Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts with a cough.

Sid was sitting in the booth in his usual spot, watching the boys warm up like he always liked to do. It wasn’t a requisite for the beat writers to be there for warm ups, but it was part of his routine and if nothing else it gave him a chance to get himself set up before the room became full of other writers and people that drove him nuts.

That was, except for the other guy. He’d only been in the booth for the season, Sid hadn’t really made it a priority to talk to him. Not that he didn’t want to. But he was a blogger, bigger than life and had quickly made friends with most of the booth. To say Sid felt a little intimidated was his way of being polite.

The guy completely overwhelmed him.

He also, for whatever reason, was there for most warm up sessions. He would walk in and sit down in his seat, five seats down from Sid’s in the front row, and just watch. He never set up his computer, or even got out a pen and pad, he would just stare down at the ice with a huge grin on his face. Sometimes, when guys got checked hard enough or made a nice pass, he would let out a ‘Woof’ or cheer.

But this day he slunk in, it was a pretty early game, they were playing the Sharks so it had to go on the West Coast feed as well, and slid into his seat. He seemed almost hung over, except for the sniffling.

Then, of course, the cough.

Sid wasn’t a medical expert (his mom still gave him constant grief for not taking good enough care of himself) but the cough made his chest hurt in sympathy. It was deep and gross and he couldn’t help but look over and check to see there wasn’t something genuinely wrong. He knew there were EMTs somewhere, right?

“You okay?” he asked, watching as the other guy (Geno, that’s what everyone called him though it wasn’t his name) cleared his nose into a tissue.

Geno shrugged slightly. “Just cold. No big.”

“Cold?” Sid did not recoil, or at least not noticeably he hoped. “Are you sure? That cough sounded wet… I think that means something else…”

He went to his computer’s browser and pulled up WebMD but he heard Geno give a horse laugh.

“What, you mother?” he teased. “Pittsburgh cold snap, I get cold. S’fine.”

Sid frowned at the screen, where terms like ‘pneumonia’ and ‘mononucleosis’ popped out at him. He swiveled his screen away so that Geno couldn’t see it, just as Geno coughed again.

“You should make an appointment with a doctor, Geno,” he said and he wondered if that was the first time he’d actually said his name to him, to be honest.

Geno laughed again, harder and it caused another cough this time turning into a longer coughing spell. Sid got up and ran to the small fridge in the corner, grabbing a bottle of water and some paper towels. He thought idly of going and getting hot tea, but he wasn’t entirely sure where they had that nearby.

“Thank you,” Geno wheezed.

The door swung open and three guys from SportsNet walked into the room, all of them cheering when they saw Geno. Geno put on a big grin and seemed to turn on a fake cheer. Sid returned to his seat and stared down at the ice, avoiding the still present urge to find tea.

Maybe they had it for the players? He had a press pass, he could go down stairs…

*

The next game was an afternoon game against the Habs, and while Sid was always excited to see Carey Price play (he’d always wanted to be a goalie), his heart dropped a little when he turned around to see Geno walk in. He looked, if anything, worse off. His nose was puffy, his cheeks red and not in the way the normal Pittsburgh wind way…

He had come prepared though. He only felt a little like a stalker when he slid the tea across the long table and in front of a stunned Geno.

“What this?”

“Tea,” he said, trying to be offhand. “I thought you might like it. It’s Mullein. It’s made for colds. I put honey in it because the guy at the store said it could taste a little weird…”

Well there goes the hope for not sounding like a stalker.

Geno took a sip, which made Sid feel a little better, and then beamed at Sid. “This good, feels so good. Thank you.”

Sid felt a high blush on his cheeks. Geno was looking at him like he’d grew the tea leafs himself, and Sid was most definitely not cataloguing that smile as one of the best smiles he’d ever seen in his life. He nodded and forced himself to look at the ice where Carey Price was dominating his teammates and batting away their pucks.

“I still think you should see a doctor,” he said, his voice trying for light.

Geno laughed, like last time. “You funny.”

He turned his head and found Geno still looking at him. “Why is that funny?”

“Sure Sid,” Geno said, and oh god, the way he said his name. “I made of money, I see doctor for cold.”

“What’s your copay?” Sid blinked. He was still getting used to the whole American healthcare system, even after four years living in Pennsylvania but it wasn’t that out of hand. His copay was only twenty.

Geno shook his head. “No, no. No insurance.”

He was pretty proud of himself for keeping his face more or less in check. No insurance? What the heck? He still gawked at the fact that he was expected to take a hundred bucks out of each of his paychecks for his insurance but … he had insurance.

“They… you don’t have insurance?”

“Freelance,” Geno shrugged, sipping carefully at the tea and making a noise of appreciation. “I sign contract, I get paid. Is okay.”

“But what if you like, get in an accident? Or get pneumonia?”

Geno turned his head and spit twice towards the table. “Scha. I Russian. Good stock, no sick.”

Sid couldn’t help but glare. “You’re sick right now.”

“Just cold. I be fine in three days. Four maybe.”

*

The cold lasted two weeks.

Two weeks of Sid bringing in varying teas and a couple different types of soups and … well. Whatever his mom suggested. (At first she thought HE had a cold and ‘threatened’ a visit but when he explained the situation she got just as indignant as he had and joined forces to fix Geno.)

Each time he came in with the proffered item and put it down in front of Geno he got the same beaming smiled but he got a little less excited and more anxious about it. Two weeks. Even if he’d started with a cold, it could develop into a sinus infection or a pneumonia or any number of things that required antibiotics to get out of his system.

It was simply not okay for him to let it linger.

But it ended. Just like that. He came in with a cup of tea and some honey sticks, a half cocked idea in his head of coaxing Geno into a walk in clinic. Those places couldn’t be THAT bad, right? Freaking America.

He put the tea down but Geno turned his face towards him and smiled and for the first time there weren’t tired circles under his eyes and Sid’s knees bent with relief.

“See, Sid?” Geno smiled. “Russian, not bad.”

Sid bit the inside of his cheek to avoid a stream of words coming out of his mouth describing at just how bad it actually had been. About infections and bad things that came from them. About him spending way too much time thinking about this. But then again, he didn’t need Geno to know how much time he’d spent with it.

Instead, he gave a small smile. “Sure, but I’m Canadian. We’re pragmatic.”

“Pragmatic?” Geno repeated.

“Um,” he thought of a way to define it. He heard his sister’s voice saying ‘anal retentive’ but that wasn’t helpful. “Practical?”

“Mother-hen,” Geno teased.

Sid walked down to his chair and slid his laptop out of his bag and onto the table. “I guess that, too. “

He sat down in his spot and turned to find Geno right beside him. He’d moved his stuff. But that was the guy from the Herald’s spot. He’d… Okay. The seats were first come first serve. But the guy had sat next to him for four years. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything but Sid was used to him being there.

“That’s Greg’s seat,” he said confused.

Geno looked at the chair and then at the empty room. “I here first. My seat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sid said, backtracking to avoid having to explain his weirdness. “Sorry… I’m glad you’re better.”

“I owe you,” Geno said, indicating the tea in front of him. “Dinner?”

Sid was glad he’d swallowed his water before the second part came out because he was sure that would have been a real life spit take. Instead he probably just looked like he choked on his tongue. And as such, he just nodded rather emphatically.

“Good,” he said and the smile induced stomach flips were back. “We go after game.”

Sid looked at the clock on the wall. The game was starting at 7, what time did this guy think dinner happened? He’d already had dinner. Still though, he kept that to himself.

*

It became their thing, weirdly enough. Food. On the road, sometimes, but almost always before or after a home game. They’d go to places that Geno would find, which started out making Sid itch a little. He liked having time to look at the menu before he went to a restaurant but he liked the company more than his comfort. (Which was a big thing for him.)

Geno had moved to America a year before, after a career in the KHL and then a year trying to make a life in Russia. He was pretty shady on the details, but suffice it to say he left Russia in a not so happy play and he missed it a lot. His English was pretty good for someone who only lived there for a year or so, but he blogged mostly in Russian for a few different sources. Apparently the Pens had just enough Russians to be interesting to the Russian readers.

He was happy to teach him English in short bursts, as Geno was to try and teach him Russian. He learned a few VERY basic phrases and his pronunciation made Geno legitimately giggle but whatever. It was the most fun he’d had since his friend Jordie had been traded off the Pens.

Weeks passed and it was like they were really truly friends. Maybe even best friends? It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends, but it was just not something he’d really done since he was much younger. Acquired new friends.

Geno took over the spot next to him and everyone kind of looked at the two of them quizzically. Geno was the loudest guy in the booth, Sid probably the quietest. It was definitely the Odd Couple, though he did not say that out loud for the more obvious reasons. His sexuality was his own, it wasn’t something that embarrassed him necessarily, but he worked in sports so he knew when to keep it need to know. And the press box was not need to know.

Nor was he getting that vibe from Geno at all. Geno was about as tactile as they came, but Sid had spent a year watching him do that with every single person in the press box. So he was pretty familiar with that.

He was also familiar with the fact that Geno, Russian stock or not, was a cold acquiring machine. Or at least, he’d become one. It was like the other cold had opened the doors for all the colds ever. Every couple weeks or so Geno was coming in looking miserable. On the upside they were shorter, much shorter mostly, than the first but it was like what the missed in length they made up for in frequency.

He knew he was doomed when he got a text simply with, “No game tonight. Throat on fire.”

He knew Geno’s address, had been round his place a few time. Geno didn’t even seemed shocked when he showed up the next morning at his doorstep with a few his usual stash of stuff. He DID seem shocked when Sid forced him out of his PJs and into clothes that were suitable for public.

“We’re going to a walk in clinic,” he informed Geno.

“No insurance, Sid.”

Sid nodded. “I’ve got it covered.”

He researched it enough to find that it was just 150 bucks, which was a lot but it was the perfect amount when he took his sanity into account.

“Let’s go!” he nudged at a ruffled Geno.

“You crazy,” Geno said, but he didn’t actually seem to fight Sid as he manhandled him out the door and locked it behind them. (He’d grabbed Geno’s keys off his side table.) “Thief.”

Sid shrugged and got him into his car. He’d checked for the nearest one to Geno’s apartment which was only a few blocks and as of ten minutes before only had a twenty minute wait. He’d checked Geno in, though he was half sure he’d butchered the spelling of his actual name. It didn’t matter. They were on the clock.

They actually ended up walking into the PA’s little side office as soon as they got there, or at least Geno did. Sid was prepared to wait outside on one of the uncomfortable chairs but Geno gave him a pitiful look when he went to sit down.

“You come, translate,” Geno said, and Sid was so not going to be able to translate for him but he guessed Geno wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of having to use his words with a new person and failing it.

“Your partner is welcome, as long as you are comfortable with it,” the PA offered. Sid froze for a moment at the word ‘partner’ but when Geno didn’t correct the woman he just let it pass.

He walked in, sitting on the edge of the little bed and watched as Geno sat at a chair and got himself checked out. The PA, Grace, seemed to be rather patient as Geno told her the story and Sid corrected him.

“It’s only been a few weeks,” Geno offered.

“Months, it’s been off and on for three months,” Sid said. “It was in November, with the cold snap. And now it’s almost February, Geno.”

Geno grumbled something in Russian. “Okay. Three months. But off and on. I feel mostly fine.”

“Take a deep breath and then let it out,” Grace said, checking with the stethoscope as he took a few breaths. The face she made did not encourage Sid one bit. “Okay, I’m not liking the rattling. I think you might have a bit of an infection going on, so I’m going to give you some antibiotics and cough medicine with Codeine. I would recommend a Netipot to clear out your nose and Mucinex to break up the mucus but they’re not necessary.”

She started typing on her computer and turned to Sid. “I do think he might want to go in to his internist though, he might need a few x-rays and someone more equipped than I am.”

Sid nodded at her, though his brain was on Red Alert. Actual doctors weren’t $150. They were a lot more, especially without insurance. Geno took the scripts and they went over to drop them off at the pharmacy next door.

