#acots

“Morning,” he grunts. He doesn’t wrap his arms around Sid’s midsection like he wants to, doesn’t kiss his cheek and rest his chin on the top of his growing mop of curls. Instead, he leans back against the island across from him, head bowed, and eyes closed, trying to get a few more minutes of rest before he really has to be awake.

“You’ve been doing this for how many years now and you’re still not a morning person?”

Evgeni lifts his head, his breath catching at how…fond the smile Sid’s giving him is. “Yeah, well-“ he clears his throat, feeling the blood rush to his face. “Old dog, bad tricks?”

Sidney tips his head back and laughs, his beautiful, honking laugh that makes him sound like a goose, and Evgeni can’t help but stare at him: the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the way his mouth stretches over his teeth, how the tilt of his head seems to elongate his neck and make Evgeni want to lick and bite every square inch.

“I’d try to correct you with the right wording, but I have a feeling you said it wrong on purpose.” Sid’s grin is blinding, too bright for how early it is.

Evgeni tilts his head a little. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grins, more of a bearing of teeth than a display of joy. “Bad English.”

Sid lets out the goose laugh again. Evgeni likes how pink his face gets and makes a silent bet with himself to see how many times he can pull that laugh out of him during his visit.

X

Evgeni will never be over how exhilarating it is to be on the ice with Sid. He’s always felt at home in a rink, with skates on his feet and a stick in his hands, but with Sid- well. He feels like they were destined to share sixty-one meters of ice.

“What’d you have to do to finally get him here, huh?” Kadarov mutters, smirking a little. “Sign away your life to the NHL?”

“He’s just getting over a tough breakup. Besides,” Evgeni says distractedly, watching Sid familiarize himself with the rink, bigger than he’s used to. “I already promised him ‘Penguins forever’.”

Evgeni freezes, and from the corner of his eyes he can see Kadarov shaking violently. “Mikhail,” he starts, but Kadarov cuts him off, waving his left hand erratically. “It’s fine,” he says, voice high-pitched. A giggle lets itself loose and Kadarov doubles over to brace himself with the wall.

“What are you laughing for?” Evgeni hisses, cold with fear. “This isn’t a laughing matter, what the fuck?” He sees Sid skating over, looking concerned, and tries to swallow his panic.

“Everything okay over here?” Sid looks between Evgeni and Kadarov, confused and lips twitching, like he thinks he should be laughing too.

“Told Kadar joke,” Evgeni lies. “Is terrible joke, think his brain is broken.”

Sid nods slowly, the space between his eyebrows wrinkling slightly. “Okay. Uh,” his gaze slides over to Kadarov, who is no longer under threat of death by laughter, but is still chuckling to himself and shaking his head. Sid blinks and looks back to Evgeni, confused, and a little lost.

“How do you like ice?” Evgeni tilts his chin up toward the rink. “Feels okay?”

Sid looks over his shoulder, the left corner of his mouth ticking up. “Yeah,” he says. “It’ll definitely be a bit of an adjustment, but nothing I can’t handle, ya know?”

“Of course,” Evgeni sticks the tip of his tongue between his teeth, biting down gently, privately drooling over the color that flushes high on Sid’s cheekbones. “Sidney Crosby can handle anything.”

X

He’s still thinking about that blush when Anya accosts him late that night, cornering him in front of the large double sink in the bathroom. Her eyes are wide, her brows furrowed, her bottom lip red like she’s been biting it viciously. “Zhenya,” she says, the hem of her shirt gathered between her clenched fists. “I need to tell you something.”

Evgeni turns off the faucet and rubs his hands dry on his jeans. “Is it something I need to be worried about?”

Anya scrunches her face up, the space between her eyebrows closing. “I don’t think- I don’t know.” She sighs, folding her arms over her chest. “Maybe.” Anya purses her lips and pivots on her heel to march through to the bedroom, where she begins pacing at the foot of their bed. She stops suddenly, facing Evgeni. She gives a trembling exhale and just- falls backward onto the bed, arms spread out perpendicular. Evgeni almost wants to laugh, but he knows if he did Anya wouldn’t talk about what’s bothering her, so he keeps his mouth shut and sits down next to her legs.

