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Nate isn’t as excited this year to be home as he has been in the past. He’s relieved that he’s home a little later than usual, not midway through April like usual, but he really believed he would get past the third round, get to the Final. His coach, his captain, his teammates, everyone - they all keep saying how happy they are to have made it that far. Nate wonders if it’s a character flaw that he’s not happy at all, just bitter and resentful and frustrated. He smiled, though, when their PR manager said so, and packed his bags as slow as he could.
The plane beckoned, however, and here he is, stepping out of his Uber he took from the airport and looking up at his house he built. Turning, he helps the driver take all his luggage out of the trunk before waving him off with a thanks. Nate watches the car drive off and braces himself for a long summer.
Dragging his bags inside, then upstairs, then unpacking them methodically or else he never would, Nate thinks and thinks and thinks. He considers all the little mistakes he made, all the mistakes his teammates made, all the mistakes his opponents made that he could have capitalized on but didn’t. He thinks about the ache in his side from colliding with the goal post, the ache in his foot, the ache in his shoulder. He’s focusing on the vivid memories of laying check after check, skating as hard as he could to put the puck where it belonged, behind Fleury-
“It sucks, huh?”
Nate freezes and turns, his vision suddenly filled with Sid leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, his arms crossed as he looks at Nate with a mostly unreadable expression. Nate squints for a second, tries to decide if it’s pity - he’ll flip out if it is - and realizes it’s not. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, breathing deeply.
“I won a Cup the year after a loss like this. I know you can,” he adds. Nate swallows at his tone. He wishes sometimes that he could consistently have even an ounce of the faith Sid has in Nate for himself. He always describes Nate’s skill like it’s a given - like if Sid could do it, then Nate could definitely do it.
Nate thinks he might prefer the pity right now after all.
He sits down heavily on his bed then, his fingers twisting in a heathered burgundy club shirt, soft with age. He looks at it and thinks he might have gotten it his second year in Colorado. Nate feels Sid sit down beside him, close but not overbearing, and smiles sadly.
“I got this shirt my second year. I remember Dutchy laughing at me about it, because I couldn’t believe they were just gonna let me take it. I just picked it up and said, ‘Wow, I like this,’ and Dutchy lost it when they were like, ‘Yeah? It’s yours,’ and I didn’t believe it.” Nate pauses, his thumb stroking the faded logo, his heart sore. “Everything is so different now.”
He’s silent for a moment and looks at Sid, not hearing any kind of response. When his gaze lands, it’s on Sid’s face, which is watching him with a strangely sad look on his face. It clears for a moment before Sid gives him a soft smile and looks away, staring forward out into the hallway.
“Don’t you wish you could be amazed by the simple things again?” Sid asks, his voice distant and wistful. For as old and tired Nate feels, he knows Sid must be feeling it in spades.
There’s been a strange uptick in retirement and age questions for Sid lately, Nate’s noticing. Obviously, he’s not retiring that soon, but he’ll be 33 this summer. Realistically, he’ll have 7 more years if he’s lucky, and Nate thinks about how it’s already been 7 years since he got drafted. He tries not to let the panic fill him too much, since he knows that would help Sid the least.
Instead, he eyes Sid’s hair and sees the greys that are peppering in by his temple, above his ears. Nate slowly reaches up and strokes them as gently as he can, feeling Sid relax slightly under his touch. Nate hadn’t realized how tense he was.
Sid smiles, only slightly strained, and says, “There’s more of them every day, it feels like.”
“I like them,” Nate says, quick and easy. “You’ve never looked more handsome to me.”
Nate tries not to smile at how Sid preens under his soft touch and compliments. He’s about to add something most likely dirty and inappropriate when Sid interrupts him.
“Thank you, but I didn’t come by for you to comfort me about aging. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You, uh…” Sid looks cagey suddenly, a little nervous and blushy. Nate smiles fondly at it and drops his hand to Sid’s thigh. That seems to comfort him and he adds, “You didn’t text me, really. You don’t have to, I was just worried is all.”
“I know,” Nate says, his body drooping a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shut you out, or anyone, I guess. I just handled the loss a little worse than I hoped I would and I wanted to be alone. I should have just said so.”
