#mine: zhenya

[jamieees]

ISTG This must've happened atleast once in the future 🤣🤣

[malk1ns]

january 18 @ capitals, 4-1 loss

the streets let me know that geno and ovi appear to be on-again. they were chit-chatting between the whistles and getting quiiiiiite cozy. love that for them.

When Zhenya gets off the ice after the Sabres game, his phone already has two missed calls and five texts.

He sighs explosively, clearing the notifications and throwing his phone back onto the shelf in his stall before he starts stripping his gear off.

“What’s up?” OC asks, peering up at Zhenya from where he’s doubled over picking at his skate laces.

“Ovechkin,” Zhenya mutters darkly, glaring at his phone as he unbuckles his shoulder pads. It vibrates at him. Fuck.

Sid leans around from the other side of OC, eyes bright. “What’s Alex want?” There’s a burble of laughter under his voice, and after a game like that Zhenya can’t blame him. It’s not Sid’s fault that all the mirth in Zhenya’s soul got sucked out the minute he saw Алекса́ндр Миха́йлович Ове́чкин on his phone.

“Don’t know,” Zhenya huffs, sitting down heavily on the bench to get started on his skates. His legs feel heavy, and he’s already dreading the plane ride. “Probably wants dinner tomorrow, like, after game. Hope he picks somewhere good this time, last place was suck.”

That’s not fair. Sanya has never actually brought Zhenya to a bad restaurant in DC. But Zhenya’s not exactly inclined to feel charitable right now, not when Sanya is on an epic goalscoring tear and Zhenya…isn’t.

“Standing me up, G?” Kris calls from across the room, but he’s not being serious; they did their dinner in November. “Didn’t know Ovi was such a hot date.”

Zhenya makes loud fake gagging sounds until the guys chuckle and drop it.

Sid’s still watching him, though. Zhenya pretends he doesn’t notice.

—

By the time the plane touches down in DC, Zhenya’s stiff and sore, and he has to hobble down the steps to the shuttle. Sid is right behind him the whole way, and Zhenya can practically feel him about to say something, but every time he keeps his mouth shut.

This can’t go on much longer. They’re being too awkward, and the team is going to start noticing sooner rather than later. Kris for sure has, but he’s giving them space to sort themselves out; that won’t last forever, though.

Zhenya scowls at his phone for the shuttle trip through DC, stabbing too hard at his shattered touchscreen as he sends a request for a pre-game rubdown before the game tomorrow. He hisses when his finger slides over a break in the glass.

He needs to get a new phone. He needs to get back to Anna about where they’re taking Nikita on vacation together this summer. He needs to tell his agent which sponsorships he’s okaying for the off-season.

He needs to talk to Sid.

Instead, he opens up his WhatsApp conversation with Sanya.

It’s a bunch of expletives about the goalie goal, which are at least enough to make Zhenya smile as he scrolls. The last message, though, wipes the grin from his face.

we need to talk about the voicemail you left me next week. you’re coming to mine after the game tomorrow. don’t try to run to the hotel, i’ll find you

Zhenya sends a thumbs up and locks his phone, sinking into his chair and staring outside for the rest of the bus ride. When they get to the hotel, he grabs his key and hustles upstairs before Sid can waylay him.

It’s a good thing he’s bone-tired after a game and travel. He’s not sure he’d fall asleep otherwise.

—

Zhenya feels surprisingly sanguine as they troop off the ice. They lost, yes, but they didn’t completely fall apart; the score doesn’t reflect how they played. It’s something to build on, stuff to review and work on as they move forward.

Sully agrees, and he keeps his postgame chat short. Everyone’s exhausted after a back-to-back with travel, and the room is pretty subdued. They don’t fly out until mid-morning tomorrow, but it’s the brutal slog all the way to Los Angeles, and everyone is ready to get back to the hotel and sack out for as long as they can.

Except Zhenya.

Sanya doesn’t even give him a chance to escape; he’s waiting outside the visitor’s locker room when Zhenya exits, tapping at his phone and looking bored.

«I’m here as ordered,» Zhenya says, stopping in front of Sanya and kicking at his shin. Sanya immediately pockets his phone and beams up at him, grabbing his arm and towing him down the hallway as he chatters about the game.

Zhenya looks back and makes eye contact with Sid, who’s watching the two of them leave with a furrowed brow. Zhenya shrugs, then turns back forward so he doesn’t stumble over Sanya’s feet.

They get the small talk out of the way in the car. Sanya asks after Zhenya’s parents, who are minding his house back in Pittsburgh while they’re on this ultra-long road trip. Zhenya makes appropriately interested noises as Sanya talks about Nastya’s latest charity initiative back in Moscow.

«I had the team chef send me back with a double portion earlier today, I hope you don’t mind just reheating something,» Sanya says as they make their way into his house. «And don’t worry about the dogs, Carly picked them up earlier today.»

