Geno is sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why Sidney has a dresser drawer full of sex toys, but right now he's drawing a blank.

Sidney is starting to get a reputation amongst the Pens for being the go-to guy for free childcare. Or, five times Sidney babysat and one time someone babysat for him.

The third time, Sidney is taking out the trash, and the boy is having a staring match with a raccoon.

In which Sidney Crosby goes for a walk one day, and somehow most of the NHL ends up worshipping a defaced Winnipegian brick. It's all Jonny Toews' fault.

Last week Sidney had said, "We're totally fucked," and started hyperventilating; Geno had made calming noises for the next hour. Then Sidney'd gone out and had to deliver semi-positive soundbites, since apparently he is now the face of the "we can still have a season, please don't give up on us, we are trying so fucking hard" contingent.

So ‘Zhenya’ is a private name. It’s something Sid says to wake Geno up late at night when he’s half-asleep on the couch and needs to be cajoled to bed. It’s something Sid calls him first thing in the morning when Geno's made him breakfast instead of letting Sid eat his sad granola another day. It’s the name Sid whispers when he hugs Geno after a win and tells him he’s proud.

“I’ve had that since I was eighteen,” Sidney moans. “My grandma gave it to me after the draft. It’s my good luck necklace.”

By the fourth time Crosby has hung up on him, Alex has to admit that this has gone from funny to, frankly, a little hurtful.

[He's gotten good at not touching people, and he knows that his methods are considered weird by the internet and most of the world, but they keep him sane and focused on hockey. It's not so bad on the ice, when hockey's the only thing, and there are inches of pads and cloth between skin and skin. Off ice, he developed a habit of shoving his hands as far into his pockets as they could go, until a PR agent told him in high school that it made him look sullen and untouchable. After that, he took to just barely sticking his fingers in his pockets, a more subtle "don't touch me" that doesn't make him slouch too badly. He's beginning to realize that that the action is possibly more awkward than just sticking his hands all the way into his pockets, but it's habit now, and hard to break.] Or, Sidney is telepathic, which explains 95% of his idiosyncrasies.

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

"The biceps peeking out of the sleeves, stretching the material thin and tight, are a lot more impressive than Geno remembers. He would have remembered if Sid had arms like that."

Do you remember the first time you saw the stars? The first time you looked up and realized there were an infinite number of worlds that humanity had left to discover? I don’t know how old I was when I first yearned to go up there; it’s all I’ve ever known. And I can tell you this — even though I have seen more worlds than I ever imagined, even though I have sacrificed so much to do this, I have never lost that desire to explore, or that profound amazement that I feel when I look up into the infinite wonder of the skies. - Captain Manon Rhéaume

Geno will maintain until his dying day that the first time he sets the house on fire is definitely not his fault.

Sid is almost 18 when he moves to Pittsburgh for a job--and the gay scene.

Sid is special, even for a wizard. Harry Potter AU.

Sid and Geno are superheroes. Sid has an easier time of it than Geno does.

For fifteen years, Sidney has lived on the palace grounds in Petrograd. In that time, he has spoken to Prince Evgeni five times.

"You're on Puck Daddy," Taylor said, instead of a greeting. Sidney sank back into the pillows. "So? What's new?" "The headline is 'Best Hockey Player in the World Sidney Crosby Taken Out by Eight Year Old, Breaks Arm in Mite Hockey Game.'"

"So," Sid begins, and then has to clear his throat. "Last night. We kind of—did a thing."

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

Geno's not gonna lie, this is totally working for him. The idea of wearing this and standing over Sid in heels while Sid mouths his cock, elastic edges of the panties pulled down to slightly cut in under his balls, is so hot that he needs to put his computer down for a bit and go fetch some tissues.

"Sid," Geno said, jogging down the stairs two days later. "You not like jizz. Is like shoes thing, or like chunky peanut butter thing?" Sidney had strong feelings about his shoes, but he grudgingly acknowledged that manufacturers continued to issue updated models every few months, so his running shoes were never quite the same even though he always bought the same brand and style. Chunky peanut butter, on the other hand, was inviolate. You did not fuck with the chunky peanut butter. Or, as I titled the document, Jizz: a love story.

Everyone is concerned about Sidney and Geno. It takes awhile for Sidney to figure out what everyone is talking about, though.

In which Sidney Crosby discovers twerking and decides it'd be a good idea to add it to the Penguins' workout routine, and Paulie knows exactly who to blame.

The further adventures of Sidney Crosby, Professional Troll, as told by Beau Bennett. A sequel of sorts to Drop it Low, but it also stands alone.

Sidney grows up hearing about the types of soulbonds, and every time someone gets gushy about them Sid just rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever it was that he was doing. Does he want a bond? Yeah, of course, but - after hockey; only after hockey. Some of the guys are already bonded, and that’s awesome for them. Sid likes all of their bondmates, they’re all awesome. But for Sid, it’d just be something else to distract him from the game.

