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The morning of the trade, Sid opens his door to find Horny and Hags.
Neither look like they’ve slept, dark circles ring their eyes, pale and an exhausted slump to their shoulders. Sid’s known for about as long as they have and he’d been ready to reach out, to push aside his own grief and guilt, to offer some semblance of comfort to Hags, when the pair had shown up on his doorstep.
Instead, he steps aside, letting them in.
They’re silent as they slip out of their shoes and pad through the quiet house. The TV is on low in the living room, but it’s ignored as they take the familiar trek up the stairs and down the hall to Sid’s spare bedroom.
Inside there’s a king-sized bed, the kind that can fit multiple hockey players comfortably, a mini fridge stocked with Gatorade and water and a closet with soft clothes in various sizes. Years ago, when this had first started, there had been a queen-sized bed and a pair of matching dressers for whenever someone needed to stay over. It’s changed to fit the needs of the team.
Horny and Hags strip down to their boxers and crawl in, under the thick, warm duvet. Sid grabs his phone and sends a quick text, then joins them under the covers in his sweats and t-shirt. They get themselves situated, Hags in the middle, curled against Sid’s chest and Horny spooned up behind him.
None of them say anything, that’s not the point of all of this, but Sid can feel the small tremors running through Hags’ frame and the way that Horny tightens his hold on the pair of them, as though to keep him from shaking apart.
They fall into a light doze, they have the morning off, and Hags is in no state to get together what he needs for the sudden move, so none of them are in any hurry. The room is warm, the blinds dark enough that the sun doesn’t disturb them, and the world quickly becomes background noise, smoothing out the tension that has been building for weeks.
Sid wakes briefly as the bed dips and cranes his neck to see Geno crawling in on the other side of Horny, pressing his large body up against his lineys.
“‘M not mean to wake you,” Geno murmurs as he spots Sid’s sleepy gaze. He reaches out, tangles his fingers together with Sid’s where his hand rests on Hags’ hip. The pair between them don’t stir and Sid feels a pang at the knowledge this likely won’t happen again.
“It’s alright.” He squeezes Geno’s hand and sinks back down into the pillows. “Thought you should be here.”
And he can say texting Geno was to support Horny and Hags, but it’d been selfish as well. He’d needed Geno’s strength, to help him get through this.
Geno squeezes back, his touch anchoring Sid to the moment, keeping him from getting lost in his own head.
::
The cuddle room, as Phil has dubbed it, started around the time of their first cup win.
It had been a rough run for the cup with injuries and exhaustion weighing heavy on the team but it was within reach, close enough they could taste it.
They’d all had an off day, no practice, no games, and they were under strict instructions to get some rest. Sid’s sprawled out on his couch in loose sweats and a stretched-out t-shirt that might not actually be his but is soft and warm. He’s got an extreme fishing marathon on, a shake in his hand, but he can’t quite seem to turn his brain off and just relax.
There’s a knock on his door and he frowns, pushing to his feet. Only the team has the passcode for his front gate, and none of them had seemed very inclined to do much of anything today. But there’s Flower standing at his door, hoodie pulled up and over his head and looking vaguely miserable.
“Vero is out of town,” is all he says before he pushes his way inside.
Sid closes the door and follows him, confused, but Flower just heads back to the living room. He scoffs when he catches sight of what Sid’s been half-heartedly watching, scooping up the remote and settling down on the couch.
Sid hovers by the doorway, a little weirded out by this version of Flower.
“ Viens ici ,” Flower rolls his eyes impatiently, gesturing to the space beside him. “Why are you all the way over there?”
That gets Sid moving, crossing the distance quickly and sinking down next to him.
“Are you okay?”
“ Oui, cher .” Flower finds a suitable channel, tossing the remote on the coffee table and then he turns his attention back to Sid, more of his usual spark there, making Sid relax. At least until Flower starts pushing and shoving him until he’s sprawled with his back against the arm of the couch, Flower mostly draped over his chest.
Flower sighs happily, head resting over Sid’s heart.
“Um?” Sid squeaks and Flower shushes him.
“Couldn’t relax by myself,” he says quietly and Sid gets the feeling that he wasn’t the only one who had been stuck in his own head. His hands come up hesitantly to rest on Flower’s back.
