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Sid's having a pretty good day. He got to practice with a regular contact jersey, and he'd stayed afterwards to have a long check-up and talk with the trainers, who all think he should be back to play the next game, the one after at the latest. He's really happy; it's been way, way too long-- any length of time out injured is too long, nevermind a concussion-- and he's sick of feeling useless and well, sick.
When he gets home in the late afternoon, the sun starting to set and lengthen the shadows along the sidewalks, he goes for a walk to his local bakery, just a little private celebration, buying one of the pastries he almost never allows himself but has a secret weakness for.
Even when it starts pouring on his way back home, it doesn't really get him down-- or well, until he sees a guy who's walking his dog across the street pick up his pace, obviously desperate to get back indoors as quickly as possible, which Sid understands, because it'd suck having to clean up a super muddy dog and all.
The guy starts crossing the street when this car speeds by out of nowhere and catches the dog, who's straining the lead ahead of its owner, with the side of its bumper.
Sid watches, horrified, and when he hears the guy cry out he rushes forward without thinking, saying, "Oh my God, shit, is he okay?"
The guy just shakes his head and scoops the dog up in his arms-- which Sid notes vaguely is some feat, since the dog is huge-- carrying him to the sidewalk and laying him down gently. Sid puts a hand on the dog and feels that he's definitely not okay; there's a couple of broken bones in his front legs and something wrong with his head, too.
The guy is murmuring quietly in another language to the dog-- Russian, Sid thinks-- and then he doesn't think at all after that, just closes his eyes, hands still buried alongside the stranger's in the dogs fur, and lets his magic go, and go and go until the dog is healed, squirming and healthy under his hands.
It's-- it's not really a smart move, because as soon as he lets go he sways and half blacks-out and feels like he might throw up, which can't be good for his concussion.
He turns away, retching into the gutter, and the guy, whose eyes are super-wide and confused and worried, leans over the dog to reach for Sid.
Sid flinches, because he's weird about people touching him at the best of times, and this guy is still a stranger, and Sid is throwing up in the gutter in front of him, which is kind of embarrassing and also-- oh, God, how far has he just set back his recovery? The trainers said he'd probably be good to go for the next game, but if he feels anything like this in a couple days time there's no way he can play. He can't-- but then the guy says, "You fix? How?" eyes wide and reverent, and Sid shakes his head and gasps, "It's nothing, I-- I just know what to do, you know?"
The guy says, "I am vet," blankly, and shit, again.
"Uh," stutters Sid.
"I scare, but I still see, hurt badly. Now no hurt at all," says the guy.
"I-- " says Sid.
The guy stares at him a moment longer, then shakes his head, standing up (the dog is already on its feet, making impatient whuffing noises) and holding out a hand to Sid. "Come," he says. "My house close, get dry, give food. Say thank you."
"Oh," says Sid. He stares at the guy's hand, then makes himself take it, letting himself be pulled to his feet, still swaying a little. "No, that's fine, I-- I live around here, too."
The guy shakes his head again. "Not safe," he says. "Maybe only vet, but can see sick."
"I'm fine," says Sid. "It'll pass."
The guy raises his eyebrows.
"Maybe-- you could walk me to my house?" says Sid, hating to ask, but he doesn't know if he can stay on his feet all the way there, especially in the rain.
"Let me come in?" says the guy. "Help?"
"I-- I don't even know you," says Sid helplessly.
"Geno," says the guy, holding out a hand. "Nice to meet."
Sid laughs despite himself, weak but genuine, because okay, fair enough. "Sid," he says, shaking the Geno's hand. "I'm really sorry, I just-- I saw what happened, and I-- "
"You help," says Geno. "No sorry. Come, show me where house."
Sid lets Geno keep a hand on the small of his back as he walks as fast as he can back to his place. The dog seems to sense something weird is going on, because it sticks close and obedient to Geno's side, even when they're standing outside Sid's door.
"Towel for dog?" says Geno as Sid unlocks the door.
"Oh," says Sid, stepping over the threshold. "Yeah, hang on, I'll get one."
"No," says Geno. "You sit, rest. Tell me where."
Sid sighs but doesn't argue, just points Geno to the laundry and lets himself fall onto the couch. He probably shouldn't, since he's wet and it'll ruin the fabric, but getting the couch reupholstered seems like much less of a hassle right now than changing or moving.
Geno comes back in with one of Sid's older towels, holding it up and saying, "This one okay?"
Sid nods and says, "Fine," staring a little.
He can finally see Geno properly in the light of his living room, and he's-- he's kind of nice to look at. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, still wet, but he's got this soft, gentle face that's really pleasingly put together, in an odd sort of way, but Sid likes it a lot, likes his plush lips and cold-pink cheeks and-- and possibly he's still a bit out of it.
"Still bad?" says Geno as he starts wiping down the dog, glancing at him. "Need sick again?"
Sid blinks and considers, then shakes his head. "No, just tired," he says.
"And wet," says Geno, chuckling. "Have hot chocolate? Best for warm."
Sid shakes his head again. "It's not healthy," he says.
Geno clicks his tongue. "Just because play hockey, still important."
"I-- you know about that?" says Sid, flushing.
"Everyone know Sidney Crosby, no?" says Geno, smirking. "Also have lots of hockey things, not hard to guess. Very smart." He grins properly, tapping his head.
Sid laughs. "I guess you have to be smart, to be a vet," he says.
"And what does hockey player have to be, to fix animal?" says Geno.
Sid swallows. "Lucky?" he tries.
Geno sits down on the coffee table in front of him. "I say already, big scare," he says, looking like he's choosing his words carefully. "Maybe not as serious hurt as first think. But maybe also serious." He looks at Sid, scrutinising.
Sid doesn't meet his eyes, saying nothing.
"Not bad thing," says Geno quietly. Gently. "Fixing animals. Good thing, no?"
"Yeah, it's good," says Sid. "It's really good. Not so good being a freak though."
"Not freak." Geno wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Who tell Sid freak? I go, beat up."
Sid's startled into a laugh. "Lots of people," he says. "Not because of-- not about this. I'm just, you know. Kind of awkward. Don't want to give them another reason to say it though."
Geno is frowning deeply when Sid looks at him. "What other reason?" he says.
Sid sighs a little tremulously, but he figures, well, he's got nothing to lose, either Geno won't believe him or he'll freak out and leave, and Sid will be no better or worse off than he was this afternoon. Plus the guys are always saying he should put himself out there more, and obviously they don't mean like this, but Geno is-- he's-- maybe this is Sid's opportunity.
"Magic," he says. "I mean, I guess that's what it is. I don't know what else to call it."
Geno just stares at him for a very, very long time, then says, "Okay, I go make drink for warm, then talk."
Sid watches blankly, almost numb, kind of shocked at himself, as Geno stands and walks into Sid's kitchen. He listens to Geno go through the cupboards, hears the kettle boiling and the clink of spoons on china, and then Geno comes back in with two steaming mugs, passing one to Sid and sitting down on the couch with his long fingers wrapped around the other.
Sid looks at his drink; it's milky, and when he takes a sip he realises it's tea, brewed strong and made sweet with something he's pretty sure is the unopened jar of honey he's had in his cupboard for months.
"Next best, after chocolate," says Geno.
Sid nods, taking another sip. "It's nice," he says. "Thanks."
Geno nods too. "Now we talk," he says. "Magic. Is real? No joke?"
"No joke," says Sid. "I mean, you weren't wrong. About it being serious."
Geno stares at him some more. Sid shifts uncomfortably. "But," he says at last. "Magic? Is trick?"
Sid shakes his head, not meeting his eyes. "It's just-- it just is," he says.
