Chapter Text
*
When you're in love with someone, its like grappling at straws.
Grappling at anything, anyway, that they might feel the same. Every encounter, every careless, friendly touch, every good humoured smile, every warm gaze, every kind word. To see all this as something more, to try to see everything as something less, is an exercise in futility.
Meeting Evgeni Malkin is the best thing to ever happen to Sidney Crosby, until it's not.
*
*
Sidney thinks Flower notices immediately.
Flower probably knows before even he does. In the locker room, laughing and chirping, he frowns when he feels his eyes on him, calculating. Flower keeps throwing him these glances, but Sidney can't catch his gaze. He shrugs it off.
It carries on for a while, until one time it's just them in the locker room; Geno, Flower and him, and he's laughing at something Geno is saying, turns to find Flower giving him a sardonically raised eyebrow.
"What?" He asks, genuinely confused. Geno glances up as well at his tone, and Flower shakes his head.
"Nothing." Although he's wearing this knowing grin that says, 'something.'
Sidney frowns. "Seriously, what is it?"
"Sure you want me to say?" Flower transitions to French easily, still grinning.
He feels his grin slip. "Why wouldn't I?" He replies stiltedly, the foreign words a little slow on his tongue from lack of practise.
"You just look a little flushed." He says, with a pointed glance to Geno, now strapping on his kneepads and kindly ignoring them.
Sidney feels his face drain of colour. "I -"
"Relax." He rolls his eyes. "Just thought I'd let you know."
It's fairly ambiguous, although Sidney can guess his meaning. He's on edge the whole practise, feeling exposed and raw, defensive.
The truth is, is that he's been hiding his feelings for Geno for a little while now. And he isn't even really sure what it is he feels for Geno, but what he does know is that it's nothing he feels for the other teammates, nothing he really feels for anybody.
The thought scares him.
*
It's not as though he's never been attracted to his teammates before.
It's almost a given, being bisexual in Hockey, that you'll be attracted to at least some of your team. They're world class athletes, and generally all round nice guys - it's hard not to feel anything.
The only thing is, there's a difference between attraction and - this. Attraction is manageable, it's maskable. This isn't.
Attraction is a buzzing under your skin that eventually dulls, tingles in the base of your spine that die away after a while. This is - this is -
Geno grinning at him, and Sidney's breath catches in his throat. This is Geno bending to adjust his gear, and Sidney's whole body becomes one live wire.
This is Geno leaning close, playful, and the warmth of him, the heat of his strong chest, the musk of his sweat - has Sidney hot all over. Geno laughs, Sidney wants to hear the sound forever; so deeply amused, so wonderfully Geno.
He fumbles his English, cheeks red in embarrassment, and Sidney wants to slam the reporters into the boards. Geno, jaw tense after a meeting with PR, unhappy lines on his forehead, makes Sidney want to do anything to have him grin again.
This isn't something he knows what to do with.
*
*
"I think Sid be Grinch." Geno shuffles over to him, tongue poking from the side of his smile.
They're doing a Christmas calendar this year, and obviously they have to dress up, it's just - sometimes Sidney doesn't see the point. Being on the ice and not practising is making him feel angsty; being on the ice in a Santa suit is a whole other matter.
Sidney rolls his eyes, and frowns up as the bobbly bell on his floppy hat jingles. "I'm just tired." They've been shooting for a couple of hours, and all it is is standing around.
"Grinch want to ruin Christmas for all children." Geno says, shaking his head in disappointment.
"The Grinch wanted to steal Christmas, not ruin Christmas. Besides, I want neither. I'm not a grinch."
"Is something Grinch would say." He leans in conspiringly, as if sharing a secret.
"The Grinch called himself the Grinch." Sidney informs him.
Geno holds up his hands. "Okay! You expert on movie."
Sidney huffs. "Well." He says, flushing.
Geno bumps his shoulder affectionately, and gazes at him with a warmth that Sidney feels heat his face.
It takes a while for his heart to slow to a normal pace, thudding in his ears from that casual, careless contact.
Geno doesn't notice.
*
The feeling only grows.
He's around Geno everyday - on the road during games, at practise, on the ice - he sees him everyday, and on one hand he's almost glad, he doesn't know what he would do if he had to go long spells of not seeing Geno, but at the same time - like almost anything, being in such close quarters, it's bound to grow.
He's gone from grinning long-sufferingly at Geno's lame jokes to laughing at pretty much everything he says, gone from butterflies in his stomach to his whole body lighting up, coming alive whenever he sees Geno, the happiness making his bones loose.
Gone from being able to school his expression to being helpless against his no doubt besotted beam whenever Geno is near.
And before long, it's been a few months, it's been half a year, and he's still feeling the way he is. For some stupid, illogical reason, he figured the feeling would just come to pass, would just fade.
The feeling only gets stronger. He's worried that it's actually getting stronger everyday.
Today, they'd decided to catch breakfast before practise, because Sidney was giving him a lift and they both hadn't eaten, and as he'd stood to go to the bathroom, Geno had grabbed the menus, smirked deviously and said, "Now I'm going order for Sid." And waggled his eyebrows.