They spend the afternoon like this, and that should be that.
A few days later Tanger shows up on his doorstep.
“Flower said it helped.” He’s got his hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders tense and practically up by his ears. “Are you going to let me in?”
Tanger hates his couch.
“It’s like concrete, merde , Sid, when are you going to get a new one?”
They’d had practice that morning and Sid had been looking forwards to an afternoon nap so he’s feeling a little cranky at having his routine disrupted.
He blames that for how they end up in his bed.
Sid’s content to lay on one side, give Tanger the other, but Tanger is a fucking octopus apparently, and immediately latches onto Sid, forcing Sid onto his side so he can spoon up behind him. Then he lets out a loud sigh, and Sid can feel as he relaxes against him.
“ Bonne nuit ,” Tanger mumbles and is out like a light a moment later.
It’s fucking awkward being spooned by his very straight teammate in his own bed and he’s hyper aware of the warm breath against his neck, the solid body pressed against his own. It doesn’t help that it’s been ages since he got laid.
He spends a solid ten minutes staring at the clock, trying to decide if he can sneak out of Tanger’s grasp, and by the end of that he’s starting to feel drowsy. They haven’t pulled the blinds and the sun is streaming in against their backs, and the warmth of that combined with the warmth of Tanger pressed so close is slowly, but surely pulling him under.
He’s not convinced he’s actually going to be able to fall asleep, but between one breath and the next, he does.
::
After that it becomes a thing.
Max comes by during the run for the cup, but otherwise Sid is left alone until training camp when suddenly he has teammates showing up on his door at least once a week.
Duper shows up with Tanger early afternoon and this time Sid insists on his guestroom.
It’s not any better.
He only has a queen in his guest room and it’s definitely not made for three full-grown hockey players. He tries to leave them there but Duper gets a hand on the back of Sid’s shirt and drags him down until he’s caught up in the tangle.
It should be weird. It should set Sid’s teeth on edge, this casual intimacy that’s being forced upon him.
It doesn’t.
Their gentle breathing lulls him into an easy doze and he can feel all of the tension that’s been riding his shoulders slowly seep away. It’s platonic, easy intimacy with two people he trusts.
Maybe that’s why Sid goes online that night to order a king-sized mattress for the spare room.
A few of the guys are over when it gets delivered and Sid puts them to work moving out the matching dressers that don’t fit anymore with the massive mattress. He pays them back with pizza and beer and sits through their chirping about it.
“Why Sid need king mattress?” Geno holds the bottle to his lips, head tipped back and for a moment Sid can’t look away from his bared skin, from the way his throat works as he swallows.
“He’s got a lot of company.” Flower winks, expression lewd and Sid’s cheeks pink.
“It’s for you assholes,” he blurts out and immediately wishes he hadn’t with Geno’s sudden curious expression.
“He means for when we come over for naps,” Tanger adds in with a laugh and Geno frowns.
“Naps?”
“A few of the guys have been coming over for naps.” Sid’s pretty sure he’s beet red now, but he’s the one who went out and bought the mattress, he’s the one who deserves the chirping.
“Cuddle sessions, I’ve heard,” Max adds, unhelpfully.
“Everyone?” Geno’s expression goes blank and Sid feels his stomach sink.
“Just these assholes.” Sid gestures at Flower, Tanger and Duper.
“Oh no, cher, I’ve never been upstairs. ” Flower smirks at him and Sid flips him off.
“Whatever,” he mutters. “I needed a bigger bed anyways.”
“So, I’m pretty tired.” Max grins, finishing his beer in one long swallow. “How about you show us what this nap entails?”
“Oh fuck off.”
Sid ducks his head and focuses on his own beer, but Max just laughs and says, “No, really.”
“If you’re going to sleep, I’m going home.” Flower pushes to his feet. “Vero is home so my bed will be much more welcoming. ”
Tanger flicks a wadded up napkin at him that Flower manages to catch, mid air.
“I could nap,” Duper agrees. The guys start getting to their feet. “Let’s break this bed in.”
Sid’s cheeks must be flaming by now.
“I’m not napping with you.”
“Why not?” Geno pauses from where he was climbing to his feet, frowning. “Sound…”
“Relaxing,” Max suggests and Geno shrugs, nodding.