“It’s okay. I get it, trust me.”
And Nate knows he does. That’s probably why he feels so bad suddenly. Sid got booted from the playoffs in the first round and Nate suddenly can’t imagine what he must have been feeling like these last couple weeks. For the first time, Sid returned home before Nate did. For the first time, Sid was the one at home watching Nate move forward and play his heart out well into the playoffs.
Nate voices this as gently as he knows how. It seems to strike a chord with Sid, as he tenses again and his jaw tightens. He’s about to follow-up with an apology, halfway through doing so, when Sid interrupts him again.
“That’s not why I’m upset, Nate. I’m so proud of you, no one knows more than me how hard you work and how much you’ve earned this,” Sid says, his voice suggesting this is the most important message he’s ever had to tell Nate. He stifles a giggle at how earnest Sid is. Sid continues, a little lighter, “I’m upset that you might feel like I won’t or don’t want to be there for you like you have been for me. I guess I’ve been panicking, that maybe you don’t know how serious I am about us. I haven’t said so since, well, a few years ago, i guess, so I wouldn’t blame you.”
Nate supposes in that moment that he’s never actually thought about it. They’ve just been Sid-and-Nate for several years now, every summer filled with their antics to the point of it being commercialized every year. They transitioned into this weird form of actual dating only 3 years ago, about a year after Nate finally confessed to having dated Drouin in juniors and during the 2013-14 season and Sid made the move. Sid had just won the first Cup in their back-to-back and part of Nate at the time thought Sid was maybe just that excited that he would have just slept with anyone. Sid did a lot of (enjoyable) work that summer to mostly disprove that, but he supposes they never really did talk about it. Not until that mess of a season the next year, but Nate thought they were past it.
Nate stopped sleeping with other people that season. He’s not sure about Sid. It didn’t seem important, in a way, not until last summer. Even then, though, he didn’t want to be the one to ask and potentially damage the tenuous relationship they had. So he didn’t, and they didn’t talk about it, not even the next year, and Nate didn’t realize until right now how desperately he hoped Sid only ever wanted him now.
He has approximately a hundred questions he now wants to ask, but the one that comes out is: “If I won the Cup, would you celebrate it with me?” Nate supposes that’s just who they are.
Sid looks vaguely surprised for a moment, his brown eyes flickering with something Nate can’t place - love? sadness? pity? - and says, “Like it was my own, Nate.”
He’s surprised, then, himself when he feels how relieved his body suddenly is. He’s not sure what tension was being released in relation to that particular question, but it must show on his face, as Sid reaches down to grab Nate’s hand on his thigh and strokes it gently with his thumbs.
Sid quickly follows up and says, “This is what I mean, Nate. I should have told you years ago exactly how important you are to me and I didn’t, not really. It wasn’t enough, anyway. But you are, you know? There’s, like, almost no one else on this planet who gets me like you, who accepts me like you, who ribs me like you, who loves me like you. It’s just so easy with you and it’s not for any reason except the fact that you’re my favorite person on the planet and you have been for so, so, so long. I’m comfortable with you, you know?”
Nate feels sort of dizzy. His emotions are frayed after the last few days and he doesn’t know how to handle such a low low like that loss compared to this high high. He stands up and runs his hands through his hair, starting to pace the room a bit. He’s trying to remember the breathing exercises his therapist taught him and calm down.
His mind is whirring with images of the playoffs blending together with images of life with Sid, flashes of hard hits and soft touches and mean looks and passionate nights and everything in between. Nate feels his head hit the wall as he leans against it, staring upwards. He can’t believe he spent years and years and years loving one man and he can’t even get it together when he finally hears it back like this.
He’s caught up in a new process of feeling just how much he doesn’t deserve it, should just reject Sid and send him on his way for someone else who can love him better, when Sid appears in front of him, looking stricken, saying his name.
“Nate, please, Nate. Hey, look at me,” Sid’s hands touch his face, so soft yet so firm, and Nate swallows as he stares into Sid’s eyes. He stops himself from flinching away as he sees how much love is there.
