Sidney's drunk when he orders a Russian bride. He doesn't expect anyone to show up - and he definitely doesn't expect that person to be an awkward-looking guy who barely speaks English.

Geno can't. Sidney won't.

Patrick had a letter written on his wrist when he was born, small and even in black pen-print. Well, technically it started to show up a day after he was born, like a bruise that takes time to settle in. Patrick doesn’t remember, obviously, but his parents will tell him whenever he asks, how small it was and how it just... faded in, a little ‘J’.

Geno had arrived in Pittsburgh looking every minute of the nineteen hour flight from Helsinki, plus however long he’d been in transit between there and his run from the KHL. Sid had been standing next to Mario, watching the new arrival expectantly, even though he didn’t think Geno was a threat. The other wolf had spent too much time negotiating on his own behalf to be allowed into another pack’s territory, and even more to be allowed to play with the team. But all the same, new wolves made Sidney antsy.

Sidney’s wedding day doesn’t go quite as he’d planned. When he’d bothered to imagine it at all, he’d thought of a nice June wedding in Nova Scotia, outdoors with the sun streaming down. He hadn’t imagined this hurried affair on the tarmac on a rainy and unseasonably cool day in early September, a month after his twenty-fifth birthday.

After one scandal too many, Patrick Kane gets traded. Eventually it stops being the worst thing to ever happen to him.

There's a curse mark on the back of Sidney's neck.

“Sidney comes highly recommended,” Zhenya hears at the edge of his consciousness.

Sid didn’t introduce himself in the hallway, and he certainly doesn’t assume that people know who he is. So it would only be polite to thank Malkin again, this time more personally. He could write him a letter. An email? No, a letter.

RainyForecast)