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Geno takes a special kind of pleasure in beating the Hawks in seven. In their barn. All those red jerseys sagging in defeat, a soothing balm to his soul.
Getting a 3-0 lead on the Rangers, it just seems inevitable that they’ll win the Cup again, and while it takes them five games to knock them out, they do it.
Winning the Cup on home court is like nothing else. It’s the roaring approval of some 20,000 strong, a beautiful thunder in his ears as it rocks the stadium. It’s hands slapping his back in triumph, Dustin lifting the Cup into the air before pressing it into Geno’s hands.
Geno is never as strong as when he holds the Cup, the Stanley Cup, high above his head.
It’s tangible proof they’re the best, that he is the best, and he will never ever get tired of the feeling—could do it again and again and again.
He’s trying to explain it, to put that feeling into words, clumsy, useless English words so the little kid who asked him, What does it feel like to win the Cup? could understand even just a fragment of its significance, of the magnitude of knowing you’re at your rightful place on top of the world.
“It’s, uh, I don’t know. It’s everything,” Geno manages to stutter out eventually, his teammates nodding their agreement on either side of him and the little kid’s smile widens, his eyes sparkling, as if yes, everything, makes perfect sense.
Geno grins back at him. Maybe it does.
“Okay, guys! We have time for one more question before we close the panel. The guys have places to be, eh? It’s Anze’s turn with the Cup today.”
Anze grins impossibly wide from Geno’s left. He leans close while the Speaker continues addressing the audience.
“You’re coming tonight, right?”
Geno snorts. “As if I’m miss.” If Anze has decided he wants to share his Cup day with the rest of them, Geno is not about to stop him. He’d spend 24/7 with the Cup if he could.
“Yes, hello. My name is Sidney Crosby—” Geno’s jaw drops, and when he turns his head back towards the audience, Sidney Crosby, the Sidney Crosby, is standing by the mic, looking up at the panel of players and introducing himself as if he isn’t the best hockey player in the goddamn world. As if he’s not the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins, and as if they haven’t all played against him dozens of times before.
What the hell?
“—I don’t really have a question, more of a comment really. For, uhm, for Geno.” He flushes self-consciously when Geno meets his gaze.
Geno feels very lost right now.
“It’s about your slap shot,” Sidney Crosby continues. Beautiful Sidney Crosby, whom Geno has had a not so secret crush on for years. Literal years.
Rich and Carts had bought him a poster size framed picture of him as a joke once, because they’re both assholes. The picture is in storage, but Geno still has it.
“You drop your arm too soon. It’s why you’re not getting full power on it, and why it went wide in Game 7 against the Blackhawks. You’d have a hat trick if not. I, uh. You keep doing it, so I thought you should know.”
There is silence in the hall. No one says anything, as surprised by Sidney’s presence at the Kings’ Cup Fan Convention as Geno himself.
“Right,” Sidney Crosby says, and politely excuses himself. No one stops him.
Geno watches him go. His mind is reeling.
Sidney Crosby knows who he is.
Well, of course Sidney Crosby knows who he is. He’s Evgeni Malkin, Conn Smythe winner and star player of the L.A. Kings. Sidney Crosby obviously knows who he is, but—
Beautiful Sidney Crosby knows him. Well enough to critique his play.
“Holy shit,” Drew breathes out on Geno’s other side, his microphone close enough that it picks up on the sound, and the children in the hall start giggling at the slip, Drew wincing in apology when the Speaker turns to him pointedly.
“Sorry,” he says, but Geno is hardly paying attention.
Holy shit indeed.
He’s not been playing up to beautiful Sidney Crosby’s standards and he hadn’t even known.
Geno is going to fix this.
*
Sid is not an impulsive kind of guy. He’s just not.
He’s not sure then, what possessed him to crash the Kings’ fan convention like that. Jesus. There were going to be clips of that scene posted to the Internet, Sid immortalised forever criticising Evgeni Malkin’s slap shot.
“Oh, my God,” he whispers to himself.
He really hadn’t planned on doing it when he woke up that morning, but he was out for lunch when he saw the flyer advertising the convention, and he was already in L.A., so he figured why not?