He took Geno home and got him onto his couch. Looking at the clock over the TV. He had maybe four hours before he had to report to the arena. He frowned. That should be plenty of time, but he didn’t like the idea of having time restrictions or the idea of just leaving Geno again.

He had to leave at least for a little, so he ran to the pharmacy and grabbed the medication and supplies the doctor had recommended. (He gawked at the price of the prescriptions. The few times he’d had prescriptions had been somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 bucks a pop, these were nowhere near that.)

On the drive home he found a place with good chicken noodle soup and found they sold pierogis. He hadn’t had them since he was a kid and his friend’s grandma had made them but he thought they might cheer Geno up.

He tried his best not to think of the fact that it had been a close to a three hundred dollar morning. It wasn’t really the point. The point was getting Geno feeling better.

Plus, the look of genuine pleasure on Geno’s face when he brought out the bag and the pierogis was more than worth it.

*

Reluctantly he went to the rink, though he didn’t quite get there at his usual time. When he walked in to find the room half full he got a group of astounded stares. He fidgeted with his bag and waved.

“Uh, hi?”

“We were just debating on whether or not you caught whatever Geno has,” one of the guys said.

Sid smiled weakly. His spot was still open for him, thankfully, but this time Greg was seated next to him. His stomach fell a little.

“I was just getting Geno some medication. He’s still got the …whatever,” he told the room.

A few guys nodded or made agreement noises, but that was about all. He slid his laptop out and connected it to the internet. He should probably start up his stats finder, or check out the Pens website to see the injury list but he opened up Google and typed in ‘No insurance x-rays’.

From beside him Greg made a noise. “You don’t have insurance?”

Sid’s face whipped to look at him, almost shutting his screen down in embarrassment. He blinked. “Oh, um. No. Geno? He doesn’t. So I was just looking things up… for him.”

“That’s the worst,” Greg clucked his tongue sympathetically. “My wife didn’t have insurance when we were dating. She broke her arm. We’re STILL paying that stupid ER visit off and it’s been almost a year and a half. Thankfully she’s on mine now. Not that it’s the best, but it’s better than nothing, you know?”

Sid nodded at him, only half paying attention. “Yeah. My insurance is pretty good.”

He hit a link and saw a price and let out a rather loud gasp.

“Yeah,” Greg said. “Like I said, thank gd we got married a few months ago.”

Sid’s brain was too full of expletives to really register it at the moment. He hadn’t actually known Greg was married. He didn’t really know anything much about the guy. He was kind of known for keeping to himself. Except, apparently when it came to Geno.

The team was coming on the ice for warm up and showing off, the crowd going wild and he was still barely set up. He wasn’t exactly at his finest, he realized he hadn’t even eaten dinner himself. That would have to wait.

*

He got home that night feeling off kilter and annoyed. He knew at least half of it was hunger. He hadn’t eaten at the rink, nor had he eaten before the rink so he set himself up with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then a second one and made his way to this third with a large glass of milk.

Something other than hunger was gnawing at him, though, his brain was just not telling him what it was. He was… on overload. He polished off the third sandwich and walked around his apartment trying to get his brain to focus in on whatever was bothering him.

Geno. That was actually a no brainer. He’d been worried about him through the whole game, even though he got no less than twenty texts.

“What wrong with Tanger???”

“No more perogies (((( ”

“Fleury = killer”

He’d responded at the breaks, because well. He was technically at work. But it had been a nice note to know that he was okay and still breathing. He’d even gotten a text right before Geno went to bed to tell him to text him the score. (He did, only because they eked out a win and he hoped it would make him happy in the morning.)

It wasn’t just the stupid infection or whatever that was bugging him. It was the whole thing. He didn’t like the idea that he was sick and Sid had hit the wall. There was no way he could afford to pay for full x-rays or any of that. He was paid pretty damn well for his job, because he was good at it. But not that well.

He looked around on the web to try and find the best way for Geno to get affordable health care. But they all took a while and were expensive and … Geno wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.

At around two am, the idea hit Sidney like a wave. The mixture of his anxiety, exhaustion and relief almost knocked him over, and he might have cried. It was totally perfect. He looked everything up and it seemed pretty legitimate which was even nicer.

He smiled at himself in the mirror in his bedroom. He was pretty damn brilliant.

He would just have to convince Geno of his brilliance the next day.

*

“YOU WANT WHAT?” Geno barked at him, causing a coughing fit that made Sid wince.

Okay, so maybe it sounded better in his head the night before. Nevertheless, it was still a brilliant idea and he was still completely confident in it. Even if Geno was looking at him like he was genuinely nuts.

“Marry me,” he said, as level as he could. “It would be on paper only. It would mean you could be on my health insurance. Like two days after you’d be on it. And it would only be something like 60 dollars more a paycheck for me to be on the ‘Couple’ plan. I looked it up last night.”

Geno looked him dead in the eyes and started to yell, rather fast, in Russian. Sid knew just enough to pick up some curse words and a few times Geno referenced Sid, usually followed by a curse word, but not much else. On the plus side he seemed to get some of the color back in his face being totally mad, on the minus side he had to take a break at the end to hack repeatedly at the end of it.

“It would be on paper, you know?” Sid tried, when Geno had gotten his breath back and gone back to gaping at Sid.

“I not need to MARRY you on paper, Sid,” Geno frowned, still breathing like he’d run too far too fast. “You crazy.”

Sid frowned and set himself down gently next to Geno. “Look, it would only have to be until you could afford to get on some of your own. Healthcare is crazy in this country. Legitimately crazy. And you need help. Let me help, please?”

Geno muttered in Russian, rubbing at his face with one hand before responding. “How we do this?”

“So, yes?” he smiled widely.

“You crazy, Sidney Crosby, but if you think this good idea, tell me how it work.”

Sid explained the ins and outs of it, including his research into how it would work with two people on Green Cards. It would give neither one of them any closer to permanent citizenship, but it would give Geno an option to move to Canada (he kept that part to himself). But when it boiled down to it it meant Geno would get insurance and divorce would be a simple thing towards the end.

In the end, Geno’s jaw was set and he wasn’t looking at Sid and he wasn’t saying anything but that also meant he wasn’t saying no. So Sid gave him time, which was more or less the hardest thing for him to do. He was waiting and waiting and the time felt eternal. He wondered if this was what really proposing felt like. Granted he wasn’t a relationship expert (at all), he figured if you did it right the partner wouldn’t actually be thinking about it this long.

“You crazy,” Geno broke in.

“You’ve said that.”

“But… Okay.”

Sid turned his full body towards Geno and grabbed his into a hug that earned him a ‘woof’ followed by a coughing fit. He felt a surge of guilt at bringing about another coughing fit, especially the winces Geno gave along with it, but. He could fix this. He could make Geno feel better.

“We never tell my mama,” Geno said. “She fly here, kill both. Me have healthcare not worth it when I dead.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “If moms were to find out your mom would have the disadvantage of time. My mom wouldn’t kill you, but I’d be more than dead. I’d be guilted for a good chunk of time before death.”

He shuddered at the thought of Trina Crosby’s wrath. Or, oh god. Taylor.

“No family,” he said definitively. “We just keep it small. It’s no big deal, right?”

“Yeah,” Geno teased. “No big deal. Just married. Small thing.”

Sid’s stomach flipped at the lopsided smile he was given, he put his hand on the back of his neck to hide the feeling of warmth. “Whatever.”

“When we do this?” Geno said.

Sid had to seriously think about that. It was one of the few things he hadn’t quite considered. He brought his phone out of his pocket and flicked through his schedule, where all the games and their times were kept. He flicked through the next few days and frowned. It was pretty packed. Plus he wanted to keep it during the week so paperwork would process faster.

“Thursday? I think?”

Geno looked at him. “You sure you can squeeze in?”

“Well, the Caps are here on Wednesday and we leave for the roadie on Friday. So it would mean we’d have the whole day, which would be nice… You are teasing again, aren’t you?”

Geno looked like he was fighting a smile. “You fit us in between the Caps and Flyers? That is true love.”

“It’s the Caps and Rangers, the Flyers are on the way back,” he pointed out.

“Romance dead,” Geno finally broke into a smile.

He nudged Geno, then stood up feeling a hundred percent less anxious. “And here I was, going to pick up an order of soup and perogies for you.”

“Romance back,” Geno declared. “Bring sour cream? And maybe no chicken soup. Find other soup. Any other soup.”

Sid frowned. “There is clinical evidence that chicken noodle actually helps improve health.”

“Physical health maybe, but months of same soup make me go crazy, Sid.”

“But Geno--”

“Please?”

Sid deflated, stupid big Russian eyes and pouting lips. “Okay. I’ll see what they have.”

“I like engagement. It make you nice. You best, Sid.”

Sid didn’t let himself puff up at that rather backhanded compliment. Instead he grabbed his keys and walked out the front door before he could say something stupid.

*

The next few days were spent with Sid looking up and printing paper after paper. First he had to contact the embassy. Technically he had a worker’s visa so he wasn’t sure what he needed to do if he wanted to get married on American soil. They informed him of his options, apparently the best being that he filled out paperwork for both an American marriage license AND a Canadian one and got married in both.

Which actually worked out, as they were playing the Leafs on this road trip, which meant that he could do that with little fanfare or needing an excuse. When he explained it to Geno Geno seemed annoyed they wouldn’t have a RUSSIAN wedding certificate as well but changed his mind when Sid pointed out that that would give his mom a better chance at finding out.

Then there were games, and the fact that he was pretty sure the entirety of the press room was in on some sort of something with Geno and Sid. Whenever they showed up, mostly together, they would get these looks. Sure, Sid had relaxed his hour early schedule slightly but not enough that he thought it was weird.

Besides Geno was still on his cough meds, so the whole thing with him driving was a bad idea. He was being a good citizen. He guessed it didn’t help that he was still doting a little too much. He just didn’t want anything big and bad to happen in the next few days. He just had to get the wedding certificate and then insurance would hit on Monday.

(He maybe, possibly, harassed a poor lady at his insurance on the phone to make absolutely sure that is how that work. He knew he’d been too aggressive when he got a rather curt “Congratulations” at the end.)

The truth was that when it came down to it he knew very little people in Pittsburgh. He should, you know, know more. He’d gone out with some group of people, from work, a few times. He’d dated but usually his ex got the friends group (that was actually his to begin with) in the break up. He had a lot of acquaintances but straight up friends?

They were few and far between.

There used to be a guy who worked in the booth with him named Colby, they hung out a lot. Colby dragged him out against Sid’s better judgement more often than not and it ended with a lot of hazy memories that didn’t quite flesh out no matter how hard he tried.

So when he read on the computer screen that they needed two freaking witnesses… well. It was a little nerve wracking. His first instinct was to call his sister, who was going to college in Boston and if this was, you know, real he always thought she’d be his Best Maid or whatever… but if he told Taylor he would have to ask her NOT to tell his parents. And she would. She would keep any secret for him (including his proclivity to males), but he wouldn’t ask her to keep another big one.

He breached the subject with Geno over a late lunch before they went to the arena on Wednesday. He was more anxious than he should be, but he wasn’t the type to leave a detail this open this close to the end of it.

“We bring Beau and Harris!” he said, like that was the most obvious answer in the books.

Beau was in the booth with them, Harris … well. Harris, he had no idea who the hell that guy was. But Beau was the sticking point.

“Geno, if we bring Beau, the whole booth will know we are married.”

Geno shrugged and took a large bite of bread and chewed, rather grossly (and yet Sid still found it a little adorable, what the hell?). “Of course he know. He good friend.”

“But we can’t tell anyone that this is … you know… fake. You get that right?”

“Yes, he just think we like each other,” Geno said. “I think he think already. He always ask about you. ‘How Sid?’ ‘Sid really quiet, how you talk?’ So it easy. I ask him to come, he come.”