Anya presses the heels of her palms against her eyes, groaning. “I don’t know how to tell you,” she admits. “It’s nothing bad, I swear, and it’s so stupid, Zhenya, god!”

“Hey,” Evgeni interjects. “Careful now, that’s my wife you’re talking about.”

Anya lifts her hands to make a show of rolling her eyes. Evgeni raises an eyebrow and she sighs. “Fine,” she relents. “So it’s not stupid. But it’s-“ she makes a face. “Immature, I guess?” the corner of her mouth ticks up, and she looks a little to the left of Evgeni’s head. “It feels like I’m a schoolgirl again, getting a silly crush.” The nostalgic, far-off look in her eyes disappears as she makes eye contact with Evgeni. “Or it would,” she continues regretfully. “If it didn’t also feel like I was betraying your trust.”

Evgeni tries not to get stuck on the first thought that pops into his head, but he can feel panic start to cling to the edges of his consciousness as he mentally goes through recent interactions Anya’s had with any male coworkers or friends. He starts second-guessing everything in the span of a half-second, and if his mom hadn’t brought out his baby pictures after Nikita was born, he would be doubting that too, but-

“I think I’m falling in love with Sidney.”

A split second of nothing.

A train braking too hard, too soon; the wheels sparking against the rails.

He opens his mouth to speak, to ask when, and how, but what comes out is-

“That’s so fucking hot.”

“Zhenya!” Anya snaps, springing into a sitting position, face flushed. “What the fuck, Zhenya, that is not-“

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he yelps. “That’s not what I wanted to say, I’m sorry, that was incredibly inappropriate, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I won’t- I swear to God, Anya-“

“I mean,” She makes a face, half apologetic. “You’re not wrong.”

He’s dying. He’s dead, and he’s in heaven, because he’s under the same roof as the two loves of his life and the one he’s married to is both okay with him being with the other one and that she wants to be with him too. (The number of times he has dreamed of this scenario is ridiculous and embarrassing.)

Anya must be able to tell what train of thought his mind is going down because she blinks, eyes wide, then folds her legs under her and smirks. “You like that,” she hums. “Me, with Sidney.” She caresses the edge of his jaw with her knuckles. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes so Evgeni leans into it, closing his eyes and exhaling over her wrist. Anya kisses his cheek, dragging them up to his temple. “How many times have you imagined it? Be honest.”

“So many,” he breathes. He tries to tilt his head back to kiss her properly, but she halts him with her thumb over his lips and the rest of her hand cupping his chin.

“Were you watching?” She asks lightly. “Or were you with us, participating, touching us both?”

“Both,” he rasps, and she slides her thumb into his mouth, pressing against his tongue, keeping his mouth open.

Anya hums again and nips at the crest of his ear. “What does he do to me,” she asks, almost begging, but not quite. She straddles him, groaning as she rubs against the hard line of his dick, still trapped in his pants, her thumb slipping farther into his mouth as he gasps in return. “What does he do to you?” She slides her thumb out, dragging it down the center of his chin. Evgeni makes sure to look her in the eyes as he says, “Everything”.

It’s a race to see who can get their clothes off first, and Anya has the advantage of apparently not wearing underwear, so Evgeni is stuck at the end of the bed with his shirt off and pants around his knees while his wife is stretching out on top of the covers, the pillows like a halo around her dark hair.

His wife is hot and he’s a simple man; sue him.

“Zhenya,” her voice lilts, as she bends her knees, planting her feet flat on the duvet, and running her long fingers up her delicious thighs. He shoves his pants the rest of the way off and nearly breaks his nose on her kneecap in trying to get up to her fast enough. He’s about to kiss her when she stops him again, pushing him away with the tips of her fingers against his forehead. He’s man enough to admit that he whimpers.

“If you’re good,” she says, carding her beautiful fingers through his hair, pressing down at the back of his skull, guiding him to her chest. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“So good,” Evgeni breathes, and licks broadly over her left nipple.

Anya tugs on his hair lightly, not enough to hurt- not yet. “Tell me one of your fantasies,” she breathes. “I don’t care which one, just-“ her breath hitches Evgeni bites at the skin just below the nipple. Her eyelids flutter, as if she wants to keep watching him. “Make me come,” she orders.