«Thanks,» Zhenya says, oddly touched. When he and Sanya are fighting, it’s easy to dwell on the worst parts of him—his temper, his ego, his questionable politics, the way he bulldozes through life assuming everyone will give him what he wants. When they’re friends, though, Zhenya’s reminded of the little ways that he’s careful with his friends, the details he remembers and the thought he puts into making sure the people in his life are alright.

Which, Zhenya supposes, is the reason he’s here.

He didn’t remember leaving Sanya a voicemail when he woke up hungover and miserable last week. It wasn’t until Sanya started texting him incessantly that the dreadful memory returned—too many shots after a night out with the team, no game the next day because of his wrist, and watching Sid do his painful, earnest best to act normal after what happened the weekend prior had sent him straight to the good liquor when he got home. And that, apparently, had led him to dialing Sanya and saying…well, Zhenya’s still not entirely sure what he said exactly, but it was enough that Sanya got the gist of what happened.

Zhenya shakes his head at a proffered beer and digs into the pasta Sanya sets in front of him. They’re quiet for a while as they shovel down their meals, but Zhenya knows what’s coming, and the admittedly delicious sauce tastes like ash in his mouth.

After they’re done, Sanya produces two Gatorades and directs them to the living room, settling Zhenya on the couch before handing him the blue one.

Zhenya takes a long drink and says nothing. He’s here under duress; Sanya can start.

«So,» Sanya says, leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretching his legs out, digging his toes into Zhenya’s thigh. Zhenya doesn’t even bother smacking him away. «You and Crosby finally did the deed and now you’re freaking out.»

Zhenya’s face immediately goes hot, and he sets the Gatorade bottle on the side table with a shaky hand. «No delicate lead-in?» he snarks, clasping his hands in his lap. 

Sanya tsks at him. «Stop trying to avoid the subject with jokes,» he scolds, poking Zhenya with his big toe to punctuate his point. «You’re very clever, yes, we all know Zhenya and his wit that he uses to deflect when he’s uncomfortable. You called me last week. I won’t make you listen to the voicemail because I’m nice, but I was really worried. You’re lucky I didn’t call your mother. What happened?»

Zhenya sighs, but the ball of stress in his chest unspools. Sanya isn’t angry at him, he’s concerned. He’s not going to report Zhenya to the SVR and get him banned from his motherland. He’s offering to listen.

For all they’ve been through, Sanya’s kept Zhenya’s secrets since they were teenagers, at least the ones that actually counted. Even when they hate each other, they’re family.

«I don’t even know what happened,» Zhenya starts slowly, rolling his shoulders back and sinking into the couch with a groan, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. It’s a shockingly comfortable piece of furniture; he could probably sleep here, even with his knees and his back. «Mama made vareniki, like, a thousand kilos of it, and Sid wanted to go over some power play tape anyway, so I brought some over so we could eat and talk…» Zhenya sighs. «It’s like trying to remember a dream. We were down in the basement watching, and it’s like…suddenly we were sitting really close. And I looked over, he was looking at me, and then…» Zhenya trails off, shivering a little as he remembers the way they leaned together as if magnetized. 

The whole evening really did feel like something out of a dream. It wasn’t until the next morning, when Zhenya woke up in Sid’s tangled sheets with come dried low on his belly and Sid’s warm breath against his neck.

He’d jumped out of the bed, shoved on his clothes, and tore out of there like he was being chased. They’ve barely spoken since.

«Who’s being weirder about it, you or him?» Sanya interrupts his reverie. «I’m assuming he’s trying to be normal and thus making it forced, and you’re avoiding every attempt.»

Zhenya can never say that Sanya Ovechkin doesn’t know him down to his bones. «That’s about right,» he admits, picking at a cuticle. «I know I can’t let it go on for much longer, the team will notice.»

«Fuck the team, Zheka,» Sanya says, and Zhenya rolls his eyes. «No, I’m serious. The two of you aren’t going to let this impact the team, Jesus, you’d never. But if you continue to be stupid you will let it fuck up the two of you.»

«I don’t know what to say,» Zhenya whispers. «It’s…you know how things have been, with Anya. We’re fine now, as friends, but…what if I’m not over her? What if I am, but Sid thinks it was a huge mistake? God, I don’t think I could bear him letting me down gently.» Zhenya’s pride can only take so much bruising, after all.

«Zhenyechka,» Sanya says gently, and suddenly he’s tucked against Zhenya’s side, wrapping his arm around Zhenya’s shoulders and drawing him close. «That man is head over heels for you. He has been for years. And you’ve felt the same, by the way—you both distracted yourself with pretty little things, but it’s been there the whole time. You really think after something like what happened, he’d treat you badly and let you down?»

Zhenya lets himself relax into Sanya’s strong grip.