Sid leaned his head forward and put rubbed at his temples. “But then the whole BOOTH will know we’re married.”

“We will BE married?” Geno quirked an eyebrow.

“Legally, yes, I mean, on paper. But we’re doing this…” he trailed off as Geno distractingly took a sip of his milkshake. “Who’s Harris?”

Geno smiled. “Harris my neighbor. You like him. He have big dog. I visit him lots. Harris, but Samson too.”

“Okay, well. I mean. We can use Harris. But … Can we think about someone OTHER than Beau? I mean. It would just be more logical in the long run to keep as few people in the loop at work because it’s… complicated?”

Geno shrugged. “I think. You think. But Beau good guy. He nice.”

Sid kept the thought to himself that sometimes ‘nice’ didn’t translate in the long run. That sometimes people who you more than trust can bite you in the ass and leave you broken. That life was not as easy as Geno seemed to think it was. But he let it pass when he realized that it wasn’t quite fair to put that on him.

“Dessert?” Geno asked, and Sid forgot the bad for a second. Because there was never supposed to be a question mark after dessert. (Well, yeah. But he was ignoring that right then.)

*

The game that night didn’t go their way, but Sid was already three quarters of the way through writing why that was completely not the team's fault. Fleury had a couple bad tips and Mike Smith had gotten a few tips his way and … well. You can’t win them all. Even if he got annoyed when they lost, like he was the one on the ice.

He was just finishing up putting his work laptop in his bag when he felt a clap on his back. He turned around to find Beau looking at him like he was made of sunshine. “See you tomorrow Sid.”

Sidney was not prepared and didn’t work well under pressure so he basically just nodded dumbly and said, “You too.”

When he finished packing up his bag he walked over to where Geno was talking with a few of the guys. He tapped Geno’s shoulder and tilted his head towards the door.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, G?”

“G?” Geno beamed. “I get nickname from nickname.”

“No, seriously,” Sid said and from somewhere behind Geno there was a distinct whistle and a noise of ‘oooooo’ from more than one person.

Geno grabbed a bag off of a counter nearby and waved at the guys. “See you Friday.”

“If he’s alive,” one of the guys muttered. Sid would glare at him but it would probably just feed the fire. Rather, he walked ahead and into the hallway.

He turned around and tried not to snap. “I thought we weren’t going to ask Beau, I thought we were going to TALK about this.”

“We said we’d think about it, but there no other person I could think of and Beau ask what I do tomorrow. Killed two bird, one stone, you know?”

Sid was very much tempted to ask him if he’d listened to him at all but he still had the hang dog look of a guy who was on antibiotics and it did solve the problem for tomorrow. So he exhaled and inhaled.

“You want to get going? You should sleep well tonight, early morning,” he started.

“Don’t remind me, Sid.”

He would take this as a burn, but had come to learn in the few days of talking that ‘early morning’ was akin to ‘death by water torture’ to Geno. He’d scheduled out his wedding for an earlier slot to keep from having to worry about it running too late, Geno took personal offense at that.

*

The next morning he ended up at Geno’s house just a little bit too early, waiting nervously in the car.

‘Not for REAL’ he chanted in his head, though he did get on a nicer pair of slacks and button down shirt. Why? He didn’t know. They were getting married in front of Justice of the Peace. But it still felt like he shouldn’t be in his scrubs.

He was super thankful that Geno was dressed nicely as well when he picked him up. The antibiotics had seemingly kicked in a few days beforehand, so he was just mostly sick rather than near death. When Geno opened the door from his apartment, he looked so slick and clean Sid forgot he was sick entirely and his stomach did a weird flip.

This was going to be his husband.

‘NOT FOR REAL’ his brain chimed in helpfully. Somehow the ache in his chest didn’t hear that.

Geno’s friend Harris walked out behind him, who turned out to be in his mid seventies and also Russian. Geno helped Harris into the back seat and then slid into the front seat of Sid’s small car.

“You early,” Geno groused as he slid into the car. “I not eat full breakfast.”

Sid thought for a minute. “We could stop…”

“We have appointment. Very important,” Geno said, seemingly trying to do an impression of Sid from the afternoon before. “We can not miss, pain of death.”

Well, it was true.

But he didn’t threaten death.

He straightened up. “We’ll go to lunch afterwards. My treat.”

“Aww, best husband.”

And that was like a punch to the solar plexus. He was thankful he hadn’t pulled out onto the street. Husband. For better or worse (pun mostly intended) by the time he hit lunch he was going to be someone’s husband. No, not someone. Geno. He was going to be Geno’s husband. In a few hours.

There is something to be said about forward motion and the fact that when Sid got something in his head he chased it like a rabid dog. He’d done it for as long as he could remember. Found what he wanted and then moved forward until he got it. Except he wasn’t always seeing the destination in the grit of the running towards it.

“You okay, Sid?”

He forced himself to inhale and turned to smile at Geno. “Just thinking about food.”

“Very intense,” Geno teased. “But you think about every thing very intense.”

He pulled out into the road, they did actually have a time at the Justice of the Peace. He’d already driven to the courts once or twice to get it under his belt. He didn’t have to worry about the directions that Geno pulled up on his phone, but he let him read them to him either way.

He just liked the comfort of his steady voice.

*

Unsurprisingly a Thursday morning at the courthouse wasn’t exactly busy. There were a decent amount of people but not enough to make him feel like they might miss out on their window. After presenting their paperwork and swearing they weren’t related (Who DID that?) they were given a marriage license and directed to the waiting room outside the courtroom that was doing weddings.

Geno, unexpectedly, took Sid’s hand into his much larger one as they walked around the courthouse. He wasn’t really into PDA even when he WAS in a relationship, but it did make him feel better, somehow. They walked in and sat down in the back of the little courthouse.

There were two couples ahead of them, and both had small groups beside them. Sid felt a weird pang that his mom wasn’t there, but dismissed it out of hand. Not real. He gripped Geno’s hand a little tighter.

Beau showed up about ten minutes after them, beaming brightly and dressed… well. Like he was going to a real wedding. He sat down beside them and went straight to his phone.

“You guys are so cute,” a guy right in front of them said, turning around. “How long have you been together?”

Sid’s brain blanked out, saying the first thing that came to his mind. “Uh, a year or so?”

Beau looked up and gawked at them both. The guy turned to the guy next to him and nudged him to look back at the two of them. “Graham and I have been together for eleven years. They’ve been together for a year.”

“Run!” Graham teased and his fiance smacked him on the shoulder. “Kidding, jeezus. Just. Soon enough…”

Graham turned his head to look at the tiny little girl next to him Sid almost climbed over the edge as he saw the kid sitting under her dad’s arm. “Figured we’d make it all official like now that we have Ro-ro-Rosie, here.”

The little girl looked up at the sound of her name and grinned. “My daddies getting mawied.”

“Yup bubs,” the other guy piped up. “And then we’re getting ice cream.”

Geno, beside him, clucked his tongue. “Daddies get married AND you get ice cream? Only appropriate for Princess like you.”

The girl giggled.

“Pincess?”

Graham laughed. “Oh fu-fudge. You guys are already making the goo goo eyes. I mean, she’s the cutest thing ever, don’t get me wrong. But maybe it’s good you’re getting married. First comes loves, then comes marriage...”

“Mejia-Howell?” A woman said from behind the counter.

“Here we go,” Graham smiled, Sid still too flummoxed to respond to the comment. He grinned at the two of them. “Good luck you two.”

“You too?” Sid offered.

From her dad’s arms Rosie blew kisses at Geno, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Geno responding with a small laugh.

Which, frankly, wasn’t freaking fair. He liked kids? Sid blinked at Geno, who turned towards Sid and smiled. “Almost time.”

It took him a moment to register he meant their marriage (Not real) and not… something else. And then they’d go back to their real lives. Not married. Which was, you know. Cool. Because he was doing this for the healthcare.

Beau laughed. “Oh my god, guys. You bring a kid into the box and the entire crew will spoil that kid rotten.

*

The wedding was, as expected, simple and fast. He felt relieved that they brought witnesses as it made it look more legit. He had this creepy feeling that he would be tested and the fact that he’d googled ‘insurance fraud’ kind of shook him to his core. At the end, though, they were told their marriage license would be sent to their (Sid’s) address in the next few weeks.

Geno gave him a kiss on his cheek and his breath held for a second. They weren’t even asked to kiss, but for a quick peck it felt pretty intimate and the stenographer looked at them with a silly smile. He looked down and Geno grabbed something out of his pockets.

“Rings?”

“We marry, we wear rings,” Geno pointed out.

Sid didn’t know how to fight that, especially as they were still in the courtroom, inches from the justice of the peace who had just had them swear they were marrying of their own free will. Granted, it was their own free will but he doubted “and for insurance purposes” was a good add on. So he took the simple slim silver band and put it on his ring finger.

Maybe Geno was just making a show of it, for the Judge? Or maybe he was just being random and silly and would tell him to take off the ring as soon as they got out of the building. He tried to brace himself for that.

But when they walked out Geno didn’t say a word, just smiled at him happily. “You owe me food.”

Sid nodded, he had made a promise after all. Well, one of many promises. But he’d made the promise of lunch first. “Your choice.”

“You regret that, Sid,” Geno teased. “I have good appetite.”

“Go crazy,” Sid smiled at him.

“Sid best husband.”

There was that word again, Sidney misstepped but Geno didn’t catch it. He was going to be fine. This was normal. Everything was normal. Except the thin silver band on his ring finger felt a lot heavier than he thought was normal. His thumb went to fidget with it and he twirled it around a few times.

“I’ll take Mr. Markarov home,” Beau offered with a wink. “You two enjoy your lunch.”

Sid was going to say that was rude but he liked the idea of just spending time with Geno. He smiled.

“I’ll send you the pictures later,” Beau added, just as he turned away.

Sid paused. “Pictures?”

But Beau was gone.

Geno acted as guide again, to a small little restaurant in the center of downtown that served Persian food. Sid hadn’t actually had Persian food, but it had a decent amount of stuff he was familiar enough with. Well, hummus, mainly hummus. Geno ordered for the both of them, talking with the lady like he knew her. With Geno though, that was a fifty fifty chance.

“Who is this Evgeni?” the lady asked after he’d ordered, frankly, an atrocious amount of food.

“This Sid, my husband.”

Sid coughed to cover up the fact that he was choking on his own spit. Geno held up a hand to show off the ring on his finger and Sid wasn’t sure what the hell was going on as he was sure they had a pact to keep it as low key as possible.

“I didn’t know you were married!” the lady gushed. “You have a great husband, Sid. But bad, I would have sent more food with him to feed you.”

Sid didn’t have words, so he just blushed and looked down.

“New,” Geno saved him. “My new husband. We marry this morning.”

It was like the lady had been handed every present she’d ever wanted on a plate. She grinned at them both and said something in a language that Sid couldn’t quite place to the people behind her. “Go, sit. We’ll bring out your food. This is your honeymoon! So sweet. Oh Evgeni, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.” She turned her head and said something more and then turned back. “SIT!”

They did, in a booth in the corner. As they sat down Sid made sure he was facing away from them so he could give Geno a glare. “Gennnno.”

“What? Viv nice lady. She try set me up with her daughter, her niece, her cousin’s daughter…”

Sid frowned. “I’m your …”

Was there a word for the anti of a beard? He didn’t have any idea.

“Husband?” Geno asked, small frown wrinkling his brows. “That what you are.”

And how was he supposed to respond to that? Especially when Geno looked so genuine and nice about it.

“I just didn’t know we were telling people,” he gave in. “I thought we were um… keeping it to each other?”

“No family. But why not here?”

Because they worked in sports. Because they weren’t really married. Because they might screw up their lives. Because Geno could get deported back to Russia if he lost his job over this and then he’d be gay married in Russia and they weren’t known for their warm and fuzzy feelings towards that.

“Sid,” Geno tapped a finger between his eyebrows. “You in your head again.”

