Stay, Stay, Stay || Sidney Crosby

Thirty-Nine

I sat on the bench and watched the last few minutes of Sidney's second skate post puck-jaw collision. Practice ended a few hours earlier and most of the players had left to begin their pre-game rituals. Still not cleared to play, Sidney would watch the game from the box while I resumed my position behind the bench. I was beyond relieved to see our lives return to some degree of functionally normal. I was still queen of the blender, but the ice packs became fewer and the narcotics were a rarity. I'd never seen someone heal so quickly and I wondered if he was as pain free as he'd lead me to believe. It was in my nature to worry and Sidney was giving me plenty of material.
"Mario wantsh ush to have drinksh after the game," Sidney slid to a stop, snowing me in the process.
"Shut up," I groaned, brushing ice out of my hair.
"I'm sherioush. He wantsh to get to know you," he leaned over the boards and ruffled my hair with his gloved hand. "More than he already doesh." I was ready to leap over the boards and tackle him onto the ice by the time he winked and poked my nose with his cold leather padded finger.
"Well please send my regards and tell him I need a few months to find my dignity before I face him again," I stood up and brushed the bits of snow from my lap. "You better not have told anyone," I warned him then left the cold ice, heading towards my office.
"I love youuuu," he called after me. I was glad to see him in better spirits, but with his lifted mood came his new favourite hobby, tormenting me. I was stuck in a constant limbo of wanting to jump his bones and smack him. I waved my hand behind me acknowledging his gesture but refusing to comment.

"Why did you come back?" Sidney asked, clutching my body against his. We lay in bed after a 3-1 loss against New Jersey. There were only two games left in the regular season and the weeks since his accident had flown by. The doctors were confident that he'd return to his position at centre ice by the first game of playoffs but I tried to remind him to be realistic and not to push it too much. Telling Sidney not to push it was like telling a cat to fetch, there was a chance he understood what I was saying but there was no way it was happening.
"Because," I shrugged and snuggled my head under his chin.
"Becaushe way?" His hands were on my bare skin, one arm cradling me against him with the other arm reaching across us to hold me tighter.
"Because," I inhaled sleepily and propped myself up on my elbows so I could see the shadows of his face. "Without you I'm just floating. Without you I have nothing to keep me here. I could drift away to Constantinople. I could float away and I wouldn't even realize it until I tried to plug in my hair straightener or find a Tim Horton's."
"Conshtantinople doeshn't exihst anymore, babe..." he crinkled his brow and eyed me confused.
"Exactly. Without you I'm like Constantinople or Yugoslavia, I'm still here but I don't actually exist." I unlocked my elbows and returned to my comfortable position pressed against him.
"That ish the mosht romantic hishtorically bay-shed analogy I have ever heard." He said after a few seconds of silence. "I'm glad you're it Pittshburgh and not Ishtanbul."
"Me too," I sighed and nuzzled my head into the warm spot between his head and shoulder. No place in the world could be better than laying in bed with him. 



