[fic] Dream For Me A Tragedy
Title: Dream For Me A Tragedy
Author: Demosthenes Voxcreepy_crawly
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Jordan StaalxSidney Crosby (both of the Pittsburgh Penguins), Eric Staal (Carolina Hurricanes)
Warnings: slash, hockey, HIV, cursing, reality
Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish I owned…*sighs*
Wordcount: 3.980
Archive? Wir Träumen von der Welt: An Diesen Modernen Tagen; Träum von Mir Ezine; anywhere else as posted by author
Summary: Before every great love, there are great dreams. After every great love, there are great tragedies.
Autor/Herausgeber Anmerkung: Für die WTvdW Herausforderung »An Diesen Modernen Tagen« ursprünglich geschrieben. Herausforderung sollte keine weniger als drei umstrittenen Themen von der heutigen Welt, von einem Hauptschwierigkeit, welches die Welt gegenüberstellen, und von einem »Austauschformat« einschließen. Meine Kontroversen sind: homosexuelle Verhältnisse, homosexuelle Annahme und die Behandlung von HIV (Humanes Immunodefizienz-Virus/Menschliches Immunschwäche-Virus)/Aids (Erworbenes Immundefektsyndrom) in einem Verhältnis. Mein Problem: HIV/AIDS. Austauschformat ist verwendet worden. Meine Muttersprache des Deutschen nicht; ich entschuldige für irgendwelche Hauptstörungen. Genießen Sie bitte.
Author’s/Archivist’s Note: Originally written for the WTvdW challenge “An Diesen Modernen Tagen” (In These Modern Days). Challenge was to include no less than three controversial topics from today’s world, one major problem facing the world, and an “exchange format”. My controversies are: gay relationships, gay adoption, and the treatment of HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus)/AIDS (Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome) in a relationship. My problem: HIV/AIDS. Exchange format has been used. German’s not my native language; sorry for any major errors. Please enjoy.
Sidney kisses him, and Jordan purrs happily.
Jordan loops his hands around Sidney’s waist and pulls him closer. Sidney’s hands are warm, and Jordan’s skin is quickly getting warmer. They’ve been off the ice for all of forty minutes, and already there’s a fire starting. They both know it’s not going to stop burning any time soon, and can only hope that it doesn’t burn them.
Sidney’s hands slip down, down, down to his hips, and then up, up, up his shirt. Jordan moans into his touch, nipples tightening beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. Sidney grins, seeing the way the rings push against the fabric of his shirt. Lowering his mouth, he sucks on them. Jordan gasps and throws his head back, trembling slightly. Grinning, Sidney does it again.
Jordan moans, the sound low in his throat and trembling out. Sidney grins slightly, letting the wet fabric slip from his mouth. He’d been present the day Jordan got the second piercing done, and hadn’t realized how much the younger teen got off on it. But now, he understands, feeling the way Jordan is writhing under him, seeing the way his eyes have rolled back and his lips have parted, all from the feeling of Sidney’s lips on his rings.
Sidney slips his hands down, toying with the hem of Jordan’s pants. As he starts to fiddle with the button, though, a hand lands on his. Sidney looks up, surprised.
Jordan gasps out, “Sidney, don’t,” voice husky with want, cheeks flushed in shame.
Sidney blinks. “Jordan?”
Jordan carefully seizes his hands and pulls them away from his pants, away from his fly. Bright red, not looking Sidney in the eye, he nearly starts crying as he admits it.
“Sidney, I can’t. I’ve got HIV.”
----
Eric listens patiently to his little brother’s tale of woe, nodding and “mm-hmm”ing and sighing at all the right parts. He knows his part will come soon enough, and he’s patient enough to wait for it, to wait for the tired flow of words to cease.
Jordan sighs heavily. “I don’t know what to do, Eric. I fucked up, major. God fucking damn it, it was Sidney fucking Crosby and he fucking wanted me! Me!”
Eric sighs, too, ever the voice of reason. “Jordan, if you hadn’t told him, it would be worse, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be a bigger fuck up to let him fuck you, or to fuck him, or let him blow you, or rim you, or jerk you off, or finger you, knowing that you had HIV and that he didn’t know?”
Jordan stops, thoughts halted. “Eric!” he winces. “God, don’t say things like that. I don’t need to know how much you know about gay sex!”