“Geno, the guys in the booth might not be okay with this,” he said, exhaling. “People-- people may not be okay with this.” He didn’t think about his youth. About the teasing and the mocking and the fact that he was all too familiar with what would happen to the both of them. He wasn’t willing to put Geno through that.

Suddenly multiple waiters were at their booth, food filling their table in the matter of seconds. Things he knew they didn’t order, and a beer for them both.

“Eat up boys,” Viv smiled. “It’s on the house. And there is more coming. Anything you want let me know.”

He put on his best smile. “We couldn’t let you do that.”

“Of course you can,” she tutted. “It’s your wedding day. Very special day.”

“Thank you,” he responded, conflicted about whether to accept it or not let her give them too much.

Geno was already halfway through a plate of grape leaves and eyeing the hummus happily.
*

The strangest part of the road trip that followed was that there was really very little change. Geno stayed in his room, which was weird but not entirely. He’d played hockey as a kid, sharing a room was par for the course. He would be lying if he didn’t say it was almost nice to have someone at night to talk to, to have someone to get him out of a funk when he was frustrated with his writing, but mostly? He would have liked Geno just being there.

The booths were … simple. It was made more than clear that there were more than a few people who were not okay with the whole arrangement. He hadn’t expected Beau to keep it a secret, had almost hoped but not realistically. What he didn’t expect was that Beau was one of their best defense. He and, shockingly, Greg, the guy who he’d said maybe ten sentences to total.

After one dick comment from a guy who wasn’t careful with his voice level, Beau had him against the wall with one arm. It was almost endearing, if it wasn’t a little petrifying at the same time. Beau was… well. Not that type of person. Except for when he was, apparently.

“You got a problem with G and Sid, you take it up with me,” he gritted out.

Geno, not to be out done, took a few steps close. “And if he not enough, try me.”

Geno was nothing if not imposing with his height and his angry face was one not to be reckoned with. After that, whatever comments that were being said were being kept low key or out of the room. Really? That was more than Sid had expected.

The shocking thing was that there was a surprising amount of people who were okay with it. Beyond okay. As it stood, he heard two of the guys exchanging cash and he’d been asked by one guy if he could have at least waited a few weeks to tell them. He laughed, honked really, and felt weirdly warm and like a part of the group in a whole new way.

“Fuck the haters,” Beau said, leaning into him and handing him a bottle of water.

He was not tearing up or anything, but it was close.

*

When they got back, Sid had already set up two separate appointments for Geno. He’d made sure that his insurance had added Geno as his spouse and then gotten the card rushed to them so that when he arrived home after the roadie he was met with a shiny card that said “Evgeni Malkin” on it.

They went to the place that took chest scans first, which was only a twenty dollar co-pay and for the first time in forever Sid was okay with living in America. Geno gave him a look like he was the craziest when he handed over his credit card and rather Geno took a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket.

“I pay, Sid.”

Sidney, who had already felt a little weird for making Geno let him take him to the appointment in the first place, felt his face burning. He didn’t mean to take things over, it was just kind of who he was sometimes. He nodded at him and slipped his credit card back into his wallet.

Sid sat in the waiting room and felt like everyone could see he looked out of place. He scrolled through his phone about a thousand times, reading all the speculations about trades and RFA/UFA for the off season. He thought idly about whether or not he should even bother flying home to Canada because all the craziest shit went down in the summer.

Then Geno walked out and cocked his head at the door.

“What did they say? Is it bad? Are you okay?”

Geno frowned. “Is doctor different in Canada? I just get the scans. They have to have person LOOK at scans.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

He was a little anxious. Maybe.

The next appointment, three days later, the doctor did read them the results. He said that there was some scarring on the inside of his lungs. Nothing too bad, but it looked like Geno had a case of chronic bronchitis that had the possibility of developing into pneumonia if not treated properly.

Sid hadn’t even asked to accompany Geno this time, just showed up at his apartment about a half hour before the appointment and waited for him to come out. Geno had seemed relieved. And he held Sid’s hand while he was told the results. That was new.

He was glad he was there, because he took out the notebook he always had on him and took notes like it was a scrum. There was medicine and breathing therapy and a whole shit tonne of things that Geno would have to do. He also got a few prescriptions for an inhaler and steroids, which for some reason made Geno laugh so hard he wheezed.

“Breathe, Geno,” Sid rebuked. The whole point was he was supposed to be taking care of his breathing. He looked at the doctor for him to back Sid up but the doctor had a bemused smile on his face.

Geno tried to relax his face. “Sorry Sid, Sorry. Just … there goes last hope of hockey career. No steroids.”

Sid would have smacked him if it wasn’t for the witness in the room. “Haha, very cute. Thirty-year-old rookie, somehow I doubt that would go over.”

“I young for my age,” Geno shrugged.

The doctor looked down at his paper work and handed it over to Sid. It startled Sid just enough that the doctor responded.

“You seem like the mature spouse.”

Which, okay, was entirely true but it still gave him a small thrill up his spine. Even more when he looked over at Geno to find him laughing quietly again.

“S’true,” Geno conceded. “You much more mature.”

Sid took the paperwork and dragged Geno out to lunch while they waited for the prescriptions to be finished up.

*

Life went on for a full three months, doctors appointments and medicine and different things that popped up. The season ended, the Penguins making it to the second round before being kicked out unceremoniously. It was sad, but it gave him a chance to take a breath. He had rethought the whole Canada thing, thought he might take a short break before returning to Pittsburgh.

Until, of course, he got a phone call at nine at night from Geno.

“What’s wrong?” he said, stripping his sleep pants off while shoving the phone in the crook of the neck. He forgot where he’d put his jeans so he had to scan around the room.

“Sid? You okay? You breathe weird?”

Sid paused and stood up. He breathed weird? “Are you okay?”

“Leak at apartment building. Big leak. I would not ask, but… I think it might be strange if I call other person… they ask where you are.”

He exhaled slowly, putting down the jeans he’d finally found and grabbing his sleep pants again. “Oh. Okay. You need a place to stay? Sure. Of course. You want me to pick you up?”

“No, I be there soon. Thank you.”

Sid seriously debated putting on something a little nicer, but when it came to sleepwear all he had was tattered old shirts and the same three pair of sleep pants that he had for over a decade. It was kind of his thing. So he went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth for the second time in the last few hours.

He wasn’t sure when Geno would get there so he started making tea in hopes that it would be ready by the time he got there. Geno liked tea, he knew that. He also knew his collection of store brand tea was probably not the best on earth but he had a tea kettle, at least, so there was that.

Geno rang his bell about a half hour later. When Sid opened the door he felt a weird surge of anxiety at how exhausted and soaked the guy looked. His nose was redder than usual, and he looked like he might be getting sick. It made Sid’s stomach churn.

“Come in. Get naked,” he said, distractedly. He looked up to see Geno’s eyebrows turning down. “I mean. Changed. You need to get changed. Do you have anything dry? And where is your inhaler?”

Geno put a hand out. “Sid? I fine. I get changed. I have inhaler. Leak big, had to pack and not want change in apartment. I change, one minute, okay?”

Sid nodded, feeling foolish and trying not to blush. “You want tea? I have tea.”

“Yes,” Geno said, sighing a little. “Perfect. You make me something good. Chamomile?”

That, at least, Sid knew he had. He walked into the kitchen and found a couple of mugs, a few bags of chamomile. He even snuck out his favorite Milano cookies, which he wasn’t entirely sure why he hid as he lived by himself but it was an ingrained habit born of having a little sister.

By the time he’d set them up and gotten himself comfortable Geno lumbered into the room, wearing an outfit not unlike Sid’s, except for the Russian lettering on his hole filled grey shirt. Geno sat down and sipped at the tea with a smile. Sid had set up a few different choices of things to put in it just in case but Geno was satisfied with his. Sid, on the other hand, mixed in some milk and honey.

“What does your shirt say?” Sid asked, staring a little too hard at Geno’s chest.

Geno smiled. “Metallurg Magnitogorsk. My dad play for them. I play a bit for them. Good team.”

“Cool,” Sid smiled back. He looked at his tea and watched the milk go around in circles and fill the cup with murkiness. “So… a leak?”

“Yes,” Geno grimaced. “Big leak. Pipe burst above me. Old pipes, old building. Above neighbor no care, he is practically teenager…”

Geno went straight into Russian, obviously annoyed. Sid just let him go, it was usually best that way.When he talked himself out of whatever annoyance it was he blushed.

“Sorry, I just … he very frustrating. Loud. Mean to Harris. Mean to Samson. Not good guy.”

Sid frowned. “What a jackass. Not nice to an old man and a dog?”

“What about husband? He mean to me, too.”

It had long since gone from the weirdest thing he’d ever heard to almost commonplace, though it still made his heart do a little bit of a double tap in his chest, but just once or twice.

He smiled. “You seem to be able to take care of yourself, but if you need I can beat the guy up for you?”

Geno snorted his tea. “I think I pay to see that.”

Sid wasn’t sure if that was a direct insult or just a gentle ribbing but he tried not to let it ruffle his feathers. He put his hands down and wrapped them around the warmth of the mug. “Well, my apartment is yours for as long as you need it… I mean. I have an extra room. It’s kind of small and a little club—“

“дерьмо́,” Geno put a hand up to his forehead. “дерьмо́, дерьмо́, дерьмо́.”

Sid put a hand out and grabbed his freehand. “What? Are you okay?”

“Oksana,” he groaned, laying his forehead onto their joint hands. “I forget. She comes next weekend. No way my place fixed by then.” Swallowing and knowing he didn’t really want to know the answer to his next question he asked, “Who is Oksana?”

Geno lifted his head and gave with a pitiful look. “My ex, from Russia. She live here for a while. Move back about a year and a half ago. She wanted visit some friends, I offered to let her stay. I want her to come but now, my place destroy because of … I can’t have her stay there.”

Ex. He knew it. Somehow, he’d knew it as soon as the name came out of Geno’s mouth. Just the way he said it. And she was coming to stay with him. He wanted her to come. That wasn’t something you did with an ex that was something you did with a future.

Sid’s stomach sunk down to his feet but he forced a smile. “She can come too. I mean, it’ll be a little cramped I guess but your friends are my friends, right?”

He didn’t say that his ex’s were Sid’s ex’s, even though he thought it might be a good joke. It didn’t exactly feel that funny to him.

*

It turned out Geno was right. The next day when he spoke to his apartment complex they all but told him that he was out for at least a month. Apparently they COULD put him up in another one of their properties but it was basically a glorified hotel room and was way on the other side of town. It wasn’t practical.

Besides, Sid pointed out, what were fake husbands for besides to have a place to crash? It was just polite. The fact that the idea of Geno being in his house all summer was kind of thrilling and made him happier than he should was something he kept to himself.

Except. Oksana.

*

Sid has spent the better part of the last four months preparing himself for this very moment. For the moment that Geno would find a person. A person who made him happy. A person who he could love. He hadn’t exactly thought it would be a person he had loved but that didn’t seem to matter much. The sight of the tall and gorgeous blonde was like a swift kick to the stomach.

“Sid, this Oksana. Oksana, this Sid,” Geno said, a huge grin.

Sid put his arm out but Oksana barely took it, rather leaning in and giving him a kiss on his cheek. “Hello Sid, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Her accent was different than Geno’s, thicker but with a little more polish. Like she had studied English more than Geno ever had. He put on his best smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you as well. Geno was really excited for you to come visit.”

She laughed and said something in Russian, to which Geno told her to hush and his cheeks turned a little red. Sid wondered if she’d said something lewd about why he was so excited, but for once was more than happy to not know the language. Rather he just gave her the usual blank smile he reserved for when Geno talked Russian to him by accident.

“Geno said you have no work tonight?” Oksana said, stepping back from Sid and closer to Geno.

Oh… Yeah. She probably wanted to spend time with him. Naturally she would. It was only natural to want to spend time with Geno after months of not doing so. Sid nodded.