Evgeni licks at her left nipple once more before kissing down the side and across to her right one, alternating between soft, barely-there brushes and open, wet things that barely quantify as a kiss.

He resists the urge to suck a hickey into the bottom of her breastbone.

He gives her right nipple the same treatment as the left: broad licks directly over, sharp bites underneath, all while his hands trace the skin around her ribcage.

“One of my favorites,” he murmurs, kissing a line down her torso, “starts just like this. I’m making you feel so good-“

“Could be- better,” Anya gasps, her stomach jumping under his hands and lips.

“And Sid knocks on the door. I tell him we’re busy, but he just knocks again, you know stubborn he gets.”

“Uh-hhh,” Anya whines, as Evgeni slips two fingers into the tight, wet heat of her cunt.

“So I tell him,” Evgeni mutters, licking slow, broad stripes between the lips of her labia. “I tell him that he either has to leave us alone or join us.” He spreads his fingers and starts to push them in and out, slow, but not gentle. “And he comes in, of course.”

“Sidnechka!” Anya cries out. Evgeni covers up his smirk by replacing his fingers with his tongue, moaning when his wife’s thighs close around his head like a vice (or a boa constrictor, catching its prey), her hand almost tight enough in his hair to pull it out.

“Is that what you call him,” he gasps when she lets him free, replacing his fingers and driving them in fast but shallow. “In your head, is that what you think of him? As your Sidnechka?”

Anya whines, her shoulders hunched forward, the shorter strands of her hair sticking to her face with sweat, her eyes wild.

“Do you want to hold him? Kiss him?” Evgeni partners a particularly sharp thrust with a slight pressure of his thumb to the side of her clitoris. “Do you want to put him on his knees?”

“Yes,” she sobs, her back bowing, right hand digging into his scalp and her left clenched in the sheets.

“You want him to make you feel good, make you come?”

“Yes!” Anya cries, so loud it’s almost a scream.

Evgeni lets her tug his head up, almost bringing his fingers out too until she clamps her thighs shut around his wrist. “Was I good for you, my love?” he murmurs.

“Just kiss me, you fucking idiot,” Anna pants, and- well. It’s certainly no hardship to obey his wife’s demand.

She keeps her hand in his hair, scratching her nails against his scalp soothingly, tugging sharply when she decides he’s having too much fun teasing her. “Make me come again,” she says. “And then fuck me.”

“With my fingers again? Or my mouth?”

She bites his lip, hard enough that it’s still stinging when she pushes him back down her body. “Both.”

He normally tries to spend as much time as possible eating her out, but he senses that she’s a little too impatient for that tonight, so he only spends a little time warming her pussy back up with his mouth before he starts back up a grueling pace with his fingers.

“So,” he says, biting a soft impression of his front teeth into the inside of her thigh. “I told you one of my fantasies.”

Anya hums, her eyes closed, her lips turned up.

“So it’s only fair if you tell me one of yours, right?”

“Is that- so,” Anya asks, her voice hitching in the middle.

“Oh yes,” Evgeni murmurs, curling the tips of his fingers.

“God,” Anya gasps. “I want his mouth on my tits.” She twists one of her nipples, as if to make a point.

“Yeah,” he hums, tonguing the side of her clit. “You want his mouth on your tits while I’m eating your cunt?”

“Oh, shit,” Anya whimpers, her fingers clenching deliciously tight in his hair. “Fuck, I want him eating my cunt.”

“Am I sucking your tits, then, in this hypothetical?”

“No,” Anya says, digging her nails into his scalp. “I’m sucking your dick.”

The vibrations from his moan push her over into her second orgasm, easier than the first. He kisses the crease between her thigh and groin as she comes down, one of his thumbs still moving up and down between her slick labia. He kisses his way up her body, ripping open a condom packet as he settles his forehead between the valley of her breasts.

“Would you want him to fuck you,” he murmurs, pushing himself up, putting his weight on his left forearm, sliding the condom on with his right hand.

Anya makes sure they’re holding eye contact when she says, “I want him to come in me and for you to eat me out after.”

Evgeni grips the base of his dick so tight it hurts to keep himself from coming. “Good God, woman,” he chokes.