Eric laughs. “You think I’ve never done half that stuff? And you’re forgetting, Mum made us all sit through “the Talk” when I was, oh, what, twelve? And then again, when you were ten. She made us all learn about sex, gay or straight. She knew you were gay before you knew.”
Jordan shivers. “And where does that leave you, huh, fucker?”
Eric snorts. “Bisexual, asshat,” he reminds his little brother. “And while we’re on what an asshat you are…go right to Sidney’s room the instant you hang up, knock on his door, and whine, plead, beg…do whatever it takes, buddy.”
Jordan whimpers slightly, curling up on the bed. “But…Eric…he won’t want me…he…”
“Eric, he won’t want me,” the older man mimics. “Jordan, get your head screwed on straight, okay? God, he had you pressed against the sliding glass door, for Christ sakes! What more do you want, a gilded invitation? From what you told me, this was not the first time he’d done something like this. Wake up, smell the coffee, Sidney Crosby’s gay. He’s probably heard the risks speech a million times, and you know as well as I do that while it is dangerous, having sex with a pos man is not an instantaneous death sentence.
“Jordan, you and I both know that there are ways you can still have sex, regardless of whether you’re pos or he is. Yeah, life sucks, you’ll be using a condom all the time, but come on, Jordan, you’re smart. You wouldn’t have unprotected sex, even if you were negative. Think about it, Jordan. You’ve been positive since you were fourteen. It’s been four fucking years, and there’s gonna be a hell of a lot more. You’re not on the cocktail, your counts are up, you’re as healthy as it’s possible to be in your situation.”
“Eric,” Jordan whines, “it’s not as easy as that. You’re used to having a brother with AIDS. Most people don’t even know someone with it. They freak out and think they’re gonna get AIDS from sharing a water bottle with me or something!”
“Jordan, you do not have AIDS,” Eric says harshly. “You have HIV, contracted because the blood in the bloodbank wasn’t screened carefully enough. You’re a careful man. And you and I both know you don’t share water bottles, anyway. Too easy to get the flu or a cold or mono.”
“Eric, Eric, Eric,” Jordan sighs. “See, there’s my proof. I don’t share a fucking water bottle, anyway! Too easy to give something deadly to the pos kid!”
“Jordan!” Eric bellows. “Fucking hell! I don’t share a water bottle, either, and I bet you twenty dollars that Sidney doesn’t, either. Managements like to keep their good players healthy, you know. And trust me, kiddo, Sidney falls under the category of ‘good player’.”
Eric laughs slightly before continuing. “You just need to yank your head out from your ass and go talk to him. Convince him you’re worth it. Tell him…if he doesn’t already know…that you can come from having someone play with your nipple rings. That always gets boys. They love the temptation.”
Jordan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not worth it, though,” he says finally. “I’m just the little eighteen-year-old, drafted ‘cause they think he might be worth something, based on what they’ve seen of his family, who plays winger pretty shittily and has a thing for Sidney. I’m HIV positive. I’m not worth the risk of him getting the virus, too.”
Eric sighs. “Yes, you are, Jordan. You play winger damn well, and you’ve been a center your whole life. You were drafted ‘cause you make me look like a shitty player. And trust me, if Sidney’s willing to risk his reputation to try and climb in your skin with you against a fucking sliding glass door in a public hotel overlooking a beach, he’s willing to try safe sex.”
Jordan shakes his head. “Whatever. Thanks, Eric. I’ll call you later, okay?” he asks, and hangs up. Shoulders shaking slightly, he curls in on himself and cries himself to sleep.
----
Sidney knocks on the door. Okay, really, it’s more like he pounds on it, fist slamming into the thin wood of the hotel door. “Jordan!” he demands.
Jordan grumbles, awakened from his emotionally-exhausted not-rest. Hearing a voice at the door, too tired to try and recognize it, he sits up. “I’m coming, Mark,” he yawns. God damn it, why doesn’t Mark ever remember his key? What had Jordan done to deserve this? Grumbling, he wanders over to the door, nearly stumbling over the long pants he sleeps in. Cursing under his breath, Jordan flops his hands out from underneath his long-sleeve shirt and opens the door.
Sidney pushes the door open just a little more, steps into the room, and slams it closed behind him.
“Jordan,” he breathes, and then pushes the other teen against the wall and kisses him, hard and hungry and wanting.