“Yeah, off season. But I’m covering the Pirates for a friend tonight,” he said, proud of his mostly believable lie. “So, I’ll leave you guys to it, I guess.”

Geno’s face scrunched up. “You know nothing of baseball.”

“I promised Nick,” he said, proud to even remember the baseball writer. “He has a … thing.”

Before he could be asked anymore questions that he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to answer correctly, he grabbed his briefcase and keys, still near the door from when he returned home. Just before he exited the door he heard his name among some rapid fire Russian from Oksana.

*

He’d gone to a bar, somewhere about a half hour away from their apartment, and watched the game. He figured he’d need some basis of plausible deniability were he asked about it. Though, to be honest, Geno was right. He knew nothing about baseball. Add in the few beers that he had to take the edge of his anxiety off didn’t exactly help.

The game was endless. He’d seen triple overtime final games feel less like they were never going to end. How did a game work without a freaking clock? He sighed and watched the game half-heartedly, reading over an article he had on his tablet that wasn’t due for another few days about the search for a good first row center.

“Hi,” a girl’s voice shocked him into looking up. “Sorry to bug you.”

He put the tablet down on the table, face down and put on a smile. “No apologies needed.”

“What’re you reading?” she implored and when he blinked at her, she smiled. “My roommate thinks you’re cute but has the courage of the Cowardly Lion, so I’m trying to give her an in.”

She tossed a look over at the bar where a girl looked over at them, beet red, and waved awkwardly.

“Hockey articles?” he said and the girl practically pumped her fist, if her grin was any indicator. He stopped her though by lifting his hand and indicating the ring that still sat there. “Um. Sorry?”

The girl deflated and shook her head. “Gay or married, always.”

“Both, in fact,” he said and was genuinely shocked at his own candidness. “But your friend is really pretty.”

“Thanks?” she offered. “Sorry to have bothered you, seriously.”

He waved it off. “Thanks. Um. I’m gonna just go back to my articles.”

She nodded, and he just caught her telling her friend … well… whatever she told her and her friend turned impossibly redder. She looked away. He thought, for a second, about sending them both a drink, but figured that might be rude or even worse give off a sense of something that wasn’t true. So he forced himself to look down at his tablet again.

His messaging app buzzed. “Baseball boring. Can’t watch for you.”

“You’re telling me. Almost done. I think.” He looked up and saw that it was the bottom of the eighth. He didn’t know much, but nine innings. That was all he had to sit through.

“Good. You come home. Miss you.”

Sid frowned. He had Oksana and a house to himself. The last thing that Geno should be thinking about was him. In fact, he was surprised he was even messaging him. “Everything okay with Oksana?”

“Yes? She watching HGTV. House Hunter International. They buy wrong condo. Too tiny, far from beach.”

Sid couldn’t help but smile. They had spent many a day watching that dumb show and fighting over which was the right house. Apparently Geno’s main criteria was the proximity to water, no matter if they were in Italy or Austria. It was kind of random but like most things with Geno, randomly endearing.

He rubbed at his eyes and exhaled slowly. His day was not going the way it was supposed to. The room around him cheered and he looked up. He’d apparently missed a lot of the game, as it was over and the Pirates had won. Which was good, he guessed. All Pittsburgh teams were awesome, one in solidarity and all that crap.

He slid his tablet into his satchel and settled up his tab.

Just in case he sent ahead a text that said, “On my way home.”

The last thing he needed was to walk into anything with the two of them.

A moment later he got, “YAY!” followed by, “Bring ice cream?”

He blinked. That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting but sure.

“Oksana take phone, but ice cream good. Rocky Road for me, chocolate for you, mint for her. EW. Thanks ))))”

He made a face, he usually didn’t let himself go off on a tear when it came to food but… when in Rome. He walked into the nearest drug store and back towards the ice cream section. Which passed by the candy section… which was not nice in general.

It had been an emotional fucking day and the gummy worms were right there. Two for 3 dollars, that was just a deal in general. He threw them into the small basket he had. He stood in front of the ice cream for a moment, debating whether he wanted to buy the reasonable sized Haagen Dazs or the crazy big Dreyers. As if on cue his phone buzzed again.

“Buy big, Sid.”

He took a second to look around and found that, not shockingly, no one was there. It wasn’t like there was a chance he’d been followed by Geno. Still. He grabbed the big ones, rationalizing that if he was going to have to watch couple-y stuff he could at very least eat his feelings.

When he opened the door a few minutes later he found Oksana, still dressed like earlier, excitedly waiting for him. “Ice cream, you really are best, Sid.”

And she kissed both of his cheeks, taking her ice cream and running towards the kitchen.

“I told her you best,” Geno said, looking a little shy. “She never listen.”

Sid couldn’t help but smile at how shy Geno looked. He put a hand into is bag and grabbed out a huge container and put it out in front of him. “Rocky road.”

“Best, Sid,” Geno said, and there was a moment of hesitation before Geno leaned in and kissed Sid’s cheek.

Sid didn’t have the times to form words before Geno was off to the kitchen. He followed at Geno’s heels, feeling a lot like a lost puppy and not minding it at all.

*

The three of them ended up at the kitchen table, each with a huge bowl of ice cream. Geno had said something in Russian to Oksana and got an instant rebuke from her saying it was rude to speak in another language in front of Sid. Sid tensed and almost asked they did but the thing was it turned out to be a pretty easy conversation.

They asked how the game went and Sid went over the details he’d made himself memorize about the game. He said that he’d sent his notes to his friend so that he could write the actual article which was basically the only way he could explain the inevitable by-line that didn’t read his name.

When he steered them away from that as subtly as he could it switched to Oksana whining about people choosing stupid houses on HGTV and the fact that they always chose the biggest house.

“Typical, you think big is best but the one with the good garden and the perfect kitchen was the right one, right Zhyena?” she looked at Geno who looked up from his ice cream to make a face.

“I like the two story house, the one with the patio and the pool.”

Oksana tutted at him. “They have babies. Pool dangerous for babies.”

He shrugged. “You put up gate and it safe. I like space and it look nice. Like home.”

She looked over at Sid and he shrugged. “I … didn’t see the show?”

“You like big house or smaller? What is important to you?” Oksana prompted.

He frowned and concentrated on the bowl. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. “I like… a home. Maybe smaller, crowded. Good for a few kids. A good sized backyard for a dog. A place for a family to grow into, you know?”

“Sha,” Oksana said and he looked up to catch her rolling her eyes. “You and Zhyena are perfect for each other. Family, family, family. He’s been talking about a family since I knew him. A little daunting for a teenage girl, to be honest. But that isn’t a problem anymore…”

Sid looked over at Geno, who was staring at his spoon and turning a little red. “Kids important. Family important.”

The image of Geno with that little girl at their wedding popped into his brain and then, against his better judgement, the image of another little girl. One maybe with dark curls and dimples in her cheeks, being hoisted up by Geno and giggling. It felt like a punch to the gut. It was exactly what he wanted.

He choked on his next bite of ice cream.

“You okay, Sid?” Geno asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

Sid coughed a few times and Geno stood up and got him a cup of water. He drank it slowly, buying time but not being helped by the fact that Geno was looking at him with concerned eyes.

“You okay?” he repeated.

Sid nodded. “Wrong pipe.”

Gene’s face eased into a smile. “You weird, Sid.”

If only he knew the half of it.

What he really thought he needed was a break from this. This late night session of people staring him down and talking. This fake little bubble of domestic bliss. But he was his mother’s child and the fact that he had guests in the house, even if it was Geno’s ex (not so ex?) girlfriend was pulling him to stay just where he was.

“Yeah. I never could learn how to swallow,” he said, hearing the words a second delayed from when they left his mouth.

Geno turned bright red. Oksana straight up laughed. Sid prayed for the floor to open up and swallow him. He didn’t live on the ground floor, it didn’t look good for him, he’d just end up in Mrs. Julius’ kitchen.

Fuck.

*

Once Sid had recovered from the embarrassment by getting up to get them all glasses of water and letting Oksana talk for a long while, things got back to normal.

They spent a good hour and a half longer talking, trading stories back and forth about Geno, much to Geno’s dismay and Sid’s great delight. He learned about Geno’s apparent need for a puppy through his whole life, how he’d begged and pleaded and written a paper about it for school. Sid might have cried laughing a little about that, imagining a tiny Geno seriously concentrating over a piece of paper. He imagined his tongue sticking out to one side as he thought of all the reasons that he needed a puppy.

His parents had steadfastly denied it, which was still a point of contention in the Malkin household.

Nothing was as funny to Sid as the look on Geno’s face when that was brought up. He talked about the one time he had saved up for months for the adoption fee at a local shelter, but needed a parental signature and when it came down to it his slightly older brother didn’t work out he thought it would.

“It did not help that the dog was the size of a horse,” Oksana said with a laugh. “He would have taken up the entirety of your side of the room just sleeping. Feeding him would require a full time job, let alone keeping him from attacking the neighborhood kids.”

“Jeffrey was a baby, he would not hurt anyone.”

Oksana laughed even harder. “I forgot that part, you named him for your crush!”

Sid was thankfully not mid sip, as he was sure to have choked. “His what?”

“Jeffrey, oh Jeffrey. You had a crush on him for a decade,” she smiled. “If not for Minka, I would have had no chance with you at all.”

Geno was the one who looked like he might want to be eaten by the floor. “Not ten years, you lie. Liar.”

“Since you ten and you met him to when twenty and he and Minka marry, you thought he marry YOU.”

Geno grumbled. “He make out with me enough when drunk. Stupid Minka and her stupid baby hips.”

Oksana laughed. “Yeah, buddy. The one thing you couldn’t give him. They have what? Five kids now?”

Sid grabbed for a glass of water and sipped at it. His mouth was a little dry. He coughed and drank a little bit more.

A guy… he had been into a guy. Okay, like a decade ago, but a guy. It was a little hypothetical at most parts but now the guy had a name and Geno wasn’t denying that he had a crush on him, just the length of time. And they had kissed, that wasn’t even close to hypothetical.

“You okay, Sid?” Oksana asked, the picture of innocence. “You look a little pink.”

He exhaled and exaggerated a look at his phone. “It’s just very late. I should be going to bed. I mean, I should go to sleep. Sleep is good. Oksana it was really nice talking to you.”

“I assure you Sidney, it was my delight,” she smiled. “You sure you don’t want to exchange more Geno dirt? I knew him during his NSYNC era. And the time he wanted to be a fireman because of the calendar they made… I have pictures somewhere of that.”

Geno glared at her and stood up, saying something sharp in Russian and offering a smile to Sid. “I come put you to bed?”

Sid coughed, Oksana practically giggled but covered it with her own cough. He didn’t say no, though, just nodded and walked towards his room with the feeling of person who had no idea of what they were doing. He didn’t like that feeling, as a rule he liked to be in control.

“Sid,” Geno said, quietly, as the door closed behind them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would bother you that I also like boys.”

Sid turned around arching his eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? I asked you to marry me? You think liking guys would bother me?”

“Well, you being nice, Sid.”

Sid groaned. “You are crazy, Geno. I mean. Why would I be bothered by you liking boys? Even if I didn’t like boys I wouldn’t be a homophobic douche. We held hands! More than once! What was that?”

Suddenly he was pressed against his own door, Geno’s lips close to but not quite on his. “Is this… okay?”

Sid nodded, inhaled and exhaled and Geno wasn’t moving fast enough, sweet god. He pressed forward and their lips met in a not quite that sexy first kiss. But then it went again, and again and by the third or fourth try it was entirely better. Gene’s lips were all over his face and neck, little pecks mixed with nibbles and harder kissed. His hands pinned against the door frame.

“You happy?” Geno asked, genuinely looking nervous. Sid arched his body forward just to show him how ‘happy’ he was. Geno’s head thumped against the wood beside Sid’s head.

“You kill me, Sid. I show you happy…” he started but was suddenly interrupted.

“Everything okay in there?”

