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It happens so fast.
Geno shoots the puck, hears the whistle, turns and there’s Sid -- face down on the ice. He doesn’t remember skating over to him but he must because suddenly he’s looking down at him and -- there’s blood.
“Sid -- ,” Geno stops and clenches his hands around his stick. He knows what he’s supposed to say -- things he’s said in this situation before but he can’t force them out past all the things he wants to say. But those words have no place here -- not with the ref and Chris and everyone around them. So he says nothing and it’s Neal who bends down and asks Sid if he’s okay while Geno stands over him, feeling useless.
He looks on while Sid’s helped off the ice and then another whistle blows; time to play again. He turns away and feels worry gnaw at his gut and is annoyed by it. Sid is going to be fine. Guys get hit by pucks all the time -- Sid has been hit by pucks. He’s being ridiculous, he knows he is, so he buckles down and passes the puck up the ice.
When he’s on the bench again he hears Neal mutter, “Fuck those classless assholes.” He must see Geno looking at him because he turns his head. “Can you fucking believe that?” He gestures at the crowd.
Geno has no idea what he’s talking about and it must show on his face because he says, “You didn’t hear...” he trails off and then nudges Geno’s shoulder “Dude, Sid’s gonna be fine.”
Geno grinds his teeth together and looks back out at the ice. “Not worried,” he bites out and regrets it immediately. It’s a stupid thing to say. Of course he’s worried -- he would have been before they started this thing and it’s stupid to act different now that they have.
He sees Neal slowly nod out of the corner of his eye and open his mouth, but is spared by a tap on his shoulder and Coach calling for his line.
After what seems like a long time, but isn’t, Sid comes back.
His nose is red and swollen, and he’s got blood on his jersey and the relief Geno feels rushing through him is so big and overpowering, he doesn’t even know how to begin to process it.
“Nose to match the lips and ass, huh,” Cooke crows, grinning big. And Geno knows he doesn’t mean anything by it -- the whole bench had lightened up noticeably when Sid got back and besides, it’s by far not the worst jab Geno has heard the team throw at Sid. But he still wants to punch Cooke in the face anyway.
Sid laughs at the chirps that start coming in and when he looks at Geno his smile ticks up a notch. Geno tries to smile back normally, but he knows he doesn’t succeed when Sid’s eyebrows start to draw together. Sid would never say anything during a game though -- he just tilts his head at him and then looks away when Coach leans over to ask him something.
Geno takes a deep breath. He needs to pull himself together. Sid is obviously fine. He wouldn’t be out here otherwise. But he can remember Sid coming back during the Winter Classic and thinking the same thing. He can remember how wrong he was then, how wrong everyone was.
At intermission he has to quell the urge to interrogate the doctor and trainers and when they get back out there and Sid keeps fucking bleeding, Geno makes the decision to stop looking at him unless they’re on the ice together. They have a game to win and Geno can’t focus if he keeps looking at the blood on Sid’s face and sweater.
And the fact that he has to do that, that he can’t concentrate without forcing himself to, makes him so pissed off that it actually helps a little. He channels the anger into hard physical play and even though the game gets away from them, they pull out with the win.
In the locker room he confines his gaze to just in front of him or on the ground, resolutely not looking over at the crowd of reporters around Sid. He knows he’s acting weird -- they just won and if this had happened before they’d gotten together, he’d be hovering just beyond the reporters, trying to get Sid to wrap it the fuck up. But if he goes over there now, he’s not sure he could keep up the fiction of platonic friendship.
His feelings for Sid have always been there in some form -- he had them through the broken ankle, through the concussion and this is just a puck to the face. It happens in hockey all the time. So Geno didn’t see this reaction coming, didn’t expect this overwhelming fear and concern crawling underneath his skin. He doesn’t know how to act like his usual self without everyone seeing it written all over him. It’s like now that his feelings are acknowledged and returned a door has opened inside him and he can’t slam it shut.