“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”
“Are you saying this because I lost?” Nate wants to smack himself. He astounds himself with some of the shit that comes out of his mouth, entirely without his brain’s permission.
It’s a testament to how much he must do it that Sid just smiles sadly and shakes his head, entirely unoffended, and responds, “No, baby. I’m saying it because it’s the truth and it’s been sitting on my mind for ages now.”
Nate just nods. He has no idea what his face must be doing right now, probably some horribly constipated look that Sarah always says he gets when he’s feeling emotions. Sid looks about to say something probably super earnest and equally as emotionally devastating when Nate decides he needs to cut it off.
“Can I kiss you now?”
Sid just gives a soft giggle and nods, so Nate, his heart clenching at the sight, brings his hands up to gently grasp Sid’s jaw and presses their lips together, letting them have the reunion they should have had already.
He feels Sid bring his hands up, one falling on his chest right above his heart and the other coming up to grip behind him at his back, holding him close. Nate lets himself get lost in Sid, a feeling which tastes even sweeter now that he knows what grounds they’re working on.
Even if he’s still a little in disbelief.
When Nate stirs the next morning, he feels almost unbearably warm. He’s definitely a little sweaty, but he’s comfortable, and he feels cocooned, a weight on his stomach. He stretches his limbs a bit, tries not to wince at the jolt in his shoulder, and blearily blinks awake. The shades are drawn and he can’t see his clock from there, but he remembers where he is and suddenly doesn’t care.
Just as he’s about to roll over, he tenses as he realizes he can’t. The exceedingly comforting warmth beside him, he slowly feels, is Sid, whose face is tucked snugly into Nate’s back. The weight across his abdomen, he realizes, is Sid’s arm, tucked to keep him against his body. Nate relaxes again and fondly listens as Sid softly snores, his own eyes drooping again as he settles in to just how warm and content he feels.
He’s dozing off again when he feels Sid stir this time. Nate waits for Sid to give his usual snuffle and quiet hm? as he joins the waking world before stretching. He feels Sid twist away from him, presumably to grab his phone and check the time. It must still be early, as he hears Sid softly chuckle and toss the phone softly aside again and tuck back into Nate.
He takes that moment to turn around, shifting in Sid’s arms and chuckling softly as Sid takes the chance to stretch his arms properly, giving him a sleepy, sheepish grin. Nate settles on his other side and opens his own arms, urging Sid to tuck in to be the little spoon this time. He eagerly turns, sliding backwards until he comfortably morphs to Nate’s shape.
It’s only when Sid’s ass presses against him that he realizes he’s a little hard. Sid chuckles softly and says, “Well, good morning.”
Nate lets out a giggle and just tucks his face into Sid’s hair, breathing deeply. He feels a dizzying sense of comfort and home and love before sighing happily. “We’ll worry about him later,” Nate responds, letting his arm drape over Sid before tucking it up to hold Sid’s chest.
He feels Sid nod and hears his soft hum. Nate’s busy thinking about how happy he is and how lucky he is when he hears his front door. Sid tenses then and Nate feels a surge of fury at whoever is disturbing their peace.
Both of them relax, however, when they hear the soft tones of Nate’s mom, who Nate can vaguely hear say, “He’s probably sleeping, Sarah, be nice. Just leave the loaf on the counter, he’ll see it later.”
Nate smiles fondly, his heart swelling at his mother’s love. Sarah must assent to it as he hears her step into the kitchen and do so. Her follow-up comment has Sid snorting, as she says in an accusatory tone, “I bet Sid’s here, Taylor said last night he was driving her up a wall with how excited he was for Nate to get home.”
“Excited? I thought he’d be a bit sad, in a way.”
“Well, not excited, but, like, antsy. I don’t know, I can’t even pretend to get it, but it must be tough to, like, love someone that much, but, like, they’re still your competitor at the end of the day and they all love hockey more than anything or anyone else anyway. I don’t know.”
“It’s been tough to see, that’s for sure. Hell, Nate’s loved that boy for years, I’m mostly just relieved that I can stop listening to him pretend his crush doesn’t exist and now I just listen to him pretend he’s not in love.”
“He so is.”
“He so is!”