Sanya’s right, is the thing. The way Sid had looked at him…Zhenya knows that look. He’s seen it on Oksana, on Anna. He sees it when his parents look at each other.

He’s seen it on Sid’s face for fifteen years. 

«What if I fuck up, then?» he says, resting his head on Sanya’s shoulder. «What if I’m the one that ruins us?»

«Well then, don’t,» Sanya says, as if it’s that simple.

Zhenya supposes that it probably is.

—

Sanya keeps Zhenya for a few more hours, coaxing him into trying some dreadful local beer he’s obsessed with and dragging Zhenya from room to room to show off his tacky new decorations that Zhenya immediately loves. Eventually, though, he drops Zhenya back at the hotel, beeping his horn twice as he tears off down the street.

Zhenya watches his tail lights fade, then heads inside.

His head is buzzing as the elevator slowly creaks up to the team’s floor, but not from the single beer he’d choked down. For the first time all evening, he looks at his phone.

There’s the usual shit that he swipes away, but there’s one text from Sid waiting for him.

let me know when you’re back safe

Before Zhenya can overthink it, he turns right out of the elevator instead of left, where his own room is.

He counts the doors until he gets to the room he knows Sid will be staying in. Pressing his ear against the door, he can faintly hear the television.

Taking a deep breath, Zhenya knocks.

[moonisthedoor]

This is a webweave for a Gerry Keay/Michael Shelley fanfic based on The Magnus Archives

I want to be home to you: The Whispering and the Reckoning web weave

for @blasphemous-lies-and-deceit <3

Elden Ring // Elden Ring // tumblr user @/s0larize (x) // In Bed, The Kiss by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec // tumblr user @/perfectlyripeclementine // Savior by Lee Hi (music video) // Savior by Lee Hi // tumblr user @/b0nkcreat // Trista Mateer // Savior by Lee Hi (music video) // The Internet Speaks Back to the Author by Phil Kaye // The Kiss by Edvard Munch // Zhenya Katava & Neus Bermejo for V Magazine, photography by Gus & Lo // Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Image description in ALT text and under the cut.

Image ID 1: Screenshot of a notification from Elden Ring on dark grey background. White text: You have not sinned. Text in response button: OK. The button is highlighted.

Image ID 2: Screenshot of a notification from Elden Ring on dark grey background. White text: You don't need absolution. Text in response button: OK. The button is highlighted.

Image ID 3: A photo of a person holding a bottle of purple nail polish in their hands, painting someone's nails. Their shirt is black with a red graphic print on it that includes a word "love". Their own nails are the same shade of metallic purple as the polish they're holding. You can't see their face as it's cut off.

Image ID 4: A painting of two people laying in bed. They're embracing each other and kissing. The person on the left has red hair slightly past their shoulders. The person on the right has short red hair. They're covered up to their chest by the blanket. The sheets and the blanket are white.

Image ID 5: Sccreenshot of a tumblr post from a user @perfectlyripeclementine. Black text on white background: calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion. End of text.

Image ID 6: A screenshot from a music video. A Korean man with black hair and black eyes is sitting on a low couch. He's wearing a white shirt with a red outline on the collar and black pants. His legs are slightly spread. A Korean woman with black hair and black eyes is laying on her side with her head in his lap. She's on the right side of the man. She's wearing a long white dress and her hands are clasped in her own lap. In the background you can see a church altar.

Image ID 7: Screenshot of lyrics. Black text on white background: Is there such a thing as love without despair? // Where will you be taking me? Yeah, yeah // Will you be able to stay by my side // As long as I wish you to? Hm. End of text.

Image ID 8: A screenshot of a Tumblr ask. Anonymous said: "do you think it'll all be okay?" User b0nkcreat, who has a blue and a green checkmark near their username, responds: "yeah. even if it won't i've got people to love in the meantime".

Image ID 9: Screenshot of black text on white background: In this space right here that we have made for each other, [text highlighted in light blue] you can say anything and I will not abandon you [highlighting ends]. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch.

Image ID 10: Screenshot from a music video. A Korean woman with dark hair and dark eyes is in the center of the shot, facing the camera. She's hugging a dark-haired man with her right hand, looking to her right side. The man is wearing a dark shirt with white vertical stripes in the center of the back. He's hiding his face in the woman's shoulder. In the background you can see the inside of a church, an altar and reliefs of saints on the walls.

Image ID 11: Screenshot of black text on white background: tell me what you want // [text italicized] every door you enter // I will let you in [italicized text ends]

Image ID 12: A painting of two people kissing. The person on the left is wearing a dark red suit, they have black hair. They're leaning against a green nightstand. A person on the right is wearing long black dress with red outlining the sleeves and the collar. They're hugging the other person by their neck. As the two are kissing, their faces are featurless, melting into each other.