So he showers and dresses as fast as he can and ignores the glances Nealsy shoots at him. He also ignores Flower’s narrowed eyes on him as he rushes out to the bus. Fucking goalies.
On the plane Sid snags his arm as he goes by, dropping it when Geno pauses and says, “Hey”, a question in his voice.
Geno feels a prick of guilt as he reluctantly stops and looks at him. He’s got gauze stuffed up his red nose and when he raises his eyebrows at Geno, he looks so ridiculous that Geno feels swamped with love for him. He feels a helpless little smile tug at his lips and just as Sidney starts to smile back Geno’s pushed from behind.
“Move it, asshole,” Brooksie gives another shove. “You guys can coo about how awesome you are later.”
Geno elbows him. “When last time you score, Brooksie? I forget.”
Brooks flips him off and shoves him into the side of Sid’s seat to move past him. Geno grins down at Sid, who starts to giggle, but then he cuts himself off and winces, bringing a hand up to his face. The normalcy he was feeling dies.
“Plane take off soon. I need to find seat.”
Sid eyes are bemused as he nods and says, “Sure.”
Geno nods sharply and goes to the back. As soon as they take off he puts on his headphones and closes his eyes. He just needs time to get his head together. But it’s a short fight and when they land he still feels off balance. And when Sid falls in step with him on the way to his car, he realizes his time is up.
In the short time they’ve been together they’ve fallen into the habit of driving to and from games together, which worked out because new house or not, Sid’s practically living with Geno. The excuse is Geno needs time to get used to driving in North America again, and since Sid lives so close, he’s the natural choice to play chauffeur. Geno is dubious as to the effectiveness of this excuse, especially since he drives half the time, but it makes Sid happy, so he goes along with it. It won’t hold up much longer though, if it ever had, and he’s actually looking forward to the next totally lame excuse Sid thinks up.
But the important thing now is that he’s Sid’s ride.
They load up in silence and for a second Geno is tempted to suggest that he drop Sid off at his place, but it’s late, and besides, he doesn’t want that. He wants Sid to come home with him. He always wants that, if he’s honest with himself. But right now, he also wants to take care of him -- to fuss and hover until Sid snaps at him. And that’s not exactly new either, but he’s always been able to stuff those urges down before -- but the door is open. And it’s fucking him up.
He expects Sid to ask him what’s wrong in the car -- he’s tense and waiting for it. But Sid just chatters at him about the game and throws Geno bemused little smiles when all he gets are grunts in response. Then seeming to give up on Geno, Sid starts fiddling with the radio before sighing and turning it off. He sits back with a yawn, rubs his eyes and leans his head against the window. After awhile he starts humming under his breath. Geno would be irritated if he didn’t find it so goddamn adorable.
Jeffrey is all over Sid the moment they walk through the door. Geno’s not completely neglected -- he gets a fair amount of licks and a cursory crotch sniff, but it’s clear there’s a favorite here and it’s not him. Jeffrey’s love is completely requited and as he watches Sid crouch down, gently push Jeffrey away from his nose, and scratch his favorite spot, Geno feels something loosen in his chest.
“Need take medicine,” he says before he can stop himself.
Sid looks up with a smile and nods. He gives Jeffrey one more rub then heads to the kitchen. Geno fights with himself before sighing and trailing slowly after.
He finds Sid squinting tiredly at the back of an aspirin bottle. He’s pulled his toque off and his hair is sticking up in tufts, and it contrasts with the suit in a way that makes him look even younger than usual. It looks like it did the morning Geno had opened his door at the crack of dawn, to find Sid in ratty sweats and with a determined, slightly crazed, look in his eyes. He’d said, “You’re back I missed you,” all in one breath and then pounced. Geno had been shocked but he likes to think he recovered nicely. Sid still blushes whenever Geno brings it up.
It helps now to remember he’s not the only one bad at this. And seeing Sid here, at home, stealing his dog’s affections and knowing his way around the kitchen, steadies him. They’re doing this -- this is their life now and freak-outs aside, Geno wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Hey,” Sid says softly, turning toward Geno when he comes to stand beside him.
