Life Sucks. Live it anyway!

TW for suicidal thoughts mentions, depression. Angst. Hurt and comfort. 

OMG MY HEART

“DAD!”

Oh, he’s doing his own theme music? Big, dumb and tone deaf. I am so glad I was unconscious for all of this.

submitted by @zeddspectrial

submitted by @goodwiththechicken

submitted by @fedora-master96

Cat Dandy Epilogue: After by murderlight

Sidneyhad taken the online course out of sheer panic, he concludes. One bad checknear the end of the season, an injured ankle (only sprained, not broken,thankfully), and a couple nights of wondering if he’s really past his primeeven though his love for hockey hasn’t died, had brought him to the Universityof Pittsburgh online courses page. 

He’dcoach after he retires, at least for a little while, Sidney thinks. But whathappens after that?  

He’s really notsure why he ended up enrolling in Intro to Calculus. Maybe it’s because MUSIC 23: Appreciating the Classics didn’tseem interesting. Maybe it’s because he didn’t remember being too awful with math in highschool. It’s good to have some of the basics down, anyways. It’s not like he’scommitting to a life of research. It’s just…something different.

The first lecturestarts out okay. Professor Malkin is responsive, patient, and writes with nice,rounded letters that are easy to read. He also has an accent and a deep,rumbling voice, and Sidney’s lying if he says he’s not a sucker for men with avoice like that.

Calculus isn’t asexy subject matter by any means, at least to him, but Sidney wonders what Malkinwould sound like if he wasn’t talking about derivatives and was insteadwhispering something else into Sidney’s ears.

It’s whatever.He’ll never meet Malkin anyways. He can dream a little.

He has longback-and-forths with Professor Malkin on the assignments, because math somehowbecame harder when he was off playing hockey. And he’s sure he’s asking stupidquestions on the interactive chats, but Malkin always responds, almostdelightedly, with, “Very good question,Sid! I’m about to cover that next part, is little confusing, so hope everyonepay attention.”

To his surprise andrelief, Sidney gets an A- on the first quiz, and between the emails with theProfessor, the exchanges during the lecture chats that he manages to attend inreal-time, and the anecdotes about Malkin’s family, his dog, his hobbies thathe manages to interject in his examples, he starts to fall in love.

It’s absolutelycrazy, he knows. He doesn’t even know what Malkin looks like. The guy could belike, 80 years old.

His curiousity gets the better or him and he goes onRateMyProfessor, and on top of the glowing reviews, the man also has a flaminghot chili pepper, which does not helpSidney’s already overactive imagination.

Two weeks beforethe final exam, Professor Malkin posts his office hours. If anyone need extra help or have any question, I’m have virtual officehours on Wednesday and Thursday from 1-3 PM. You have been a wonderful classand a pleasure to teach, and I’m certain each and every one of you will do agreat job on the final.

And Sidney, who’ssitting on the couch and re-reading the last line, over and over again, getsthe strangest feeling that he’s about to lose Malkin. He feels a surge ofcourage flowing from his chest and to his fingertips as he starts a new email.

Dear Professor Malkin, he writes, would it be possible to arrange an in-personoffice hour to go over the material? It’s completely okay if you are unable to,I understand that this is an unusual request.

He waits for therejection, but it never comes.

Of course, Sidney, Malkin’s email says. I will be in my office on campus as well. Andhe gives Sidney the time and the location.

Sidney wears hiscap low as he makes his way to the Mathematics Department. Professor Malkin’sdoor is ajar, and he hears students thanking someone for their time and afamiliar accented tone reply, “It’s no problem, happy to help.”

He doesn’t evenhave time to register the shocked look on the students’ faces when he passes bythem in the hallway as he goes straight to the man cleaning the whiteboard,back facing Sidney. He’s ridiculously tall, taller than Sidney, with a mop ofbrown curls. He’s in a Pens shirt (fuck) and the print on his back proudly proclaimsthe number 87 (fuck), and he has onjeans that make his legs go on for miles.

Sidney manages tosqueak out, “Um, excuse me—” when Professor Malkin turns around. 

And Sidney knows he’sutterly screwed.