He might as well get it over with so he could get it out of his mind, to focus on his own off-season training instead of the way Evgeni Malkin’s botched slap shot was off by half a second and driving him crazy.
It’s inexcusable! And a player of Malkin’s caliber!
Sid nods to himself, more settled now.
Screw the Internet. Malkin obviously needed to know if he’s going to improve his technique.
Sid goes back to his training, taking the ribbing he gets from Nate and Matty for being late in good spirit.
Days pass, and Sidney thinks that was it.
Except, of course, that is nowhere near the end of it.
All throughout the summer, Sid keeps getting calls from Malkin—Call me Geno—asking him to check out the new videos on the Kings’ homepage. Apparently, he’s invited their film crew to tag along to Russia, observing both his day with the Cup and his training.
“So?” Geno asks during a call. “You see my slap shot? You judge my technique yet?”
It’s a perfectly innocent question, but Sidney blushes violently, picking up on the absolute filthy sub text that is becoming an increasingly familiar element to all of their conversations.
“How did you even get my number?” Sid complains, not for the first time. He smiles grudgingly when Geno only laughs heartily. “Yes,” Sidney says then. “Your form is much improved. Good job.”
Geno, as it turns out, responds very well to positive reinforcement, and he keeps finding other stuff he needs to work on and for Sid to fix to his satisfaction.
Sidney is pretty sure he’s being aggressively flirted with, and he does intend to address that later, but first, Geno really could stand to work on his face offs, and while he thinks Geno is faking at least a little, neither of them can deny that he is getting better in all aspects of his game.
Helping someone train long distance isn’t exactly ideal, though, and when Geno keeps pestering him, Sid reaches the limit of his patience. “Look,” he says the next time they Skype (they Skype now. It’s a thing). I really am very busy, ok? If you want my help you need to come here,” he says firmly, and very reasonably thinks that will be it.
Until four days later, when Geno shows up in Cole Harbour, at the rink of Sid’s hockey school, a hockey bag slung over his shoulder and a pair of sticks in his hands.
“Hi!” he says, beaming at Sidney from behind the boards. Sidney spares a wild second to wonder who let him inside the building before he remembers that even in Cole Harbour, there’s not going to be anyone who doesn’t know who Evgeni Malkin is.
“Uhm, hey,” Nate says when Sidney remains stunned silent. “So, you’re here for Sid?” He looks hesitantly between them.
“And mini humans!” Geno exclaims, loud enough that the kids on the ice take notice, a few of them doing a double take when they lay eyes on him.
“Geno Malkin!” a little girl blurts out excitedly, and suddenly they’re pushing close to the boards, clamouring for Geno’s attention, and Sidney is forced to deal with the fact that Geno is there in Cole Harbour, being cute with Sidney’s gaggle of kids because Sid asked him to.
Sid told him to come, and he did.
“Hi,” Sid says stupidly, and Geno grins at him, a little smug, a little fond, and a little—
Well.
Working out together in person works much better. It even allows for some hands on training. Nate abandons them to their own devices after only a day.
“Nope,” he says, and disappears to someplace else. Sidney isn’t sure where. He’s a little busy trying not to let the feel of Geno’s large hands pushing his thighs into a deep stretch get to him too bad.
He does a poor job of it, but it hardly matters, not with the way Geno is looking at him, touching him. Kissing him.
(They kiss now too. It’s a thing.)
They spend the rest of that summer together, being cute and disgustingly adorable according to Nate and Taylor.
Sidney doesn’t care what they think, or the rest of the world—hardly registers the cameras trailing them sometimes, too taken with being happy and in love and being happy and in love with Geno.
It’s new, but so strong already. Strong enough not to hide.
It’s a good summer.
*
Geno returns to L.A. a changed man. He’s happier, more relaxed and loose limbed than he’s ever been on this side of the Atlantic. Perhaps most noticeable is his sudden willingness to talk to the media.
The Kings’ publicist is ecstatic.
(And Sidney approves, he knows. 100% guaranteed, Sidney’s approval accounts for 9/10 of his newfound motivation.)