“I have never gone easy on you,” Anya chuckles. “Why should this be any dif-“ she cuts herself off, gasping when Evgeni thrusts in. “Different,” she breathes, eyes slipping shut. She slips her hand from the top of his head to the nape of his neck, squeezing slightly, her thumb an insistent pressure at the hinge of his jaw. “I want to put him on his knees,” she murmurs, her knees squeezing his hips between them, telling him that he’s allowed to move. “I want to hold him while you fuck his face, when you fuck his ass. I want to show him how to fuck you best, to sit on his goddamn face and keep him there until he’s covered in my come.”

She keeps up a near-constant litany of words while he fucks into her, pausing only to breathe or order him around some more. It’s exhilarating, Evgeni thinks, one hand tight around the curve of Anya’s hip. Finally being able to talk about Sidney- what he wants to do to Sidney- and for her to snap back with her own fantasies? It’s a wonder he hasn’t come yet.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on his ass,” Anya groans, clenching her pussy down on his cock. Evgeni moves one of her legs from around his waist to up over his shoulder. “Fuck, Zhenya, as soon as you get your shit together, I want my hands on his ass.” Evgeni growls in response, snapping his hips faster. “Promise me, Zhenya,” Anya gasps insistently. “Promise you’ll let me, as much as I want.”

“I- promise,” Evgeni gasps, trembling, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose, as his muscles lock up. He’s careful to pull out slowly, and lets the bed catch him as he drops to Anya’s right.

“Fucking Christ,” he pants, chest heaving, blinking white spots from his vision. Anya only hums in response, her eyes closed and a smug grin on her face.

X

After they’ve cleaned up, put on some semblance of pajamas, and have tucked themselves into bed, Anya turns to him. “I know Sidney’s here for you,” she starts, her voice soft. “But I can’t help but feel like- like it’s meant to be all of us, you know?”

“He’s only here because of you,” Evgeni points out. “Because of your kind heart. You convinced me to ask him here, even though I know it hurt you in the process.”

She looks away but doesn’t deny it.

“You’re the one who convinced him to come here,” Evgeni continues. “Sidney Crosby, the most stubborn man I know.”

#

Zhenya wants to invite Sidney over the phone, which Anna vetoes as soon as he voices the thought aloud.

“Where we can’t see him, and he can’t see us?” She doesn’t scoff, but she does roll her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous; we’ll Skype, of course.” She nods decisively. “Nikita will be with us too, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Zhenya repeats, bemused. “What? Anya, it’s okay, I can do this on my own.”

Anna covers his hand with her own. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you couldn’t,” she says quietly. “You can talk to him on your own if you really want.” The left corner of her mouth ticks up. “But you don’t have to, either. I love you, Zhenya. I want to support you, and this is a way that I can. A way I know how to.” She quickly wipes away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I want you to be happy,” she emphasizes. “Truly happy. And if this is something you need to do, to finally lay all your cards on the table, then.” Anna takes a deep, steadying breath. “Then I want to be by your side through as much of it as I can. If you’ll let me,” she adds, her gaze finally breaking with his to stare, lip quivering, at their still-joined hands.

Zhenya presses a firm, dry kiss to her forehead. “Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “I know this can’t be easy for you-“

“I said always,” Anna interjects. “I meant it three years ago when we married in front of God and everyone else. I mean it now, Zhenya, sitting here alone with you.”

#

They have to wait another twenty minutes for Sidney to get through Immigration and Customs, but Nikita is easily entertained by the luggage slugging around on the belt so Anna can put most of her focus on watching out for Sidney through the crowd of travelers. She sees him, finally, walking with an older couple. He looks like he’s listening very patiently to the woman, who is gesticulating wildly, narrowly hitting Sidney several times.

Anna waves a little when they get closer to the luggage belt. “Sidney,” she calls, and kneels next to Nikita. “Sidney’s here,” she whispers. “Let’s show him your sign.” She stands up and reaches to brush her knees but is by a wall of well-defined pectorals. “Oh,” she breathes, startled. “Excuse me, sorry, I-“

“No,” the man says, in awkward, halting Russian. “I’m sorry.”

Anna lifts her head up, inhaling sharply through her nose. “Sidney,”

“You-“ Sidney wrinkles his nose. “K- ho- I’m really sorry,” he says in English, laughing a little. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you; I shouldn’t have stopped so close.”