Sid paused. Oksana’s voice from the kitchen. Oksana was there. In his condo, his not that big condo. The kind of not that big that would probably easily hear anything they did.

“Oh my god,” he groaned at the same time that Geno said something that sounded suspiciously similar but in Russian. Geno brushed his lips against Sid’s, pulled back and gave him sad puppy eyes.

Geno nuzzled his neck. “I kill her.”

“She’s our guest,” Sid said.

“Okay, I kill her but then clean up.” Geno frowned.

Sid laughed and Geno gave a grudging laugh. “She is staying how long?”

“Five days,” he said it like it was a jail sentence.

“Five days,” Sid braced himself, pushing at Geno with two flat palms on his chest. “We can totally make it five days, right? We’ve made it months. Five days? That’s nothing.”

*

It was not nothing. He figured after months of lead up the last few days would go by reasonably fast, but truth be told it was like every day was a month instead. They kept themselves busy, trying to entertain her and themselves enough to make the days go by.

It was a slow form of torture.

To say that Sid was ready for Oksana to go to the airport was pretty much the biggest underestimate of the century. He had spent the better part of the day watching the clock, like it was winding down to the freaking Stanley Cup. Which was apt, as he was sure it stopped every three seconds to extend itself by three minutes.

He had liked meeting Oksana, loved it actually. She was bright and intelligent and sweet and gorgeous and … well. Everything he had feared before he met her and more, but with the very nice exception of not wanting to steal Geno, marry him and ride off into the sunset. She just wanted to see her friend. That was it.

So possibly he loved her even more than he thought possible.

But he would love her more when she was somewhere over the Atlantic.

Geno had offered, half-heartedly, to take her to the airport but she had simply shook her head and poked at Geno’s phone to order a Lyft . She kept beaming at the two of them like she knew. It was just about as creepy as it sounded.

When the time came for her to go, the Lyft driver calling to tell them she was outside, she hugged Geno first. Sid was pretty sure he could hear Russian and by the blush on Geno’s face it was probably something foul but whatever. She was about to go. When she took Sid into a huge hug, he was more than surprised.

“You are good for him,” she whispered into his ear. “You stop being that, I come back.”

That was pretty much the most ominous thing he’d heard in a while. But he nodded. He would do anything not to hurt Geno. That was just a given.

Then she was out the door, the door was closed and they were alone. Completely alone. Geno dug his hands into his pockets and fidgeted.

“So,” he started, but didn’t continue.

Sid had thought of nothing else but Oksana leaving for days, days, and it was there and all he could think to do was stand and chuckle nervously. Geno frowned at him.

“What funny?”

He licked his lips and thought of all the things that this moment could be. Epic and romantic, simple and sweet, hell, it could even be dirty and horrible. But in the end it didn’t matter, because it would be with Geno. And after all this time, he wanted it to be with Geno. That was all it really needed to be.

He took a few steps forward, tentatively getting into Geno’s space. Geno looked down at him, which was annoying, Sid was aware of his height, okay? But the look in Geno’s eyes was something that erased his height complex. He put his hands onto Geno’s hips, one by one, and pulled him in.

“You think I funny?” Geno said, but there was no heat behind the words except the heat of Geno’s breath against Sid’s lips. Sid pushed himself a little closer, easing up onto his toes ever so slightly.

When he got close enough he shook his head. “Nope, nothing funny.”

He pressed a long kiss onto Geno’s ridiculous lips and breathed in and out through his nose. Geno pulled his hands up and wrapped them around Sid’s back, his long fingers slipping together and bringing him so close there was no space between them.

Still Sid pushed himself in towards him and Geno took a step back and hit the wall. And fuck. He was a good kisser. A little intense, okay a lot intense, but that was beyond okay with Sid. He picked his hands up off the sides of Geno’s hips and leveraged them against the wall.

Geno arched forward a little, his dick rubbing against Sid’s stomach and holy fuck, thank whoever for what Geno was working with. Sid took a hand off the wall and ran it in-between them. He fidgeted till he got under the shirt and then worked the pants down just enough to free it.

“Sid,” Geno exhaled a hiss. “Sid, what doing?”

Sid paused and thought about how he was supposed to answer that. That lasted all of three seconds before he leaned in and started a lazy pace of jerking Geno off, waiting for some pre cum to let it work it’s way easier. He used the foreskin to his advantage, playing with the top and letting it bead up before bringing it back down.

Geno was babbling in Russian, but Sid could get the gist. He waited for a minute and then pulled back his hand, Geno’s head thwacking back against the wall.

“You kill me, you first suspect,” Geno said, breathing heavily.

Sid honked. “No more First 48 for you, G,” he said, and leaned down to pull the shirt up and grab the tip of Geno’s dick and give it a slow lick.

More Russian, fast and angry and … ow.

“No hair pulling,” Sid said, because ow.

“Sorry, I …”

Sid rolled his eyes and took Geno’s hand. They weren’t going to the room. Too far away by half. Rather he brought him to the chair maybe ten feet from the front door and shoved him into it.

“Sid, don’t you want to go to…” he motioned over his shoulder towards their room. (Their room.)

But Sid shook his head. “Not yet.”

Instead he knelt down and pulled at Geno’s pants. He was going to enjoy this and then they could enjoy the bedroom. And the kitchen. And the bathroom. And… well. It was a small condo, but he was okay with the challenge of finding new places.

He had a much better point of view at this angle, and took the moment to appreciate Geno’s dick. Geno covered his eyes and turned a little pink and all Sid could think to do was kiss him on his stomach, right beside his belly button. Geno looked back down.

“You crazy, Sid.”

Sid couldn’t deny it. He licked again and then pulled back to take as much in as he could in one go. By the way the furniture creaked with Geno’s hands, Sid figured he had to be doing something right.

*

Sex was fucking awesome (Sid TOTALLY intended that pun). It wasn’t that he hadn’t HAD sex before, he was 29 years old for cripe’s sake, but consistent, indulgent, and dare-he-say intimate sex was kind of something that he hadn’t had in a really long time. Add on to the fact that Geno seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did and it was like he was drinking water for the first time after walking through a desert. He couldn’t get enough.

Weeks went by. Summer was slow, but not dead for a beat writer. So sometimes there would be fits of trades and crazy days where people like PK Subban got traded for Shea Webber and holy crap his life was a huge pile of crazy. He would fight through the day, knowing Geno was off doing the same thing and he would get home and they would eat dinner in between chatters of “Holy shit” and “Can you believe this crap?” and then they’d barely make it to bed before they’d be making out like teenagers.

It was everything he wanted. Literally. He slowly began to realize that his life was becoming more and more what he wanted every day. He was becoming… complacent and happy in a way he knew was detrimental for his own health. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was supposed to do with all the happiness he had going on.

Except… Geno was going to move back to his apartment soon. That was a solid time for maybe Sid to tell him that the sex part was muddling up the clearly defined roles of fake marriage. Not that he wanted to do that. He actually felt a little nauseated by the concept of that conversation in general. He hated the idea that he was going to go back to living in the condo by himself. No clothing on the floor. Nothing in the sink. It would go back to being a little tomb.

Which, he assumed, was what brought his absolute craziness to the top and one night after a particularly good bout of lazy late night sex he asked.

“Why don’t you just … not go back to your apartment?”

Geno lifted himself onto his elbow. “You hear apartment fixed? On answering machine? Why not tell me?”

“No, no, I mean,” Sid was blushing and he resisted the urge to put his hands onto his face. It was dark in their--- his room afterall. “I mean when it gets all fixed. You could just not go back. I’m sure you could probably break your lease pretty easily. It’s an old building and there is probably mold and with a leak… that could be bad for your bronchitis…”

Geno put a hand over Sid’s mouth. “You ask me to move here?”

Sid nodded and, in true older brother fashion, stuck his tongue out against Geno’s palm.

“Yech,” Geno frowned. “You not make good case in favor, Sid.”

“Come on, living here isn’t that bad. Cheaper rent. Better location. We can carpool to games…”

Geno leaned over and pecked Sid’s cheek. “You have me at ‘cheaper rent’.”

Sid laughed, but it made his stomach wrench something fierce.

*

Sid felt better, though, when a few weeks later they did get a call from his apartment saying that they were almost finished and Geno called back to tell them he wasn’t coming back. His lease, it turned out, was up at the end of September so he only had to pay a month’s rent to get out of it, no breaking necessary.

They went back and found the stuff that was salvageable, which was mostly just his personal goods as it turned out his apartment was mostly hand me down and IKEA furniture. Nothing that he would miss. Sid took one step in and smelled the mildew that was still left in the air and even without the fact that the main reason he wanted Geno to stay was Geno, he was relieved to know that he wasn’t staying there.

In the hallway Samson and Harris were similarly packing it up, and it turned out that Harris was moving out to his grandson’s house in the suburbs. It was oddly sad, even for Sid, that they wouldn’t have Samson to play with. Geno was pretty much devastated, had planned on coming back to visit as often as he could.

Sid almost promised him a puppy just to get him to smile but then he realized how impractical the whole thing would be. He figured that would be a “once he got a house” thing. Or… “once they got a house” thing but that was a thought he kept pretty freaking deep in his self conscious. They had very much skirted defining anything and he knew that was probably Geno’s choice.

Whatever it was, it was good enough for Sid to have him for then. For that moment. And for that day.

Not really, he thought idly. Though watching Geno give him sad eyes as he rubbed the dog’s ears the words felt almost entirely hollow and fake even to himself.

*

Once the season started up again it was pretty much business as usual. They had made a deal of going in together since their sham marriage had been spread about the box, now it was just simpler. Sid started forcing Geno to come early with him, which Geno felt was his opportunity to go down to the ice and pester the players. He was personable on a level Sid wasn’t, so even from the box Sid could see how they got along with Geno.

Geno would come back up and tell him stories about each of the players like they were his newest and best friends. How each of the guys liked to play, which were from where. He took a keen interest on a new young Russian. It was like he was his kid, Geno told him how he was a huge Pens fan even in Russia and how he was a good guy. How he worked hard, Russian stock. It was amusing on a lot of levels.

It also showed in Geno’s work. Sid had always thought Geno was amazing at what he did, read his stuff even when he had to read it with a translator on. It was well thought out and well written, even barring the annoying mistype of Google translate. But as each week of getting their earlier and earlier went he seemed to be getting more and more in depth. He didn’t just comment on their flair or style but on how they fit into the team.

He knew it was weird to be proud of him for it, but he was. He constantly sent the clips to other writers, and even braved calling him his husband to a few of them. None of them made comments about the husband bit and instead sent back comments on Geno’s commentary. They thought the same thing. He preened more for their feedback on Geno’s stuff then he would ever preen for himself.

*

One morning Geno woke him up to tell him that he had gotten a phone call to come into the arena that day. It was weird on a few different levels, most definitely on the level that he’d been awake before Sid, but also because they had the day off. Sid would be worried, but he wasn’t. Geno seemed a little anxious, so Sid made them tea and distracted him with a blow job in the shower before he left.

He kind of loved his life.

*

He got a phone call just about an hour later with a screaming Geno, but it was a good scream so Sid mostly didn’t worry. He started in Russian, which Sid had to wait for an intermission to remind him that he might be getting better but he wasn’t THAT good at it yet.

“I got new job!” Geno said, his voice less of a scream, but not much.

Sid, who’d been working on a story at his desk, stood up to quick and smacked his knees on the wood. “Ouch, wait. What? GENO! WHAT?”

“They read my stuff, they life my stuff,” Geno said. “You send my stuff to other writers?”

“I mean, a few, what … I mean… who?”

Geno laughed. “They read. They read and they like. And they starting to make Russian commentary for people in Russia AND Russians in Pittsburgh. New thing. So they hire me. The Penguins hire me. For full job. No more blogger, I work for Pens, Sid. I WORK FOR PENS.”

Sid felt his whole body vibrate with excitement. “GENO! YOU’RE AMAZING!”