The pre-season goes by in a whirlwind of training camp, texting with Sidney, meeting new teammates, phone calls with Sidney, pre-season games, and Skyping with Sidney. All in all, it’s a good month for Geno.
By the time the Kings meet Columbus for the first game of the regular season, Geno is already riding a four-game goal streak.
Not even Jack Johnson, who seems to have made it his personal mission to inflict as much damage as possible, can slow Geno down.
He nets his first hat trick of the season amongst a sea of disapproving Blue Jackets fans, made all the sweeter by the knowledge that Sidney is up in the press box with the rest of his teammates.
The Blue Jackets begin this season with back to back home games, and get the truly unfortunate task of trying to overcome a healthy Penguins team. Geno doesn’t envy them.
Because Sidney is such an intensely private person, and because Geno has always been of the opinion that he owes the League nothing, neither of them have officially confirmed they’re dating. There were tons of pictures and video taken of them during the summer, though, when Geno was in Cole harbour, and even as there is no doubt that they are a couple, the media still isn’t quite sure how to handle it.
One brave reporter asks him after the game if there is any particular reason he is on such a great personal run, and she looks new (and young) enough that Geno decides to throw her a bone (never mind the other reporters drooling for a scoop).
“Yes, of course,” he tells her, his grin so wide his cheeks ache with it. “Have special person in my life now. Have very high expectations, you know. I’m not want to disappoint.”
And because they are all still talking around the issue, the reporter asks, “And is this special person here tonight?”
Which, naturally, is when Sidney steps into the visitor’s locker room, looking beautifully dorky in his too big suit and with his too-gelled hair.
Geno is honestly so in love with him.
“Hey, sorry,” Sid says when the room falls quiet as they all turn to stare at him. Sidney doesn’t so much as flinch under the attention. “You just about done? We’re going out after.”
Geno is aware of these plans already, and, feeling giddy and mischievous, he says, “Yes, I’m come now.”
He knows exactly what that sounds like.
*
Being in a long-distance relations is no easier than being long-distance workout partners.
It works in the beginning because they need it to. They’re both busy with hockey and the obligations that come with that; all the texts, all the calls, and all those rare, so very, very rare moments they actually get to meet in person, are so precious and welcome, they don’t even think to complain.
Everyone has their breaking point, though, and unexpectedly, Sidney reaches his first.
Come December, he’s only gotten to see Geno twice since summer, and he wants to spend some time with his boyfriend. Sidney has done long distance before. It’s been hard, brutal at times, even, but he’s managed. It is never the distance that is the problem.
This time feels different, though. He doesn’t think it’s because it’s Geno, necessarily. Sidney is fiercely passionate beneath his quiet demeanour; he’s loved all of his partners with all that he is.
What’s different is how serious Geno is about him.
Sidney has been loved before, but never so intensely, never so carelessly.
It’s a little intimidating.
Geno’s love is loud and bright. He shows his affection so easily, through grand gestures and dozens of I love yous. He has no problem talking to his family about Sidney, to his friends and to the press when they pester him long enough. He’s happy and in love, and he’s a little bit like a kid, beaming with pride that he managed to trick Sidney into loving him, as if to say, look at me! Aren’t I clever?
Geno was persistent in pursuing him, Sidney will admit to that, but there was no trickery involved. Geno doesn’t have a hint of deceit in him.
Sidney needed no help falling for him.
“Oh, boy. You’ve got that look on your face. Here, take this child and cuddle.”
“What the—?”
Sidney fumbles for a second as a little girl is thrust into his arms. Little Lola Dupuis, he sees, when suddenly there is a beaming child in his face.
“Hi, Sid!”
She looks at Sidney with her huge, brown eyes, her wide smile showing off her missing front tooth.
Sidney can’t help but grin back at her. “Hey, kiddo.”
“That’s better,” Scuds says with a firm nod of his head. “It’s Christmas skate, Sid. Can’t spend it moping at your phone.”
“I’m not moping,” he says automatically, though it does little good. He was absolutely moping. He tightens his grip around Lola and presses a kiss to the top of her head, feeling that familiar longing he always does when there is a child in his arms.