I sat on the couch in the apartment staring off into the distance, my eyes locked on a spot on the wall without actually seeing anything and my mind going in circles without thinking anything. The regular season had come to a close and after a three day break we were up against the Flyers in the first round of the playoffs the next day. Normally I'd be ecstatic to start playoffs, especially against a team I'd grown up loving. But this game meant two things, the first that there would be more than one physical play and I'd be busy all night stitching on the bench and mopping up blood, and the second that Sidney would be back on the ice. He wasn't able to eat solid food but somehow the doctors decided he was healed enough to play. Initially I'd kept my mouth shut, not wanting to bother him with my anxious thoughts, but it wasn't long before he realized how torn I was. We'd spend hours discussing the matter, me begging him to reconsider and Sid trying to convince me everything would be okay. I knew I was overreacting, playing the role as worried girlfriend, but that did little to settle my nerves.
"How are you doing?" Serena startled me out of my daze. She stood behind the couch and began gently rubbing my stiff shoulders.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I tilted my head back to see her.
"What do I have to worry about?" she laughed and massaged a little harder. The feeling of her small hands squeezing my tight muscles felt wonderfully comforting. "I'm just growing a human, you're the one who has to stand behind the bench and watch her boyfriend get back in the game."
"I know I should be reasonable, I mean if the doctors are okay with him being back then I should be too, but I just can't shake the feeling that something is going to happen." I sighed and let my head rest on the back of the couch.
"It's okay for you to feel what you feel, Bea. You're allowed to be nervous. You've spent the last six or so weeks watching him recover after watching him take a puck to the face, that's a pretty intense and scary thing to see. It's no wonder you're shaken." She assured me. As per usual her words were exactly what I needed to hear. I'd been refusing to acknowledge how watching him in pain had affected me for fear that it would seem narcissistic.
"I just wish I could bubble wrap him and keep him safe a little longer," I groaned.
"I know," Serena smoothed my hair back from my face. "But look on the bright side, if anything does happen you'll be the first one by his side. I mean if anything happened to Geno, I'd have to sit by and wait until someone called me."
"If anything ever happened to him I'd call you the second I got off the ice and you know that," I reached up and squeezed her arm.
"Thanks," she smiled. "But no one's gettin' hurt! Don't you be thinking about it either, you'll be drivin' yourself off the fuckin' deep end, Princess." She laughed, intentionally using a thick east coast accent that we'd both tried so hard to drop when we moved to Pittsburgh. For the most part we'd been able to adjust our speaking habits when talking to other people and assimilate to normal language. But it was a joke between us when things felt too tense. It was impossible to keep a straight face while she prattled on like that.
"Eh well I tells ya right-fuckin'-now if he goes out and gets his head knocked open I'll have a right fuckin' fit," I played along, unable to keep a straight face.
"Thems is fightin' words. Yous some serious." She giggled and sat down beside me.
"You feel that baby yet?" I asked, changing the subject before I started to get homesick.
"I think so, I felt some fluttering the other day but that might just be gas" she pressed her hand down gently on her stomach. "It's supposedly the size of an onion but I think it's more like a squash because I feel huge." She pushed her gut out exaggeratedly.
"It wouldn't surprise me if little Lars Evgenovich Katya turned out to be huge, I mean it is part Geno," I nudged her playfully.
"Oh god no! What if it doesn't fit? What if it gets stuck and they have to break my pelvis?" She looked at me in horror.
"Uhm, they don't really go around breaking pelvises that often. But if they do, think about all the kick ass pain killers you'll get!" I tried to comfort her.
"But if they break my pelvis who will raise the baby?" her eyes were wide and I could see the gears in her head shifting.
"No one is breaking your pelvis! But if anything should happen then I'll ditch Sidney and move in with Geno and wallpaper the nursery with your face until you get better." I hugged her and didn't bother hiding my amusement
"Promise you'll use one of the good pictures of me. No profile pictures or anything, maybe the one from Simon's wedding?" She said against my chest.
"Duhh," I snorted and we both erupted in a fit of giggles.

There were four fights that first game against Philadelphia. A knocked out tooth, some split knuckles and a dozen or so stitches, but other than that everyone survived. The Flyers won 4-3 in overtime and I realized I would never get used to cheering for both teams. Habit told me to be excited for the Flyers, but my heart was heavy for Sidney and the team.
The second home game was a little less composed. I wasn't at all surprised by the animosity on the ice, between the historic rivalry of the two teams and the screaming match between the benches a few weeks prior, I'd anticipated it would be a nightmare. I didn't however anticipate Sidney and Claude Giroux going head to head with their fists. I'd already stitched up two guys and handed out a number of ice packs when it happened. I'd been talking with to James about his busted lip when Pascal nudged me, drawing my attention to the corner of the ice. I watched in horror as Sid and Giroux pushed each other then started slapping at each other with their gloved paws. I had to hand it to Giroux though, he wasn't taking any shots to Sidney's face, most of the fight consisted of the two men holding each other's jerseys before falling to the ice to a soundtrack of ecstatic fans. When Sidney returned to the bench after serving his penalty he knew I wasn't impressed. Not quite furious but angry enough that when he turned around to say something to me I shook my head stopped him. He needed to have his head in the game and I wasn't about to give it to him on the bench.