And fuck. If Geno wants to…
“Just this once.” Sid can’t look them in the eye as he heads for the stairs. Fuck, it’s like a bad porno. He shoves that thought away brutally- it’s bad enough that he’s going to have Geno in his bed- his spare bed at least- he doesn’t need to give himself ideas .
“Shouldn’t have bought the bed if you didn’t want cuddles,” Tanger chirps.
Sid laments his life choices.
::
It turns out that grown-ass hockey players love to cuddle.
Word spreads throughout the team and Sid ends up with cuddle sessions sometimes weekly, sometimes a couple of days in a row. He accepts it as just one more of his Captain's duties, though this is one of the stranger ones.
And he’d complain louder, except it’s some of the best sleep he’s gotten in years.
The guys love it, chirping each other about who gets into Sid’s bed next, showing up by themselves on his doorstep or in pairs or groups.
After the loss to Montreal, eight of the guys show up at his place and he discovers just how creative they can get to fit everyone in.
It continues into the following year and the year after.
Olli takes to their tradition easily. Geno brings him the first time, when he’s new to the team, shy and painfully young and Sid wraps him up between them, holds him tight until he settles, body relaxing in sleep.
“Do you ever remember being that young?” He keeps his voice quiet, barely a whisper, but Geno hears him regardless, one large hand sliding up and under the back of Sid’s t-shirt to press against the warm skin there. He’s had years of practice not shivering at the touch, of breathing through it and pretending everything is fine, it’s just two friends and that Geno’s touch is not something he aches for.
“No,” Geno answers just as softly. “But I’m remember you.”
Sid huffs out a laugh, and Olli shifts a little in his sleep, curling closer towards him.
“You do not.”
“Do,” Geno insists, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Curly hair, talk too much, too fast. Couldn’t understand word you say.”
“More like you didn’t want to.”
Geno just grins.
“Rather look,” is all he says, letting his eyes slide shut, and Sid’s breath catches in his chest.
::
Horny adores their cuddles.
When he ends up with them Sid’s not sure what to expect, but the Swede comes across as earnest, a hard worker, and overly-physical with his teammates and opponents- though in vastly different ways.
Sid isn’t sure who lets him in on it, but he opens his door one cloudy afternoon to find Horny waiting there, a bottle of wine in one hand and a hopeful grin on his face.
In that moment Sid knows it’s going to be a good match.
It’s always a little weirder with new guys, especially if it’s just him and they don’t have the buffer of more people, but Horny just allows himself to be led upstairs, taking everything in as he goes.
He starts stripping the second they get through the door and Sid must let out a squawk as all of this skin is suddenly revealed- the man walks around the change room, naked he probably should he made the connections- and Horny pauses, boxers halfway down his thighs.
“Should I keep them on?”
“Yes, please !” Sid’s pretty sure his face is about to catch fire.
God, it’s like he stumbled into the weirdest porno ever.
Horny just tugs them back up, laughing and claps Sid on the shoulder with a, “How do we do this?”
This ends with Sid tucked into Horny’s arms, head resting on his chest, warm, content and wondering how the hell this became his life.
::
They gain Phil and Hags and they take to it like ducks to water. They join forces with Horny for mandatory cuddles twice a week, more if they feel like it, and Sid ends up just showing them where the spare key is so he can get some time to himself.
Shortly after, a wooden sign appears on the door to the room declaring it the ‘ Cuddle Room ’.
Geno laughs himself silly when he first spots it.
“Must be Phil,” he manages as they make their way in. Knuckles is with them and he dives happily under the blankets. It’s late afternoon and they’re all aching from the game the night before, made worse by having to get up to watch tape this morning.
It’s never just him and Geno.
He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse.
“He super glued it there,” Sid mutters but he can’t find it in himself to be mad. Personal touches like this make it feel right. The guys haven’t added too much over the years but it makes the odd item that appears in the room all that more important. A charging dock- Max’s addition after his phone died a few too many times, a white noise machine that Rusty had donated because Geno sometimes snored, a thick, heated blanket folded neatly in the corner from Beau because sometimes a king sized duvet just wasn’t big enough for all of the guys that showed up.
“Probably so you not hear hammer,” Geno grins over at him, wide and happy, and Sid thinks if this is all he gets, if this is it, then he can live with that.
