Sid doesn't get drunk the night of the gold medal game. Everyone seems to expect him to, and people have been shoving cups at him all night, but he never gets more than a mouthful before someone else tackles him, and he doesn't really care. He doesn't need it - he's flying even without it, just sailing along on the goal, the medal, the win. They won. They won.
People keep hugging him, slinging their arms around him, scrubbing their palms over his head, and he doesn't mind that either. He tries, whenever he gets a chance, to congratulate the other guys, to thank them and make sure they know they did good. At one point he fetches up next to Hayley Wickenheiser and spends ten minutes earnestly telling her the same thing, because fuck, she and her team won too, and they were awesome. That's the longest conversation he manages all night, though. People keep grabbing him, tugging at him, pulling and shoving him, and he grins, can't stop grinning, because they won.
Bergeron sends him off with a slap on the back that's so hard Sid stumbles under it. He's laughing, still, lightheaded, nearly dizzy with it, and he can't quite get his footing back until a strong hand lands on his hip and steadies him.
"Iggy!" Sid says.
Jarome smiles at him, a warm, happy smile. "Hey, Sid," he says.
"You won again," Sid says, because Jarome has been at the Olympics before, has won gold at the Olympics before, and how amazing is that? Sid sat and watched Jarome on TV when he was 14, watched him scoring goals in a gold medal game. Now Sid has played in a gold medal game with Jarome, they scored the game-winning goal together, and how amazing is that?
Jarome gives Sid's side a squeeze, still grinning. "Yeah," he says. "We did good, huh?"
Sid nods emphatically, and sways a little.
"Hey, you wanna sit down for a bit?"
"Yes," Sid says, because that suddenly sounds like an excellent idea.
Jarome guides Sid over to a couch. There's only one open spot, but it doesn't matter, because Jarome takes it and then tugs Sid down into his lap. Sid laughs and drops his head back onto Jarome's shoulder. The room is hot and dark and loud and people still keep coming, squeezing his hands and shaking his shoulders and poking him in the chest. Flower leans down and kisses Sid on both cheeks, and Jarome's arms hold him steady while Sid grins at them all.
After a long time, the room goes quiet. The people who were making out on the couch next to them get up and go somewhere else, and no one has come over in a while. Sid keeps on smiling to himself regardless. He can't help it. They won.
He draws in a deep breath, shifting a little, and that's when he notices three things. Jarome, with the hand that's wrapped over Sid's chest, is playing with the medal lying there, turning it from side to side and tracing over the relief. Jarome's own medal is digging hard into Sid's shoulderblade. And Jarome's dick is just as hard under Sid's ass.
People keep hugging him, slinging their arms around him, scrubbing their palms over his head, and he doesn't mind that either. He tries, whenever he gets a chance, to congratulate the other guys, to thank them and make sure they know they did good. At one point he fetches up next to Hayley Wickenheiser and spends ten minutes earnestly telling her the same thing, because fuck, she and her team won too, and they were awesome. That's the longest conversation he manages all night, though. People keep grabbing him, tugging at him, pulling and shoving him, and he grins, can't stop grinning, because they won.
Bergeron sends him off with a slap on the back that's so hard Sid stumbles under it. He's laughing, still, lightheaded, nearly dizzy with it, and he can't quite get his footing back until a strong hand lands on his hip and steadies him.
"Iggy!" Sid says.
Jarome smiles at him, a warm, happy smile. "Hey, Sid," he says.
"You won again," Sid says, because Jarome has been at the Olympics before, has won gold at the Olympics before, and how amazing is that? Sid sat and watched Jarome on TV when he was 14, watched him scoring goals in a gold medal game. Now Sid has played in a gold medal game with Jarome, they scored the game-winning goal together, and how amazing is that?
Jarome gives Sid's side a squeeze, still grinning. "Yeah," he says. "We did good, huh?"
Sid nods emphatically, and sways a little.
"Hey, you wanna sit down for a bit?"
"Yes," Sid says, because that suddenly sounds like an excellent idea.
Jarome guides Sid over to a couch. There's only one open spot, but it doesn't matter, because Jarome takes it and then tugs Sid down into his lap. Sid laughs and drops his head back onto Jarome's shoulder. The room is hot and dark and loud and people still keep coming, squeezing his hands and shaking his shoulders and poking him in the chest. Flower leans down and kisses Sid on both cheeks, and Jarome's arms hold him steady while Sid grins at them all.
After a long time, the room goes quiet. The people who were making out on the couch next to them get up and go somewhere else, and no one has come over in a while. Sid keeps on smiling to himself regardless. He can't help it. They won.
He draws in a deep breath, shifting a little, and that's when he notices three things. Jarome, with the hand that's wrapped over Sid's chest, is playing with the medal lying there, turning it from side to side and tracing over the relief. Jarome's own medal is digging hard into Sid's shoulderblade. And Jarome's dick is just as hard under Sid's ass.
Oh, Sid thinks.
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