"If you're trying to give me a heart attack it's working," I said as we walked to the dressing room after and 8-5 loss.
"Shorry," he shrugged and gave me a forced smile
"Yeah, me too." I tossed him a playful hip check that surprisingly pushed him off balance a little. "You played well, babe."
"Not well enough," he grumbled and shot me a sad look.
"You've got five games to make up for it," I tried to comfort him. We stopped outside the locker room and let the rest of the guys go by. "Hey," I looked at him seductively when I noticed no one was around. "Meet me in my office after you've showered," I coo'd in his ear and pressed my hand against his chest. I had to stand on the tips of my toes to reach his ear.
He looked at me confused when I returned to my usual height then nodded before joining the rest of the team in the room. The last thing I wanted was to be a fly on the wall for that team discussion. The atmosphere in the rink was bleak and I could hear cursing and smashing as I walked away. It was hard to watch them lose and harder to see them so upset.
Making sure the trainer's room was covered, I told my coworkers I would be in my office updating the medical files and scurried off down the hall. My office left a lot to be desire, a small room with white plastered brick walls and no natural light. The only windows were beside a heavy door and covered with dusty off white blinds. It had a bookshelf, a desk with a computer, and a few chairs. I'd added my own touches to try and liven it up, which consisted of a lamp, the most resilient cactus I had ever encountered, and a picture of Sidney and me that he took while we skated on the lake in Nova Scotia—a very rare Crosby selfie. It wasn't the nicest of places, but I found a certain comfort in knowing I had my own space at the rink. Opting for the lamp instead of the bright florescent lights and closing the blinds, I began to set a certain mood. Music playing loud enough to cover any noises that might leak out of the cracks in the door, my boring work shoes kicked off and shoved under the desk, and my regulation jacket hung on the back of the door. I propped myself on the edge of the desk wearing just a tank top and my khaki pants and adjusted my boobs while I waited for him. I'd just pulled my hand out of my shirt when the door opened slowly and Sidney poked his head in and looked around.
"Hey," he said suspiciously, entering then closing the door tightly behind him.
"Hey," I hopped off of the desk and took a few steps towards him.
He cocked his eyebrow and watched me, opening his mouth to speak. Before he could make a sound I pressed my lips against his and pushed him against the wall. Caught off guard, it didn't take much to move him and he stumbled back eagerly clutching my body against his. My teeth nipped at his bottom lip and he dug his fingers into the fleshy part of my hips. I ran my hand slowly down the surface of his chest and stomach teasingly before letting it stop at his belt buckle. He let out a muffled groan as I toyed with the buckle which only reassured me that I was doing the right thing. Dropping to my knees, I undid his belt and pants and looked up at him for approval.
"What..." he stammered, blushing and shocked. I smiled up at him and winked. "You don't have to," his voice cracked, the 'you' coming out at an unnaturally high pitch.
"I want to," I bit my lip and waited. He nodded eagerly, giving me the go ahead and I set to work. His reaction time was impeccable and it didn't take long before he was ready. "Promise you'll tell me if you start to clench your jaw?" I asked at the last minute.
He gave me a hurried nod and I slowly took him in my mouth, feeling slightly devious an praying no one walked in.