“Do you think Sid feels the same? He must, right? Who else puts up with that embarrassing idiot all the time like that?”
“Trina and I think it’s nice that Sid is finally letting himself love and be loved. It hasn’t been easy on him, Sarah.”
“I know, jeez, Mom. It hasn’t been easy on Nate either.”
“Then it’s good they have each other, eh? Come on, we can bother them later.”
Nate listens as they leave his house, cursing the moment he ever gave them keys. He feels Sid’s body still tense in his arms and he’s desperately trying to come up with something to say, the moment somewhat ruined.
To Nate’s surprise, however, Sid says, his tone lighter than Nate expected, “I can’t believe our moms talked about my mental state like that.”
Nate lets out a surprised giggle, soft in the quiet, and hears Sid do the same. Relieved, he snuggles back up to Sid and feels Sid’s body sag back into Nate and the mattress once more.
Nate, never to let anything lie, says, “So you were bothering everyone about me coming home, eh?”
Sid slaps behind him and connects with Nate’s thigh, giggling as he hears Nate softly yelp. “I missed you, I was worried, I already said that!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Nate acquiesces, still smiling fondly into Sid’s hair. The distinct smell of him, so familiar and warm, soothes him. Woodsy, with the faint smell of his fancy soap and whatever gel he uses. He could get used to this.
They laze in bed for a while longer before Sid starts getting antsy. Amused, Nate lets him go, watches his bare ass as he stumbles to the bathroom. He rolls over himself to check his phone and responds to the texts he’s collected and ignored since the flight.
He’s in the middle of responding to Gabe checking in on him when he sees Sid at the base of the bed in a pair of briefs, which disappoints Nate, grabbing one of his feet and massaging it gently, looking at him softly.
Nate drops his phone on his stomach and stretches both his feet out, letting Sid grab them both. As he presses his thumbs in through the blanket, Nate asks, “What’s the plan for today?”
“My mom wants to see you,” Sid says, nodding to his phone. “She didn’t even say good morning.”
Nate laughs heartily then, nodding, “I’m sure my mom actually wants to see you, too. Maybe we should gather everyone for dinner.”
“You want Graham and Troy bickering already?” Sid asks, good-natured and fond. Nate knows he’s in, though. He watches Sid’s shoulders when he asks things, eyeballing them for a tick that he gets every time he’s asked something he doesn’t actually want to do but knows he’ll do anyway. Nate is pleased to see his broad, tan shoulders are as relaxed as he’s ever seen them.
For his question, Nate just nods in response, closing his eyes as Sid crawls onto the bed over Nate. He feels him settle his weight along Nate, pressing soft kisses to the side of his face and down his jaw and neck. He feels his cock stir in response, hardening where it went soft in Sid’s absence, and he smiles, bringing his hands up to stroke the warm expanse of his skin.
“We’ll never get out of bed at this rate,” Nate says quietly, a soft moan slipping out as Sid nibbles at his collarbone.
He feels Sid smile against him then and say, “Maybe I don’t want to.”
“You wouldn’t have put underwear back on if you didn’t.”
“Maybe I just want you to take them off again.”
Nate pushes him back a bit to eyeball him, skeptical. Even on their laziest off-days, Sid always has an agenda. Some kind of workout, some kind of hockey review, some kind of something to improve himself and his game. It’s what has made Nate so intense over the years and Nate likes to think it’s why they’re so good together. He flatters himself that he is one of very few people who gets Sid. He’s not sure if it’s true, but he thinks he’d be a little crushed if it wasn’t.
Regardless, the lazy tone Sid has and the way he’s intently settling in betrays any past knowledge Nate has of the man during the summer. Sid just gives him a small smile, biting his lip between his teeth and moving down Nate’s body, taking the blanket with him.
Nate has barely enough time to shiver at the cool air when Sid takes hold of his cock and swallows him down in one go. He lets out a surprised groan, his hands immediately coming to rest on Sid’s head, never pushing. One thing Nate has had to get right with dating Sid - and what a thrill that always is to think - is that Sid is in control 99% of the time. He’s simply a control freak, it’s what Nate has always known about him, and Sid is lucky Nate is so laid back about everything except hockey.