They way he sat, his huge body all splayed out on the diner booth, legs open, and the playful grin tugging at his mouth, tongue caught between his bared teeth - and even his broken English, his deep voice and just his Geno-way of saying things, hit Sidney with such a rush of love that he wanted to reach over and hug him.
He stalls, blinks, before rushing to the bathroom.
Jesus Christ, he's a loser.
He wants to hug Geno, could he get any more pathetic? This situation is getting out of hand.
He spends long moments staring at himself in the mirror before deciding he has to do something about this.
*
"So, uh." He starts lamely, and Flower looks up, fixing his skates on.
"I - what you said about Geno." He says awkwardly.
"What did I say about Geno?" Flower frowns.
Sidney huffs. It was seven months ago, so he can see why he would have trouble remembering.
"About. Me being flushed."
Flower rolls his eyes. "Trust you to stew about that, I was only kidding, Sidney."
"Well, I." He coughs, runs a hand through his hair.
"Oh God." He says in realisation. "You want advice, don't you?"
"No, I - well yeah." He hangs his head.
Flower laughs. "Relax - we're all guys. It happens - just a bit of harmless attraction."
Sidney swallows. "Thats not really why I'm asking you for advice." He takes a breath, glances around.
"Oh shit." Flower says.
Sidney blinks.
"Oh shit, you like him, don't you? You've got feelings for Geno."
His silence is answer enough.
"God, Sidney, I don't know how to help you there."
"Right." He says, disappointed. "You're right, I shouldn't have - it's just, you're the only one I thought of - "
Flower scrubs at his face and groans. "Jesus, Crosby."
Sidney grimaces. "I know, I'm sorry, just forget it - "
"Quit pacing and sit down. How long? Just since I called you out on it? Because that was - fuck, ages ago, it can't have been longer than that."
"Just about then." He winces, then admits, "It's kind of gotten worse."
Flower grins. "Only you would think of something like this in terms of getting worse or better."
"Well, what do you expect?" He snaps. "He's a teammate, he's Geno, what else am I supposed to think?"
Flower sobers. "Right. So what - are you in love with him?"
Sidney huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't have asked for your advice in any other circumstances."
There's a long moment of silence. Then Flower says, with much feeling, "Well, shit."
*
Thing is, he's started hallucinating.
His brain is trying to tell him that there's a chance, he's starting to actually, physically hope - whenever Geno is carelessly close, whenever he smiles, warm and fond. He's starting to quite literally yearn, and because of that, he's seeing things that aren't actually there.
He's seeing Geno being kinder to him than the rest, he's seeing Geno closer with him, more friendly, more touchy-feeling. It's just a reaction to being in love with somebody, you start to think that there's a chance with the person.
He'd fallen asleep on the plane to an away game, had woken to somebody's careful fingers along his cheek. He'd startled, and Geno had been grinning down at him.
"Time to go." He had said, and picked up his bags as though nothing had happened.
And it's happened even before - careful, gentle touches, a hand gripping the nape of his neck, going up to bury briefly into his hair. Lingering fingers when he's making PB&J sandwiches, down his sides brushing past him. He thinks, could Geno - I mean, he might -
And that's why it's such a bucket of ice water doused over him when Flower laughs after a particularly rough practise, after Sidney'd been snappish, tense, and says, "Think somebody needs to get laid!"
And Geno had laughed too, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "Yes! Sid need pretty girl, no?"
Sidney had stopped, heart frozen in his chest. "What?" He says.
"Sidney need get laid, feel better." Geno's tongue was poking from the side of his mouth, and his eyes were warm and mischievous - there was no hint of a lie, no hint of anything but benevolence and camaraderie.
"Oh." Was punched out of his chest.
Oh.
"We'll take you out tonight, see what we can do?" Tanger piped up, and then they were planning a night out into town, and everybody was inevitably roped into it, and he had looked at Flower and Flower had given him a soft-mouthed expression, not pity, something kinder.
Something apologetic. Something that that said, "I'm sorry."
Because Geno had basically confirmed, no - solidified, cemented, that there was no way he felt the same way.
*
That night, he has to work not to break into fits of sobbing at any given moment.
Because Geno - is relentless.
He goes up to every girl they meet, introducing him, sly and charming, his elbow lent on the bar and one hand gesturing to Sid. He shakes Sidney's shoulders and shouts, 'C'mon! Not find pretty girl - or pretty boy - sat over here!"
He's more enthusiastic than any of the other guys - he's trying to be the best wingman he can be, and it's that that makes the last tiny, dying embers of hope in his chest spark out.
There's no jealously in his happy expression, envy at Sidney being flirted with, no sign of attraction, of longing, of anything. There's nothing.
He's been so foolish. Geno clearly feels nothing for him.
It's not as though he's trying to be indifferent, trying to act cool - which is what Sidney would have done, and probably have been seen straight through.
No. Geno's actively trying to get him laid. He's actually happy about it. There's no way he could be pretending.
*
It carries on for a while - Geno, jokingly prodding him and pointing to girls, grinning wide and triumphant when they come over, winking with exaggerated subtlety over the shoulder of the person giving him their number.
He's so - so unaffected. Its like the opposite of being affected by Sidney being chatted up. He'd almost rather indifference to this - this happiness at the prospect of Sidney being with somebody else.
He can see Geno's actions of the last few months for what they were. For what they are.
Friendship.