“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” Sid/Geno, Hockey RPF, M
Sid is not an idiot. He knows about his reputation as the most superstitious guy on the team, takes the chirps and the digs in stride. Just because everyone gives him crap for it doesn’t change that he knows there’s something to the idea of a curse.
Geno’s the worst of them, chirping him along with the others and messing up his hair, then watching him speculatively after, when he thinks Sid’s gotten fed up and stopped paying attention. It’s like he’s a very large magnet attracted to Sid being pissed off, and it’s fucking annoying, what the fuck is he looking at? If he actually believes Sid, he should say something, instead of letting everyone get away with it.
Sid corners Geno after practice one day; they have a game against the Flyers that night and their season’s been going to shit, and everyone’s driving him crazy and fucking Geno won’t stop looking at him. Everyone’s filtered out of the locker room and Sid’s still taping up his last stick, when he sees shoes stop in front of him and follows long legs up to where Geno’s hovering, too-tall and lanky. Sid opens his mouth, ready to head off a chirp at the pass, but Geno shushes him with a gesture.
“Team assholes,” he says gently. “Just trying to keep you real, you know?”
Sid sighs and feels his annoyance dissipate a little. “Too bad it’s doing the exact opposite,” he mutters, “This curse thing’s making me insane.”
Geno studies him thoughtfully for a moment. Sid twists awkwardly, tucking the stick away behind him with the rest of his gear and when he turns back, Geno says casually, still looking at him with hooded eyes, “Have heard of strategy to break curse. If you’re interested.”
Sid eyes him warily, wondering if this is another chirp, and Geno grins a little and leans over him, rests one hand on the locker behind him. “Old Russian method.” Sid rolls his eyes, he can see where this is going. “Sex in stadium break curse.” He nods sagely, flinching away and laughing as Sid swats at him.
Geno holds up his hands in protest. “No! Really! Is true, for all sports.” He looks so fucking dumb and pleased with himself and Sid’s frustration comes back in full force. He quirks an eyebrow at Geno and he’s not fucking laughing, and Geno’s grin slides off his face as Sid reaches out and puts his big hands on Geno’s hips, because if Geno’s gonna chirp him then they’re gonna play some gay fucking chicken right now and he’s gonna play this game like he’s trained for it.
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Sid says slowly, “but if it works… I mean, it’d be for the good of the team.” He digs his thumbs into Geno’s hips and relishes his quick swear and flinch, but Geno’s not pulling away.
“What kind of sex do you have to have?,” Sid asks thoughtfully. “Are there rules? Does someone have to get fucked, or can you just suck someone off?” Geno looks like someone just boarded him, so not expecting Sid to go along with this, eyes shocked and mouth a little open. Sid takes advantage of the slow reaction to stand, crowding into Geno’s space and backing him across the room to the wall behind him.
“See, I think you have no idea.” Sid’s eyes narrow, and he presses in a little closer to Geno. “I think you just came in here to get another chirp in, but you have no idea what you’re fucking with on this one, so don’t write any checks you’re not gonna cash.” Sid leans in close to finish the sentence, feeling their hips press together for an instant and when he’s done talking he pulls away. He turns and grabs his stuff before heading to the door, and when he glances back Geno’s just leaning there, propped up against the wall, speechless. Sid smirks to himself and leaves; he’d bet money that this conversation isn’t over.