When Taylor is old enough, her dad starts making noises about getting her a bond. He's apparently found someone who is willing to "discreetly" get her an asymmetrical bond and forge reciprocal paperwork for it. When Taylor mentions it to Sid, too excited to pull off sounding anything but, he lets slip a plaintive "No."

Ninety percent of everyone's problems could be solved by a robot that just texted NO to hockey players on a regular basis. Unfortunately, Sidney didn't have a robot.

Some people get mean when they drink. Some people get quiet, or loud, or weepy. Sid gets… well.

Sid had been simmering all day and now he was ebullient, a full boil, about to spill over. set after the October 12th, 2013 Lightning game

Four dreams Geno accidentally shared.

“You know how I said I, uh. Spend a lot of time in the lake? Back home?” “Yes,” Zhenya said cautiously. Yes, Sid had told Zhenya that he was an inhuman fish creature. Zhenya had mostly recovered.

Very occasionally, the captain of a hockey team goes into heat and needs to be lovingly gangbanged by his team to knock him up with as many babies as possible. This year it's Sid's turn.

Geno and Sid are stuck missing the All-Star Game because they've had their genitals temporarily rearranged. It happens. They make the breast of it.

“Is normal,” Geno says firmly. “Nealer has stupid hair, Tanger has dumb tattoos, Sid has no dick.” Sid laughs. “I have six dicks, I don’t wear them for hockey,” he says.

Sid came over for dinner a few nights later with an unanticipated bouquet of pink roses and hovered by the kitchen island while Zhenya put the flowers in water. Zhenya’s heart pounded in his chest. Flowers were a clutching gift; pink flowers— “Geno, uh,” Sid said, and Zhenya’s hands trembled slightly as he fussed with the blossoms. “I know it’s way too soon, but. Do you want to?”

sea_salt_waves said: I've been having all these feelings lately about a human Geno falling for sexually-repressed incubus!Sid who pays sex workers to jerk off for him and has never been in a relationship before, with all kinds of insecurities and pining… ... I didn't stick to the prompt perfectly, but it was definitely my inspiration. I hope you enjoy!

Geno was in pre-heat when he showed up at the rink: Sid could smell it on him. Geno swanned into the locker room with his head held high, kind of glowing with self-satisfaction, and smelling ripe with it, right on the edge of tipping over.

The package arrives the day after Sid gets back to Pittsburgh. Sid recognizes the discreet wrapping, and the lack of a return address is so obvious they might as well have printed Sex Toys R Us all over the damn box.

“Sid,” Geno says. “Team lonely.”

Sid’s been dropping subtle clues for years, it feels like, but Geno’s never picked up what he’s thrown down. So when the perfect opportunity presents itself—well, he’d have to be an idiot not to take advantage. The conversational topic is Things That Have Disappointed You in the Bedroom. Sid has this all wrapped up, to be honest. “Guys with big dicks,” he says flatly, and Tanger spits his beer all over the table. (OR: The Bedroom Adventures of Sidney Crosby, Troll)

In which Geno is a famous porn star and Sid needs money to pay for hockey gear. “Did you just introduce yourself to my ass?”

Geno doesn’t quite understand why Sid likes to keep sex to a minimum during the pre-game period. Sid claims that he likes to focus on just feeling his muscles move and thinking about getting his head in the right space to play. Geno would much rather just get off. As a result, Geno can’t really commiserate with Sid about how his sex drive picking up is a problem, which might make him a bad boyfriend, except for the fact that he totally accepts being cut off for a lot of the play-offs so he’s an excellent boyfriend, thank you very much.

Peters clapped him on the shoulder. "Try to find a way to...if not relax, then decompress. Take a day for yourself once in a while, don't worry about hockey or school or anything." Sid hesitated. "Is that an order, or...?"

Sid shows up to practice with a hickey. Misunderstandings ensue.

Babies are born because people wish them out of the sky, and Geno doesn't realize he's been wishing that hard. Luckily, his team has his back.

Sid refuses to be jealous of something that's two and a half feet high and can't play hockey. OR: The Pittsburgh Zoo named some penguins after the Penguins, and no one will let Sid forget the one named after him has its shit together, because all his friends are assholes. Also there's pining.

Tipping back in the chair, Sid craned his neck to look up at him. He inhaled through his nose and caught the warm-metal scent of Geno’s post-heat bleed. “I can help you with that, too,” he murmured.

Geno is a beta. That doesn't mean he isn't the team's omega.

Sid growls. He can’t help it. It’s wrong. Malkin is whimpering and crying and struggling against his restraints. His scent is all fear and chemicals and something deeper, something dark and oppressing. Sid thinks it’s anger but it’s too bitter to try and get a proper read on.