Image ID 13: A photo of two people's hands. They're holding each other by the pinkies. The person on the left has light skin and is wearing a dark blue sleeveless dress. The person on the right is wearing a dark blue dress with buttoned cuffs on the sleeves. Nothing beyond the arms and a piece of their skirts can be seen. The arms are entangled with a red string from the middle of the forearm to the tips of the fingers of both hands. The photo is framed with a digital black frame.

Image ID 14: Screenshot of black text on white background: "We have to go home." // "I'm already home. I'm with you."

[puckdoll]

i was tagged by @theflirtmeister agggeesss ago and totally forgot about it!!! pls dont kill me im doing it now

rules: drop a mid-story line from 10 of your fics and tag 10 people. (if you don’t have 10, post what you got! WIPs are fair game too)

i tag: @barkovsasha @movetonet @utahmammoth @cuprun @hanniopeia @beggingwolf @gordiehowehatty and anyone else who'd like to do it!

only for, always with (forever without) [krisgeno, past sidgeno]

Stop acting like you knew what I was going through, he wanted to snarl, stop acting like what I did was easy for me. "You knew what it was like," Sid shot back, "you were there."

still, you take up my mind [sidgeno]

No longer were they the two sides of the same coin--Zhenya was the dirty, smudged, and unpolished side, the same boy that had arrived from the large smokestacks of Magnitogorks, and Sid had evolved, staying ageless in a way that no one could understand.

scale dance [krisgeno]

"Tiny baby dragon come into league," Zhenya grinned, threading his fingers through Kris' hair, "and you become protective. Hoard us like magpie."

cuniculus [krisgeno]

Say it, Zhenya commanded, say you're mine. That I fuck you better than Sid.

lesson in peer review [krisgeno]

"Make such pretty sounds," Geno murmured, "Such pretty sight. You put your back into it, yes? Show me what you could look like, when I'm let you fuck me."

locker room of voyeurs [kriseno]

Kris doesn't kiss, Flower's voice rang in his head, but he kisses you.

the worst is you and i [krisgeno]

"Maybe I'm take you back to my room," he said, "see what else you do."

twice speared sparrow [nedjarry]

"I don't know what I'll do without hockey," Tristan continued, ending on a sob, "who I am without it. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?"

punished for the sins of others [nolanfreddie, background nolangoldy]

"I should fucking break you," Freddie said, "I should smash you into a million fucking pieces."

sweet and condensed [sidgeno, background mariogeno]

"Have plenty of time," Geno's reply comes out more than a little eager, practically begging, "Mario, team, baby, all important and time consuming, yes, but--I have time. Will make time. For you."

[yabagofmilfs]

Dominion?

wip list

my bdsm au historical romance lol. where do these things come from? i certainly couldn’t say.

there’s some (very light) political intrigue i won’t attempt to explain here but essentially sid is a sub (i’ve called them supplicants in this fic, which is probably leaning too hard into the flowery historical romance bit), and when he became heir to king mario after a series of betrayals, he was made to renounce his submission and live instead as a dom—because of course, a king cannot kneel.

he’s captured by the iron wolf—the north’s false king who has been attempting to overthrow mario’s throne for decades—and it turns out the iron wolf is zhenya, sid’s childhood best friend, who’s now taken up his father’s brutal mantel.

A bath sounded heavenly, Sidney’s underclothes were rank with sweat and lingering traces of sick, but it made no sense that Malkin would treat him so well. “Must I be clean for you to kill me? Have you found religion, am I to be ritually sacrificed to some northern god?”

Malkin’s mouth quirked. “I say already, I don’t kill you. If I’m want you dead you be dead, malyy knyaz'.”

Sidney bristled at the old pet name. “Stop calling me that. I am not a prince and never was, but to both of our regret I am now king of the southern lands.”

“You not king, Sidney. I tell you this also,” Malkin said, in a gentle voice that snapped the last tether to Sidney’s patience.

“Either I am dead or I am king,” he shouted, advancing on Malkin. “These are the only two choices either of us have.”

Malkin’s soft smile was maddening. “No, there is one more,” he said, fingering a stray curl at Sidney’s temple. He looked down at him for a long, fraught moment. “You can be mine.”

[silly-stage-au]

Can't believe I'm only asking this Now

Are the "themes" of each contestant something they all thought up themselves or were they given to them and they just ran with it

Mod Penguin: for mine, nina was given her aesthetic without any say. nastya had very little say, but she did have some (like, that she wanted to wear shorts, for example. little things like that). ája refused the aesthetic she was given in round 1, but in rounds 2 and 3 she hasn't had the energy to refuse it anymore.

Mod Mayya: Betty chose her aestetic with little input, same with Marianne and Westley. Kyro's was 50/50 and he had to fight for that 50/50. Lisa's and Elise's was imposed but they didnt mind.