Geno opens and closes his mouth a few times. "How?" he says at last. "Think no such thing."
"So does everyone," says Sid wryly. "I don't expect you to believe me."
"Not saying not believe," says Geno slowly. "Say hard to believe. Think magic is not real, whole life, now Sid tell me is real. Big thing, no? Have to think."
Sid chews on his lip. "I could show you?" he says. "Again, I mean."
"No," says Geno, quickly and vehemently.
Sid flinches involuntarily.
"Sid," says Geno, laying a hand on the couch near Sid's knee, close but not quite touching. "What you do, make sick, no? Don't want more sick, that's all."
"Oh," says Sid. "Yeah, you're right. Not the best idea."
Geno smiles at him, nodding. "How long?" he says. "Can do this?"
"My whole life," says Sid, shaking his head. He has no explanation for it; it just is.
Geno chews on his lip for a long moment. "Good hockey is magic too?" he says after a moment, which is really unexpected-- Sid had expected a lot of things, more questions or disbelief or laughter, but not-- not that. Geno is smirking a little, one corner of his mouth curled up.
Sid stares at him, horrified. "No," he says. "No. That's not-- that's me, that's-- I worked really hard, I didn't-- trick my way into it or anything."
"Sid," says Geno, laying a warm hand on Sid's knee. "Calm. I joke. Say Sid hockey is like magic, give compliment."
"Oh," says Sid stupidly, flushing. "Sorry. Right. Thanks."
Geno shakes his head, smiling. "Would never say Sid cheat," he says. "Fix animals only magic?"
Sid nods. "I-- wait, so you believe me?"
Geno lifts one shoulder. "See with own eyes, know I'm good vet, hard to not believe Sid," he says. "Maybe wait for you to show, another time, but for now, we say yes."
"I-- okay, wow," says Sid. He pauses a moment, then adds, "We had dogs when I was a kid. I could always just-- fix them. Never big things, just little accidents and stuff, I made them go away before my parents found out. Or my little sister. I didn't want-- she loved the pets, you know?"
Geno nods. "Good brother," he says.
Sid smiles at him, just small. "It got harder when the dogs got older," he says, not really sure why he's saying it. He's never told anyone, much less a complete stranger, even if Geno is weirdly comfortable to be around, to talk to. "Bigger things to fix. Made me-- well, like now. My parents thought I really was sick for a while. I was actually at the doctor's one time when-- when one of them died. I felt so guilty. My sister was so sad."
Geno bites his lip. "Can't stop natural," he says. "You try, end up kill yourself. Have to let go."
"I know," says Sid, looking down at his hands. He shrugs. "I was a kid."
"Good kid," says Geno. "Still good."
Sid looks up, and Geno looks so genuine, it's impossible not to smile at him.
Geno smiles back. "Thank you for telling," he says.
Sid shakes his head. "Thanks for-- for helping," he says.
"Not enough," says Geno. "Tomorrow, you free? Get coffee, I buy, for thanks."
"Oh," says Sid. "You don't have to."
"Want to," says Geno. "Please."
Sid ducks his head. "Okay," he says. "I mean, that'd be nice."
Geno smiles again. "Give number, I tell where," he says.
"Okay," says Sid, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Geno takes it and saves his number, calling himself, presumably, so he has Sid's.
"Okay," he says, passing the phone back. "I go, you rest. Thank again, Sid."
Sid ducks his head. "It's nothing," he says.
Geno shakes his head, smiling a little. "Say goodbye, Jeffrey," he says to the dog. "Say thanks."
The dog-- Jeffrey-- comes up and puts his head on Sid's knee, blinking up at him.
"Hey, buddy," says Sid softly, stroking the soft fur between his ears. "I'll see you later."
Geno laughs quietly, pleased, and leads Jeffrey out with a soft, "Goodnight, Sid."
"Night," says Sid. The door closes behind Geno, and he thinks he'd probably be reeling a whole fucking lot if he weren't so tired.
Sid's really anxious when he shows up to meet Geno at a nearby cafe. Partly because he's afraid Geno won't be as cool about the whole magic thing now he's had time to think about it-- like, fuck, he could decide Sid's crazy and go to the papers, even though it's an absurd enough story that the PR department could deal with it pretty easily-- but partly because he sees Geno before Geno sees him, and he looks-- he looks good.
He's more dressed up than he was last night; a dark green v-necked sweater that shows off his collarbones and the chain he's wearing around his neck, and a nice-fitting pair of jeans. His hair is dry too, and it's-- it's nice.
Sid fingers his own necklace nervously before he walks over to the table.
"Sid!" says Geno brightly, eyes creasing in a smile. "Good to see!"
Sid smiles back hesitantly. "Hi," he says. "You too." He sits down, folding his hands awkwardly in his lap.
Geno leans forward slightly. "What you want?" he says. "I buy."
"Oh, you don't have to," says Sid instinctively.
"Have to," says Geno, shaking his head. "What you want?"
Sid sighs. "A latte, please," he says.
Geno nods. "No food? Cake?"
Sid bites down on his lip. "No," he says, after a long moment's hesitation. "Thanks."
Geno gives him a smirk like he knows Sid wants something, but goes to get the coffee without comment.
He comes back with the drinks, sliding one over to Sid with a small smile.
"Thanks," says Sid.
Geno nods and then says, "How feeling today?"
"Better," says Sid. "I had a good sleep."
"Good," says Geno, sounding satisfied.
"How's Jeffrey?" says Sid anxiously.
"Wake up at six o'clock licking my face," says Geno, waving a hand. "So fine."
Sid laughs. "That's good," he says. "I'm really glad."
"Glad Sid okay, too," says Geno seriously.
Sid ducks his head. "Yeah, I-- I mean, it wasn't a great idea, with the concussion and being so close to playing again, but I-- I'd do it again. I don't regret it."
Geno's brow creases. "Concussion?" He clicks his tongue.
"It's fine," says Sid. "I'm fine. I went to see the team doctor this morning. I'm still okay to play tomorrow."
Geno hums. "Good," he says eventually. "Still, have to be careful."
"Well, so should drivers who hit dogs," says Sid.
"This true," says Geno, smiling a little. "Excited to play hockey again?"
"Yes," says Sid fiercely, making Geno laugh loudly. "I miss it," adds Sid, flushing.
"Of course," says Geno. "I understand. Play some, in Russia."
"Really?" says Sid, grinning. "That's cool."
"Best game," agrees Geno, and Sid's grin widens helplessly.
"So you're a vet?" he says. "That's really cool too."
Geno nods. "Always like animals," he says. "Always want."
Sid nods too, because he gets that. "How come you came to America?" he says.
Geno shrugs. "More people want look after animals," he says.
"Oh," says Sid quietly. "That's kind of sad."
"Is life," says Geno, sighing. "But nice life here. Like very much."
"Good," says Sid. "I-- I'm glad."
Geno smiles at him. "You come by surgery?" he says.
Sid blinks. "Your surgery?" he says.
"Who else?" teases Geno. He opens his wallet and pulls out a business card, handing it to Sid. "One day when free, you come. I show you animals, maybe Sid cheer them up."
"I-- wow," says Sid. "I mean, I'd love to. If you don't mind."
"Of course don't mind, or not ask," says Geno, smirking slightly. "I show you vet things too," he adds. "How to bandage, how to hold so not hurt. Good things to know."