“Would you two just get in here?” Knuckles demands and Geno rolls his eyes but slides under the covers, sandwiching him between them.
::
They play the Stars and come out with a resounding win.
Sid heads home, high on it, body exhausted, muscles sore, but it’s worth it .
He’s not expecting to find Jamie Benn on his doorstep.
“Hey,” Jamie stands to greet him as he climbs out of his truck. He’s still in his game day suit, hair slicked back but falling out of its gel. His gear bag is by his feet. He must not have made it back to their hotel yet.
“Hey,” Sid greets cautiously. They’d struck up a friendship at the Olympics years ago and they still send the odd text, maybe grab a bite when they’re in the same town, but he doesn’t think he’s ever had Jamie over to his house or vice versa. “Everything alright?”
Jamie shrugs and like that, Sid can see the heavy weight sitting on his shoulders, the fatigue weighing him down.
“One of the guys told me where you lived.” Jamie rubs at the back of his neck looking sheepish. “There’s a rumor. Going around, about your team?”
“What rumor?” Sid’s stomach sinks thinking of all the things people could be saying. There’s nothing he can do about it, nothing he should do about it, except ignore it and make sure the guys are too, but…
“Um.” Sid steps closer and sure enough, Jamie’s cheeks are pink in the dim light. “That if you need to be...held. Or want someone to hold? God, this was a dumb idea.”
“No,” Sid blurts out and Jamie flinches. “It’s not a dumb idea,” he continues hastily.
Jamie perks up a little and Sid grabs his gear bag from his truck.
“Grab your stuff,” he says, heading for the door. “We can talk inside.”
Jamie apparently, is very much a little spoon.
He’s a long line of tension in Sid’s arms, and Sid can practically hear his brain running in overdrive. He tries a few of the techniques he uses on the new guys, runs his hands along Jamie’s arms, brushes his nose against the back of his neck, places a hand on Jamie’s chest to get him to match his breathing- steady and slow.
Eventually it works and Jamie’s breathing evens out, the tension seeping from him.
In the morning Sid makes them breakfast, lets Jamie borrow his shower and sends him back to the hotel in an uber.
They don’t talk about it, but Sid does start getting more texts from him, and an open invitation for dinner when they end up in Dallas next.
::
Flower’s trade is heartbreaking.
They all knew they’d be losing someone , but Sid had never thought it would be someone he’s considered family for so long now.
The night after Flower leaves, Geno shows up at Sid's house.
It’s weird enough having him at night but he’s alone and Sid isn’t sure how to proceed.
Geno looks crushed. His big brown eyes are sad and haunted, there’s a defeated slump to his shoulders where they’re curled in like he’s determined to make himself as small as he feels.
Sid can relate.
He ushers him inside and silently they make their way to the room.
Sid hesitates in front of his own- it’s only the two of them tonight, do they really need that massive bed?
But Geno takes him by the hand and leads him on before he can decide.
They undress, jeans and shirts and socks, down to their boxers. Sid has a drawer full of sleep pants in various sizes in the closet but he ignores it. Geno hovers by the bed, all long legs and lean torso highlighted by the light of the moon filtered in through the blinds. Sid aches to close the distance between them, to take him into his arms and kiss him, to smooth away the pain and grief he can read clear as day across Geno’s face.
“Come on,” he says instead, crawling into the bed. He holds his arms out for Geno, who scrambles to comply, getting under the blankets and plastering himself to Sid.
Sid holds him tight, feels him shake, and pretends he doesn’t feel the warm wetness on his chest, since Geno is nice enough to ignore his own.
::
The season starts with a fresh batch of new guys and fresh set of frustrations as they all try to figure out how they fit together.
Brass starts dragging Jamie Oleksiak in an effort to bond and Sid takes to leaving them to it because that’s not something he wants to get between. They come by once a week to ‘cuddle’ and Sid’s fine so long as they don’t actually end up having sex in his bed .
“I swear I don’t know what’s holding them back,” Sid’s four beers in, ranting to Tanger after a win against the Wild. The bar they’re in is dim but clean and the beer is good. There’s a small dance floor, mainly made up of hockey players currently, but Sid can see Jamie’s giant frame off to the side as he and Brass bop up and down in some semblance of dancing. Maybe it’s a mating dance, what would Sid know? It’s been ages since he took someone home.