“Oh. Oh!” Professor Malkin isn’t 80 yearsold. He’s probably no older than Sidney. And he’s dreadfully handsome, withsleepy eyes, pouty lips, and the cutest nose Sidney has ever seen in his life.His glasses are slipping a little off his nose, and for a moment, Sidney’sthroat goes dry and he’s unable to say anything without being sure that he’llmake a right fool of himself. “You’re mySidney?”

“Hi, ProfessorMalkin,” Sidney garbles out, his heart beating double-time at the ‘my Sidney’portion. Stop staring. Stop.

“Call me Geno,”Malkin says warmly, taking Sidney’s hand. Sidney hopes desperately that it’snot his imagination that Malkin—no, Geno—gripsit for a little too long. “Easy for American tongue. Is nickname for Evgeni.”

“I’m Canadian,”Sidney says, without thinking.

“Yes, yes,” Genolaughs. “How I’m forget? My mistake. Ah, well. You surprise me. Not every dayCaptain of Pens come into my office. You have questions?”

Sidney hasmultiple. And during the entire conversation, he wants to melt into the groundbecause Geno is every bit as wonderful and smart and funny as he is online. Andnow that Sidney has a face to match to the voice, he really, really doesn’t want the class to end.

He gets a 94% onthe final.

But somehow, hedoesn’t feel that victorious.

- 

Two weeks after thecourse has ended, he finds himself walking back to the Mathematics Departmentand knocking on Geno’s office door.

“Come in, is notloc—Sid!” Geno stands up immediately. “You come back! How are you?”

“I’m good,” Sidneysays. “I just. I have another question, I forgot to ask.”

Geno’s browsfurrow. “But…course is over? You passed, no?”

“Yeah, no, I did. I—um.I just wanted to see if you wanted to get coffee sometime? With me. Or dinner.”Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Not as your student, I mean. Jesus, I’msorry, I’m putting you on the spot. I should’ve sent an email but this definitely is not work-related so I didn’t. Please tell me to stop and I’ll leaveyou forever—”

“Sid!” Geno’slaughing, this bright, happy noise that Sidney could listen to forever. Hereaches out to hold onto the side of Sidney’s arm. “Sid, love to get coffeewith you. Dinner, too.”

“Oh,” Sidney says. “Oh,thank God.”

-

“I need a headcount for the potluck, and who’s bringing what,” Tanger is telling the lockerroom, pointing at his phone. “And I repeat, we are not all bringing the same fucking kind of beer again. Okay? We needactual food. Like here, look, Sid’s bringing mac n’ cheese and—wait. Who’sGeno?”

“Oh. My boyfriend,”Sidney says, still untying his skates. “We got the recipe from his mom for her pirozhki,so. Should be good.”

@sidgenophotochallenge

The new second officer is cute, alright? Geno can’t be blamed for taking one look at him across the crew’s mess, and deciding then and there that he was going to get to know Commander Crosby.

Part 14

He has to change his number.

Most of his clients are understanding, although clearly disappointed. It’s hard to find someone else that they can trust but Sid knows that that is not his problem.

They’ll adjust and they’ll get over it.

There are a few however, that are suddenly not taking no for an answer so Sid dips into the money Geno paid him and buys himself the newest iPhone.

It feels like a fresh start.

@sidgenophotochallenge

Unbeta’d, scarcely edited. Better late than never, I guess. 

Sid shifts his weight from foot to foot as he looks up at the arrivals board for—he doesn’t even know how many times he’s looked now. Flight 7187 is still on time. Zhenya is almost here.

**

*spec prep*

BEING BORN

Server gives him this look like “your funeral” and takes the order to the kitchen. GRANDMA COMES OUT AND LOOKS AT THIS POOR WHITE BOY, shakes her head, and goes back in the kitchen.

When the dish comes out, it’s a solid mass of just RED. Dudes at the table are dying just sitting near it. This guy tries his damnedest, gets about five bites in, and can’t do it. Mr You-cant-make-it-hot-enough was fucking obliterated by Chef Grandma.

And to add insult to injury, they replaced the dish for him, and GRANDMA BRINGS IT OUT, gives him a look and shakes her head.