Sidney’s no fainting virgin, and Jordan recognizes this fact. He especially recognizes that Sidney has definitely kissed a lot, because there is no way in hell that anyone, Hockey God in human form or not, can kiss like this without practicing at least a little. Not that he’s complaining, mind, because he can’t pull his two remaining brain cells together to get coherent enough to understand the word ‘complain’.
Jordan’s not even sure he’s got two brain cells left. Sidney’s tongue is down his throat, and his hands are on his hips, and his lips are caressing his, and the long, in-need-of-a-trim ends of his hair are tickling against Jordan’s cheekbones and his eyelashes are soft against the side of his face, and Jordan’s got his hands tangled in Sidney’s shirt and wrapped around his shoulders, one leg between Sidney’s thigh and goddamn, but Sidney’s as hard as rock in those jeans.
‘Sidney’s…oh, shit,’ Jordan thinks, breaking the kiss and letting go of his teammate. Sidney looks up at him, confused and somewhat-hurt, and Jordan feels his heart breaking in his chest. Good lord, how much is he going to fuck this up? Maybe he should just go ahead and ask for that trade now, before Mario finds out how much he’s fucked Sidney over.
“Jordan?” Sidney pleads, looking up at him, scared and jittery.
“Sidney, we can’t,” Jordan murmurs, eyes closed. If he can’t see Sidney, then his teammate’s puppy eyes can’t work on him. “Jesus, didn’t anyone ever tell you? You can’t have sex with me, Sidney. It’s too fucking dangerous!”
Sidney sighs. Placing his hands on either side of his teammate’s face, he begins the speech he’s spent the past…well, too long working up the courage to say.
“Jordan, look at me,” he commands. When the blonde opens his eyes, surprised, Sidney continues. “I don’t just want sex with you, okay? Maybe that’s alright with guys at clubs, but not with you. You’re worth too much to me. You’re gorgeous-inside and out. You’re sweet, kind, caring, and gentle. You live with a passion that scares me, almost, and at the same time, makes me want a piece of that passion. I want to feel what you feel, Jordan.”
“Sidney…what…” Jordan begins, only to be cut off by one calloused finger over his lips.
“Jordan, you’re in love with life, and I want you to be in love with me,” he says. “I fucking love you-I have since the first time I saw you. You’re a beautiful man…strong, tall, and god…fucking hell, but you’re hot!” Sidney laughs. “And more than that, you give a damn about everything. You play hockey like you live for it, and you do. I don’t give a fuck if you’ve got HIV, okay? We can use condoms. We can be fucking careful. Hell, if you’re that worried, I can spend all of our time together on my knees, sucking you off. I want to be with you, forever, even if it means we spend forever just making out.”
“Sidney,” Jordan whispers, lip trembling. Reaching forward, he strokes hand across Sidney’s cheek, and then collapses, trembling and crying, in Sidney’s arms.
Jordan’s entire body shakes as he cries, and sympathetically, Sidney tucks him close against his body. He lets the younger teen shiver against him, pitiful whimpers escaping him. He’s not coherent, and his sobs blur any words that he manages to get out. Sidney comforts him as best he can. Together, they stumble towards the bed, and Sidney flops down, letting Jordan curl around him as he cries.
Sidney’s okay with waiting. He doesn’t care if he’ll have to wait forever. Jordan’s just worth too much to him to just give up on. He likes the way the other teen moves, thinks, feels, lives, exists. He wants Jordan like he’s never wanted anything in his life. Jordan’s more than anything, more than practice with his friends, more than swimming in the summer with the guys, more than hockey, even. Sidney will wait as long as he has to.
Jordan’s sobs slowly quiet and die, and he’s left, clinging to Sidney and sniffling. For some odd reason, he’s not half as embarrassed as he should be. Sidney’s hand, stroking through his hair, is comforting, and he lets himself relax against the older teen.
Sidney sighs. “So…we gonna talk?”
Jordan stiffens, then buries his face in Sidney’s shoulder. “You do know what you’re getting yourself into, right?” he asks. “Doctor’s appointments, viral loads, cell counts, cocktails…we’ll never be able to have sex without condoms. You’ll probably need to give me head with a condom, just to be safe. If I get hit during a game…”
Sidney rubs his back, holding him close. “Shh,” he murmurs. “I do believe I can survive using condoms, Jordan. And, besides. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how sexy handjobs can be?”