Someone that wasn’t a teammate interested in cuddling.
“Yeah,” Tanger drawls. “Can’t imagine why.”
“It’s not like anyone would have a problem with it,” Sid continues, incensed. “They’re just hurting themselves, really.”
“We’re a pretty open group,” Tanger agrees easily, his lips ticking up into an amused smile Sid can’t read.
One of Jamie’s giant hands comes to rest on Brass’ hip and Sid rolls his eyes. He wonders if they know how obvious they’re being.
“Shouldn’t stare,” Geno scolds as he slides into the booth next to Sid. He slides a fresh beer over to Sid, then tosses an arm over his shoulders. “Is rude.”
“Don’t you think they should just get together already?” Sid gestures at the pair. They’re barely moving now, just kind of swaying off beat to the music.
Geno’s gaze flickers over to them, and then back to Sid. His eyes are dark and endless in the dim lighting of the bar and Sid can’t seem to look away.
“Maybe too complicated.”
“It’s only complicated if they make it,” Sid shoots back, suddenly aware of how hard his heart’s beating.
“Maybe he worried it not work.” Geno licks his lips and Sid flushes. It feels like they’ve turned the heat up in the bar.
“They won’t know until they try, right?”
“Yeah,” Tanger’s voice is like a bucket of cold water over the head, startles Sid so badly he jerks, hitting his knees off the underside of the table. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”
He gestures across the bar to where Brass has Jamie by the hand and is leading him determinedly towards the front doors. Jamie looks a little dumbstruck but happy .
“Guess some morons know how to make a move,” Tanger gives first Sid, then Geno a pointed look, pushing to his feet. “I need another drink to get through this,” he mumbles to himself before he disappears.
Sid toys with the label on his bottle, suddenly feeling hyper aware of how close Geno is. He feels like a wall of heat pressed against Sid’s side. The silence that’s fallen over them is charged, awkward and Sid isn’t sure what to say.
“Good for them,” Geno finally says.
“Yeah, definitely,” Sid rushes to agree. “I bet they’ll be great together.”
“Yeah,” Geno catches his gaze and his expression is impossible to read. “I’m think they will.”
::
Jamie Benn isn’t the last person outside the team to join them.
In the New Year Alex Ovechkin shows up, drunk, with an equally drunk Geno hanging off his shoulders.
“Zhenya tell me all about the cuddle room ,” he crows happily as they stumble their way past Sid. There’s no car in the drive so at least they weren’t complete morons and drove . A cold gust of wind blasts into the house and he slams his door shut, shivering. “Don’t worry,” Ovi leers at him. “Me and Zhenya will warm you up.”
Sid’s gaze flies to Geno who looks pink and happy and he has to wonder what the pair of them have been drinking.
“What are you doing here?”
“Told you.” Ovi rolls his eyes and Sid has to hurry after them as he and Geno stumble down the hall. “To cuddle. Zhenya say you best at cuddle. Need to see myself.”
“Backstrom is going to kill you.” Sid calls after him but Ovi just waves him off.
“Nicke know where I am. He out watching the children while we here. They like Papa best.”
Children? Sid’s really hoping he means their rookies.
Geno steers them to the room and Ovi bursts into giggles at the sign on the door.
Once inside they thankfully don’t try to strip- because Sid isn’t sure his brain cells can take that right now- and tip over onto the big bed. They’re both big men and there isn’t much space left with how they’re sprawled.
Sid’s wondering if he can just leave them there to sleep it off when Geno’s head pops up and he catches Sid’s gaze, looking expectant.
“Well?” he demands and Sid just stares at him. “You come?”
Sid flushes.
“Not how you woo your man, Zhenya,” Ovi chides. “Need romance. ”
Sid’s pretty sure he’s in hell.
“Shut up.” Geno mutters something in Russian that sounds very unflattering.
“I think I’ll leave you two alone.”
“No,” Geno whines, reaching out for Sid. “I’m tell Sasha you best at cuddles. He hold this over me forever .”
He stares at Sid with those giant brown eyes and Sid can feel his resolve crumbling.
“Fine,” Sid huffs and approaches the bed, unsure of where he’s going to end up with them starfishing everywhere. “But only for a bit.”
