Chapter Text
He'd been anticipating the sound of a key in the lock all morning so Claude didn't bother getting up from where he was sprawled out on the couch.
"Brought you a present," was the only warning Claude got before a paper bag hit him in the face.
"Fucker," he hissed, reaching for the bag before it fell. He pulled out a few slightly crushed cookies, iced white with demented orange smiley faces on them. "Very cute."
"You idiots and that stupid song." Claude's front door closed with a quiet click. Claude narrowed his eyes as he bit into one, crumbs sticking to the scruff on his face. He grinned through a mouthful as Sidney grimaced at him. "You're disgusting."
"You're gonna suck my dick regardless. Why you fronting, boo?" Claude purposefully spread his legs, stretching his boxers over his crotch. He was already sporting half a chub; he'd been thinking about those lips all morning.
"Quit trying to be ghetto," Sidney said as he kicked off his shoes. One of them left a mark on the wall that made him smile. "It doesn't work for you, and you sound like an idiot."
"We gonna fuck, or what?" Claude asked irritably. He stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth and tossed the bag onto the table. He reached forward and made grabby hands in Sidney's direction. Sidney snorted but came closer anyway, stopping right in front of where Claude was lounging.
Claude propped himself up on one elbow and slid his other hand up Sidney's thigh, right to the bulge in the pocket of his jeans. He rubbed his thumb over the lump he found, watching Sidney's face as he dipped his fingers inside and pulled out the key ring.
"You found my present," Claude said, spinning the keychain around on his finger. The keys attached to it rattled.
"You left those on my pillow. Couldn't really miss it." Sidney grabbed Claude's hand and stilled the movement. He used his grip to pull Claude so he was sitting, then he straddled his lap and wrapped his hands around Claude's neck. "Flower almost saw them," he added absently as he scratched gently at the curls at Claude's nape.
"And what was he doing in your bedroom?" Claude asked, eyes half shut. He tossed the keys on the couch so he could run his hands up Sidney's thighs and grip his ass. Sidney let out a soft huff so he squeezed it again.
"He certainly wasn't doing that." Sidney leaned forward and covered Claude's mouth with his own. After a minute Claude pulled back. Sidney made a noise and ground down against him. He leaned in again but Claude turned his head.
"You didn't say anything."
"To Flower? No." Sidney looked at him like he was crazy. "Have you? Said anything to Schenn, or Jakub?"
"Of course not! I'm not an idiot," Claude said dismissively, ignoring Sidney's pointed look. He slid his hand between them to rub Claude's dick. "But that's not what I meant. I meant about those." He tilted his head at the keys.
"Well, neither did you!" Sidney glared down at him, tensing up. He stopped groping Claude and settled his hand over his stomach instead. "We've talked like four times since we last saw each other."
"You asked! You said you wanted—" Claude cut himself off by leaning forward to bite at Sidney's shoulder. "What are we even doing?"
"I was about to blow you, but you wanted to talk about keys."
"Fucking— fine, forget it. Let's just get off." Claude clenched his jaw and reached for Sidney's jeans.
"If you win," Sidney told the ceiling, slightly out of breath. He stopped to swallow before he said, all in a rush, "when I come back tonight I'll wear your sweater."
Claude turned his head, staring at Sidney's profile. His face was pink, but Claude couldn't tell if it was from the orgasm or the statement.
"Okay."
"Will you be here, or will I need to use my key?"
“If we win the boys will want to go out,” Claude said, hardly apologetic. He laid the back of his hand on Sidney’s stomach, rubbing his knuckles back and forth. “I won’t be long. They’ll want to go to Old City and laugh at Raff trying to pick up girls. He’s awful at it so it'll be fast.”
“If you bring somebody back here…”
“Not this again.” Claude sat up abruptly. He searched for his boxers, then remembered they were in a heap in the living room. He stood and walked to his dresser, pulling out another pair.
“It can’t be ‘this again’ if we never fucking talk about it once.” Sidney sat up too, the sheets pooled around his stomach. Claude shoved his legs into his shorts as Sidney glared at him. “I don’t want to walk in on you doing some fucking puck bunny over the couch I just blew you on.”
“That was once, and it was like two years ago! What do you want from me, a promise?” Claude turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. “How’s this: I haven’t picked up all fucking season.”
“Neither have I!” Sidney pressed his lips together, still breathing hard. “I don’t want to. And I really don't want you to, either.”
“Are you kidding me? I gave you the fucking keys to my house last time I saw you. You think I do that shit for everyone who sucks my dick?”
“Well, thank you!” Sidney bunched the sheets in his fist. “I… have keys for you, too.”
“You do?” Claude blinked at him. Sidney nodded. “Okay, then. Uh, thanks.”
There was a moment where they just looked at each other.
“Why are we even fighting?” Sidney asked tiredly. He reached his hand out and Claude came to him, ignoring Sidney’s hand so he could thread his fingers through his hair.