“I’m okay,” Anna says slowly, enunciating the syllables. “How was your flight?”

“The plane?” Sidney clarifies, making a motion with his hand Anna recognizes as a plane lifting off. She nods. “A little cramped,” he admits, rolling his shoulders. “I’m really glad I’m done with flying for now.”

Nikita tried to wrench his hand out of Anna’s, consequently dropping the colorful poster board, and the sudden movement caught Sidney’s eyes. “Oh, wow,” he says, his lips stretching wide, a blush starting to set in over the apples of his cheeks. “Did you make this, bud?”

“Nikita,” Anna says softly. “Sidney would like to see what you colored for him. Will you show him?”

Sidney crouches down under the watchful eye of Anna’s two-year-old, smiling gently as he slowly reaches out his hand. “Hey bud,” Sidney says softly. Anna feels her chest tighten and can’t help smiling down at them. Nikita cautiously takes Sidney’s proffered hand and giggles when Sidney shakes it. Anna feels her chest tighten and her cheeks heat and she knows she should tear out the roots before it grows further, but with the bright smiles Sidney and Nikita are giving each other, she’s not sure she’ll be strong enough to.

#

Anna sets the laptop up at the table at the breakfast nook. It’s right off the kitchen, so either of them has the excuse to grab something from the fridge or the pantry if they need it, and the living room is in view so if Nikita gets bored she or Zhenya can let him go play but still have him in eyesight. She’s just finished putting together a platter of snacks and waters when Zhenya walks in, carrying Nikita like a lifeline.

“Honey,” she greets, kissing both of her boys on their cheeks. “How was naptime?”

“He’s still a little tired,” Zhenya murmurs, punctuated by Nikita grumbling and hiding his face in Zhenya’s chest. “We’re going to talk to Sidney, Nikusha. And look, Mommy got out snacks. Do you want some grapes, or a cracker, maybe?”

“Cracker,” Nikita mumbled, turning his head and reaching out with his hand. Zhenya sits them down at the table and hands Nikita a cracker from the plate. He’s deliberately not looking at the laptop, as though ignoring it means he can put off having this conversation. Anna sits next to him and takes his hand. “We don’t have to invite him if you really don’t want to.”

Zhenya sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want him here. It’s just…” he looks at her from the corner of his eye, his hand clenching. “Are you really okay with this? With me…having a relationship with someone else- with a man?”

Anna looks at her reflection in the dark screen of the laptop. “I can’t say it will be easy,” she admits, “seeing you with someone else. Even though I know Sidney, know he’s a good man.” She takes a deep breath. “I just want you to be happy,” she whispers. “And I know that if you don’t at least try to make it work with Sidney, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” She laughs, a little harshly, and runs her finger under her eyes, making sure her eyeliner is still intact. “I will be fine, Zhenya,” she murmurs. “I will be courteous, and I will be happy for you when Sidney accepts our invitation.” She looks him in the eyes, holds it. “Because he will accept, Zhenya. I’m sure of it.”

#

It happens about a week into his visit. Anna wakes from her nap to find Sidney in the kitchen, a recipe book propped open on the counter, balancing Nikita on his hip as he pulls ingredients from the fridge and cupboards, and she feels a familiar tightening in her chest as she sees how comfortable Sidney is in her kitchen, in her home. She watches quietly from the entryway as Nikita speaks a mix of simple Russian and typical baby nonsense, and bites her lip when Sidney responds in his own choppy Russian. Oh, she thinks. So this is what it’s like to love him.

Anna knocks on the doorjamb, stomach fluttering when Sid and Nikita turn to beam at her. “Good afternoon, boys,” she says, smiling back.

“Good afternoon,” Sid returns, his cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink at clunky pronunciation. “Sorry the mess.” He’s biting his lip, looking sheepishly at the full counter behind him. Anna blinks, looking up from where she’d been marveling at how full Sidney’s bottom lip was, and if it was as soft as the internet proclaimed it to be.

“Sorry for the mess,” she corrects automatically, moving to stand with them. “What are you making?”

Sidney opens his mouth, bites his lip again, and frowns. He turns back to the recipe book, adjusting Nikita’s place on his hip. “I think it’s a dessert,” he explains in English. ‘’I wanted to-“ he shrugs, his face pinking up again.