“How’d you end up with this one, anyway. Where’s Duper?”
Scuds shrugs. “On the ice. My kids have been kidnapped by the Dupuis brood.” He points to the ice where Sidney can see a large cluster of kids involved in a game of tag, Duper right among them. “I guess Lola didn’t want to play, and I think Carole-Lynne got a call she had to take.”
Sidney hums. “How come you didn’t want to play?” he asks Lola.
He chuckles when she makes a face, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she says, “Alex wants to hold my hand all the time. I’m five and he’s just a baby.”
“He’s three, Lola. He just wants to be your friend. He looks up to you, you know.”
“'Cause he’s short!” Lola says smartly, grinning when Sidney barks out a surprised laugh.
“Smarty pants,” he accuses.
Scuds laughs at them. “You guys good here? I’m being summoned.”
Sidney glances over to where Courtney is waving at her husband, and Sidney shoos him away with a grin. “Go, go. I’ve got this one covered.”
“Why were you sad before?”
“What?” Sidney blinks, looking back down at Lola. “What makes you say that?”
“Mr. Rob said so. He said it’s because you miss your boyfriend. Is that true?”
Sidney is going to be having a word with Mr. Rob about minding his own business. But.
“Maybe a little bit,” he admits. Maybe a lot.
Lola tilts her head curiously. “How come he’s not here? Doesn’t he like to skate?” Sid grins; she looks appropriately scandalised by such a concept. Duper’s raising his kids well.
“He’s a hockey player,” Sidney tells her. “He loves to skate. We just live really far apart.”
Lola looks sceptical at this. “I don’t think that’s how boyfriends are supposed to work.” She hugs her arms around Sidney’s neck, squeezing tight. “He should be here. That way you don’t have to be so sad.”
“Yeah,” Sidney says, thinking about how good that would be. How amazing it would be to have Geno with him every day. To get to play on the same team as him. “I’d like that.”
Except it isn't going to happen.
L.A. just won a Cup. Geno’s contract is long term and expensive, and the Penguins are a cap team. How would they even fit him into their roster?
Would Geno even want to leave?
“You should call him!” Lola says, pulling back from their hug to grin at him. “Mama always says when we miss Daddy and we can’t see him that we should call to say ‘I love you’!”
Sidney smiles at her. “Does it help?”
“Not always,” Lola admits. Her smile dims a little. She sighs and puts her head down on Sidney’s shoulder. “But it’s always nice when someone says they love you.”
Yes, it is, Sidney thinks, and pulls out his phone from where he’d stashed it into his pocket earlier.
He dials Geno’s number.
*
By the time the trade deadline rolls around there are so many hashtags on different player watches trending in Pittsburgh, no one can really keep track of it all.
There’s no big splash made, though, despite all the fuss. JagrWatch dies out first, when he ends up in Florida, and then KesselWatch when Toronto seems content to retain their big fish. It’s followed, inevitably, by MalkinWatch—despite how much Geno has been alienating himself from the team and his teammates.
(Sidney’s been worried for him.)
There was never any real hope for MalkinWatch when it’s all said and done. Everyone knows L.A. would never have moved their prized goal scorer for less than half a stable and a decent player. No one team has that kind of commodity lying around, least of all Pittsburgh.
People are pretty disappointed about it. Yinzers love their team and adore their captain; no one may have confirmed it yet, but at this point, everyone knows Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin are a couple.
Sid is visibly bummed out about it as well. He tries not to be, but he can’t help it. Knowing he’s missed the chance to see Geno everyday, to get to go to bed with him at night and wake up with him in the mornings—
He hides his disappointment as much as possible, but his teammates become extra protective of him all the same, disappointed on his behalf.
The Penguins only make it into the playoffs by the skin of their teeth, and the Kings not at all, Cup hungover as they are (Geno takes it hard. He jumps the first flight to Moscow, only sending Sid a short, terse text before he departs).
When they don’t even make it through the first round of the playoffs (fucking Rangers), Sid is glad to be able to throw himself into Worlds, travelling to Prague and praying for Russia to make it all the way because of course Geno’s team had to end up in a division in a different town entirely.