Jordan blinks up at him, surprised. Sidney can’t help but grin, already working at the buttons on Jordan’s fly. To stop any rising protests, he kisses Jordan again, teasing his mouth open as he slips a hand inside his pants. Lost in the feeling of Sidney’s mouth on his, Jordan can’t even think to protest. When the older teen’s hand starts to slide along him, he moans, delighting in the taste of Sidney and the feel of a hand that isn’t his own.
“Sidney!” Jordan moans, hips arching. “Oh! Oh, god!” he cries.
“Jordan?” a familiar voice asks, the door cracking open.
Sidney and Jordan freeze, startled as Mark Recchi opens the door and starts into the room. Mark seems just as startled as they are, and stares for a few seconds before backing away and closing the door.
Jordan just looks up at Sidney, somewhat shocked. Before long, he’s collapsing into laughter.
Sidney joins him not much later.
----
Eric bursts into the room, immediately spotting his brother’s partner asleep on the edge of the bed, hand tangled with Jordan’s.
“Sidney!” he pants, still struggling to regain his breath. “What…how…is he okay?”
“Eric?” Sidney mumbles, waking up slowly. “Oh, god, Eric!” he gasps, looking up at the older man with teary eyes.
“Sidney,” Eric murmurs, placing his arm around the man’s shoulders. “What happened?”
“Eric…Eric…” Sidney whimpers, crying against his shoulder. Eric just holds him, knowing how scary anything happening to a teammate can be. Add to that how scary seeing someone you love collapse is, and then mix that all with the fact that the one you love-your teammate-happens to be HIV positive, and you’ve got a recipe for panic.
Sidney finally calms down enough to talk. “He…I don’t know, Eric, I don’t know. He…he just sort of…collapsed. I called 911 and they came tearing down to the apartment and brought him here, and the doctors won’t tell me anything because I’m not family and…oh, god,” he sobs, weak and tired.
Eric holds him, just letting him cry. He’s worried about his brother, yes, but he’s equally worried about his brother’s partner. Sidney’s as emotionally invested in this as any of them, maybe more. After all, Sidney’s the one holding Jordan’s hand through all the blood draws and whispering encouragement he needs to open the envelopes with the results. It’s Sidney who’s keeping an eye on the medications and reactions and doctor’s visits.
Sidney’s the one who has to face the reality every single day, every single time he wants to touch the man he loves.
“Eric?” his mother asks, entering the room. “Oh, good, you’re here already.” She smiles softly and strokes a hand through her son-in-law’s soft hair. “Shh, Sidney. He’ll be okay, baby, he always is. And,” she adds, smiling tightly, “I gave those doctors an utter tongue lashing. They won’t dare withhold information from you.”
Sidney wipes the tears from his eyes and laughs tiredly. “Thanks, Linda,” he whispers, hugging her. “One of these days, you’re going to take on the world.”
Eric smiles softly, and tangles his hand with Sidney’s and Jordan’s.
----
“Sidney?” Linda asks, yawning slightly as she answers the phone. “Sweetheart?”
“Linda…” Sidney sobs, shaking and shivering as he clutches the phone. “Oh, god, Linda!”
“Sidney?” she demands, sitting bolt upright in the hotel bed. “Sidney, what’s wrong?”
Linda’s face goes pale as she hears his wordless sobs.
Sidney finally drags together his mental facilities and speaks.
“Linda, he’s dead.”
----
Sidney is silent and stoic through the funeral, though tears gather unshed in his eyes. He’s right next to Linda, and she rubs his back and holds his hand through the whole ordeal. Eric keeps sneaking worried looks at him, remembering the promise he made to Jordan all those years ago.
Sidney takes a deep breath as he walks to the front of the church, preparing to say “good-bye” to his lover, his partner, his teammate and best friend one last time. It’s hard, harder than he thought it would be. Of course, he and Jordan always thought they’d have years of saying their good-byes. Jordan’s death was supposed to be slow and lingering, the slow decay of HIV becoming AIDS becoming the looming death sentence. Instead, it came on suddenly, a mistake in the prescribed dosage, a doctor’s mistake becoming Jordan’s death.
Sidney swallows hard. He doesn’t need a paper for this; he knows exactly what he’s going to say. The church is huge and filled with people who love Jordan, who worship the ice he skated on, who are in awe of his talents. Sidney’s own mother is holding his son, rocking their little adopted boy back and forth.
Sidney tries hard not to look at his son’s tear-streaked face as he says his public farewells to the man he still loves.
----
Eric opens the door to his brother-in-law’s room, peeking around the doorframe.