Mod Tarot: dasha's input started and ended with the guitar and the rest of the twins' aesthetic was built around that. but i imagine they went through a couple different fases before this season started.

roma was too scared of pushing back to reject anything so he just goes along with everything. but he really doesn't mind the emo/goth aesthetic they ended up with.

zhenya's was fully imposed on her but accidentally exactly what she would've picked herself so she's just like "woah the aliens are so cool! they knew exactly what i liked ! yippee! >:..D"

[mvltimvse]

( of course its for volgin its the sillays >:3 )

the porcelain major awakens to the dim rolling of thunder. it takes far too much effort to will his tired eyes to open, remaining half-lidded and shrouded in the thick veil of his eyelashes. his chest - peppered with the first blossoms of bruises and pressed flush against the colonel's own - shudders with his waking breaths, muscles contracting and releasing, rippling with every subtle movement of his body. he rolls his shoulders back with a sleepy hum, the ache of earlier activities still binding his limbs to lethargy.

awakening beside his beloved, rested and worn in the most delicious manner. a day like every other - almost. another clap of thunder resonates lowly overhead.

raikov lets his body melt back into the sheets, and nuzzles his rosy face between the pillow and the sculpted chest of his lover. a silk-soft hand slides over the thick, scarred arms wrapped lovingly tight around his waist, thumb tracing little circles on volgin's skin. he knows of his colonel's aversion to storms. oh, he knows, and it pulls enough on his fluttering heartstrings to make him speak up, his voice soft and doused in sleepiness.

" kuwabara, " he near sings the phrase through pink lips, eyes peacefully closed like those of a lain-back doll. his voice is softer than falling snow, breathy and doused in sleepiness. every syllable sounded out at an unhurried pace. " kuwabara. " a kiss upon warm skin. " that's what you always say, isn't it, zhenya ? "

@sadistpet

The thunder rolls again, a low rumble that vibrates through the walls and settles in his chest, an echo of some primordial dread he will never fully shake. Even now, pressed against the warmth of his beloved, Volgin feels the pulse of the storm as if it were his own heartbeat, erratic and relentless. His broad chest rises and falls beneath the weight of Raikov's sleepy form, the younger man's soft breaths tickling the lines of old scars. It grounds him, this intimacy, this tether to something so delicate it feels alien in his calloused grasp.

He tightens his hold, his scarred fingers splayed possessively over the small of Raikov’s back, drawing him closer. It’s instinctual, a silent answer to the storm's challenge, as if to say, This is mine. You will not take it. The ache in his muscles is a familiar one, the price of indulgence, but he welcomes it with a faint smirk, hidden in the shadows of his own thoughts. Let the storm rage, he thinks. What power does it have here?

But then Raikov stirs, his sleepy voice slipping through the haze of Volgin’s mind like sunlight cutting through thick smoke. “Kuwabara.” A single word, uttered with a tenderness that twists something deep inside him, something he doesn’t know how to name. Volgin’s lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, at the sing-song cadence. It’s a childish thing, a superstition meant to ward off lightning’s wrath, and yet coming from Raikov’s lips, it becomes something else entirely. A charm. A spell. A promise.

His own voice emerges rough, weathered from years of shouting orders and growling threats, but softened now by the moment they share. "It is," he rumbles, his accent thick, each word wrapped in the stormcloud of his baritone. His hand moves, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of Raikov's spine with a tenderness most would think him incapable of. "You always remember." He tilts his head down, pressing his lips to the crown of golden hair, his breath mingling with the scent of his major, the storm forgotten for the briefest of moments. "Even when I don’t."

[jamieees]

✧⁠*.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡🐇🐊✧⁠*.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

[incandescentlysilver]

2018 Winter Olympics: Evgenia Medvedeva + Anna Karenina

[twomorestars]

[scarletwinstons]

ZHENYA KATAVA via instagram

[phanthereal]

#PACK FIRE -  ZHENYA KATAVA (Avatar/Firma personalizadas)

[angryjojofrog]

every time your girlboss snakolyte oc i can only imagine that one image of a hexagon cat so you can have this rotate in your skull now

(i didn't know if posting this on my blog and @ ing you would be polite or not so now its in your ask box)

A hexagonal what?- OMG!!!! THIS FAT ASS CAT IS LITERALLY HIM!!! /pos

This definetely getting engraved in my skull for a while, thanks <3

[hxmosuperior]

Evgenia Medvedeva, Anna Karenina (Carnival on Ice 2017)

[thisloved]

tessa virtue and scott moir, 2017 world champions in ice dance (x)

[71tenseventeen]

Hazy Shade of Winter-Timestamp 3

It’s been awhile but I got some questions/prompts awhile back and this was supposed to be a response to those but I went off the rails and ended up with such sap. I’m sorry? I don’t know how this happened. 

Very beginning is set when they still work at the bar but later is set later, after they have new jobs and a better little apartment. 