"I'd like that," says Sid, because he would, it's like-- it's more real and normal than what he can do. Kind of like hockey. Like, he doesn't think this-- this magic thing is bad, because he can heal animals, and helping animals is cool, he loves them, but it's something he was born with, something that's always just been there and he's never had to work for, whereas hockey is something he got good at, something he worked really hard for. Plus the magic is weird, it's not normal or accepted or even believed; it makes him feel like even more of a freak, sometimes, when he thinks about it too hard. He might be the only person like this in the world, after all. Hockey isn't like that. Hockey is home. It's where people look at what he can do and only think how awesome it is. It's where he fits. Where he has other people who match him and challenge him and accept him, and even when he stands out it's okay, because he's still a part of this huge thing that everyone knows and understands and loves.
It's where he's made the best friends he has, too.
Hockey just, it makes him feel normal, like he belongs somewhere, and he's always needed that, magic or no. The magic just-- adds to all the things that make him a little bit ill-fitting, that make him so grateful for everything else he's ended up with and the people that come with it.
Which is why he's never told anyone about it. He doesn't think his friends would freak out or hate him or anything, they're all pretty awesome, but it'd put this huge, weird distance between them, make them inescapably aware of how different Sid is even if they didn't mean to.
"Good," says Geno, and Sid blinks, realising he's zoned out a little. "You come any time."
"I will," says Sid, tucking the business card carefully into his wallet, behind his driver's license.
Geno smiles at him, and Sid feels oddly warm all the way through.
Sid goes by the surgery the day after his first game back. They won, and he feels good; he wants to see Geno again.
It's a little strange that he associates Geno with 'good' so soon; immediate friendships are definitely not Sid's strong point, but he's learned to listen to himself more, the past few years, whether it's his body telling him to slow down, or his-- his feelings.
Okay, maybe not so much with the feelings, but he thinks he's getting better, at least a little. Stopping by the surgery after Geno's already asked him to may not be a huge thing, but it's a start. The thing is, it's not that he never has feelings, or even that he can't recognise what they are; it's just that generally he tends to ignore them, or at least put them way down on his list of priorities, because they're messy in a way he doesn't have the time or the social inclination to deal with properly. This time is different though; so far it's been easy, this straightforward progression from the slow warmth Geno sets off in Sid's chest to doing something about it, like an inch-perfect pass across the ice. He's not sure why; maybe because it's Geno and Sid's never met anyone like him, maybe because it's unexpectedly easy to imagine fitting him in without neglecting his hockey, or maybe Sid's just settling into himself better as he gets older, but whatever the reason, it's-- it's nice.
The surgery is one of those converted houses; it looks really welcoming, the garden nicely kept up and the awnings painted a bright cream colour. Sid thinks if he were a sick animal, he'd feel comforted coming here. It's a pretty weird thought, but well, it's true.
Plus, he knows what sick animals feel like better than most.
There's a girl at reception, when Sid walks in, and she looks up with a smile. "Can I help you?"
"Uh, yeah," says Sid. "I'm looking for Geno? Dr. Malkin, sorry."
"Oh," says the girl. "Are you Sid? He said you might be stopping by."
"Yeah, I'm-- that's me," says Sid, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Right through there," says the girl, gesturing to a door leading further into the surgery.
"Thanks," says Sid, throwing her a smile and heading through.
It leads into an office-like space, sterile for the animals. Geno's sitting at a desk, clicking at something on his computer. "Sid!" he says, looking up. "Choose good time, slow day."
"Oh, good," says Sid, smiling back at Geno.
Geno nods. "Always good when no sick animals," he agrees.
"Definitely," says Sid.
"We have some out back, resting, wait for owner," says Geno. "Procedure early today. Want see?"
"Sure," says Sid. "I won't be disturbing them?"
"Animals like company," says Geno. "Was just going to see anyway."
"Okay, cool," says Sid, and Geno smiles, standing up and leading Sid through another door.
There's a dog curled up in a basket on the floor, and a cat sleeping in a carry-cage.
Sid's eyes go to the dog immediately-- he's possibly more a dog person than a cat person. It's not asleep, blinking up at them with big, confused eyes, and it has a cone on its head.
"Oh," says Sid, dropping into a crouch and reaching out to scratch gently between it's eyes.
"Desex," says Geno. "Easy surgery, but make tired. Confused."
Sid nods. "Boy or girl?" he says.
"Boy," says Geno.
"How you doing, buddy?" says Sid quietly, still petting the dog.
The dog blinks at him.
"Can I-- I could make him feel better?" says Sid, glancing at Geno.
Geno looks thoughtful for a moment, then shakes his head. "Not hurt for him," he says. "Just drugs, make sleepy. No pain. Save energy, yes?"
Sid sighs but nods.
"I see game last night," says Geno. "Amazing. Congratulations."
"Oh," says Sid, standing and grinning. "Really, you watched? Thanks."
"Like watch hockey, when time," says Geno. "Like watch Sid. Best player, score goals."
Sid ducks his head. "I'm not-- it's the team," he says. "I'm glad I scored though."
Geno elbows him gently. "Why lie? Definitely best. Everyone say so."
Sid flushes. "I-- I work hard, I mean." He shrugs. "They like to put a face on things, you know? I don't like taking other people's credit either. There are lots of great players."
"Da," says Geno. "Only one Sidney Crosby though."
"Oh my God," says Sid, laughing, embarrassed.
Geno laughs too, shooting Sid a teasing smile. "When you play next game?" he says.
"Tomorrow," says Sid. "Home game, then a roadtrip for two."
Geno nods. "Come see before trip, if time," he says.
"Oh, I-- really?" says Sid. "What if you're busy?"
"I have idea," says Geno.
Sid blinks. "What idea?"
"This-- what you do," says Geno. "Makes you tired, da?"
Sid nods slowly, not sure where Geno's going. "More tired if it's more serious," he says.
Geno touches his shoulder. "Vet good, this good too," he says. "I help, you help when I can no more. Work together, help animals. And Sid not get too tired."
"You-- you want me to work with you?" says Sid, blinking.
Geno nods. "Like Sid," he says. "Like animals. Perfect, no? Can show magic again, this time I pay attention. So Sid knows I believe, and I know for sure is real."
Sid ducks his head, feeling himself flush. "That's-- that's a good idea. I won't be in the way?" he says. "I don't really know anything about actual procedures."
"I show," says Geno, waving a hand. "Not in way. I like."
"Oh," says Sid stupidly. "I-- yeah, me too. Okay."
Geno's smile is brilliant, and Sid finds himself clenching his hands by his sides so he doesn't do something stupid like reach out to touch, to catch some of it.
It's just-- it's kind of amazing. He's never had this before-- which is maybe partly his fault, because of how he's never told anyone-- but someone looking at him like what he can do isn't weird or scary, which is how he's always pictured it going, but good, something important and cherishable.
He stops by the surgery again in the early morning the day after their next game. They're flying out in the afternoon, and he wants to allow as much time for Geno as he can.
The receptionist just waves him through when he goes in, and Geno blinks almost sleepily at him from behind his desk. "Sid, hello," he says. "Not sure when to expect."
"Oh," says Sid. "Sorry, I should've called or something."
"No, no need," says Geno. "Just very early."
"We're flying out this afternoon," explains Sid.
"Ah, you go, I miss, yes," says Geno, smirking a little.
Sid rolls his eyes. "Four days," he says.
Geno laughs. "Maybe Sid miss me," he says slyly.
"Probably," says Sid without thinking, and then flushes horribly.
Geno looks pleased, but he doesn't comment, just says, "First appointment half an hour."
"I-- do you want me to wait?" says Sid.
"Of course," says Geno, giving him a duh look. "Want coffee?"
"Sure," says Sid.
"Have machine," says Geno. "I buy. Work long hours, need real coffee."
"Yeah, definitely," says Sid. "Awesome."