"I shtill can't believe you did that," Sidney laughed and shook his head. I'd pulled it off successfully and we'd left the rink with no one the wiser. It was nearly two in the morning and we sat in the living room packing for the two-day trip to Philadelphia.
"I can't either," I giggled. Sitting on the floor with the smaller of my two pink suitcases in front of me I watched him meticulously study his ties, trying to decide which ones to pack. I on the other hand had literally taken a handful of underwear from my drawer and shoved it in one of the pockets.
"Are you going to fold those?" He asked, noticing the crumpled fabric.
"Probably not," I shrugged. "It's underwear."
"How can you not fold them?" He looked shocked, as if he'd never seen my lazy packing technique.
"I don't know," I threw my arms in the air dramatically. "I have to be calm about somethings! I'm Obsessive Compulsive about everything else, there has to be something."
"Sho the crazy doesn't apply to your underwear?" he clarified.
"Only in the drawer," I grinned.
"I don't undershtand," he shook his head again and selected three of his favourite ties.
"You don't need to. I guarantee, the way I pack my underwear will never affect you." I got to my feet and pulled a dress from its hanger in the closet and began folding it carefully.
"Wait, sho you fold your dreshses?" He looked at me bemused. "But not your underwear."
"Sidney, no one folds their underwear. That is something that only you and other stupidly rich $50 boxer-brief wearing weirdos do." I exclaimed, trying to silence him.
He paused, taking a minute to think about what I'd said. "How do you know how much my underwear coshts?" he finally spoke, turning his head to the side and watching me closely.
I didn't have an answer for him. Truthfully I didn't know how much they cost, I'd just guessed. Avoiding the question, I reached for his hand and pulled him down onto the bed with me. Giggling, I crawled on top of him and peppered his face with playful kisses.
"Stop with the questions," I growled comically and stared down at his wide smile, the dimples that formed in his cheeks, and the creases around his eyes. It amazed me that I could be so completely in love with a single person, so enamoured by everything about him. I didn't know it was possible to be so comforted and so aroused by the same face.
"Oh, I meant to tell you," he rest his hands on my back so I was laying flat against him. "I put your brother and a plush one on the lisht for both gamesh."
"Gosh you're really making up for being the enemy," I teased, and kissed him gently. "Thank you."

After falling 8-4 in Philadelphia I was at a loss. We went home for the two day break between games but the playful, excitable Sidney I was enjoying had evolved into the focused, frustrated, and irritable man I knew he could be. I did my best to stay out of his way. If he wanted me around he'd have to ask, I'd learned my lesson after falling victim to his short temper more than once after that loss. He apologized immediately after, and while his cold distance and sharp words stung at the time, I understood the pressure he was under and was determined not to take it personally. They returned to win 10-3 and all was right in the world again. My first playoff season as both a member of the team and a 'WAG'—as he referred to me — was proving to be more of a roller coaster than I'd anticipated. And then it happened. If I'd thought Sidney's jaw injury was life altering, this was something else.
We were getting ready for the fifth game of the series and the third at home, I was stretching Marc Andre's tweaked quad muscle and listening to stories about parenthood when my phone began to vibrate. I ignored it at first, but it persisted for nearly five minutes before I picked up to find Serena on the other end. She and Geno had gone for her 20 week scan, the scan they hoped would tell them the sex of the baby after a failed attempt a few weeks prior.
"So am I going to be an aunt or an uncle?" I finally answered, giggling.
"Bea..." her voice was forced and shaking. An uneasy wave of anxiety washed over me. Were these happy tears?
"I'm here," I assured her, practicing the calm voice I'd used with Sidney.
"It's..." she took a struggled breath. "It's over."
My mind immediately turned to her relationship with Geno. Things had been so good, and I couldn't imagine he'd cause an upset like this during playoffs.
"What happened?" I snuck into a supply closet, not wanting to disturb the people around me.
"I don't know," she sobbed. "No one knows."
"When did it happen?" I asked gently.
"They think within the last few days," she was struggling, her voice all over the place I could almost hear her body shaking. "They just... couldn't find it. The heartbeat." She clarified, and I knew instantly she wasn't talking about her relationship with Evgeni.