Timestamp below the cut.

The first time they talk about it, it feels like a daydream, more fantasy than reality. 

It’s late—the bar is always open much later on weekends. By the time they crawl into bed, it's nearly five in the morning. Work was busier than usual and Zhenya is particularly worn out after taking three extra shifts this week. But not too worn out to strip down and reach for Sidney—he never seemed too worn out for that—so Sidney pushes him back and straddles him, looking down with the sweetest of smile as he says, “Let me take care of you, okay? Just relax.”

Zhenya has never been good at denying anything Sidney has asked of him, especially since he asks so little. So he can do this, can relax back into the pillows and let Sidney take the lead. 

After, Zhenya wraps around him, pressing soft kisses to his temple, cheek, lips—anywhere he can reach. He loves Sidney so much. 

Sidney puts a gentle hand on Zhenya’s cheek as they lay face-to-face and traces a finger lightly under Zhenya’s eye. “You’ve been working too much. You have to get more sleep.” 

“Short-handed since Anthony left,” he says, followed by a yawn. 

“Still. I worry about you, Zhenya.” 

Zhenya pulls him a little closer. “Don’t worry, okay? I want to do. More shift mean more money, we get out of here sooner.” 

Sidney sighs but doesn’t argue, opting instead to pepper kisses along Zhenya’s cheek before settling in close again, head tucked under his chin. 

“Someday, gonna happen,” he murmurs sleepily. He loves talking about their future, the possibilities. It’s not something he thought much about before Sidney came along; now he thinks of little else. “We gonna move to better apartment. Maybe even have yard, get dog,” he says, dreamily. 

“And a cat?” 

Zhenya smiles. “Definitely cat, too. We name them Tom and Jerry.” 

Sidney giggles. “That’s a cat and mouse.” 

“Don’t think mouse good pet,” he deadpans, feeling warm from the inside out when it has the desired effect of keeping Sidney laughing. 

“Maybe we should wait to think of names for them.” 

“Maybe good idea,” despite his exhaustion, he’s smiling. “What else we do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Mean, if you could do anything at all in future, what you want to do?” 

“As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter.” 

Zhenya wants to wrap around Sidney and never let go. Instead he says, “We always be together; that’s promise. But can do other things, together, you know? Like, I think I want get dog, maybe get job fix cars or something.” 

“You’d be good at that.” 

“I like, too. Get job fix cars and maybe someday we buy house.”

“That sounds nice.” 

“So what you do, if could do anything you want?” 

At first, he thinks Sidney will gloss over it again, but he hums instead, taking a moment to think before saying dreamily, “I like—I like the idea of having a yard. I would maybe make a garden. And maybe go back to school.” 

“School? What you study?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe teaching or like, something with plants. Or business, or physical therapy.” 

Zhenya chuckles. “Maybe you do all. My smart Sidney.” 

“Sure,” he teases back. 

Zhenya squeezes gently and kisses his forehead again. He knows he won’t be able to keep his eyes open much longer. “It’s good dreams; we have good future together.” 

“Yeah. The best,” is Sidney’s soft reply. 

--

They’ve been working at the big grocery store for nearly a year when Zhenya breezes into the break room, smiling when he sees Sidney waiting, unpacking the lunches they brought from home. He’s looking intently at something on the table as he unwraps a sandwich. 

Zhenya drops into the chair next to him. “Think I never get away from Tom. He just never stop talk.” 

Sidney lights up, smiling at him, and Zhenya truly wonders how he can still find it so stunningly beautiful. He leans close for a soft kiss, basking in the warmth of his feelings for a moment. As he settles back in the chair, his eyes fall on the pamphlet. “What you read?” 

“Hmm?” Sidney is busy cutting up an apple now. “Oh, one of the new kids left a pamphlet for his school. Some community college, I think. I was just reading it while I waited.”  

Once they’ve eaten, Sidney gets up to put the empty containers back in the locker that they share. Zhenya pulls the pamphlet back over, looking at the pictures of kids with backpacks and thick textbooks on grass that’s far too green to be real. 

“Zhenya? You coming?” 

He smiles at Sidney and gets to his feet, tucking the pamphlet in his back pocket as he leans in for one last kiss before their break is over. 

--

When Zhenya brings the pamphlet back out six months later, now wrinkled and worn, he puts it together with all the other information he found.

Like Zhenya expected, once Sidney realizes Zhenya is serious, he balks. He has a lot of reasons why he can't possibly actually do it. But Zhenya knows Sidney so well and he's ready, meeting every one of Sidney’s protest arguments with a counter argument of his own. He's done his homework, and he wants so badly to do this for Sidney. 

It takes a lot of convincing. And once he does, Sidney cries, clings to Zhenya, thanking him like he just gave him the world and not just a plan for enrolling in community college. 