Geno grins and leads Sid to yet another room, this time set up as a sort-of kitchen slash break area. It's nice; cozy, with a little table and a couple of comfortable-looking chairs, as well as the coffee machine taking pride of place on the counter. There's a sink and a fridge and a microwave-oven too.
"This is cool," says Sid appreciatively.
"Like nice place to work," agrees Geno, nodding.
"It's really nice," says Sid.
Geno smiles as he gets to work on the coffee machine.
The coffee is good, and they drink it in companionable, slightly drowsy silence, until Geno glances at his watch and says, with a click of his tongue, "Must go, first appointment come any minute."
Sid nods, gathering up their mugs and rinsing them out in the sink before he turns to follow Geno.
"Thank you," says Geno, leading them back to his office.
Geno's first patient is a gorgeous, three year-old Border Collie with a limp in her right front leg. Her owner is an anxious-looking middle-aged woman who glances curiously at Sid as they come in; Sid's not sure if it's because she recognises him or just because there's someone else in the office.
"Have new helper," explains Geno, catching the glance. "Need more hand around place."
"Hi," says Sid, stepping forward and holding out a hand. "I'm Sid."
"Marie. Nice to meet you," says the woman, shaking his hand.
Sid smiles and steps back, and watches as Geno gently inspects the dog's leg. She's well-trained; she doesn't move at all, although she lets out some distressed noises that make Sid ache to reach out and help.
Geno hums. "Think just sprain, no breaks," he says. "But maybe we do x-ray to make sure. Look like big hurt."
Marie nods and says, "Sure, whatever you think."
"Brave girl," murmurs Geno to the dog, feeding her a treat and scratching behind her ears.
Sid feels a weird, fond clenching in his chest as he looks on.
Geno stands. "You mind wait?" he says to Marie. "Best not many people for x-ray, stay safe."
"Of course," says Marie.
Geno smiles at her. "Be very quick," he says, and she nods, going to sit in the waiting area.
"You watch how I lift," says Geno to Sid as he reaches to pick up the dog. "So not hurt. Next time, you try." He straightens with the dog cradled carefully in his arms.
"She's not too heavy?" says Sid.
Geno throws him a look. "Keep fit, so can lift even heavy dogs," he says. "Better, when hurt. Not want to hurt more."
"Yeah, of course," says Sid a bit stupidly, because it's hard not to notice the strong, lean muscle coating Geno's frame. Harder still not to think about touching it, sometimes.
He's maybe thinking about just that, because he practically walks right into Geno's back when Geno stops in front of a closed door. "Can open?" he says, looking at Sid over his shoulder.
"Oh!" says Sid, flushing. "Sure, yeah, sorry."
Geno chuckles quietly as Sid brushes by to fumble open the door, but not in a mean way, more like he's sharing something with Sid, something secret and nice.
Sid's really starting to like that feeling. Maybe just really starting to like Geno.
The x-ray shows up no breaks, just like Geno predicted. He sends Marie and her dog home with strict instructions to apply ice for 24 hours and then warm compresses for the following 24.
"No drugs," he says. "Can give, but might mean she start trying to use before heal."
It makes sense, Sid thinks. He finds himself looking on sort of proudly; Geno's really good at this.
Not that Sid thought he wouldn't be, but it's cool to actually witness. Competence is awesome.
There's a steady stream of similar such patients; a few more limping dogs, one with a sore it won't stop licking, a couple of cats with infections in their eyes and noses.
Nothing serious enough that Geno will let Sid heal it, basically.
"Besides," he says, on his lunch break, "You have trip, no good to make tired."
Sid sighs. "It's small stuff, I would've been fine."
Geno just grins and kicks him under the table, taking a bite of his sandwich.
"Speaking of," says Sid. "I should probably go."
Geno nods slowly. "Come again, when home."
"Definitely," says Sid, nodding quickly. "It's really cool. Even if you won't let me do anything."
"Watch first, learn, then do," says Geno, rolling his eyes.
"Whatever," says Sid, grinning and standing. "I'll see you in a few days, Geno."
"Bye, Sid," says Geno. "Good trip, win games."
"Thanks," says Sid. "We'll kill 'em."
He walks out to the sound of Geno laughing quietly.
He gets a message from Geno just as they're taking their seats on the plane.
All it says is safe flight, sid )))), but it makes him smile stupidly and helplessly anyway.
Flower tries to peer at the screen from his seat next to Sid; Sid jerks it away, flushing.
"Who is that?" says Flower incredulously. "I don't think I've seen you smile like that since...ever."
Sid flushes again and shrugs. "Just a friend," he says.
"You have friends outside the team?" says Duper blankly, leaning over the back of his seat.
"Fuck off," says Sid, pocketing his phone after typing out a quick thanks.
"No, but seriously," says Flower. "Who is it? Do we know him? Her?"
"Him," says Sid. "And no."
"So spill," says Duper, propping his chin over the headrest.
Sid sighs heavily, put-upon, but between trying to come up with a way to summarise meeting Geno as briefly as possible, he actually finds himself wondering whether he should tell them about the magic part too, since Geno took it pretty well and all, and he wasn't even Sid's friend.
In the end, though, he decides that he kind of likes it the way it is, just a him-and-Geno thing, for now at least. He likes having something sort-of special with Geno, something he doesn't share with anyone else. Like-- like Geno himself, actually. Even though he has to say something now.
"I just met him the other day. I was out walking and his dog got hit by a car, so I helped," he says.
"Aw," says Flower, cooing and ruffling Sid's hair.
"Good Samaratin Sid," agrees Duper, nodding, and they both laugh, the assholes.
"When do we get to meet him?" adds Flower when they're done.
"Never," says Sid firmly, and it's true too, unless-- well. He doesn't want to jinx anything.
It's a great trip. They win both games, and Sid is beat but still buzzing beneath his skin when they get back to Pittsburgh. It's heading towards five in the afternoon, and even though he should probably just go home and eat then sleep, he goes by Geno's surgery instead, because-- well, because he wants to, because it's still strangely but awesomely easy to do right by these feelings that aren't about hockey.
Geno seems surprised but pleased to see him. "Back!" he says, blinking at Sid from his chair. "Not expect til tomorrow, day after!"
"Oh, well, you know," says Sid. "It's too early to go to bed. Sorry."
"No, good to see," says Geno. "Tired?"
"A little, yeah," says Sid, sinking down into an empty chair.
"Big trip, big games," says Geno.
"We won though," says Sid, grinning.
"Play good, I watch," agrees Geno, nodding.
Sid cannot wipe the stupid fucking smile off his face, damn it. "Yeah?" he says. "Thanks."
Geno inclines his head, smiling, and Sid adds, "So do you need any help?"
Geno looks around, spreading his hands. "Patients finish for day," he says. He tilts his head. "Hungry?"
Sid nods. "Yeah, I haven't eaten yet."
"Good, we go," says Geno.
"I'm paying," says Sid immediately.
Geno frowns at him. "Whole dinner not same as coffee."
"Too bad," says Sid, standing and folding his arms.
Geno shakes his head, but he's grinning.
Geno drives them to the restaurant, since Sid came straight from the airport in a cab.
"Easier go home, sleep, come see tomorrow, no?" says Geno as he loads Sid's bag into the trunk. "Why come today?"
"I-- I don't know," says Sid, blinking. "I want to help. And say hi."
"Hello, Sid," says Geno seriously, smirking.
"Shut up," says Sid, laughing and kicking him before he climbs into the passenger seat.
Sid gets a pizza for dinner, because they've just won both games on the road, he's starving, and he's with Geno. It seems like a pretty good reason to indulge.