“Wanted to what?” Anna feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. Before she can overthink it, she reaches up to curl her hand around as much of his bicep as she can.

Sidney meets her gaze, intense and warm. “I wanted to thank you,” he says softly.

“For what,” Anna breathes. Her neck is starting to cramp from looking up at him so closely, but she’s afraid that if she steps away, it’ll break whatever moment they’re having.

“For inviting me over, letting me stay.” He smiles, shrugs as much as he can with Nikita falling asleep on his shoulder. “I know it’s probably bad timing because you’re usually in Miami for a while, and I know how stubborn Geno gets when he gets something into his head, and I just-“ Sidney grimaces, and Anna’s heart hurts.

“Sidney,” she says, her hand tightening around his arm. “Sidney, it was my idea to have you here.” She watches him process that, sees the bob of his Adam’s apple and suddenly, desperately, wants to lick it, to taste his skin, bite at his pulse. He breathes in sharply and her eyes flash up to meet his and they’re wide with shock and so dark, and if Anna isn’t careful, doesn’t keep herself in check, she’s going to-

“I’m home,” Zhenya warbles, the front door slamming shut behind him. Anna lets go of Sidney’s arm like it burns her, and instead grips the edge of the countertop, trying to will her heart to slow down. “Anna-“ Sidney starts, biting his lip when she holds her hand up. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, in his charmingly stilted Russian. Anna’s chest warms, and she screws her eyes shut. “We’re in the kitchen, Zhenya,” she calls, once she’s sure her voice isn’t going to give her away. “Sidney’s trying to make vareniki.”

“Really?” Zhenya slides into the kitchen, kissing Anna hello. He turns to Sidney, beaming. “You make vareniki, Sid?”

Sidney finally takes his eyes off Anna to smile, almost bashfully, at Zhenya. “I haven’t really made anything yet,” he demurs. Nikita snuffles in his arms and Anna watches her husband melt at the sight, just as she did. “Here,” she says, stepping back into Sidney’s orbit to gently take her son. “Let me take him to bed.”

“I don’t mind holding him,” Sid murmurs, his hands tightening imperceptibly before relinquishing his hold. With another tightening of her chest, Anna is reminded why he’s here to begin with: because he wanted kids so much, and Kathy didn’t. Anna meets Sid’s eyes and caresses her thumb over where it’s overlapped with the back of his hand. “Well,” she swallows. “If you really don’t mind.” She can deal with a few more awkward moments if it means Sidney, for only a little while more, can have a taste of what he wants- what he deserves.

#

When Sidney accepts the call, his only outward sign of surprise at seeing Anna sitting next to Zhenya is a slight widening and blink of his eyes. The corner of his mouth ticks up a little and he nods, and Anna sits still as Sidney’s whole body seems to relax at the sight of her husband. “Hey guys,” Sidney greets. “What’s up?”

Zhenya clears his throat, dips his head to hide his face in Nikita’s hair. Anna can’t help smiling, and from the corner of her eyes, she can see Sidney smiling as well. “You want to come to Russia?” Zhenya sprints out. “Stay with us?”

Sidney inhales sharply. His eyes are wide, his mouth barely parted. His eyes turn downward, and the slightest wrinkle appears between his brows. He shifts a little in his seat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he says softly.

“Maybe not,” Anna says, feeling a little smug when Sidney blinks thrice in succession. “But is maybe what you need, I think.”

“I have the hockey school,” Sidney says, the barest of protest. Anna refrains from rolling her eyes. “In July,” she says, not unkindly.

“Can take few weeks off,” Zhenya wheedles. “Just a little bit. We take you sightseeing, do tourist things. Maybe see Mama and Papa.”

Evgeni doesn’t want to get out of bed. He knows he has to; he has training with Kadarov later, and he has to make sure that Nikita gets his breakfast. But right now he’s comfortable, lying in a patch of sunlight, curled around the warm body of his beautiful wife. His beautiful awake wife, he amends, feeling Anya shift, hearing her breathing change. He moves his hand slowly down from where it rested on her stomach to tease at her cunt over her sleep shorts. Anya hums, shifting her legs to accommodate his fingers, and Evgeni barely brushes against the folds of her inner labia when the baby monitor crackles to life.