Ovi crows in delight and reaches out- faster than he should be able to move this wasted- and gets a handful of Sid’s shirt, dragging him down onto the bed and, of course, across Geno’s chest.
Geno’s arms come up, holding him close as he sighs happily and Sid bites down on his lip hard at the feel of Geno underneath him.
“No fair,” Ovi complains. “You have to share.”
Sid opens his mouth to tell them both to fuck off, he’s not a toy, but then Ovi’s manhandling them both and somehow Sid ends up in the middle of a Russian sandwich. Ovi’s pressed against his back and Geno’s flush up against his front and dear god- his life is a porno .
“Much better.” Ovi yawns and presses his hips that much closer against Sid’s ass.
Sid may die of embarrassment. Or spontaneous combustion from how hot his cheeks are burning.
Geno lets out a happy sound of agreement and a few minutes later they’re both snoring like chainsaws in Sid’s ear.
He’s honestly not sure how he’s going to survive this one.
Somehow he manages to fall asleep, when it becomes clear that neither of them are getting up any time soon. He wakes up later to a dark room, his back cold but his front burning.
There’s the sound of someone clattering around downstairs but inside the room it’s quiet and warm and he’s content.
Geno’s arms are still wrapped around him, holding him tight, his face is a few inches from Sid’s, warm breath against his cheek. Sid’s eyes slowly adjust to the dark and he takes his time enjoying the feeling of being held, of it being Geno .
He’s listening for it so he knows the moment Geno starts to wake, the quiet snuffles as he digs his face further into the pillow, the way his arms tighten minutely around Sid, as his beautiful big eyes blink open, slowly.
“Sid?” he murmurs, voice sleep rough and confused. One big hand runs along Sid’s spine, rubbing slowly. Geno blinks the sleep from his eyes as he seems to realize where he is, and with it, how he got there. He groans. “Sasha has worst taste in drinks.”
“You seemed pretty happy with them when you got here,” Sid muses, laughing softly. It feels like there’s a warm bubble around them where nothing and no one can touch them. Downstairs Ovi starts singing off key to something on the radio but it’s easy to ignore.
“Was happy to see you .” Geno smiles back and all Sid wants is to feel that smile pressed against his own.
Maybe it’s showing on his face, or maybe it’s just time, because Geno leans in.
The kiss is the lightest brush of lips together but sparks ignite from it and when Geno pulls back, Sid follows, rolling him onto his back and catching his mouth for another. This time when he presses their lips together it’s harder, more demanding as he tries to get across everything he isn’t sure how to put into words.
Geno’s hands haven’t left Sid’s body and they push Sid’s shirt up, trace the long planes of his back restlessly as he opens up easily for Sid. Then it’s deeper, wetter, hotter. Sid shivers as Geno’s blunt nails rake down his back, and he licks into the tantalizing heat of Geno’s mouth, chasing the soft, broken sounds he makes.
“ Dinner! ” is bellowed up the stairs, loud enough to startle them apart.
Foreheads pressed together, they pant into each other’s mouths, trying to catch their breath as the surreality of the situation hits them.
Sid giggles, can’t stop himself. It sets Geno off and they’re laying there, tangled together in the bed, laughing helplessly when Ovi finds them a minute later.
He eyes them from the doorway, and they must be rumpled, lips swollen and cheeks pink, because he leers at them and says, “Should have left you alone ages ago if this all it takes.”
“Fuck off, Ovechkin.” Sid flips him off, still helplessly giggling.
“This what I get for making you pancakes.” Ovi shakes his head, calling over his shoulder as he leaves the room. “Get your asses up or I’m eat it all!”
They listen to him head back down the stairs.
“He will.” Geno can’t seem to stop smiling at him. It’s fine, Sid’s having the same problem.
“Better get up then.” Sid presses a quick kiss to Geno’s nose, then reluctantly rolls off of him. Geno follows him a moment later, catching him by the hand to reel him in for one more, lingering kiss.
“Stay the night?” Sid breathes against his lips. Geno glances at the rumpled bed beside them. “Not here,” Sid clarifies. “In my bed.”
“Just the night?” Geno asks, smirking.
“No.” Sid rolls his eyes but his grin is bright. “Much longer.”