"Can ask question?" says Geno out of nowhere as they waiter leaves with their orders.
"Huh?" says Sid. "Oh, of course."
"First time meet," says Geno. "Why Sid walking in rain?" He smirks.
Sid rolls his eyes. "It wasn't raining when I started walking," he says. "I-- I went to the bakery. To, um. I just found out I was all clear to play, so I-- celebrated."
Geno laughs delightedly, eyes bright. "Celebrate with cake?" he says. "Is special, Sid not allow himself cake very often."
"Of course not," says Sid. "It's not healthy."
"Healthy to enjoy," says Geno.
"I do," says Sid. "Sometimes."
"I make Russian cake," says Geno, "Sid eat?"
"Of course," says Sid without thinking. "That's a special occasion, right?"
"Very special," agrees Geno. "Not make Russian cake for just everyone."
Sid ducks his head, flushing. "What were you doing in the rain?" he says, to change the subject.
Geno laughs. "Jeffrey want walk, rain or no rain," he says. "If not take, bad things happen."
"Like what?" says Sid, biting back a grin.
"Eat shoes," says Geno. "One time eat whole cushion. Big dog, can eat lots."
Sid giggles, picturing Jeffrey's big innocent eyes and a trail of destroyed shoes behind him.
"Not funny," says Geno sternly. "Vet money not like hockey money, shoes important."
Sid tries to look serious, but can't keep the grin off his face.
Geno chuckles, nudging him. "Jeffrey good dog," he says. "My fault if chew shoes. Not good owner."
"You took him walking in the rain," Sid points out. "I think you're a pretty good owner."
Geno's grin softens until he's just smiling at Sid so fondly, he has to look away.
Geno drives him home, and after that it's two days-- or one game and a couple of practices, depending how you count time-- until Sid sees him again.
He finally has time on the third day to spend the afternoon at the surgery. He goes straight from morning practice, hair still a little damp from his shower, cheeks warm.
Geno's with a patient when Sid arrives, carefully showing a young owner how to apply eyedrops for her cat. Sid hangs back quietly, watching Geno's soft, patient hands.
"Sid," says Geno, sounding amused, and Sid blinks. The girl with the cat is walking out. "Finish," adds Geno unnecessarily.
"I-- yeah, sorry," says Sid. "Is the cat going to be okay?"
"Very okay," Geno assures him. "Small infection, eyedrop fix in few days."
"Good," says Sid, nodding. "Can I do anything to help?"
Geno bites down on his lip, considering. Then he shakes his head. "No animals sick enough," he says. "Beside, you tired, come from skate?"
Sid nods. "I'm fine though," he says. "It's-- this is what I do, I'm not always tired."
"Yes, Sid very fit," says Geno. He doesn't sound like he's joking, and Sid opens and closes his mouth stupidly. "Still," continues Geno, "Not even any surgery today. No animal here."
"But what can I do then?" says Sid. "You asked me to help-- I feel useless."
Geno clicks his tongue. "This good thing," he says.
Sid ducks his head guiltily. Geno's right; he's maybe just a little eager to show him, to make absolutely sure that Geno believes him. He wants to-- he wants to be sure about this thing with Geno, so he can know that it's not going to disappear without warning.
"Good thing about America," continues Geno. "Animals come to vet, most desex or small hurt. Go to Moscow, lots of dogs need help." He tilts his head. "Maybe need love more."
"I could do both," says Sid.
Geno smiles. "Sure Sid can," he says. "Big heart." He reaches out to brush his fingers lightly over Sid's chest.
"Oh," says Sid, glad and at the same time not that the touch is so brief; his pulse speeds up like crazy. "I mean-- I just like animals."
Geno shakes his head, but Sid doesn't think he means no. "No animals now, but still job to do," he says. "Must clean before go home. Not much fun."
"I don't mind," says Sid. "Let me help, we'll get it done faster."
"Okay, not say no," says Geno, grinning.
"Why don't you hire someone to do these things?" asks Sid as Geno sets him to work scrubbing down and disinfecting the exam table.
Geno shrugs. "Like quiet," he says. "Like easy. Only small business, no need to hire more."
"Doesn't it get a bit much?" says Sid. "Don't you get tired?"
"Never tired," says Geno, smirking.
"Liar," says Sid.
Geno laughs. "This is work, no? Sometimes get tired."
"Yeah," says Sid. "True, I guess."
"Not bad," says Geno. "Long as most day good day, is good life."
Sid swallows, not saying anything, because he just-- he kind of wants to kiss Geno a lot right now.
"Speak of good," says Geno, pausing in putting away a bunch of equipment, "Sid tell me when have free night, come to my house. I make Russian dessert, like promise."
"You-- are you sure?" says Sid. "You don't have to."
"Of course sure," says Geno. "Like spend time with Sid. Have to show proper dessert."
Sid ducks his head. "Okay then," he says. "Uh, I can do the night after tomorrow?"
"Da." Geno nods. "Is good, I see then. Message address."
"Cool," says Sid, grinning.
Sid's at dinner with Duper and Flower and Tanger the following night, which is why he had to tell Geno not til tomorrow. Geno ends up messaging him anyway, and Sid smiles when his name flashes on his screen, although it disappears quickly when he reads the text.
have dog at surgery very much hurt ((((( can come help if want.
Sid scrapes his chair back abruptly. "I have to go," he says.
"What?" says Duper, blinking.
"I have to go," says Sid again. "It's-- it's a sort-of emergency."
Tanger's eyes narrow and he smirks. "Is it a booty call?" he says.
"Is it the dog owner dude?" says Flower, grinning.
"What dog owner dude?" says Tanger, perking up curiously.
"I know lots of people who own dogs," says Sid haughtily as he leaves, the guys' laughter echoing behind him.
It's quiet and dark in the surgery when Sid arrives; the only light is from a couple of lamps seeping through open doorways, one in Geno's office and one in the exam room. Geno leads him to the latter when Sid comes through reception. There's a beautiful German Shepherd lying on the table, eyes sad and slitted open. Geno's obviously been working on him; there are bandages on a couple of legs and over his midsection.
"Car accident," whispers Geno. "Broken bones, lots of cut. Will be okay, but very much pain. Already give as much drug as can. Too much, will kill."
Sid nods. "I can-- okay?"
Geno nods too, standing back as Sid steps towards the dog. "Hey, buddy," he whispers.
"Sid," says Geno.
Sid turns to him.
"No need to fix everything," he says. "Too much, only vet, can't fix Sid if big problem."
"I'll just-- I'll just take away some pain," says Sid. "Okay?"
"Okay," says Geno.
Sid takes a steadying breath, reaching out to bury a hand in the fur on the side of the dog's neck. "It's okay," he says, as the dog makes a quiet, distressed noise. "I'm gonna help."
He closes his eyes, letting the magic go, and feels the dog relax and breathe out beneath his hand as the better portion of his pain seeps away.
Sid shuts it off, then, because he promised Geno, and when he blinks his eyes open Geno is standing beside him, eyes wide, one hand curled loosely around Sid's wrist.
"He sleep now," says Geno wonderingly. "Before, too much pain to sleep."
"Believe me now?" says Sid a little hoarsely.
Geno nods, fingers tightening on Sid's wrist. "Believe always," he says. "But still different to see."
Sid nods, smiling weakly; that's fair enough.
Geno clicks his tongue. "Wear self out," he says. "Do more than supposed to."
"I didn't want him to be in pain," says Sid, swaying a little. "And I didn't completely heal him, like I promised. Just took the pain away. I'll be okay in a minute."
"Come," says Geno. "Sit down, I make drink."