He knows Sid likes it when he rests his hands on his head, never pushing or pulling, but an ever-present threat that he could. He knows that when Sid gets particularly… slutty, he can call Sid some names and push him around a little more, be a little more derogatory and demeaning. Sid likes getting chirped to all hell in his daily life, Nate still doesn’t know why he was so surprised the first time Sid asked Nate to hold his hands above his head and call him a cockslut. Sid’s always careful and wary about his mouth though - Nate supposes an entirely broken and reconstructed jaw will do that to you. He made the mistake once of fucking into Sid’s mouth when he was much younger and Sid got surprisingly mad at him, telling him If I’m holding your hips down, Nate, it’s for a reason until Nate finally got the truth out of him beyond a simple I don’t like it. There was always an explanation with Sid, Nate knows now.
He never does anything lightly.
That’s not to say Sid can’t work a cock over with his mouth. Nate focuses his eyes down where Sid is swallowing Nate’s cock down, throat working over him until he pulls up for air again. It just has to be on his terms, Nate knows, one of his hands reaching to grab at Sid’s left hand that’s on the sheets beside them. He squeezes his hand in a bruising grip and lets out a loud, undying moan as Sid moves down to give Nate’s hole a broad lick before returning upwards.
He’s close, already - he tells Sid so. “Fuck, I missed your mouth,” he adds, his legs kicking a little as Sid swallows around his cock again.
He feels Sid pull off with an obscene pop and respond, “Just my mouth?”
Nate laughs breathlessly, his eyes staring at the ceiling, trying not to come, and he adds, “Your ass, too.”
Sid gives a snort, his laugh dissolving to giggles before feeling like a long moan around Nate’s cock, causing him to shiver. Nate watches through lidded eyes as he works him over, his mouth back where Nate really feels it belongs. His other hand strokes through Sid’s hair, relishing in how soft it is, and he feels Sid suck with a particularly strong bit of suction and tongue and gives him a warning.
Sid pulls off only slightly, letting most of Nate’s come hit his face while some lands in his mouth as he suckles at the tip. Nate lets his body loose of its tension and he feels boneless as he sinks back into the sheets again, watching blearily as Sid moves back to the bathroom chuckling. He hears Sid presumably wiping his face off and smiles when he comes back, seeing the inviting bulge at the front of Sid’s briefs.
He gestures out to him, letting Sid climb back onto the bed, and Sid settles on top of him, mindful of his sensitive cock. Oversensitivity is Sid’s thing, they both know, and Nate reaches to the bedside table to put some lube on his hand before reaching in to Sid’s briefs and setting to work. A handjob is pretty lazy, he’ll admit, but the upside is certainly being able to kiss Sid while they do it, and feel him moan and smile against his lips like he’s doing currently.
“Please, Nate,” Sid whispers, grinding against Nate’s hand and his thigh both. Nate reaches down with his other hand and reaches into the back of Sid’s underwear where his hole is still a little puckered from the night before.
Sid clenches and tightens at the feeling and it’s all the warning Nate really gets before he twists his wrist just right, puts just the tip of his finger in, and feels Sid spill over his fist. Sid lets out a long but soft moan, burying his face in Nate’s neck.
Nate shivers as he hears Sid whisper, “Fuck, I love you,” and press a kiss to his jaw. He focuses first on getting his messy hand out and to the tissues by their bedside and once that’s taken care of, he cradles Sid’s head between his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you, Sid,” he says, feeling painfully raw and vulnerable. They say it a lot, mostly over text or as part of a goodbye on phone-calls, a quick love you babe before hanging up. They are hardly together except for summers and games, if there’s time, so whenever it’s like this, Nate feels all of his 8 years Sid’s junior.
He knows Sid doesn’t see him like a kid anymore. It’s obvious, especially in moments like the one that just occured, but he still sees himself that way. Sometimes, he just watches Sid and feels like the luckiest idiot in the world, being able to actually be with the guy he had such a crush on growing up. Other times, he feels like a lovesick fool, following his idol along and hoping for crumbs of attention.