Evgeni and Anya groan in unison. Nikita isn’t crying or screaming yet; they could still make the most of however much time they have left. But Anya sighs and gets out of bed, patting Evgeni’s thigh as she goes.

“We’re already awake, we might as well start the day.”

“I was starting our day,” he grouses. “It was going great, too.”

Anna tosses him an amused look over her shoulder as she heads for the bathroom. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me. In the meantime, why don’t you go check on our son?”

Evgeni grumbles and rolls his eyes, but it’s a weak façade, so he goes to retrieve Nikita, only lingering for a moment to cast a longing glance toward the master bathroom.

Nikita’s sitting quietly in his crib, gnawing on his tiny fist, and he starts making grabby hands at Evgeni when he walks into the room. “Papa,” Nikita calls and pulls himself up to stand by the crib railing, trying to reach his little arms over. “Papa, out!”

“Oh, you want out?” Evgeni teases, standing just out of reach. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in a little longer?”

“Papa,” Nikita whines. “Out. Eat!”

“Well, if you have to eat,” Evgeni sighs. He hefts Nikita out of the crib, exaggerating his groan to hear him giggle. “But first,” he holds Nikita up to eye level. “Do you have to use the potty?”

Nikita frowns, clearly putting a lot of thought into the question. “Yeah,” he says at last. “Gotta potty.”

“Okay then,” Evgeni says cheerfully. “Let’s get you to the potty so we can have breakfast with Mommy.”

“Mommy,” Nikita repeats, maybe in agreement. He wriggles in Evgeni’s arms, making noises to be let down, so Evgeni does and watches as his son promptly trip over his own feet.

“Daddy,” Nikita whines, turning over to lay on his back. “I falled.”

“You fell,” Evgeni corrects lightly, crouching down. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Daddy,” he pouts, his lower lip trembling. “Daddy, I pottied.”

Evgeni does his best to hold back his laughter. “Oh my. Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

“Bath, Daddy?”

“Yes, Niki, let’s get you in the bath.”

He undresses Nikita there in the bedroom, tugging the laundry hamper out into the hallway to remember to get it all washed later in the day. He knocks on the bathroom doorjamb as a warning and leads Nikita over to the tub. “Stay,” he instructs, tapping Nikita’s nose to make him giggle. “I’m going to let mommy know we’re in here, then I’m going to help get you cleaned up, okay?”

“Kay,” Nikita says, curling his toes over the tile. Evgeni’s glad they decided on the warming tiles for the bathroom, and that the steam from Anya’s shower is filling the rest of the room, so he doesn’t have much of a chance to guilt himself for not remembering to wrap Nikita in a towel or something while he waits.

“Hey,” he taps his knuckles against the glass of the shower door. “I’m going to give Nikita a bath.”

Anya sticks her head out the door, frowning slightly. “He shouldn’t need a bath yet. Did something happen?”

“Nothing big, just peed his pants a little.” Evgeni tweaks her nose, laughing when she scowls tries to shove him away, her wet hand slipping against his bare shoulder.

“Go clean your son,” she mutters, closing the shower door.

Evgeni grins, turning around to wiggle his eyebrows at Nikita. “What do you think, little man? Are you ready for your bath?”

Nikita grins back toothily, which Evgeni takes as a ‘yes’, so he turns on the bath faucet and adjusts the temperature so that the water is warm but won’t be uncomfortable to a toddler. He lets Nikita sit and splash around in the tub while it fills and keeps an eye on him while he gathers the kid bath wash and a washcloth and hangs a towel on the warming rack for later. He shuts the water off when the tub fills just below the overflow and flicks the water off his fingers.

“You good?” He checks in with Nikita. “Not too hot?”

Nikita shakes his head. “Good,” he says and slams his hands flat onto the surface of the water, sending a small wave of water over the edge of the tub, a significant amount landing on Evgeni’s shirt. There’s a pause where Nikita realizes what he’s caused, then the bathroom is filled with the bright, bubbling laughter of a child who has discovered something he deems utterly hilarious.

“Yes,” Evgeni says drily. “You think you’re hilarious, don’t you, making a big mess.”