Sid nods, letting Geno lead him to the break room and settle him into a chair.
"Make cocoa," says Geno, heading to the cupboards. "I have, not like Sid."
The corners of Sid's mouth turn up. "I'll buy some," he says. "In case you ever stop by."
"Good," says Geno. "Best thing for help."
Sid hums agreeably, sinking further back into the chair.
"Here," says Geno, pressing a warm mug into Sid's hands and taking a seat opposite him.
"Thanks," says Sid, sipping it and closing his eyes. Geno was right, of course; it's good, milky and sweet, and the warmth sinks straight into his bones, it feels like.
Geno's just watching him, when Sid opens his eyes, quiet and serious. "Okay?" he says.
"Yeah." Sid nods. "You were right, this is good."
Geno inclines his head in agreement.
"What're you going to do now?" says Sid.
"Stay here tonight," says Geno. "Can't leave."
"Of course not," says Sid. "I'll stay with you."
Geno shakes his head immediately. "No, Sid need rest," he says. "Important. Hockey coach get angry, find out why so tired, maybe come yell at me."
"He won't find out," says Sid, waving a hand. "Plus, I'll be fine."
"Go home, Sid," says Geno quietly. "Sleep."
Sid blinks at him slowly. "You really want me to go?" he says, biting his lip.
Geno hesitates, staring, and curses quietly to himself in Russian. "Sid," he says.
"I'm staying," says Sid firmly.
Geno lets out a long breath. "Not good, can't say no to Sid," he mutters, mostly to himself.
Sid grins, just small, but happy and satisfied. "I don't mind that," he says.
"Not yet," says Geno ominously, but he huffs out a laugh, eyes bright over the rim of his mug.
Sid winds up falling asleep there in the chair. He's tired, so it's easy despite the uncomfortable position. He stirs around 3am, when he hears Geno coming back in from checking on the dog. "Wassit?" he mumbles, trying to roll over and failing pretty spectacularly.
"Shh," says Geno. "Check dog, still sleeping. Fine, Sid should go home."
"Hmm, no," says Sid. "You should get some sleep. I'll stay up now."
Geno clicks his tongue. "Not good sleep in chair, get hurt," he says, and lays a warm hand on Sid's shoulder, just where his collar starts, thumb brushing on his skin.
Sid leans into it, because he's still half asleep, and lets his eyes drift closed for a moment. "I'm fine," he mumbles. "One time won't hurt."
Geno hums doubtfully, digging his thumb in a little.
"I let you stay up now," he says eventually. "Only because not good sleep like this."
"You have to sleep though," says Sid, opening his eyes and straightening reluctantly.
"Not hockey player, okay for me," says Geno, smiling in the dim light.
Sid rolls his eyes. "Just get some sleep," he says.
He heads into the exam room and sits in one of the chairs there, watching the dog, still sleeping, twitching slightly every now and then. When he goes back to check on Geno, he's stretched out on the floor with his cheek pillowed on his folded jacket, which makes sense, since he's taller than Sid and Sid wasn't exactly comfortable in that chair.
Sid finds himself just watching; Geno's slightly open, soft mouth as he sleeps, the sprawl of his limbs. He hesitates a moment, then shrugs off his own jacket and lays it over Geno, so his top half is covered and hopefully a little more warm. Geno doesn't stir, and Sid tells himself firmly then to stop being a creep and goes back to the exam room.
He lets Geno sleep all the way through the rest of the night, til the morning light is creeping through the windows and the receptionist arrives. Geno stirs then of his own accord, sitting up so Sid's jacket slides down into his lap and blinking slowly.
"Morning," says Sid. "I have to go, I've got practice and I need to go home first. But I-- I'll see you tonight, yeah? I think the dog's okay, he hasn't moved all night."
Geno nods. "Good," he says, voice sleep-rough. Sid swallows.
"Should have wake," adds Geno, frowning. "I sleep too long."
"You have work all day, you can't do it on no sleep," says Sid. "I'll have a nap after practice."
Geno rolls his eyes but nods, smiling. "Okay, Sid. Tonight, da?"
"Yeah," says Sid, smiling back. "Have a good day, Geno."
"You too," says Geno. "Thank you. For stay."
"Oh," says Sid. "Any time, you know?"
He ducks his head, heading out as Geno smiles at him some more.
The first thing Sid's greeted by when Geno opens his door is Jeffrey, tearing through the gap and bounding on Sid front paws-first, knocking the breath out of him.
Sid laughs, scratching his ears to calm him, and says, "Hey, buddy. Good to see you healthy." Jeffrey barks, dropping to sit, tail wagging cheerfully.
The second thing is Geno, standing back a little with a wide grin on his face, and when Sid glances up it knocks the breath out of him too, in a completely different way.
Geno's wearing a pair of sweatpants that sit really low on his narrow waist, and an old, thin t-shirt that clings to absolutely everything. He's barefoot, with streaks of flour dusted across his chest, and his hair is un-styled, a little damp at the ends.
"Hi," says Sid, standing, aware that he's staring but unable to stop.
"Hello," says Geno, grabbing Jeffrey's collar to pull him inside. "Come in, dessert nearly ready. Sorry not dressed, baking is messy." He smiles ruefully, sweeping a hand over his chest.
"No, it looks-- you're good," says Sid a bit weakly, stepping through the door.
He trips a little on the shoes Geno has lined neatly against the wall, and Geno reaches out to steady him.
"Sorry," he says. "Jeffrey excited, make mess."
"It's fine, my fault," says Sid. He makes an effort to collect himself and adds, "You leave your shoes out? I thought Jeffrey chews them, isn't it dangerous?"
Geno laughs. "Only chew if not walk," he says. "Leave out, good reason to motivate."
Sid laughs too, bending to straighten the shoes.
Geno waves a hand and says, "Come to kitchen, I fix later," and heads into another room.
Sid lingers anyway, pushing the shoes back neatly against the wall. Geno's a bigger size than he is, which makes sense, since he's taller. Sid finds himself actually taking note of the number before he stands up and realises that's probably creepy.
"Tell not to worry," says Geno when he goes through to the kitchen.
"Sorry," says Sid.
"Why sorry?" Geno laughs.
"I'm…not sure?" says Sid, shaking his head and smiling as he looks around. Geno's kitchen is cozy and lived-in; there are dishes drying on the sink and x-rays spread out over the table, plus Jeffrey's bowls in the corner, a couple of chew toys spread about. The fridge is covered in photos and magnets, and the oven is making the whole room warm and delicious-smelling. "What are you making? It smells really good."
"Vatrushka," says Geno, smirking a little.
"Vatrushka," echoes Sid hesitantly, fucking up the pronunciation entirely but liking the way it makes Geno laugh, loud and open, tipping his head back a little.
"Terrible," he says. "But good to try. Will make more dessert, can practice speak."
Sid laughs too, shaking his head. "What is it?" he says.
Geno tilts his head. "Will see," he says. "Not fancy, but maybe my favourite."
"Did you have it a lot, in Russia?" says Sid curiously.
"My mama, she make," says Geno, nodding. "Teach me before come to America."
"Oh, that's cool," says Sid. "My mom sends me recipes sometimes."
"Sid cook too?" says Geno.
"Oh, uh, not really," says Sid, shaking his head. "I just-- I like to make stuff we had at home sometimes. I'm not good at it or anything. It never tastes as good."
"Sure Sid make delicious," says Geno, smiling.
Sid rolls his eyes. "It's really not," he says. "But thanks."
Geno nods seriously and turns to check the oven, making a satisfied noise when he peers inside and pulling out a tray of pastries. He was right; they're not fancy, but they still look good, golden-brown around the edges and lighter, sort-of creamy in the middle.
