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burning-up-ao3 · 5 years

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Edge of 17 ch 7/12 Let’s Be Lonely Together

AO3 members, read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297483/chapters/54723820

**if you need an AO3 request, let me know. I’m sure I have some

Sid woke to the scent of acrid hangover—the lingering scent of vomit mixed with sweat and cheap beer on him exacerbated by how incredibly warm he was.

But it was December in Pittsburgh, and their house was never warm.

Geno.

Geno was molded to Sidney, his knees curved where Sid’s curved, his chest snug against Sid’s back. Oh my God, how long had they slept like that, with Geno’s face pressed against Sid’s neck, his hand warm on Sidney’s hip.

It was awful and wonderful.

And it had to stop.

Sidney took one more minute to enjoy the fantasy that they were together, that this meant something between them, and tried to ignore the heaviness in his stomach. With a deep breath he edged away from Geno and rolled out of bed to use the bathroom.

When Sid walked back into the room, Geno had one eye cracked open. “Am dead.”

“Nope,” Sid laughed. “You are absolutely alive. Be glad we don’t have skate this morning. Coach would take one look at you and bag skate you.”

“Why you yell when I’m dead.” In something like slow motion, Geno dragged Sid’s pillow over his face to hide.

“Not yelling,” Sid said, slightly louder and could feel Geno’s entire body wince. He pulled the pillow off Geno’s face and added, “C’mon. Breakfast then laundry and homework.”

Geno pretended he was asleep.

“I’m giving you til three, then I’m pulling you out of bed. One, two—” Sid reached for Geno’s ankle, but Geno, groaning loudly and not really stable, sat almost upright.

“Don’t tell Mama,” Geno whispered. “She be disappoint.” He stared at his clasped hands in his lap and when he looked up, his eyes were wet with tears.

“My mom?” Sid asked. “I won’t. I promise.”

It was an easy promise to keep. First, his mom would take one whiff and know Geno was hungover. But second, in the way his heart hurt watching Geno so upset, Sid knew he’d do anything to keep him from being sad ever again.

Sid reached out his hand for Geno. “Shower, clean clothes, then breakfast. You smell like hell.”

Geno wobbled a smile and shuffled slowly to the bathroom, grumbling in Russian. Sid dug in his drawer for that pair of black Penguins sweatpants that dragged on the floor when he wore them, thinking they might be okay on Geno. He added an old Sewickley Country Day School t-shirt and debated giving Geno a pair of his underwear, which seemed nasty, but in the end, not as nasty as G freeballing in his sweats.

Sid knocked and didn’t wait for an answer before edging open the bathroom door. “Here’s some clean clothes.”

Geno stuck his head out from the shower curtain, his wet hair dripping into his face. He looked tired and his eyes were bloodshot, but he looked better—and almost awake. His smile was small but genuine, and Sid smiled back.

~*~

Sid’s mom took one look at Geno, clean showered and in fresh clothes but still smelling like last night’s party. She bit her lips and went back to reading the newspaper.

~*~

After breakfast, Geno tried to crawl back into bed, but Sid stopped him before he could. “Laundry. You have to strip the bed, wash the sheets and your clothes, then remake the bed.”

Sid waited, his arms crossed over his chest.

Geno stared at Sid.

“Geno. Strip the bed.” Sid pointed, but Geno just stared. “You know? Take the blankets off, the sheets off—”

Geno didn’t move, and Sid felt his anger rising. “Come on, G. Everyone has stripped a bed before. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m saying.”

Geno barked something back in Russian, lifted the corner of the blanket and dropped it back down.

Sid threw his hands up in frustration and pushed a pillow into Geno’s hands. “Take the pillow out of the pillowcase.” Geno wrestled with it for a moment before extracting the big pillow from the smaller case.

“Next, the blankets. Then the sheets. Have you really never stripped a bed?”

Geno shrugged. “Mama.”

Sid huffed a Ha! “No way my mom is gonna do this for me. She hasn’t since I was tall enough to work the washing machine.”

They finished pulling the dirty sheets from the mattress, and Sid shoved them and last night’s clothes into Geno’s arms. “Next stop, the washer.”

Turns out, Geno had no idea how to do laundry. That’s not gonna last long, Sid thought. He bullied through Geno’s hangover and unwillingness to learn until Geno had started the washer.

“If you’re going to live here, you gotta know these things,” Sid said shaking Geno’s shoulder, “I mean, if you want to. I know we don’t speak Russian or make Russian food, and living with Coach Gonch probably makes you feel more at home—”

“I’m learn,” was all Geno said, but his smile was brilliant and bright for the first time that day, and Sid’s stomach flip flopped. He ignored it (not really) as he showed Geno where they kept the clean sheets and how to make the bed.

“Did you really never do this at home?”

“Mama,” Geno said with a crafty smile, and Sid just shook his head.

“Maybe I’ll take a picture of you making the bed and send it to her.” Sid angled the phone toward Geno, elbows deep in fitted sheet. Seconds after the flash exploded, Geno tackled Sid to the bare mattress and wrestled him for control of the phone.

Sid was pinned under Geno, who was a bit larger and a bit heavier and definitely had longer arms. “I’m look at all your pictures. Maybe you take more of me that I’m get rid of.”

Sid’s face was deep red, from not being able to breathe and not from the idea of taking other pictures of Geno. “Ha! It’s locked.”

Geno sat back on his heels, one knee on either side of Sid’s hips, and Jesus fuck, but he looked so good over Sid, and the pressure on him in exactly the right spot, and it took all of Sid’s fight not to roll his hips, because that would have been a humiliating disaster.