Geno doesn’t answer because he’s too busy inspecting Sid’s face, letting himself really look at it for the first time. His nose is pink like he has a cold, and Geno thinks a tad more swollen than earlier. There’s a speck of blood just under it and Geno reaches a hand up to cup the side of Sid’s face and rubs it away with his thumb. Sid lets out a sigh and turns his face into Geno’s hand and kisses it and Geno --
Geno is done.
He brings his other hand up and and steps closer to lay a gentle kiss on Sid’s forehead. He sighs again and wraps his arms around Geno’s waist.
Geno lips linger on his forehead before he pulls back just enough to see his face. He lets his thumbs caress Sid’s cheeks and then gently, barely touching, runs a finger down Sid’s nose. He remembers turning around and seeing Sid face down on the ice, and feels afraid all over again.
Sid frowns at him and pokes him in the stomach. “Hey, stop. I’m fine.”
Geno drops his hands to Sid’s shoulders. “Sid got hit in face with puck. Not fine.”
Sidney just frowns some more and then his eyes widen with revelation. “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird?”
Geno looks heavenward briefly. “No, Sid. I have other boyfriend that get hit in face with puck.”
“Boyfriend?” His smile is quietly pleased and Geno feels his ears burn but before he can feel embarrassed, Sid says, “And anyway, it wasn’t my face, it was my nose.”
Geno snorts his opinion on that distinction and then looks down. “When I see you on ice. I...,” he shakes his head at the floor because he can’t find the words and he doesn’t think he could even if he knew every single word of the English language.
“Hey, hey look at me,” Sid says, voice rough.
When he lifts his head, the expression on Sid’s face is so open it hurts Geno to look at.
“Geno,” he says a touch wonderingly and moves completely into Geno’s arms, laying his cheek on his chest.
Geno closes his eyes and holds on tight, resting his chin on the top of Sid’s head.
He doesn’t know how long they stand there, holding each other, but it’s long enough to feel something click back into place in his chest. As muscles tensed from worry loosen, his whole body starts to ache and he feels suddenly, and completely exhausted.
“Is late. Need to ice nose and go to bed.” He feels Sid nod against his chest but when he tries to move away, Sid’s arms tighten.
“It’s different now,” he says softly. “I mean, you didn’t act this way when I got hurt before and if I had to watch you,” he stops and Geno tightens his own arms.
“Sid -- ,”
“If it had been you,” Sid interrupts, voice stronger. “I don’t think I...it’s just different.”
“Yes,” Geno whispers into Sid’s hair because it is -- that’s been his whole problem.
“But it’s worth it.”
He says it like it’s a fact but Geno can hear the question lurking in there so he whispers yes again and kisses the top of his head. Sid has always been worth it to him and this hasn’t changed that -- he doesn’t think anything ever will.
When Sid repeatedly starts yawning into his shirt they reluctantly untangle themselves. Sid takes his pills, while Geno gets him a bag of peas. He can tell Sid has hit the wall, so he tells him to head up to bed and he’ll lock up and take care of the bags. He knows it’s the right decision when Sid doesn’t even offer a token protest.
He gets everything sorted, tiptoes into his room and sighs heavily when he sees Jeffrey sleeping on his side of the bed. He strips down to his boxers and a soft, thin shirt and after a lot of pulling and muffled swearing, Jeffrey gives him a forlorn look and sulks off.
“Spoil dog,” he mutters as he slides in behind Sid because he knows he’s still awake. Sid just makes a vague noise and pulls his arm tighter around him.
“Sid spoiled,” Geno says into the back of his neck and places a kiss right where his hair curls against his neck.
“That’s because my boyfriend spoils me,” he says, voice tired but full of teasing.
Geno groans. “Go sleep now.”
“Why? Is my boyfriend tired?”
Geno groans again. “Sleep. Now.”
Sid huffs but soon he drops off, little snores escaping him. Geno kisses the back of his neck again, matches his breathing to Sid’s and follows.