"Good when warm," says Geno, pulling a couple of plates from the cupboard. "Sit," he adds, gesturing to the table. "I serve."
"Oh, I-- okay," says Sid, feeling like he should protest but also like that might be rude, so he sits, watching as Geno slides a pastry onto each plate and adds something to the top of them-- jam, he thinks, pouring them each a glass of milk too.
"Enjoy," he says, setting a plate and a glass in front of Sid and taking a seat opposite.
"Thank you," says Sid sincerely, picking up the pastry, warm in his hands, and taking a careful bite. He makes an involuntary noise; it's amazing. The filling is some kind of cheese, he thinks, sweet but not too sweet, complemented by the soft dough and the sweeter jam, the tang of fruit on his tongue. "Oh," he says, swallowing. "It's like a Danish, but better. This is-- shit, it's really good, Geno."
Geno beams at him. "Of course better, is Russian," he says.
Sid nods vigorously, mouth full with another bite.
"Maybe quit vet, become baker," says Geno cheekily.
Sid feels genuinely conflicted about this. "No," he says eventually. "You're a really good vet. But you should definitely bake more. I could pay you."
Geno laughs. "Make Sid cake for free," he says. "Next time, more fancy."
"But what can I do?" says Sid, frowning. "I'm not good at anything."
Geno makes a face at him. "Sid good plenty. What is hockey, just for fun?"
Sid waves a hand. "Apart from hockey," he says.
"Good company," says Geno firmly. "Good friend. Don't need more."
Sid blushes, dropping his eyes. "I-- yeah," he says lamely.
"Can make mama's recipes, if feel bad," says Geno. "Would like to try."
"I-- maybe," says Sid. "I told you, I'm not very good."
"Lies," says Geno, scoffing.
Sid huffs a laugh. "Okay," he says. "One day. Then you can see for yourself."
"Look forward," says Geno.
Sid just hums doubtfully, polishing off his pastry.
"Want more?" asks Geno, watching him.
"I-- I shouldn't," says Sid, staring at the tray still on the counter.
Geno laughs knowingly. "I send home, can eat anytime," he says.
"I'm not gonna say no," says Sid, grinning.
Geno grins back, standing to clear the plates. "Come, watch TV before go," he says. "I make tea, good for digest."
"Can I help?" says Sid, hovering by the counter. "Wash up, maybe?"
"No," says Geno firmly. "Go. Sit."
"I'm not a dog, oh my God," says Sid.
"Ah." Geno bites his lip. "Have habit, I think, sorry. Not mean to offend."
"Oh, that's not-- I wasn't offended," says Sid. "Joking," he adds.
"Okay," says Geno, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Then you sit, yes?"
Sid bursts out laughing, but he goes, sinking into the couch to wait for Geno.
"Hey," he says, when Geno comes in with a steaming mug of tea in each hand, setting them on the coffee table and sitting down near Sid, switching the TV on. "Your name-- Geno, I mean-- is it short for something? Like a nickname?"
Geno says, "Not see on business card? Evgeni." He smirks a little. "You pronounce?"
Sid flushes but tries, fumbling over the sound. When he glances at Geno to see if he's got it anywhere near correct Geno is just staring at him, a little bit pink in the cheeks.
"What?" says Sid self-consciously.
Geno shakes his head, blinking, and says, "Not right, but…nice. Like Sid say my name."
"Oh," says Sid, going redder and picking up his tea just so he has something to do with his hands, eyes determinedly on the TV. He wishes he was better at this. At-- at flirting, and figuring out when someone else is flirting. Just being less uncomfortable with the whole thing in general.
Geno doesn't say anything else, stretching out comfortably and sighing, and Sid drinks his tea in measured sips, counting the seconds in between.
He sits through the episode of Hardcore Pawn Geno has on-- "Is interesting," he says. "American, so strange."-- and then looks at his watch, blinking.
"I should probably get home," he says.
"Oh," says Geno, looking regretful for a moment before he smiles and nods. "Da, Sid need sleep, for hockey. Thank for come."
"Thanks for having me," says Sid, standing with Geno. "And the dessert. It was great."
"Welcome," says Geno. "Come by work again soon, yes?"
"Work?" says Sid, laughing. "I thought you were supposed to get paid for work."
It's a pretty lame chirp, but Geno laughs and says, "Money should not matter, if love."
"I do," says Sid earnestly, and Geno beams at him, soft and happy.
Sid goes home really, really happy, but also worrying slightly about-- about their friendship being unbalanced now, or something. It's stupid, and he knows Geno doesn't think that at all, but he worries just the same. It's just-- Geno baked for him, and Sid feels like it's on him now to do something equally as awesome and thoughtful for Geno.
Except he can't bake for shit, so that's out. He could make one of his mom's recipes, he supposes, but he feels like that wouldn't be up to standard. It would if his mom made it, but she's not here, and besides, he wants it to come from him.
He thinks about it a lot, going back over all their conversations, and in the end he decides he might as well use his newfound, creepily-obtained knowledge and buy Geno a pair of shoes. It's not as personal, maybe, not something he can make, but it's something they joked about, and maybe Geno will appreciate it.
He goes to buy them after practice a couple days later. It's kind of ridiculously daunting, trying to decide what kind of shoes he should even get, let alone selecting a single pair. He knows most people don't share his belief that everyone can and should survive in skates and slip-ons, but it'd sure make picking something for Geno a hell of a lot easier.
He winds up deciding on sneakers, because he's not sure what Geno likes to wear when he dresses up, but he knows he takes Jeffrey for walks, so they'll definitely be useful.
It doesn't take too long to pick out a pair once he's decided, although he does spend ages staring at the ones he chooses-- well-made, the best kind for walking-- wondering whether they will actually fit Geno, whether the width is right, and the feel.
There's not much he can do about that, though, apart from keep the receipt and let Geno exchange them if he needs to, so he tells himself to stop stalling and pays for them before he can chicken out and decide this is actually a really terrible idea.
Sid takes the shoes with him the next time he stops by the surgery, which is a couple of days later, between morning skate and his pre-game nap.
Geno's in the exam room, checking on a chocolate lab he's got on the table.
"Hi," says Sid, sidling in. "Anything I can do?"
"Sid, yes!" says Geno, turning to him with a relieved-looking smile. "Not want to call, know big game day-- "
"You don't have to worry about that," Sid cuts across, and Geno inclines his head.
"Difficult desex," he says. "Have to extract from abdomen, more pain than usual."
"Let me help," says Sid, setting the bag with the shoebox inside by the door, out of the way. He hasn't wrapped them or anything; that feels a little too weird for something that isn't exactly normal to begin with.
"Da, please," says Geno. "Just little. If Sid tire self for game, will be very angry."
"Just a little," agrees Sid with a smile. He steps forward to press his hand to the lab's side, closing his eyes and concentrating until he can feel the warm tingle of the magic surge up beneath his skin, letting it seep out slowly until he feels the lab's heartbeat slow and steady, and she's comfortable enough to sleep. "There," he says, opening his eyes.
"Thank you," says Geno sincerely, peering at Sid anxiously. "Okay?"
"Fine," says Sid, smiling at him. "I-- thank you. You know, for letting me help. It's-- it's great."
"Yes, is great," agrees Geno, and Sid ducks his head. "Come," adds Geno, putting a light hand on the small of Sid's back. "We go to office, wait for more patient. Let dog sleep until owner comes."
Sid nods and says, "I'm really fine," as Geno leads him with the hand still on his back, because he hates being coddled, but he also mostly contradicts himself by leaning into it a little-- he can't help it-- because he doesn't want Geno to stop touching him.
