Work Text:
Sid is tired.
The game was exhausting, a fight with the Canes that went into OT. They lost, and the point they grabbed doesn’t do much to make him feel better. Sid missed several passes, the team wasn’t clicking, the only reason - the only reason - that they managed those two points was due to Jarry.
The kid stood on his head, multiple times, effectively saving the Pens from a complete blow out.
Sid feels like shit that as a captain, he failed in every aspect to unit his team.
He’s also absolutely enraged at himself for not playing better hockey.
But. He’s tired and he feels old in a way he really doesn’t like so he’s deciding to just go home instead of staying and obsessively going over game play.
Or he would be, if he could find his partner.
“Hey, Stew have you seen Kris?” The trainer gives him a sympathetic look and shakes his head.
“Last I saw he was talking to Tristan. That was an hour ago though.”
Sid yawns and thanks him, wandering down the hall. He has to go past the locker room to get to the kitchen, where he assumes Tanger will be.
When he passes the locker room though, he notices something’s off. The door are open, which is normal and allowed him to glance inside to make sure Kris wasn’t waiting there.
It also allows him to see a very conspicuous lack of players, staff, or…clothing.
Sid pauses, and counts off on his fingers. It’s early January, the last nesting period Jarry had was…October. Shit.
Right, well. That’s where Tanger went off too.
He stops by the kitchen regardless, grabbing a couple of Gatorades and protein bars. He’d bed Jars has had Tanger since Stew saw him, and if that’s the case, then Tanger never got to eat anything after. Kris, Sid has learned, gets incredibly hangry.
The Pens nesting room was built into the new arena, where it had previously been an unoccupied conference room. The irony there, is that when they moved to the new arena, non of the goalies could find the new room, and so claimed another conference room that was closer to the locker room.
This one has a mini-fridge in it.
He knocks on the door lightly, opening it without waiting for an answer.
Sure enough, there’s his team, piled up together under various blankets, jerseys, pillows, and random articles of clothing. He thinks he even spots Rusty tucked under Kris’ stupidly expensive dress coat.
“Hi Sid,” Geno chirps happily, wrapped in blankets head to toe. “Jars is nesting.”
Sid nods, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “I, uh. I see that.”
A pair of eyes peak out from under a pillow and they immediately zone in on Sid.
He tenses. Jars has been known to pounce.
“I was looking for-”
“A spot? Excellent idea captain, we saved you a seat.” Zucker pipes up, nodding pointedly towards an area next to Geno that says ‘ you better be taking that fucking spot because I’m concerned what will happen if you don’t’.
He bites back a groan, because really, really he just wanted to go home and go to bed. Preferably with Kris.
But. Captain things. And, considering his absolutely abysmal performance on ice tonight, he definitely owes it to Jars.
Thank god they’re on a bit of a break and don’t have a game for another four days.
“Right, yeah,” Sid mumbles, and picks his way over Guentzy and Danton. There’s a few mattresses on the floor, the conference table pushed up against a wall so whenever a goalie wants a goal like ‘cage’ as it were, they have a place.
Naturally, there’s where Jars is right now, if the dark eyes following Sid’s path is anything to go by. Geno is sat up against the wall next to it, not quite under the table. Kappy is next to him, aggressively texting on his phone and using Geno as a cushion.
Sid nearly kicks Rusty in the head having to jump over the forward, and then he’s in front of his boyfriend.
“Knock knock,” Sid says softly, smiling despite himself as Kris glares up at him. He’s on his back, under the table, completely covered. There’s a Pens blanket, and then what looks like…everyone’s jerseys…and then- ah. There’s his goalie.
Sid lets out a yelp as a hand snakes out from under the mound of fabrics and yanks him down next to Tanger. He barely avoids beaning himself on the edge of the table and lands with an ‘oof’ from Tanger which is fair since his elbow made direct contact with Kris’ stomach.
Sid smiles at Kris while Jars emerges from the depths and starts rearranging his nest to properly include Sid. “Hi.”
Kris looks annoyed. “He refused to let me go, you know. Refused .”
“Did he pull your hair again?” Sid laughs, quieting quickly when Tristian growls at him. “Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not,” Sid carefully shifts to be more comfortable, head on Kris’ shoulder. “I should’ve seen this coming.”
“You and me both.” Tanger sighs, maneuvering his body so he can wrap an arm around Sid. “You’re okay?”
Sid starts with a nod. “Yeah I’m…no.”
Tanger smiles into Sid’s hair. “I’m surprised you aren’t back out on the ice.”
“I want to be, but…I don’t know Kris. There was no excuse for how I played tonight.”
His lead defenseman hums, knowing that Sid’s not finished. Jars lays his goalie jersey over Sid and scuttles out from the under the table to get more supplies.
“I feel old , Kris, and I don’t like it.” he whispers.
Tanger laughs, pulling Sid closer. “We are old, Sid. In hockey, anyway.”
“You ready to retire then? Should I wheel you into the old folks home?” Sid snarks, trying to mask the very real fear in his voice. He’s felt like since his concussion he’s had a better grip on the inevitability of retiring, but in another way he’s not dealt with it at all.
When he was out with the concussion, he had to face the idea that he might never come back, but he didn’t really believe it. Geno said he beat his concussion symptoms by pure stubbornness, and some days Sid feels like he’s right.
He doesn’t ever want to stop doing this. He doesn’t ever want to take the ice and not have Kris or Geno by his side, knowing they retired. But at the same time, he owes it to his team to be the best he can be.
Tonight felt like a warning of what's to come. Unable to lead his team, unable to play hockey the way he knows how.
“You had one bad night Sid, that doesn’t mean you’re done.” Kris sighs. Jars returns with Geno’s sweatshirt and a stuffed penguin from somewhere. He is adamant that Sid holds the penguin.
It’s very soft.
While Tristan goes about making a spot for himself among all the fabric, Sid takes the opportunity to really look at Kris. He looks tired and worn, but content and happy all the same. A small part of Sid is jealous about that too, about how graceful Kris manages to pull off this wretched process of getting older.
Tristan lays down on their legs. Kris pecks Sid on the lips and scooches impossibly closer. “We’ll be fine, Sid. I promise.”
Sid closes his eyes and tries to decide if he believes him.