“Daddy’s wet,” Nikita giggles, holding his hands together over his mouth.

“I am,” Evgeni agrees, trying to keep a straight face. “And that looked very fun for you, but playtime is over now. Let’s get clean, okay?”

Nikita scrunches up his face and shakes his head wildly. “No.”

“But we want to smell nice and clean so we can get hugs from Mommy,” Evgeni cajoles. “Mommy won't hug you if you smell stinky.”

Nikita shakes his head again, but he looks less resistant, so Evgeni leans closer, making a mental note to really make it up to Anya later, and plays his trump card.

“If you’re good and take a bath now,” Evgeni whispers, “we can watch cartoons with breakfast.” He quickly holds a finger up to his mouth when Nikita’s eyes go wide. “You need to be quiet though, okay? Can you stay calm for Daddy?”

“Okay,” Nikita whispers from behind his hands. “Okay, Daddy.”

Evgeni grins and ruffles Nikita’s hair. “Good boy. Now, what should we wash first, your hair or your body?”

_/.\_

Anya is not, predictably, impressed with Evgeni’s persuasion tactics, and is only slightly mollified when he gives her a preview of his apology- a deep, toe-curling kiss (while Nikita is otherwise occupied with his cartoons) that leaves both of them breathless.

Anya smacks his chest lightly when he frees her, her face flushed a nice pink. “Be decent, will you? Nikita’s barely five feet away.”

“He’s not paying attention!” Evgeni leers, half-heartedly trying to reel her back in. “He’s too invested in his show.”

Anya laughs, incredulously, and like she’s trying to hold it in. “And whose fault is that, hm? You had to bribe him to take a bath!”

“It worked though, didn’t it?” Evgeni smiles sweetly, giving the semolina a quick but thorough mixing.

“And now he’s going to ask for it every time he needs a bath.” Anya slides the eggs from her pan onto plates and switches off the burner. “And it’s fine this one time, Zhenya, but it cannot become a pattern. It won’t be good for him.”

“I hear you,” Evgeni says, tasting a small spoonful of the semolina and tries not to make a face. “Do we have any more berries, or did we finish them off yesterday?”

Anya hums, plating the toast next to the eggs. “There should be some raspberries left in the fridge. If not, we can just use the honey.”

Evgeni does make a face at that, but he also finds half a clamshell of raspberries on one of the shelves, so he figures their plan to get Nikita more accustomed with denser solids won’t be a grand failure. Maybe just a small mess. He scoops the semolina into bowls and distributes the rest of the raspberries between them. Anya’s already gathered the silverware and the plates, so Evgeni follows her with the bowls, and they set them on the coffee table in front of the couch that Nikita is doing his best to become one with.

“Hey, little lion,” Anya coos, shaking one of his little feet. “We’re going to eat breakfast, and then Daddy and I want to talk about something with you.”

“Nothing bad,” Evgeni interjects. “Just something big and important. Okay?”

Nikita blinks at them, nods, and slides off the couch to sit at the coffee table. He doesn’t make too much of a fuss over the semolina, thank god, but he’s slow to eat it, thanks to the kid’s television in front of him. Evgeni avoids Anya’s eyes; she’s already radiating that I-told-you-so smugness and he’s not eager to feed into it. When Nikita’s eaten half of his bowl, and the TV gives way to commercials, Evgeni mutes it and turns to the side to face Nikita.

“So,” he starts and looks to Anya, who rolls her eyes. She pulls Nikita into her lap and makes a ‘go on’ gesture. He sticks out his tongue, which earns him an unamused stare from his wife and an infectious giggle from their son.

“Mommy and I were talking,” Evgeni starts again. “About one of my friends coming to stay with us for a bit. He plays hockey with me in America.” Nikita looks a little more interested at that, sitting up a little in Anya’s lap. “His name is Sidney,” Evgeni continues. “Would that be okay with you, little lion?”

Nikita looks like he’s either thinking really hard or he’s about to fill his diaper. “Play hockey,” he asks, and Evgeni and Anya breathe twin sighs of relief; no one likes changing a poopy diaper.

“Yes,” Evgeni agrees. “I’m sure Sidney would love to play hockey with you.”

And with the nod of a two-year-old, it is decided: the Malkin house is ready for Sidney Crosby.