"What in bag?" says Geno curiously when they're settled in his office and Sid sets the bag carefully next to his chair.
"Oh!" says Sid, picking it up again. "Uh, it's-- it's for you." He holds it out.
"For me?" says Geno, blinking and taking the bag slowly.
Sid nods. "I just thought-- I wanted to do something. So, I mean-- it's probably dumb."
Geno shakes his head, pulling the box from the bag and breaking into a wide grin when he sees what's inside.
"Sid!" he says. "Perfect, I love!"
"Really?" says Sid doubtfully. He shrugs. "I kept the receipt, so you can take them back if you don't like them, or if they don't fit, or whatever. I just thought-- I know you have some, but now if you want to sleep in sometime-- you know, get some rest-- you can, and it doesn't matter if Jeffrey chews your old ones." He falls quiet, flushing a little.
"Perfect," says Geno again. "Thank you, Sid. Too much, maybe, but-- perfect."
"It's not too much," says Sid earnestly. "Really."
Geno smiles at him, so heartfelt it makes Sid's breath catch. "Must make more dessert soon, to thank," he says.
"You don't have to," says Sid immediately, smiling back. "But I'd like that."
He doesn't see Geno for a while after that. There's a long road-trip with the team, and it's harder than usual, mustering the goodwill to go on the road for so long.
He stays in touch with Geno mostly via text, a few phonecalls, and Geno keeps him updated on the proceedings at the surgery, tells him how Jeffrey's doing, and Sid reciprocates with lame stories about the guys and details about the games, normal stuff, stuff friends talk about. It's really nice. The guys catch him at it and rib him about his "booty call" again, which is-- it's not true, obviously, but it makes him think.
Just about what it actually was, Geno calling him to help out with an animal, and it's not that Sid minds, like, that's what he's there for in the first place, but then in a way he does mind, because it's Geno, and he wants-- he wants Geno to want more of him than that.
It's so stupid, and it's not Geno's fault, but Sid finds himself pondering it every time he gets a spare moment without hockey occupying his mind, curious and anxious and ansty. He doesn't think Geno just keeps him around for his magic; it's not like he even lets Sid use it a whole lot, and most of the time Sid spends at the surgery he's actually pretty useless. Plus Geno seems to like spending time with him in other capacities-- coffee, dinner, asking Sid over to his place. He baked for Sid, even.
So that's-- those are good signs.
It's something-- Sid should definitely check, though. The problem is doing it in a way that isn't assuming too much, or on the opposite end of the scale, implying that Geno is an asshole. It's worrying, because Sid kind of sucks at that kind of thing. He's not great at conversations in general, especially ones that he hasn't practiced, and being subtle and-- and smooth, or whatever, on top of it is pretty much out of the question.
In the end he does go over a few ways he could bring it up, sitting awake with his headphones buzzing low on the plane back to Pittsburgh.
He doesn't go straight to the surgery when they land, even though he wants to. He's super tired though, weighing down his bones, and he knows Geno will just make worried faces until he leaves anyway. Plus his health and hockey still come first.
So he saves it for the next day; he goes to optional skate, of course, but after that he drives straight over to see Geno, flushing hot all over when Geno greets him with a warm smile and a warmer hand curled affectionately around his elbow.
Sid just-- he really, really likes it when Geno touches him. He doesn't do it often, because he's probably picked up that Sid is weird about things like that, but when he does he always chooses the right moment; it's always when Sid wants or needs it most.
"Hi," says Sid, beaming helplessly. "How are you?"
"Good," says Geno. "Better now. Strange not having Sid around."
Sid bites down on his lip. "It hasn't been that long," he mumbles.
"Long enough," says Geno firmly. "Feel like long, yes? Is good thing."
"Yeah," says Sid, breathing out. "It does. And definitely."
Geno nods, smiling, and leads him through to his office. "Slow day," he says.
"Oh," says Sid. "So nothing for me to do?"
"Lots," says Geno. "Keep company, this most important job."
Sid laughs. "I'm not the best company," he says.
"Stupid," says Geno with a sigh, kicking him and shaking his head.
Sid darts his eyes away. He won't argue with Geno; it's really nice, hearing things like that.
He winds up scrubbing the floor in the surgery while Geno sees some patients in his office. He doesn't mind at all; likes to help however he can, and there's not much he can do besides wrapping the occasional bandage and help hold the animals, keep them calm. Geno won't let him use his magic very often; only in extreme cases, where nothing else can be done. Sid wants to, because small things don't wear him out very much, but Geno is insistent, partly because he wants to do his job, which is fair enough, Sid supposes, and partly because he worries about Sid, which is ridiculous.
Like, really nice and all, but still ridiculous.
Geno offered the job of tidying the exam room reluctantly, anyway-- only after Sid pestered him for a good ten minutes. Sid's pretty sure he didn't mean anything as thorough as scrubbing the floor, but he wants to do as much as he can.
"Sid," says Geno, coming in and clicking his tongue. "Tell just to tidy. This not tidy."
"I want to help," says Sid.
Geno sighs, huffing out a laugh in the same breath, and crouches down to help as well.
"I got this," says Sid, frowning, but Geno just elbows him and grabs a spare cloth.
They work quietly for a few minutes, and Sid decides-- well, now's as good a time as any.
"I-- Geno," he says, swallowing. "Can I ask you something?"
"Da," says Geno, brow furrowing. "Of course, always."
Sid nods, biting his lip. "The first time we met," he says.
"With the dog, and the magic," says Geno, smiling slightly.
"Yeah," says Sid. "I-- if I hadn't been able to help him, if I wasn't-- wasn't magic-- " He stops.
Geno shuffles closer, looking at Sid closely. "You ask if still like?" he says quietly.
Sid nods, unable to speak. He's maybe too scared of what the answer will be.
"Sid," says Geno, catching Sid's chin and tipping his face up. "When I see, I not think magic straight away. Not first thing anyone think."
"I-- okay," says Sid slowly, not sure where Geno's going.
"I like you straight away," says Geno.
Sid blinks, feeling like all the air's been punched out of him. "Oh," he whispers.
Geno's mouth curls up in a soft, gorgeous smile. "Wet hair in face," he says. "Like lost dog. Look so worried, like maybe can't help, even with magic. Show care. This is Sid. Like straight away."
"Oh," says Sid again, flushing this time. He doesn't know what else to say.
"Beautiful," whispers Geno. "Sid beautiful, magic or no magic. Play hockey, also beautiful."
Sid bites back a smile, ducking his head.
"Speak bad Russian, beautiful too," says Geno, laughing quietly.
"I-- shut up," says Sid.
"Everything," says Geno simply. "All Sid, all good."
Sid stares at him, then thinks fuck it and surges forward to bite clumsily at his mouth, desperate.
Geno makes a surprised, pleased noise and brings a hand up to steady Sid, spreading his fingers warm and wide over the nape of his neck, tangling in the ends of his curls.
"I just," says Sid breathlessly when they break apart. "I really like you, and I didn't want-- I wanted to make sure I wasn't around just because I can help with the animals. Not that I mind, I love helping them, I just-- " love you more, maybe, is what he thinks, but doesn't say, because it's probably too soon for that. "I want to fit. I don't really fit," he adds in the end.
Geno frowns at him, shaking his head. "Fit here," he murmurs, pulling Sid close again.
"Yeah," breathes Sid, feeling so light and happy, because it's true, he realises, maybe more completely than he's ever fit anywhere, even hockey, because Geno, even though of all the people in Sid's life, he's known Sid the shortest amount of time, he probably knows him best.
It's kind of scary, but also kind of awesome.