During Nate’s particularly bad year with the Avs a few years ago, he even voiced his worries that Sid was only with him because he was easy and convenient. That led to a spectacular fight, one that ended with Sid saying I think we need a break and Nate saying, to himself, as Sid had hung up after that, I always knew it’d come to this. He was heartbroken for a few weeks, throwing his entire being into a team that finished with a record-breaking 48 points and only 53 points to his name.
Nate returned home that summer, super early, and watched as Sid raced to the Cup. It was in the series against the Capitals, and Sid fell in Game 3 after a nasty hit by Niskanen, that Nate finally felt like he had to talk to Sid. Fortunately, he didn’t have to reach out, as his phone rang the next day, Sid’s voice said, “I have a concussion” and then “I’m out Game 4” and then “I need you,” and Nate could breathe again. He flew to Pittsburgh the next day, doing his best to take care of Sid, both of them avoiding talking about It.
All good things had to end, however, and Sid was back in the line-up in Game 5 and Nate got to packing. Sid traveled to D.C. and Nate debated leaving while he was gone, having been useful and now needing to leave. Just as he was about to call an Uber and book a ticket, Sid sent a text that said don’t you dare leave and so Nate waited. They lost the game, so Nate waited even longer, anticipating a win for Sid after Game 7. Sure enough, the Penguins won, which left Nate bitter in ways he wasn’t willing to address, and Sid came home.
They had a long discussion about the practicality of what they were doing. Sid came clean about his unease dating a man properly now, after so long being closeted, and dating one so young, too. Nate fully explained what he meant when he said he was easy and convenient, wincing as he did it, as he had to fully let Sid in on just how much he kind of hated himself. I’ll never be you, Nate had said, his fingers gripping his beer tightly, so I wonder how you could possibly settle for the kid who just follows you around all the time. It had taken a lot of assurances by Sid, and a lot of promises by Nate to see a therapist in Cole Harbour too, not just Denver, before they settled again.
Now, however, Nate knows Sid loves him. Sid says it a lot more now, having broken through his own barriers and, as his mom astutely observed with Sid’s mom, let himself love and be loved. It escapes no one that Sid is dating someone from his hometown, who he would be extremely close to anyway, and who plays hockey just as intensely as he does. But it works for them, Nate thinks.
He feels Sid snuffle, a tell-tale sign that he’s about to doze off again, when Nate nudges him awake. He does, pulling back to give Nate a lazy smile. The two of them finally arise properly and Nate checks the time to see it’s 11:36 in the morning.
They finally shower, and dress, and head downstairs. Nate’s pleased to see his mom made banana bread and Sid seems even more pleased to see there’s a light coat of icing on top. Nate rolls his eyes and pokes him away from it, shepherding Sid towards healthier options for lunch.
They’re talking about the plans for the summer, with training and Andy and PEI and the hockey school and whatever else they could possibly come up with, when the door opens again. Nate eyes Sid, who looks sheepish, and the two stare at the doorway to see Taylor bouncing in.
Nate catches her as she throws herself into Nate’s arms, letting herself be twirled around.
“You’re home, thank GOD,” Taylor says, dropping down once more and patting him on the cheek. “I was going to murder Sid if he mentioned you one more time.”
Nate laughs at Sid’s red face, watching him mutter something bitchy under his breath. “So I’ve heard. I’m here now, though, so I can take up this loser’s time and you can pretend he’s your cool, aloof brother again.”
“I could never even dream of pretending that,” Taylor says, brushing over Sid’s hair as she plops down and pulls the banana bread towards her. “Ooh, icing!”
“Stop it, both of you!” Nate cries, exasperated. “Christ, you’re both ridiculous.”
They give him matching identical sheepish looks now, little smiles on both their faces. Nate just rolls his eyes and turns around, muttering about Crosbys just want cake and that’s all.
“I know Sid wants your cake more than me though.”
Nate lets out a cackle as he hears the telling sign of Sid gasping Taylor and slapping his face, which is probably bright red. Taylor also laughs heartily, her own face probably looking mighty satisfied. He listens as the two bicker behind him and Taylor rips into Sid more and more, using Nate as leverage, and smiles. Maybe he’s excited to be home after all.