--

Zhenya drives Sidney to campus on his first day, kissing him deeply, feigning calm as he works to settle Sidney’s nerves. He squeezes Sidney’s hand and tells him how much he loves him and believes in him. 

It eventually gets Sidney out of the car. He waves with a watery smile before he turns and walks towards the small brick building, brand new backpack—a birthday gift from Zhenya—slung over his shoulder. 

Zhenya tries to breathe around the deep knot of fear in his chest.  

Please don't find something that takes you away from me.

--

Two hours later Zhenya pulls back into the lot, relief creeping in as Sidney beams at him from the curb. 

Once in the car, he grabs Zhenya’s face gently with both hands, kissing him until the car behind them honks. 

“Missed you,” he whispers. 

“Missed you too.” He hopes Sidney doesn’t catch the relieved rasp in his voice. 

--

Zhenya can’t sleep. 

He tosses and turns and wraps himself around Sidney’s pillow, but it doesn’t help. He wants Sidney, but it feels a little silly because he’s just in the next room studying. But Zhenya isn’t used to going to bed alone even though he always did before Sidney came along. Since then, there hasn’t been a single night that he hasn’t been able to climb into bed and nestle as close as possible, basking in the feel of Sidney in his arms. 

Laying there alone, insecurities that he won’t dare utter out loud come creeping back; fears about Sidney leaving him, finding something—someone—better. How can someone like Zhenya compete with the kind of people he’s probably meeting now? 

Zhenya swallows back the lump in his throat and gets up, not caring what it says about him that he can’t manage one night without Sidney next to him. 

He finds Sidney hunched over their tiny kitchen table, grumbling at whatever he’s working on and looking exhausted. His curls are wild, as though he’s been messing with them, and Zhenya can’t help but reach out to smooth them back. 

“Hey,” he says, warming at the way Sidney’s features relax when he looks up. 

“What are you doing up?” 

Zhenya shrugs. “Can’t sleep, think I come see if I can help.” He’d surprised himself during Sidney’s first week of school by not only remembering some Algebra concepts but being able to help Sidney with it. Since then he’s helped any chance he could get, loving the way Sidney looks at him like he’s amazing for being able to help with a few math problems. 

Sidney reaches for his hand, tugs until Zhenya leans over for a soft kiss. “You’re sweet. I think I’m almost done. Do you, um, want to look at my work?”  

Zhenya slides into the mismatched chair next to Sidney’s, silently thanking any deity that will listen that of all the fucking around he did in school, he still managed to be good at math. “Okay.” 

Half an hour later, Zhenya’s climbing back into bed, this time with Sidney at his side. He doesn’t hesitate, snuggling up close before dropping soft kisses on his neck and jaw. “This better.” 

“Love you, Zhenya,” Sidney says sleepily, on the end of a yawn. 

“Love you most.” 

--

-Done early and getting a ride home with a classmate. See you at home. <3 you.

Zhenya stares at the text.

It’s fine, of course it is. Of course, Sidney should get a ride home with a new friend instead of waiting in the library—or worse, outside in the dark—until Zhenya gets off. 

It’s good. 

If Zhenya drives a little faster than he should on the way home, it’s only because he’s tired.

--

Zhenya pauses at the front door. He can hear a man’s voice.

It’s not Sidney.

He moves without thinking, flying through the door and coming face to face with a man he has never met, and he doesn’t hesitate. His mind is a mix of anger and fear, and if anything happened to Sidney— 

He grabs the man and smacks him hard against the wall, slipping into loud Russian. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”  

“Holy shit, man. I’m—” 

“Zhenya!” 

Zhenya whips his head around at the sound of Sidney’s voice. 

Sidney reaches out to squeeze Zhenya’s arm. “It’s okay! He’s my friend, he drove me home.” 

Zhenya’s insides turn to ice as he realizes what he’s just done. He lets go, starting to mumble anxiously. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not know. Think you stranger…” He looks at Sidney, terrified he’ll see anger but instead he sees understanding. and Sidney slides his hand down to hold Zhenya’s. 

“Hey. Hey, I should have warned you. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Sorry. Sidney I—” He turns to the man, trying to keep his voice steady. “Most sorry. You okay? I’m not know, I—”

The man holds his hands up. “Hey it’s fine, it’s fine man. I’m fine. We’re cool.” He glances at Sidney. “You weren’t kidding when you said he’s protective.”  

Sidney sighs and looks at Zhenya. “Zhenya, this is my friend Marc-he’s in both my classes so we’re helping each other out. Marc, this is Zhenya. You can call him Geno.” 

“Geno. Right, okay,” he holds out his hand. “Call me Flower. I hear you’re good at math.” 

Zhenya nods dumbly, shakes his hand, “Nice to meet. Very most sorry, Ma—Flower. Not normally like this.” 