“Habit,” Claude said with a sardonic grin. Sidney laughed quietly and shifted so he could rest his head on Claude’s stomach and wrap his arms around his waist.
“I don’t want to fight all the time,” Sidney admitted.
“Okay.”
“Not off the ice,” Sidney continued. He turned his head to look up at Claude’s face. Claude was still smiling, but it was softer. “Sixty minutes a night is enough.”
“Okay,” Claude said again. He rubbed the back of Sidney’s neck.
“Are you just humoring me or what?”
“Okay.”
Sidney glared at him. Claude smirked back.
“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
“Sorry, boo.” Sidney made a face at the endearment but his cheeks were definitely pinking up again. Interesting. Claude filed that thought away for later. “Okay. No fighting unless we’ve got eight pounds of padding between us and your pet Russian is glaring at me. Got it.”
“Don’t call him that, jesus,” Sidney grumbled. He ran his hands up the back of Claude’s thighs.
“He is. But fine, no mocking your favorite hockey soulmate off the ice.” Claude rubbed his thumb under Sidney’s ear. Sidney’s eyes fell to half mast and his mouth parted a little. “How long do we have?”
Sidney turned his head to the side to check the clock. “About twenty minutes.”
Claude sighed, all thoughts of a round two flying out the window. “Always running for the door.”
“Our flight out isn’t until early afternoon tomorrow. I can stay the night, if you want.”
“I want,” Claude said without hesitating. They so rarely got to spend the entire night with each other that he didn’t even have to think about it. “Your guys gonna be okay with that?”
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
Claude refrained from making a face. Sidney refrained from making a comment about it. They spent a few minutes running their hands lazily over each other, drinking in the moment, before Claude’s stomach rumbled. Sidney laughed softly and smacked Claude’s ass.
“Get dressed. You can drive me to the Well.”
“I have practice soon, too. In the other direction.” Claude bit his lip, debating over something in his head. “You can, uh. You can take my other car. It’s got GPS so you shouldn’t get too turned around.”
Sidney blinked up at him.
“As long as you bring it back in one piece,” Claude amended. Sidney gave him a small smile.
“Promise there are no Flyers stickers on it of any kind and you’ve got a deal,” he said as he climbed out of bed. “Otherwise the guys might figure out I’m keeping things from them.”
Claude thought about the Flyers swag tossed in the backseat, hats and t-shirts mixed in with random food wrappers and a few Gatorade bottles. He pictured Fleury or Malkin peeking in through the windows and adding two and two together to make four. It didn’t make him break out in hives or anything, which almost made him panic over the lack of panic.
“Nothing that can’t be tossed into the trunk. Keep it at the stadium and you can just drive it back tonight.” He headed out into the living room and began to pick up their scattered clothes. “You want something to eat before you go?”
“I had breakfast,” Sidney shouted back. Claude made his way to the bedroom doorway to fling Sidney’s clothes onto the bed. He took a moment to ogle Sidney’s ass (he was bent over the sink in the master bathroom, brushing his teeth) before heading for the kitchen.
A few minutes later Sidney came in and leaned against the breakfast bar. He was wearing a different shirt than the one he came over in. Claude noticed because it was so much tighter over his shoulders. He didn’t say anything about the casual thievery of clothing, just continued to make his sandwich.
“You and your grilled cheese,” Sidney said, shaking his head. Claude nodded to the brown paper bag on the counter. The familiar key ring was next to it, with a few new additions; a Saturn key and a fob.
“I could live on bread and cheese. Seriously, though, not a scratch,” Claude warned. Sidney rolled his eyes, but walked forward to snag the keys anyway. He leaned in and kissed the back of Claude’s neck. Claude turned his head to give him a proper kiss, with tongue and some teeth.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Sidney was about to pull away when Claude grabbed the brown paper bag and pushed it at his chest.
“For you. I used the right stuff, too. I promise.” Claude ducked in and gave him another kiss, this one much sweeter before pushing him towards the door. "Drive safe, boo."
He was just finishing his sandwich when his phone beeped with an incoming text.
Who has the best boyfriend ever?
It was followed by a picture: a peanut butter sandwich missing a huge bite sitting on top of a brown paper bag. It was resting on a familiar car seat, and in the corner of the picture Claude could make out a black and orange hat in the footwell of the car.
Claude felt something in his chest tighten. They might avoid talking about things as best as they could, but if Sidney was willing to apply labels to this thing that was fine with him.
He got up to get ready for practice. He stared at the t-shirt still laying in a crumbled heap on his bed before he picked it up and put it on. It was a little loose in the shoulders, and it smelled like a vaguely familiar detergent, but he felt that tightness in his chest loosen immediately.
He picked up his phone and took a selfie of himself wearing it, giving the camera his best Zoolander, before sending it off with a short message.
Me obviously. See u tonight boo ♥