game with his parents, all because his mom asked. He looks at Sid’s eyes and sees how unsure he is, the faintest crease between his eyebrows giving him away, because Nate knows him, because Nate can read him better than almost anyone, and that’s not nothing.

So, Nate takes a chance. He moves his hands up from where they were dangling by his sides and cups Sid’s face. He moves in, watching carefully for any kind of negative reaction from Sid, and as he sees the man’s eyes close, he closes his own, and presses their lips together. Sid’s hands are still resting on Nate’s chest where Nate realizes he never moved them after finishing messing with his tie and he pulls Sid in, moving one arm to wrap around him.

Sid moves one hand down to pull Nate in closer by his waist, letting his body droop against him. They kiss for much longer than Nate has time for, opening their mouths to each other, Nate finally getting a taste after all these years.

His phone buzzes and Nate pulls away, suddenly remembering what’s at stake. Sid seems to remember too, as he smiles sheepishly, and rights Nate’s suit again from where he had been gripping it. Nate looks at him fondly as he sees Sid biting his reddened lips, a blush spread across his nose and cheeks. Nate can’t seem to stop a smile from growing on his own face, his own blush certainly rivaling Sid’s. It feels like it is, anyway.

Nate moves his hand from where it’s resting on Sid’s neck to his temples and he brushes through Sid’s hair there, peppered with greys, and says, “I only want you there.”

Sid smiles, wide and silly, his eyes crinkling and blush deepening, and he says, “I’m telling your mom you said that.”

Nate smiles back, just as wide and silly, his new teeth that Sid hates so much on full display, and responds, “You do that. She’ll want to hear it from you, her favorite.”

It’s with Sid’s smiley and blushy face in mind that Nate suits up and jumps into Game 4. The Capitals are wracked with injuries, an evil Nate wouldn’t wish on anyone, even the Wild or the Wings, but he can’t help but feel pretty good about it anyway. Without Ovechkin, Holtby, Wilson, and Carlson, there’s no chance. At least they won it a couple years ago, Nate thinks, watching as Gabe sets Nate up to score what would become the OT game-winner.

The aftermath is chaos. Nate always thought it looked chaotic on screen, and Sid always described it this way, as did Factor and Schenner when he picked their brains about it, but it turns out he had no real idea. There’s so much media and players and families, just, everywhere. He turns and bumps into somebody who wants to scream with him every other second. Annoyingly, he can’t even find his own family.

He’s in the middle of hugging Bellsy and Hannah when he finally hears Sarah’s squeals behind him. He turns to catch his sister, overjoyed, and he jumps into his parents’ arms after that. They’re asking him a thousand questions and he’s giving them a thousand answers, his sister screeching about him winning the game, getting the GWG, when Nate realizes Sid isn’t there. Sarah has moved on to talking to Jacklyn, Girard’s girlfriend, along with his dad.

His mom sees his confusion and gently strokes the side of his face, saying, “Sid’s waiting for you elsewhere. He wanted to be here, but we thought it was probably best that he didn’t, for both of you.”

Nate flushes as he realizes that they are, of course, completely correct. There is quite literally no plausible explanation for Sidney Crosby being present on the ice after the Avs win the Stanley Cup, no matter how close of buds he and Nathan MacKinnon are. He just laughs, amused by his own ridiculousness, and his mom does too, the two sharing a hug.

After the team moves their celebrations inside the room, everyone taking their first initial turns drinking out of the Cup and the entire Avs staff losing their collective shit as loudly and messily as they can, Nate tries to ditch some of his gear. He tosses it in the direction of the pile everyone else seems to be tossing theirs and turns to see Josty sitting in JT’s lap, his head tucked into JT’s neck, his lips clearly putting in some work.

Nate turns his head to see Gabe looking at him, as if daring him to say something. Nate gestures as wildly as he can to suggest what could /I/ possibly have to say? and Gabe just cackles before running and tackling Nate into a stall.

Everyone makes their speeches and drinks some more and it all begins to fade together to Nate as he starts to realize just how tired he is. He stumbles outside of the dressing room, dressed in only his suit pants, which are pretty gross already, and leans against the wall, letting the distant chaos fade from his mind.

He’s focusing on breathing and not feeling so drunk and dizzy when he feels someone crowd him again. He’s about to snap at whoever it is to just please leave him alone for one second when he breathes in and realizes it’s Sid. Immediately, he folds in on Sid and tucks his face into him, feeling calmed.