(They googled the distance. They’re a one-hour flight apart.)
Canada wins gold, and for a minute, Sidney is perfectly happy. He’s played good hockey, he’s won gold, and he has Geno close—even Geno finds reasons to celebrate when Sidney gives him the proper incentive.
They spend an amazing ten days together after Worlds. Sidney lets Geno drag him all over Europe, determined to show him as much of what the Continent has to offer of culture and history as possible before Sidney’s responsibilities and duties call him back across the pond.
Sidney goes home and goes about his summer. He is plenty busy, but he very quickly goes back to being bummed out.
And then the news break.
Sidney first finds out via Nate.
“Uh, Sid?” he says early in the morning one day, when it’s already August and Sidney hasn’t gotten to see his boyfriend for two whole months excluding Skype sessions.
“I just got a notification that your boy just bought out his contract?”
“What?”
Sidney wrenches Nate’s phone out of his hands, ignoring his wounded, “Hey!” as he scrolls through the information on the screen before fishing for his own phone in his pants pocket.
He’s got Geno’s number on speed dial, but it goes straight through to voicemail. He keeps dialling, tapping ignore on the incoming calls suddenly flooding his phone.
Why the hell isn’t Geno picking up? It’d be late for him, but not so late he would be sleeping.
“Uh, Sid?” Nate says again. He’s rescued his phone from Sidney’s grip, and is staring skeptically at the screen. It’s ringing.
It’s listed as Joe Sakic’s number.
Sidney stares. “Why is your GM calling you in the middle of the off-season?” he asks.
They share a wary look; Sidney can see his thoughts reflected back at him in Nate’s eyes.
“You should answer it. Find out.” If you’ve been traded, he doesn’t say.
Nate makes a face, but he answers the phone with a tense greeting, and then blinks, and blinks some more. “It’s for you?” he says, asks. He looks very confused as he holds out his phone for Sidney.
Sid takes it cautiously. “Hello?”
“Sidney!” Joe greets him jovially. Much too jovially. Sidney is instantly suspicious. “I’m trying to get in touch with Geno Malkin, but he seems to have gone missing, currently, and his agent suggested you might know of his whereabouts.”
It’s not a question.
Holy shit, Sidney thinks. Geno really did buy out his contract. That’s why Joe is calling; he wants Geno on his team.
Geno is a free agent now.
“Sidney? You still there?”
“I don’t—” He clears his throat, feeling flustered all of a sudden. He needs to talk to Geno. Now. “I don’t know where he is. His phone keeps going to voicemail,” he says, the shock of Geno being free of his contract with the Kings making him unusually forthright.
“Uh, Sid?”
Sidney rolls his eyes. “What?” he hisses out, covering the mouthpiece as he turns towards Nate to check what he wants this time.
“Hi, Sid.”
Geno is there, inexplicably. In Nova Scotia. In Cole Harbour Place where Sidney’s hockey school is being held. His Geno.
Just like a year ago.
He looks like crap, jet lagged and rumpled, obviously exhausted, but so, so good. The best thing Sidney has ever seen.
His fingers loosen around the phone in his hand, and it drops to the ground with a thud. Nate cries out in protest at the abuse to his phone, but Sidney doesn’t care, barely notices because Geno is there. Geno is right there, and Sidney needs to kiss him immediately.
He crashes into Geno, wrapping his arms around him and feeling the broadness of his shoulders and the solidity of his muscles; he tastes the sweetness of his mouth.
Sidney has missed him so much.
“What are you doing here?” he mumbles against his lips, not willing to pull away just yet—no matter how much Nate is reminding them that the place will be filled with kids soon and can they please keep this pg-13? Or, you know, take it behind closed doors? Jesus, you’re like my brother. I don’t need to see this shit—
“Missed you,” Geno says. He kisses Sid, quick, familiar. Kisses him again. “Came to be with you.”
“With me—?” Here or in Pittsburgh? Sidney wants to ask, but then Geno says, “Came to be with you. Where you are,” and Sidney doesn’t need to ask anything else.
Geno goes where Sidney is, always. He knows that know.
They kiss.