Title: To Washington D.C. With Love

Relationship(s): Sidney Crsoby/Alexander Ovechkin, Evgeni Malkin/Nicklas Backstrom, James Neal/Paul Martin, Jonathan Toews/Patrick Kane, Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Notes:

This is written in an Alternate Universe where none of this actually takes place.

This also has been posted on archiveofourown dot org under the name Candace_X_Chambers, which is me, so don't be alarmed.

All feedback is appreciated.

Chapter 1:

Sidney unlaces his skates and places them in his workout bag. They just finished a horrible 5-1 loss against the Washington Capitals. Luckily it was a road game and not at home. If it was he would be a wreck right now.

"See Sid on plane." Geno touched their foreheads together before leaving. It was really the only acknowledgement he got. He was sort of pissed off considering he scored their goal, but he wasn't going to say anything. The last thing he wanted to do was add insult to injury by making them feel guilty or whatever.

Everyone had already cleared out by the time Sidney willed himself to leave. Luckily he chose to room alone. Whether they win or lose, Sidney always ends up having a bad night for reasons that he'd rather not admit.

Let's just say that it has nothing to do with the ridiculous weather.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet. He tried turning on the radio, but the first thing he heard was about the game, He's surprised he didn't break the knob turning it off.

With his head hung down, he opens his door and closes if behind him before throwing his bag on the ground and sighing.

"Ovechkin, why are you here?" Sid asks, turning to face the Russian on his bed.

"Wanted to talk." Alex mumbles.

He should say no. He should tell him to leave and don't come back. He should tell him to drop his number and just leave him alone, forget about him. Being so close to his big gay crush isn't healthy for his game.

"About what?" He says, impatiently crossing his arms across his chest.

"Sit down first." Alex pats the area next to him.

He shouldn't. He should stay exactly where is. Or he should demand Alex to leave. He should. That would be the smart, logical thing to do.

He sits down.

"What is so important that you couldn't just call me and tell me in the morning like a normal person?" Sid sighs.

"Do you consider this.. Friendship?" He uses his hands to gesture the space in between them. Sid rolls his eyes and slaps the palm of his hand onto his forehead.

"It's almost eleven o'clock at night and you guys just kicked our ass. So I'm -really- tired." Sid closes his eyes.

"And you decide to sneak into my room and ask if I'm your -friend-? Wow." Sid opens them back up and looks at Alex, who has a huge grin on his face.

"Well, not only question. Just first," Alex says.

Sid snarls at him. He shouldn't answer. He should kick the stupid Russian out of his room and go to sleep. "Well, I guess. Sure." Sid is going to beat the shit out of him in the morning.

"Why?" Alex asks.

Sidney raises an eyebrow at him. He shouldn't say 'because I have a major crush on you' or anything close to that. "Because Geno makes me." Finally he does something smart.

It also makes the smile fall off of Alex's face. "Only reason?"

Sid rolls his eyes, more or less at himself. "Well," he really hates himself, "you're kind of... funny, I guess. And nice, in a way. And you're good competition." Sid mumbles the rest, looking down at his feet.

"Really?" There's the cockiness right back where it belongs.

Sid looks back up and into his eyes. "If you ever tell anyone I ever said that I will fucking kill you," Sid threatens, he tries his hardest to sound and look intimidating.

Alex falls on his side onto the bed and laughs. "Sidney Crosby thinks I'm funny. This is great day," Alex says when he's done.

"Good for you. Now leave." Sid lies down and props himself up on his elbow, staring Alex directly in his gorgeous blue eyes.

"You never returned the question!" Alex points out, looking all to serious. Sidney rolls his eyes and snarls.

"Why am I your friend?" Sid asks. Why does he even try and talk to this guy? Seriously! He's so fucking irritating.

"Hm." Alex hums.

Ovechkin scoots closer to him on the bed, looking him straight in the eyes. Sidney resists the urge to roll them or stare longingly back into his.

"Nothing." Alex says, smiling.

Sidney sits up, rolling his eyes. "Oh fuck you."

"Kidding Sid. Take joke." Sid let himself relax as he fell back onto the bed.

"I'm expecting you to be serious like I was with you. But you're whole life is about making jokes. Why am I surprised I can't have a civil, adult conversation with you?" Sid says.

Alex lays his head on Sidney's shoulder and hums. It's obviously not an American tune. Probably something from Russia.

"I like personality." Alex whispers. "Nice, kind, innocent. Pretty eyes and smile. Adorable laugh, mainly at my jokes. Love it when it so hard you hold your stomach and get high pitched. Like to make you blush, not just with sex jokes." And it does make Sidney blush, stupid Russians.

"Oh.. uh thanks." Sidney says.

Alex sits up, rubbing his eyes. "I leave now."

"That was the only reason you came?" Sidney asks, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears.

"Yes. Just want proof to show Sasha I have non-Russian friends." Alex explains.

"Why not ask someone on your team?" Alex shrugs and smiles at him.

Ovechkin pats Sidney's cheek lightly. "Like you more." Then he leaves.

Sidney doesn't understand why he puts up with Ovie. He could easily have kicked him out. There is absolutely no way he'd stay against Sidney's protests with a hallway full of Penguins.

Why does he do it? Alex consistently breaks everyone one of his personal boundaries. Sidney doesn't like to be touched that often. He doesn't know why, he just does.

He also doesn't like flirting and chirping about his sexual orientation for.. obvious reasons. Of course the team doesn't know why, they just do what they're told. No questions asked.

He never allows anyone to be in his personal bubble. No more than an arm lengths apart.

Unless it's for hockey purposes, no one intrudes his personal boundaries.

Except Alex. Then he has a fire burn in his gut and he wants more. It's really stupid, having feelings for a rival.

At least he's not on the Flyers. Sid would kill himself if he ever gave Claude an overly obvious checking out. He would sprint head first into the wall. No hesitation.

Alex is.. not bad compared to Claude though. Especially the way Alex's hands on him sends a fire through him. Rather than Claude who makes his blood turn cold. Is that really a bad thing though?

Okay, he's gonna stop thinking now.

He slides under the covers, his cock twitching slightly.

Being a virgin isn't exactly the easiest thing. Especially being gay and a hockey player where you're surrounded by attractive men who would never question your sexuality. You could walk into a meeting in short shorts and a purse and everyone would think it was just a big joke.

The only people who know he's say are himself, Jonathan Toews, and Pat Brisson. Jonny became his best friend a while back and Sid figured he deserved to know (plus he is too). And Pat.. well.. that's his agent. He couldn't just not tell him.

Though it's probably better he's a virgin. At least he can't masturbate to the feeling of someone he doesn't want to inside him.

He's really going to stop thinking.

To prove his determination, he shuts off the light on the bed stand and forces his eyes to shut. How long until he falls asleep, he doesn't know. He wakes up multiple times due to the many nightmares that have followed him around since childhood. Thankfully, he's thought himself how to control the screams. Sometimes he wakes up with his fist in his mouth. That's a better solution to waking up the people sleeping on either sides of his room.

Around five in the morning, he decides to just wake up. He can't go back to sleep, even if he does he'll wake back up in an hour. So he goes for a jog in that time.

The cool, November morning breeze cooling down his entire body and letting his body untense while he sets a steady pace. It's not quite the feeling of being on the ice, but nothing is.

Not even being around Alex Ovechkin could ruin the mood he's in when breakfast rolls around.