“Congratulations,” Sid whispers, his hands warm and comfortable on Nate’s body. “I’m so proud of you.”

Nate doesn’t think he can be blamed for the boner he gets, hardening faster than literally ever in his life. Sid just laughs, delighted, and kisses his jaw.

“Tomorrow. Finish celebrating and then come home to get some sleep. I’ll be there, eh?” Nate watches, dazed, as Sid tries to steady his gaze by grabbing his chin. Nate kind of wishes Sid would just grab his chin and force his mouth around Sid’s cock.

It must show on his face, because Sid laughs again, bright red this time, and presses a quick kiss to Nate’s lips before disappearing down the hall. He says back to Nate, “Might wanna calm him down before going back in!”

So Nate does. He thinks honestly it wouldn’t be crazy if he didn’t, he also thinks maybe one of the guys would probably give him a handjob if he made it a little more obvious. He thinks Cale might, intimidated by Nate as he is, and he knows Burky would probably just get on his knees if Nate asked. He’s almost tempted, but he watches the last of Sid disappear around the corner, and he thinks he has something much better waiting for him if he’s just patient.

As it is, he turns to go back down the hall to the room, and he looks to his right at one of the closed doors to the trainers’ rooms and he sees a hell of a sight through the window. He moves in closer to see JT with his head thrown back, mostly naked, with his hands tucked firmly into Josty’s hair. The door is closed, and they’re mostly out of sight, so Nate has to angle his gaze to see the way Josty’s lips look stretched around JT’s cock as he moves up and down, his hand reaching what his mouth doesn’t - or can’t.

He feels someone come up behind him and he knows it’s Gabe by the way he drapes himself over Nate’s back. The two watch for a few moments longer before Nate feels Gabe’s cock twitching against him. He gives Gabe a look behind him, eyebrow raised, and Gabe just laughs quietly and drags Nate back to the room.

“I can’t do anything, I have-”

“Sid, I know,” Gabe says, pulling Nate in for a soft kiss anyway. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you to invite him after all.”

Nate smiles against his lips, reaching down to grab a handful of Gabe’s ass anyway, and says, “I’m sure he would understand, but I’d rather not push it.”

Gabe just nods and moves to give Nate’s jaw a nibble, gently grabbing his cock once before making an approving noise, before disappearing back into the mayhem, probably to find someone else.

So Nate stands there, watching teammates and organization employees and the staff drink and yell and be wildly horny with each other before he turns to grab his shirt and bail. He sees a couple other people doing the same, dazed looks on their faces, and he wraps an arm around Naz, who is stumbling and doing his best to pretend he’s not.

“So, you feelin’ good?” Nate asks, feeling smug. He knows Naz had a lot of trouble in Toronto and he’s glad Denver welcomed him happily. Naz feels more at home here now and it’s mostly because of Barrie, but Nate likes to think he helped too, along with the rest of the boys.

Naz just grins at him and plants a wet kiss on Nate’s cheek, nodding and saying, “Never better, Mack. I know we just got it, but we should really do this again next year. Think you can master another beauty game-winner?”

Nate laughs then, loud and free, and says, “For you, you absolute manrocket? Anything.”

The two exchange a long hug before Nate sends him off with his wife, the two squealing and basically skipping away. Nate yells after him the vague plans he heard everyone mentioning and Naz yells back agreement, both of them listening as Ashley says he might be busy. Nate watches them go fondly.

He makes his way to where he knows his sister is waiting for him with a couple other family members and some WAGs. They drive home, his sister thankfully sober, and she drops him off at his house after giving him a long hug and a really nice speech about how proud she is to be his sister, always, but especially tonight. It definitely made him cry a little bit and she promised she wouldn’t mention it in the morning, which he knew was a lie.

It was nice, though, and when he stumbles out of the car, he hears Sarah say, “Thanks, Sid, goodnight!” He looks up and sees Sid standing in the doorway and waving, looking comfortable and warm in his sleepwear, and happy to see them. Nate walks slowly up the walkway and collapses into Sid’s arms, letting the man shepherd him upstairs, into the shower, and then into new clothes.

It’s not until Sid’s about to leave the room that Nate pulls him back, asking him to stay. Sid says something about not taking advantage of Nate when he just sleepily says just wanna sleep with you. He crawls into bed then, right up against Nate, and it’s tucked into his warm embrace, in clean sheets with a clean body, only hours after winning the Cup, that Nate feels at home, safe, and loved.

