The worst part about the jaw isn’t being hungry, necessarily - it’s the particular insatiable sensation of wanting to eat something. Sid sighs and swings the refrigerator door closed, blinking at the sudden darkness.
The hallway light clicks on, and Geno pads into the kitchen, shirtless and barefoot. “Can’t sleep?” he asks, coming up behind sid and wrapping his arms around Sid’s waist. Sid leans back into him automatically, enjoying the warmth and the way he can rest his head against the top of Geno’s shoulder.
“Hungry,” Sid complains. “And sick of protein shakes.”
“Hmm,” Geno says, and gently pushes Sid towards the counter with the stools. “Sit. I make something.”
“Geno, no, I don’t want to keep you up,” Sid protests, but he’s already pulling out a stool and sitting down. Geno turns on the kitchen light so Sid gets the full effect of his look.
“I’m not sleep until you get back in bed anyway.” Geno rummages through the cabinets and comes up with the blender. “I make you good shake. Real shake, not from powder.”
“That’s how you make a protein shake,” Sid protests, the shape of the argument well-worn already. Sid knows how to use a blender, okay, it’s just that he has to drink the shakes constantly and it’s faster just to mix them in the bottle from powder. Geno ignores him in favor of pulling stuff out of the fridge.
Sid folds his arms on the cold stone counter and puts his head down, carefully, supporting most of the weight on his forehead. “I don’t know why I’m tired, I haven’t even been doing anything,” he says.
“Getting better is hard work,” Geno says. “Grow new teeth.”
Sid looks up, narrow-eyed, to see Geno making that face he makes when he’s trying not to laugh at his own joke. “Pretty sure you don’t grow those back.”
Geno shrugs. “Buy new ones.”
“Or I could just be like Ovechkin, leave the gap.” Sid grins, intentionally showing the mess left behind by the puck to the face.
“I’m pretend you never said that,” Geno says, and shudders dramatically before switching on the blender.
The shake is good, better than protein powder in a mixer bottle with water - ice and yogurt and peanut butter and some of the almond milk left over from when Nealer was doing some dairy-free thing and always coming over to eat cereal at weird hours. It’s also wonderfully, fantastically cold. Sid makes an actual delighted noise after his first sip.
Geno grins at him. “Good?” he asks.
Sid nods, busy drinking it. “Really good,” he mumbles, probably not very coherently, but Geno seems to get the idea. He runs the blender pitcher under the tap and leaves it in the sink before coming around the counter to lean gently against Sid.
“Feel better?” Geno asks, when Sid puts the empty cup down.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Sid says, sliding off the stool and putting his arms around Geno. “I wish I could kiss you,” he says, resting his forehead on Geno’s collarbone. His mouth isn’t really into pressure so much at the moment.
Geno’s arms tighten around him, and Sid feels his sigh as much as he hears it. “Soon,” he says. “You better, you play with team again, we spend whole afternoon kissing.”
Sid looks up, smiling. “Just one afternoon?”
Geno kisses him on the forehead. “How many you want?” he asks, sounding very serious.
Sid swallows. “A lot,” he says. Geno’s eyes are dark and very close to his. “I was thinking all of them.”
“All of them? You not gonna get bored?”
“Never,” Sid says, and means it. “You made me a milkshake in the middle of the night,” he says, kind of nonsensically.
Geno grins at him and hugs him so hard Sid’s toes leave the floor. He makes a noise that is definitely not a squeak, because that would be undignified. “Okay, Sid. But tonight go back to bed,” he says, herding him towards the bedroom.
“Yeah, okay,” Sid says, and he’s still smiling when he falls asleep.