The man, Flower, grins. “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” 

Zhenya looks down at Sidney only to find him looking pink cheeked and bashful. If he wasn’t so mortified at what he’d just done, he might be inclined to explore that a little further. Instead, he holds Sidney’s hand a little tighter. 

--

Zhenya swallows hard as Sidney closes the door behind Flower and turns to face him. He has to explain, he can’t let Sidney think—

Before he can get a word out, Sidney’s hand is over his mouth. “Shh,” is all he says before he moves his hand and pushes up to press a soft kiss to Zhenya’s mouth. “No more apologies,” he whispers between kisses, not giving Zhenya a chance to respond. 

Zhenya sinks into the comfort of it, pulling Sidney close. “Sid,” he whispers, when Sidney finally pulls away with a soft smile. 

“I missed you today. Come on,” he takes Zhenya’s hand. “I’ve got dinner heating up.” 

--

Dinner turns out to be leftover spaghetti from the night before. Zhenya eats quietly, letting Sidney chatter away about his day at school, his new friend, and a test coming up in a few days. In turn, he responds when Sidney asks about his day, not really knowing what to say about a day spent unloading trucks and moving inventory. He does his best and then changes the subject, offering to wash the dinner dishes. 

Sidney frowns at him for a moment before he sighs and nods. “Okay. I’m going to go jump in the shower.” 

Zhenya takes his time washing and drying the dishes. When that’s finished he takes out the trash and, on a whim, packs their lunches for the next day. He’s careful, trying to get the peanut butter to jelly ratio exactly the way Sidney likes it. He wishes he had a chocolate bar or peanut butter cup to put in the bag, too. Instead, he packs the last two apples in Sidney’s lunch, even though it means Zhenya won’t have one. Sidney likes this kind of apple, and Zhenya can do without it if it makes Sidney happy. 

He stares down at the pitiful brown bag, wondering why he thought doing a good job of packing a cold lunch would somehow mean something important. Sidney doesn’t need Zhenya to pack his lunch, he doesn’t need Zhenya for anything, really and—

His thoughts are cut off by warm arms sliding around his waist from behind. The feel of Sidney’s damp curls resting between his shoulder blades is comforting. 

“Hey,” Sidney’s voice is soft. “Making lunches?” 

“Yeah.” 

Sidney steps around to his side. He’s only wearing his boxer briefs and Zhenya slips an arm around his waist. 

“Gonna get cold.” 

“You’ll keep me warm.” 

Zhenya can’t help but smile at that. 

“I think you counted the apples wrong.” 

He flushes, feeling caught out. “You like, your favorite kind. Think I let you have both.” 

Sidney shakes his head a little, holding his gaze as he reaches over to pull the extra apple out of his bag and place it carefully in Zhenya’s. When Zhenya doesn’t protest, Sidney grins and puts the bags in the fridge before grabbing his hand. “Come on.” 

He lets Sidney lead him to their bedroom—it had felt like the biggest accomplishment the day they got this place with an actual bedroom and then, a few weeks later, a real bed. The way Sidney had beamed at him on both days had meant everything—and pull his clothes off. 

“Sid, I—” 

“Shhh. I want you to let me talk first.” 

Zhenya nods because he never has and never will say no to Sidney. 

Sidney arranges Zhenya so that he’s sitting up against the wall behind their bed and then slides smoothly onto his lap, taking Zhenya’s face in his hands. “You’re spending too much time up here,” he says without preamble, tapping gently on Zhenya’s temple. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I love you, Zhenya, and I’m always going to love you. You didn’t know him, and you were trying to protect me and our home. I could never be upset about that.” 

“Sid…” Zhenya swallows hard. How did Sidney know? “How—”

“Shhh,” Sidney says again before leaning in for a slow, gentle kiss. “I know you,” he says softly between kisses. “And I love everything about you. And that is never going to change because you make me feel safe and loved. Please tell me you know I mean that.” 

Zhenya squeezes Sidney’s hips before wrapping his arms around him and holding tight. God, how could he ever doubt— “I know. I’m sorry, Sidney. I’m get little bit worry, feel bad and wonder what your friend think of me, what you think after I’m do that to him.” 

Sidney nods, keeping their foreheads close. “I thought so. But Zhenya, I don’t care what anyone thinks of you. If they have a problem with you then they’re not my friend. This is our home and I love knowing that you’ll always defend it and me and us. And you need to know that no matter where we go or who I meet I will still, always want you. There is no place I want to go, no experience I want to have without you. I love you so much.” 

Zhenya has to clear his throat. “Love you, too, my Sid. So much.” 

“Always?” 

Zhenya pulls him even closer, their chests flush now. “Always,” he says, as firmly as he can because it’s important that Sidney never doubts that or wonders. “Always love you. Forever, Sidney.” 

Sidney smiles then, gentle and sweet, as he slots his lips against Zhenya’s for another soft kiss.