He wakes up the next morning feeling warm and content. The bed’s empty, he realizes, but he hears the sounds of cookware in the kitchen gently clanging and he smiles, nuzzling the pillow that still smells like Sid.

Eventually, he gets up and makes his way downstairs, occupying himself with his phone and responding to seemingly hundreds of texts. He continues to do so as he sits down at the island, exchanging a soft kiss with Sid before resuming his work. Sid doesn’t seem to mind, busying himself with making a hearty breakfast, the first of the offseason. Nate feels excited as he sees Sid making pancakes and he finally gets up to pull out the bacon he has tucked away in the fridge. He hands it to Sid, who smiles at him, rolling his eyes fondly, before sitting back down.

Sid presents Nate with breakfast and ushers him toward the table and they finally start to actually talk, both clutching their coffees as they eagerly dig in.

Nate almost thinks they’re going to get away with no more heavy conversation when Sid says, “So I’ve been what I think is extremely patient and I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. Can we please talk now?”

Nate looks at him and finally processes the tenseness at the corners of Sid’s eyes, the strain in his shoulders, his general energy. Nate smiles fondly, shaking his head, and nods. Sid seems to steady himself rather than launch into a diatribe and instead says, “I’m not gonna rehash our entire conversation and get it all out of you, and I can obviously piece stuff together after the last couple days, but I just need to know.”

Nate waits, but Sid doesn’t continue. He gestures.

Sid breathes deeply and asks, “Do you have feelings for me?”

Even after last night and this morning, Nate still feels like the food in his mouth turns to ash. He finished chewing and drinks his coffee, thinking about what Sid is playing at here. Is it possible Sid doesn’t actually want him? He’s filled with so much dread suddenly it feels like it’s choking him. Sid seems to pick up on this, as he reaches a hand out, tentative, and grips Nate’s forearm.

Swallowing, Nate rests the cup down and shakily answers, “Of course I do, Sid.”

He hears Sid let loose an unamused laugh, more bark than anything, and he looks at him. Sid looks incredulous and a little irked. “I don’t think there’s any ‘of course’ about it, bud. For how long?”

“Way too long,” Nate responds quickly, feeling his face heat. Sid looks pleased at least. That brings Nate to his question, however, which he doesn’t get to voice because Sid beats him to it.

“Why do you think I was upset you couldn’t be in Pittsburgh, Nate? Really,” he adds, as if Nate needs any prompting to just be honest. “And I hope it’s not actually because you think I need you there for superstition.”

“Well, I don’t know, Sid,” Nate says, a little hot. “We always felt one-sided, honestly. Like it was just me following you around, fawning over you, doing whatever you said, and you just ate it up and went with it, I guess.” He feels kind of bad, seeing how crestfallen Sid looks at that. Nate thinks he always knew that’s not really how Sid felt, but he never gave him anything else to work with.

He voices that next and Sid looks even more upset, his hands dropping to his lap. He looks like he’s been scolded more than anything and Nate sighs, reaching out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I know you’re not a bad guy, Sid. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. I just don’t know who I am to you, I guess.”

“You’re the most important person in my life, is who you are,” Sid answers, his voice cracking in the middle. He clears his throat and looks back at Nate and he’s a little surprised to see his eyes so glassy. “I’m so sorry I never made that clearer to you. I thought you knew.”

“I mean,” Nate says, floundering. “I guess I kind of did? We spend our entire summers together. But, like, I’ve been so in love with you for years, and I really did think you knew I liked guys, and I know we’re more equals now that I’m an actual adult and not just a lame, pimple-faced teenager, but, like-”

“I should have said so,” Sid finishes. “I know that now.”

Nate nods and pulls his hand back, putting it back on his coffee like a lifeline. He waits Sid out, watches him mull things over in his mind. Feeling a little guilty, Nate’s own brain shifts back to remembering the final moments of the game before when Nate knew with intense clarity that they were about to win the Cup. He thinks he might feel a little bit like that now.

Sid speaks again and his voice sounds more sure, “I love you. I need you to know that.”

He feels his brow furrow and he asks, “Is there a but coming or something?”

“No,” Sid says, sounding genuinely confused. “Why?”

Nate laughs, rolling his eyes. Only Sidney could make a love confession sound so dire and strange. He just shakes his head at Sid’s even more confused look and blushes, grabbing Sid’s hand out of his lap. “I love you too, come on.”

He watches, pleased, as Sid’s cheeks pink at that and a small smile appears. He lets out a small giggle as he sits forward to resume eating and Nate watches, feeling helpless and lost and more than a little in love with this absolute weirdo.