“Hmm,” Geno over exaggerated pretending to think. “Wonder what you code is.” Sid struggled to grab his phone back, but Geno held it out to the side. He poked in four numbers. “Ha! 8-7-8-7. I’m only know you few days, but already know you love you jersey number.”

Geno angled his torso away as Sid reached for the phone; Sid stilled when Geno’s crotch pressed against Sid’s hard dick. This was bad, bad, so bad.

Geno laughed evilly at Sid’s phone. “Not me.” Swipe. “Not me.” Swipe. “Not me.”

“Why not me? Little bit sad.” Geno pouted as Sid grabbed the phone from him. Swipe. When Geno turned back, Sid could see the rigid outline of Geno’s dick in the sweatpants.

It’s a biological response. That’s it. It doesn’t mean anything.

The thing of it was, Sid was hard, aching and wanting, because it was Geno. Not because of pure biology. He hadn’t felt this way about another person in a long time.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the same for Geno.

“Asshole. You just got here. When was I gonna take your picture?” Quick as he could, Sid opened the camera app and clicked a picture of Geno. It was bad, with Geno’s eyes half closed and his mouth in a derpy smile.

“Now who asshole?” Geno stole the phone again and squawked. “How you take bad picture of this pretty face?” He dropped onto the bed next to Sid and put their heads together. “Smile!” Geno ordered and snapped a selfie of them. “Good.”

Geno texted the picture to himself and finally returned the phone to Sid. “Is my phone number. Should keep.”

“We live together, asshole,” Sid grinned. Being with Geno made him stupidly happy, laughing about nothing and feeling like his insides had turned to fizzy bubbles.

“But what if you take selfie at school, and it suck, and you say, oh no, I’m need Zhenya to take picture because Zhenya best?” He used a ridiculous, high pitched voice for Sid. “You need it.”

“Fuck you,” Sid said shoving Geno away, who pushed him back. “Hey, what did you call yourself.”

“Zhenya. Is little name for family to use. Family, best friends. You say.” Geno made him repeat it, squeezed Sid’s cheeks until he could finally pronounce the Jsh sound at the start of the word. “Good. You can use. Do you have small name?”

Sid thought about it before shaking his head. “No. My mom calls me Sid or Sidney. Taylor calls me Squid, but not the same thing.”

Geno cackled, and Sid punched his arm. “Don’t even think about it or else.”

Eventually the bed got made, in between wrestling matches. Sid finally left Geno to it and escaped to the bathroom. It would be faster to jack off than try to get his dick to go down. He pulled his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh and leaned his forehead against the wall. He spit into his palm and wrapped his hand around his aching dick. It took one thought about Geno straddling him, grinding against him, one thought about the permission to call him Zhenya, and it was over.

He waited for his breathing to even out to wash his hands and splash cold water on his face.

What idiot asked Geno to live with them? Oh yeah. Him.

~*~

Homework was next. After his paper, Sid had left the rest of his homework til Sunday. He assumed Geno had homework, too, judging by the aggressive way he ignored his backpack.

“Is just reading. Can do later.”

“If it’s just reading, we’ll do it now.” Sid sat on the bed, his back against the wall with the pillows propped behind him. Geno settled in next to him. It was homework for English as a Second Language class.

Sid opened his own literature textbook but watched Geno out of the corner of his eye. He was tracing the lines of the story with his finger; he went over the same paragraph three times.

“English is my favorite class,” Sid began slowly, hoping he wouldn’t insult Geno. “Can I help you? I mean, I’d still be sitting in math if it wasn’t for you.”

Geno bit his bottom lip then nodded slowly. “I know what words mean, but they not—in here—” he stabbed the book with his finger, and Sid could feel the tension in Geno, in the set of his jaw and the tight muscles in his arm.

“They don’t make sense when you put them together?” Sid offered.

“Yes! English is stupid.”

Sid was afraid what Geno was really saying was that he was stupid because he couldn’t understand. “It’s really stupid. There are so many rules, and then the rules don’t apply.”

Sid eased the book over so it laid on both their laps. Geno read aloud, and Sid explained anything he didn’t understand. By the time they finished, Geno was beaming.

“You best. Best teacher. Best friend ever.” Geno curved his arm around Sid’s neck and pulled him in closer for a headlock hug.

He smelled like tacos from lunch and Sid’s strawberry shampoo and not much like hangover any more.

“I’m sure you had tons of friends at home,” Sid said, trying not to be creepy and breathing in Geno, trying not to memorize the scent of him.

“How is the word—friend but not friend? I’m know them but not feel close.”

“Acquaintance?”

“Yes. I’m not have friend to tell secrets or help with work.” Geno closed the English book with a slam. “I’m miss Mama and Papa, but I’m like it here. Is more—free.” He let Sid out of the headlock, and Sid missed the warmth of Geno’s chest against his cheek.

“I get that,” Sid said as he sat up, proud that Geno felt that way about him. He wasn’t sure whether to say this, but he decided to trust Geno. “I don’t have a lot of friends. Just Flower and Tanger. Most people think I’m weird, like, too obsessed with hockey and school.”

“They weird for not like you.”

“Well, people are weird for not liking you!” Sid shoved his books into his backpack so he didn’t do something incredibly wrong like try to touch Geno’s face.

“Maybe we’re the weird ones,” Sid said as he got up to put his bag away.

Geno held Sid’s wrist, and Sid swore he could feel Geno’s pulse, but maybe it was just his, racing at the touch. “Then we be weird. Together.”

#men's hockey RPF #My writing #pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby #Evgeni Malkin #high school au

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