“Gotta go,” Geno said, suddenly business and quiet. He heard a voice in the background. “I call you later, or see you at home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sid said, his face almost splitting with a smile. He heard the phone go dead but still added. “Fuck, I love you.”

*

It didn’t fully hit Sid until he was halfway through making the celebratory meal. Geno was out, filling out paperwork and signing things and doing all the things you do when you get a promotion to a really killer position. He’d sent Sid about a dozen texts of pictures of him doing stupid things like fixing his tie, and pointing at something that looked like tape on an old name plate that said “Evgeni Malkin” in Sharpy. Along with maybe twenty texts that were simply “)))))” or “!!!!”.

He’d laughed and returned photos of him giving kind of lame thumbs up at him and asking him to not forget him when he was signing his big fat check.

But then, as quickly as the happiness at his husband getting a promotion had hit him, the reality of it came down like a hammer. His ‘husband’ was that because it got him healthcare. The healthcare his old job wouldn’t give him. The health care that his new job would without doubt be providing him.

He almost burnt his hand on the pan of rolls in the oven because he hadn’t thought to grab the glove he kept beside it. Thankfully his survival instinct caught on because his brain wasn’t doing so at all.

They didn’t have to stay married.

They didn’t.

At all. And frankly they shouldn’t stay married.

Sure they had been … um. Sleeping together for months now, living together officially for longer, and they were two months away from the anniversary of their ‘marriage’ but it didn’t matter. The marriage was a sham and the sex had been more or less convenient. At least, he was pretty sure that was what it was for Geno.

For him, well. He knew himself from the beginning. As soon as he realized he had feelings he knew it was going to end up hurting him, but he’d forged on.

Geno sent him a text that read, “Home in twenty. Bring big fancy wine, big celebration.”

Had it not been for the feeling in his stomach he would have sent something back along the lines of “Unless your company is different than mine, I’d go with medium fancy.” But he didn’t feel like cracking a joke.

He continued on with making the food. He put the plates together. Steak, potatoes, bread, veggies. What felt like a joyful feast started to look like a last meal. He put them on the table. He took the two candles out of the center of the table and slid them back onto the table in the front room. He turned the lights up a little, and turned off the music.

When Geno busted in through the door from the garage he screamed, as usual, “Honey! I home!”

Sid flinched, but put on a big smile when Geno walked in. He was carrying a bag and he placed it on the counter top when he saw the table.

“You make me feast? Best, Sid. You best,” Geno dropped a kiss on Sid’s cheek. “I bought BIG fancy wine, Mr. Tight-one.”

“Tight-wad,” Sid corrected automatically. “Mr. Tight-wad.”

Geno scoffed. “That does not make sense, Sid.”

He turned around and pulled out a large bottle of red wine, the name he couldn’t really recognize but he wasn’t much of a wine person in general. He went into the kitchen though and grabbed a couple of wine glasses his mom had bought him. He could definitely use the drink.

“How did the signing go?” Sid asked, trying to go for casual.

Geno popped the bottle open and smiled as he poured. “Very good. They want me to commentate for Russian feed. They call me ‘color commentator with knowledge’. I very impressive, Sid. It was good. They give me raise. It crazy. I think we go on trip in the summer. Go to Russia?”

How much of a raise did he get? The was besides the point. The summer was far off and he was not going to let Geno’s thought process get him. He knew where this was going, even if Geno did not. But that was not a conversation for celebration.

He put his glass out and Geno clinked it.

“За тебя?” he tried. Geno laughed.

“За любовь!”

They sat down at the table and started in on their food. Geno telling more and more stories about the adventure of signing the paperwork. If Sid remembered correctly, he got the distinct feeling that Geno was making half of it up but he was okay with that. He was absorbing the small bits of Geno that he was going to miss.

The way he liked to wink at Sid like they were in on an inside joke, even when he didn’t get it or it was just the two of them. His small smile when he was thinking of something funny but hadn’t quite decided to say it or not. The honking laugh that he would give whenever Sid said something even slightly funny. (Sometimes even when Sid didn’t think he was saying anything funny.)

He tried to keep up a bit of the conversation. He told him about how he had gone to visit Harris earlier and taken Samson for a walk. How the dog was freakishly big and would drag him along even though he was pretty strong. The way his editor had told him he was not allowed to use the word ‘unfairly’ anymore. The possible signing from the KHL.

It started off as filler, but as always he let himself fall into the well of Geno. Let himself get caught up in the conversation, in the laughter. Probably the wine didn’t hurt. It really was pretty damn good, better with each glass. He’d have to ask Geno for the actual name of it, as by the time he thought to look at it he knew he’d forget the name the next day.

“Bottle empty, Sid,” Geno said, voice low and full of humor. “You drunk?”

“No,” Sid said, then sat back in his chair and felt himself go light-headed. “Okay, a little.”

Geno huffed a laugh. “Light-weight.”

“Not Russian,” he said, pointing at himself.

“I know, I know,” he smiled. Geno leaned towards Sid and said something low and soft and completely above Sid’s admittedly low skill level of Russian. Sid blinked at him and thought about what was going to happen in the next few days, the next few weeks.

He pushed the thought aside. “I want you to fuck me, Geno.”

Geno coughed, hard, even though he’d clearly swallowed his last sip of wine. He put his hand over his mouth and turned a lovely light shade of pink. He wasn’t the type to initiate, let alone talk dirty but this was different. It could be the last time and… yeah. As soon as Geno’s hand was away from his mouth Sid pushed in and gave him a hard kiss.

“Sid,” Geno said, into his mouth as he pulled back between kisses.

Sid shook his head and kissed him again. He kissed his cheeks and his neck and that weird muscle that popped up whenever Geno leaned in either direction. He nipped at it and Geno cursed loudly. It was empowering and heart breaking at the same time.

“Upstairs?” Geno asked and Sid nodded at him. Geno all but picked him up, lifting him an inch or so off the ground. (Usually this would piss him off, just because he was short he wasn’t meant to be manhandled, but he would let it slide.)

He pushed into give him more and more kisses and finally just gave in and wrapped his thighs around Geno’s middle. They weren’t that far away from their room, it wasn’t that big of a condo. He let Geno grab his thighs and was unprepared when he was slammed into his door. He grunted.

“Sorry, I .. Sorry, Sid,” Geno said as he fumbled for the door handle and the door swung open.

He turned his head to make sure the path to the bed was fairly clear and when he saw the remnants of Geno’s clothes everywhere he hopped down and took Geno by the hand to lead him the last part of the way. He turned and let his knees buckle so he could flop back onto the bed, Geno falling on top of him.

When Geno went to apologize, assumedly, he stopped him with a kiss. Fuck, he thought. He needed every moment of this. He clamped a hand onto Geno’s neck and pulled him down, but Geno had his own ideas. He pulled back, not that hard of a fight with his added leverage and bulk.

Pulling off his own shirt, he nudged at Sid to sit up and do the same thing. Sid didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled his shirt off and shimmied out of his pants.

Geno looked at him like it was the first time he’d seen him naked. Sid took his time to do the same. Enjoy the curves and edges of his body, the way his shoulders slumped forward. His pale skin. The look of happiness in his eyes. It was like he knew he was about to go blind and wanted to take that moment to emblazon it on his memory.

“Sid,” Geno exhaled slowly. “Sid … I …”

Geno paused for a second and leaned into him, whispering something in Russian against his neck, and then his collar bone. It was the same thing over and over again, and it sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it. He stared at his ceiling of a minute and then closed his eyes.

For this moment, he thought.

*

The next morning he woke up feeling sticky and sweaty and the right type of achy and it was all he could do to keep from crying. He was a man in his late twenties, he needed to be a little more emotionally prepared for the day. He heard Geno in the bathroom and rolled away towards the window to pretend he was still asleep.

Geno came out a minute later and pressed a kiss to his shoulder before walking down and out of the room.

*

He called Taylor.

It was probably a mistake. No. It was most definitely a mistake, a huge one at that. Because to get to the part where he needed the advice he had to tread through the water of ‘oh yeah, I’ve been lying to you and our parents for ten months’. Which, as luck would have it, was a pretty big sticking point with his sister.

“YOU GOT MARRIED?”

He had to hold the phone about a foot away from his ear. “Yeah. It was. See… okay…”

And he’d already done his best to explain it to her the first few times she’d screamed at him but he tried one last time.

“It seemed like the best idea at the time?”

“You are so fucking dead. Oh my god, mom is going to to kill you,” Taylor said.

He winced. “She doesn’t have to know actually.”

“Yeah right, Sid, like she isn’t going to notice that you bring home a huge Russian,” Taylor rolled her eyes. “She’d see through a ‘just friends’ bull so quick. Is this why you missed Christmas? You dingus. Why didn’t you just bring him?”

Sid inhaled slowly and exhaled through his nose, trying to calm himself. “We did it for health insurance, Taylor. I said that.”

“But you’re together now,” she said slowly, like he’d forgotten logic.

“I said we were … seeing each other,” he swallowed. She was still his baby sister. She didn’t need to know everything. “But it was more for comfort and the fact that getting caught cheating would be looked down upon. He doesn’t feel that way… and now with his new job…”

He heard his sister cluck her tongue, strangely reminiscent of his mother. “Sidney Patrick, you bag of tools.”

“What?” he said, his full name bringing up his defenses instantly. He fidgeted with his finger, finding it was, of course, his wedding band he was fiddling with. He stared at it.

His sister sighed. “You have a big stupid bout of feelings for the Russian and now you are not even grown up enough to TALK to him about it.”

The worst part about having a little sister who has known you forever was that when she calls you on your bullshit you have no way around it. He put his palm in his eye and pressed in, exhaling in something that his sister would call a whine but he would fight to the grave.

“Taylor, I…” he tried but stopped after that as he had nothing to say.

“… Need to nut up and tell this tall Russian prince that I want to be REAL married to him?”

Sid scoffed. “I never called him a prince.”

“‘He has nice hair and it’s not fair that his lips are perfect and everyone loves him and he makes everyone laugh’,” she said, lilting her voice in a way Sid would never talk, thank you very much. “Dude, does he crap rainbows and have a small squirrel friend named Chip?”

“I don’t like what college is doing to you,” he groused. “You used to at least pretend to think I was right some of the time.”

She laughed a little louder than was necessary. “Sid, you giant nerd, I love you. Just. Seriously. I am not here for the pity party. You didn’t invite me to your wedding, the least I can do is bust your chops to keep the husband I am TOTALLY coming to visit in the next few weeks when I have a break from school. Oh my god, I have to find train schedules. I’ll call you back. Or text you.”

“Wait, Taylor!” he tried to interject but the faint hum of an open line had ended and he pulled his phone back to see the picture of Geno being ‘attacked’ by Samson pop up on his background. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.”

He made some epically bad choices in his life, but oh god oh god, this was a bad one.

*

The game that night was weird. For one, Geno wasn’t in the booth. Which, okay, he’d been in and out of the booth over the last few months but the knowledge that he wasn’t at home and he wasn’t coming back kind of settled on Sid.

Plus, he hadn’t seen Geno for most of the day, only in short patches and it was annoying and under his skin. He felt like this weird sense of limbo.

Also? Everyone in the booth was treating him strangely.

“SID!” Beau smiled at him. “How you holding up?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure? Cause if my husband… well… wife… you know. If my person was suddenly moved to another part of the arena for games I’d be lonely. Mind if I sit next to you?”

Sid looked at the space that was Geno’s, his Geno’s seat and frowned but nodded. He had half figured Greg would just come and claim his old spot but he was down at his new spot and well. Beau could fit just as well as anyone else.

Mitch another blogger, called out from behind them. “Tell me you have a DM going on with Geno right now.”

Sid turned in his seat. “A DM?”

“Direct message, Sid… you have Facebook?”