Nate waits until Sid takes a big bite when he asks, “So when you said you feel like a housewife, is that, like, a thing you’re into?”

Sid chokes on his bite of pancake and Nate just cackles, enjoying their matching blushes almost as much as Sid takes a drink and starts sputtering excuses. He motions with Sid’s hand, pressing a kiss to it before letting go to resume eating himself.

“I’m sorry, I had to. I still don’t know what you were asking though, when you said that.”

Nate watches as Sid turns redder than he has all night and day. He pauses and then says, “I thought when you asked me here, especially after our weird little argument, that it was, like, because you wanted me. I hoped anyway. So when I got here, I tried to be your partner as much as I could, but then you never did anything. I thought I just misunderstood, but then I thought, you know, maybe if I do this enough, maybe he’ll see me as someone who could be his partner.”

Swallowing down his misplaced guilt, Nate feels a little sad thinking about how let down Sid must have felt.

“But then you told me you liked guys, which maybe I subconsciously knew or something, and I realized there’s no way you could have known I liked guys, especially because you thought I was actually with Kathy, like everyone does, and- I don’t know. It wasn’t actually how I wanted to broach all that with you, but it seemed to be the way it came out.”

“Okay,” Nate starts, sitting back in his chair. “Two things. One, I have actually wondered what the deal is with Kathy, so I’d like an explanation because I doubt you’re going to ‘dump’ her since it would be honestly pretty irresponsible. We’re gonna have to come up with something for the summer and the seasons. We’ll figure it out later, much later,” Nate adds at Sid’s eager look. It figures Sid already came up with ideas. “Two, it’s kind of amazing how close you actually were to being right about everything, but we’re two complete idiots trying to figure shit out together, so I don’t know what you fuckin’ expected, honestly.”

He watches as Sid cackles then, looking relieved and overjoyed, his cheeks seemingly permanently pink. Nate smiles, pleased.

“And, actually, a third thing: how would you feel if I made you wear panties and an apron and called you my wife?”

Nate watches, feeling aroused suddenly, as Sid’s chuckles wind down and a glassy-eyed and strained look appears on his face instead. They stare at each other in absolute silence, Nate’s cock hardening as he watches the image of it all process in Sid’s mind. The man in question turns so red Nate gets a little worried and focuses on his food intently.

Choking through it, Sid responds, “We’ll revisit that later.”

Nate smiles serenely, adjusting how he’s sitting to better suit his hard-on, and says, “We sure will.”

They finish breakfast mostly in silence, Sid looking antsy and finishing his food somewhat quickly while Nate eats his slowly and confidently. He sits back and pushes his luck by saying to Sid as he stands, “Clean up my plate, will you?”

Sid knows exactly what he’s doing, he can tell by his expression, but he does as Nate asks. He also refills Nate’s coffee as he asks, straightens the kitchen as Nate asks, and finally, when they get upstairs, undresses Nate as Nate asks. By the time Nate has Sid on the bed stroking himself as Nate watches intently, Sid finally pipes up about it.

“This isn’t what I meant by later,” Sid whines, his other hand creeping down anyway to play with his own hole as Nate requested.

Nate smiles and knee walks on the bed over Sid, who happily spreads his body out to accommodate him. “I know,” he says, moving his hands down Sid’s body to take care of him himself. “We’ll figure it all out another day.”

He works on flipping them and he shifts Sid so that he’s laying between Nate’s legs, his head propped on Nate’s chest.

“For now, though,” Nate says, his voice low and firm as he strokes Sid’s hair gently. “Will you be good for me and celebrate my Cup win by putting that pretty mouth on my cock?”

Nate smiles at how quickly Sid responds, a quick nod before he moves down to set to work. He lays his head back, checking on Sid every once in a while, never doing more than gently petting his hair and moving his hand down to feel Sid’s throat where his cock is.

They have a lot more to talk about, he knows that. They’ll return home to Cole Harbour soon and be forced to confront all their family and friends with this. They won’t be able to hide it, Nate already knows. Not completely. And that’s not to mention what the seasons will look like, only seeing each other twice a year, over the All Star Break if they somehow are both uninvited.

But, Nate thinks, watching his come paint Sid’s mouth, there are worse things than somehow getting everything you ever wanted. Especially, Nate thinks, pulling Sid up to kiss him before flipping them over so he can return the favor, if he feels like they want him back.