And he did, but he’d never actually spent much time on it. It was basically just a receptacle for pictures of his sister and his friends from college’s kids. Geno had stolen his computer at one point and friended himself, not that he ever posted anything. Mitch walked over and pressed a few buttons and suddenly Geno’s name popped up at the bottom.

“Why isn’t he set up as your husband, dude?” Mitch asked.

Sid’s face went red. “Uh, we just keep it low key.”

“Your life,” Mitch shrugged.

“Miss you, love you, why have you left me?” Mitch typed in and HIT ENTER before Sid could hit his hand.

He would yell except that a second later a little (…) popped up and then he got a response of, “Sid, you okay???”

“What the hell?” Sid said.

Mitch grinned at him and moved back. “You’re welcome.”

“Sorry. Mitch was teaching me how to message you.”

“Not sorry, I miss you too ))))”

Beau nudged him and grinned. “Aww, Sid’s blushing. Sap.”

He looked around the room. They were all smiling at him and he was weirded out and a little touched and it was like… when did he become part of this group?

*

He was going to bring it up with Geno that night, but Geno was on cloud nine when he was done for the evening, coming out of his new booth with the biggest smile Sid had seen from him, which was a feat. When he saw Sid he grabbed him and gave him a huge hug.

“SID, SID. IT BEST! I talk with guy from Russia for three hour, Nik. He was good and knew his stuff. He Capital fan, but understandable. Ovechkin is beast. Is from Saratow it not far from Magnitogorsk, I think I play his brother in Juniors. We talk about the game, we talk about Russia. He already gone. You meet tomorrow, okay?”

He’d said it all in one huge breath and when he stopped his face was flush and Sid couldn’t keep himself from surreptitiously looking around and then giving him a quick peck on the lips. Geno laughed and kissed him again. It was reckless, completely reckless, but Sid found he didn’t care.

He could take one more night. He would keep it for himself. If it was completely and absolutely selfish of him to do so? Well, he would keep that to himself as well.

“Do you want to go get some late dinner and talk about it?” he asked and Geno beamed at him.

“Yes,” he slung an arm around Sid’s shoulder. “We go get dessert. Horrible for diet. Sid have best ideas.”

“I don’t think that was my idea.’

Geno nudged him. “Sid best. Idea best. So Sid come up with best idea. Don't question husband.”

*

The problem being that as the days go by and excuses as to why not to talk to him about it the harder it was to bring it up, and the easier it got to make it to sweep it under the rug. Sidney was usually pretty good at not being the type to just ignore things. He was, at times, a little too honest and got called out on it by his sister (“time to ask the wizard for a real heart, Sid”) and his mom (“honey, sometimes you have to think about what you say”). But he’s just… honest.

Mostly.

But now he was being entirely selfish. Like painfully selfish. He can’t lie about that, even if it is just to himself. If he brings it up with Geno there is no way to put that Genie back in the bottle. It would be over. It was obvious Geno hadn’t thought about it, he just continued as if life was normal. So Sid… played along. And let himself revel in every moment.

Plus there was a lot of sex. Ridiculous amounts. It was like they’d just started all over again.

“I should get new job all times,” Geno commented the third night. “You congratulate nice.”

Sid blushed and bit his lip. He wasn’t saving up the kisses and the moments together. That would be ridiculous. He kissed him again, just cause.

*

Sid checked the mail, like he always did, he’d had a key made for Geno but Geno was about as attentive with the mail as he was with the laundry and well… it was better if Sid just took care of both. He was walking up to his door with the it in hand when he saw a packet thick packet from Humana with the name “Evgeni Malkin” written across the front of it.

They… or he… had Blue Cross.

His stomach cramped up a bit and his heart seemed to cave in. He knew, realistically, this was entirely a natural progression. Geno had gotten a new job. Geno had gotten a job with insurance. Here was the packet of his information and his card.

There was no more getting around it, no more playing the fool. Well, it really didn’t take much to play the fool here, he was being a fool.

He opened the door to their-- the condo and found it smelled like warmth and food and home and normally this would be just common place. Maybe Geno ordered in, or maybe he tried a recipe of his mother’s. But it wasn’t what he wanted to smell.

“Sid, you home?” He saw Geno lean his head out of the kitchen area and saw a huge grin on his face. “I make meatloaf, Sid. Your sister send me recipe.”

“My sister?” Sid croaked out.

Geno tilted his head. “Yeah, she very nice. Why you not tell me you tell her? She sent me so many texts today, we try talk but phone I am still not so good. She talks fast, Sid.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Sid said, feeling the pile of mail in his hand like the tell tale heart.

“Get anything good?” Geno pointed at the pile, looking in the kitchen for a second before walking down the hallway. He was shirtless, which Sid would yell at him for, (he could get burnt) wearing ratty old sleep pants. He must’ve napped, his hair was reckless.

Sid braced himself and put his hand out to give Geno the Humana packet.

Geno looked at it with a tilted head. “What this?”

“Your insurance, G.”

“I have my insurance, Sid,” Geno frowned. “It’s in my wallet. Has your name on it. What is Humana for?”

Sid swallowed. So maybe Geno hadn’t done the math. “G. Your new job gives you your own insurance. You don’t need me… You don’t need mine anymore”

Geno looked at the packet and then at Sid, something crossing his face and settling into a sad look. “I don’t understand.”

“The whole marriage thing, you know,” Sid said, his breathing surprisingly even. “It’s, um. Not needed. They explained your benefits right?”

“They explained but I tell them I not need,” Geno said roughly, throwing the packet on the side table near the door. “I said I have insurance. I not need it. But you… you want me to take this insurance?”

Sid didn’t know what the proper response was to that, he was still processing the whole thing that he told him that he didn’t need insurance thing. He was looking at the packet and his mouth was slack jawed and all he could think to say was, “We got married so you could have medicine.”

If he could take the words back in that instant he would. He tried to imagine a cartoon bubble in front of his face that he could just smack away, but the damage was done. Geno looked like he’d been punched, so hurt and exhausted.

But he hadn’t meant it that way, he hadn’t.

“Get out,” Geno said, voice steely cold and tired.

Sid looked around and thought to himself, insanely, ‘But I live here?’

So did Geno though. And he was clothed, shoes still on, keys and cell phone still in hand. Plus the look on Geno’s face did not speak to one which one would mess with. He put the rest of the mail down on the side table and turned around.

He made it to his car before he let out a dry heave and a choking sob.

*

He went to a bar, because why not? It was a random Wednesday night. There were games on. He could watch them. He knew hockey. Hockey was nice and clear and safe and all the things he thought that he’d needed a year ago. But year ago Sidney was wrong, and it was pretty clear that he was learning that the hard way.

The safety of his life the year before was just that. Safety. He was living his life the way he knew would risk the least amount of pain.

Funny how even through the pain he was feeling, he didn’t want to go back to that safety at all.

He felt his phone buzz more than once, but none of them were Geno. They were Beau, or his boss, or god his sister who was more pissed at him than he’d seen her since he used one of her Barbie dream cars as a puck. (It was black, and she was more mad she hadn’t thought of it first.) He marked them read, usually just perused them, and only answered his boss. He wasn’t in the mood to get fired.

The Devils were playing the Flyers, so there was a bunch of dumb ass Flyers’ fans there, which if he was actually sure of his feelings about a higher power would probably be a sign of punishment. Flyers’ fans would be in his version of hell, right?

He watched his phone’s time and debated just how long he was probably meant to be relegated to be out of the house. Was Geno just fuming? Was he breaking stuff? Was he… packing? Where would he go? Or does Sid forfeit the living space because he was the dick head? His name was on the condo’s paperwork but he didn’t know how divorce worked.

Divorce. Funny how when they’d talked about it at the beginning it was almost funny. He would be married and divorced. Nothing too big. He was doing a favor. Right? But now it felt like what he assumed a divorce was meant to feel like. A gut stab followed by a giant failure.

He didn’t drink, though he wanted to. He was just not going to risk getting hammered and Geno calling. He wanted to be clear headed and level headed as much as possible. The bartender hated him for taking over space with no booze but he was planning on leaving a good tip. He wasn’t a dick. Only to his spouse, apparently.

When the game ended in a Flyers’ loss (sweet schadenfreude), he gave in to any hopes of dignity and got back to his car and into the seat. Ready, as much as he thought possible, to meet his punishment. He drove slower than was probably necessary but he would admit he was being a chicken. He slid into his parking spot and didn’t look around the parking lot to see if Geno’s car was there.

He walked up the stairs and hesitated outside the door. Should he knock? No. A knock gave Geno a chance to say no. He didn’t want that. If Geno was home, he wanted to at least face him.

He slid the key in the lock and turned it. Somewhat satisfied to see that the chain hadn’t been put in. Though that did make greater the chance that he was entering an empty apartment. He still smelled the food, it hadn’t burnt. That was a good thing, he hoped.

“... Geno?”

He was met with silence. His throat tightened. He walked in and went towards the kitchen. It was empty. The meat loaf on top of the stove. He walked back to the hallway and look into the living room. Empty.

“Geno?”

He tried again, but got silence. His chest was aching.

There was really only one chance left. He didn’t know if he could do it but he stood outside the bedroom and gripped the doorknob, turning it slowly.

“Ge--”

Geno sat in the dead center of their bed, looking at paperwork. He looked up at Sid wearily, his eyes puffy and red and Sid felt like he was the one to be gut punched this time.

“Sid,” Geno said.

There was a bag at the foot of the bed, not the normal travel sized one, but the huge kind that Geno had told him he only used when he went to Russia. It was half full. Sid stared at it like it was filled with snakes. He looked back up at Geno and tried his best to just breathe.

“Geno, I was really really stupid,” he said.

“Da,” Geno said, frowning. “Stupid, Sid.”

“But you can’t go, okay? You can’t leave me for being stupid, can you?”

Geno put papers down, his voice was practically venom. “Not leaving you, we married for healthcare.”

“We did,” Sid said, and Geno went to get up but Sid put his hands up. “We did, but that isn’t why I’m married to you right now. I married you because I wanted you to be safe. I wanted you to be healthy. I wanted you to be happy. And then life moved on and I wanted even more than that. I liked you being here. You filled my house. One day I realized I married you for the wrong reasons, but I was staying married to you for the right reasons. So I did marry you for healthcare, Geno. I’m sorry but it’s true. I was married to you then for friendship.”

Geno looked wary.

“But today I’m married to you because I love you.”

He saw Geno go stock still. They had a staring contest, which seemingly went on forever. He put his hand up to show his wedding ring.

“This is real.”

Geno got off the bed and walked across the room slowly. He was muttering in Russian, but Sid’s brain picked out ‘stupid’ and blessedly the word ‘love you’ a few times. He waited and waited and finally Geno leaned in and kissed him.

“You sometimes worst husband, Sid.”

“Can I have a chance to change that?”

Geno put his forehead on Sid’s. “Yes, please.”

*

“Hey,” Sid said, when Geno walked in the next morning. He’d put the meatloaf in the fridge and made scrambled eggs and coffee. Geno took a mug of coffee and went around to kiss Sid before he hesitated at the paperwork.

“Why you look at that?” he said, indicating the Humana paperwork in Sid’s hands. He didn’t sound angry, so much as anxious.

Sid kissed Geno for assurance, his hand cupping the back of Geno’s head and playing with the row of just too long hair at the back. He waited for Geno to sit down to speak. “I was curious. Turns out? You have better coverage. Not to mention your premium is about half of what I’m paying for a married couple.”

“Eh?” Geno said, puffing up a little proudly. “Really?”

“I think we should switch over,” Sid said. “It would save us enough that maybe we could look at a house… you know. In a year or so.”

Geno’s smile got wider. “You know what house means?”

Sid nodded.

“Puppy?”

“Not named Jeffrey,” Sid said seriously.

Geno laughed loudly. “We debate.”

Sid leaned across the table and kissed him. “We’ve got time… I love you.”

“Sha,” Geno said, with a teasing smile. “You just marry me for my better insurance.”

He punched him in the arm, but made it light. He did love the guy after all.