Sidney’s curled up in the center of Jordan’s bed, James fast asleep against his chest. Tears are streaming down his face, and he wears a grimace of pain as he mourns silently.
Eric walks in slowly and sits down on the edge of the mattress, then reaches forward and brushes a hand against Sidney’s cheek. “It still hurts,” he murmurs. It’s not a question.
Sidney nods anyway, twisting slightly to look at him. “How…?” he begins.
Eric shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I wish I could say, ‘here, Sidney, do this, and it won’t hurt,’ but I can’t. I wish I could, because it hurts more than anything to know that Jordan asked me to take care of you, and I can’t.”
Sidney sobs again, tightening his fingers against James’s back. “I just wish I…I could be there, with him,” he cries. “I…I wanted to be with him, all the way, if he was going to die,” he adds. “Does that make me horrible?”
Eric shakes his head again, knowing what Sidney’s trying to say. “It makes you feel awful to realize that you wish the one you love had died a slow, lingering death so that you could…”
Sidney finishes it. “…so that you could say good-bye every night, and one day, it would sink in, and it wouldn’t hurt half as much. So that you could have time to realize it was happening. So that you could hold his hand and kiss his forehead and promise him you loved him and you’d be joining him just as soon as you dared when he finally did die.”
Eric sighs heavily, tears streaking down his face again. “Exactly,” he whispered. “Do you know, I had eighteen years to get used to the idea that Jordan had HIV, and that one day, someday, he was going to die…and I spent eighteen years pretending he was okay, that he’d wake up one morning and call me and say, ‘ha, I had you fooled, didn’t I?’ and you’d be laughing, because he’d let you in on the joke.”
Sidney half-laughs, half-chokes on a sob. “I…one time, the condom broke, I guess, and we didn’t realize it until…until later, and I never said anything. I…I hoped that I had gotten it, because I didn’t want to live without him. And I never told him, because he would have been so scared, so, so, so scared and guilty.”
Eric laughs wetly. “If you’d have told him, he would’ve…”
Sidney grins, painful and sad. “Flipped, y’know? But I wanted…I wanted to be like him. I used to wish on shooting stars, on eyelashes, whenever the clock said 11:11…I’d wish that the condom would break someday, that something would happen, that we’d make a mistake, and I’d get it. I used to wish that I’d get it, and talk Jordan out of his guilt, and we could just get rid of the fucking condoms and be normal, because we were both positive, and then we could die together.”
Eric recognizes this sad, pitiful story, but says nothing.
Sidney continues, grin giving way for a pained grimace. “And then…then we adopted James, and Jordan made me promise that no matter what happened, I would live for James, almost like he knew what I was wishing for. He made me promise that even if he died in the next five seconds, got hit by a bus or something, I’d cry a little, let your mom take care of me for few days, then suck it up and continue living for James. He said I had to come home every once in a while and share a meal with you guys, particularly holidays, and I had to make sure James grew up and played hockey, and that I had to get him through college, at the least,” he pauses to sniffle.
“Eric, I think he knew what I was thinking,” Sidney continues. “Then he was serious, and he told me that after that, after James was out of college, I could do whatever I wanted. I could continue to live or I could kill myself, my choice. But I had to promise that if I did kill myself, James would never know-I had to write it out somewhere in my will that James was to think it was an accidental death or something-and that James had to have someone there for him.”
“Sidney,” Eric breathes, squeezing his brother-in-law’s hand. “Oh, Sidney.”
Sidney cries softly, cuddling the sleeping five-year-old against him. “And the worst part, Eric? The worst part is, even now, knowing I promised…I still want to kill myself. Anything to see him again.”
----
“James?” Eric calls, looking for his nephew with clouded eyes. “Come on. Your fiancée will kill me if I let you stay out here too long.”
“Eric,” the redhead laughs, turning to his eldest uncle, “Anne is a sweet woman. She won’t kill you. She’ll kill me.” He grins towards the blind older man, still kneeling before his fathers’ graves.
James, Eric thinks, is much too smart for his own good. He’s fairly certain that Sidney and Jordan’s son knows full well that Sidney chose to die, that the accident that wrapped Sidney’s Porsche around a tree was no accident. But he’s a strong young man, that’s for certain, and Eric’s fairly certain that his nephew doesn’t blame his father in the slightest for leaving him.
Eric sighs, shivering slightly in the cool breeze. Who knew it would ever end like this? He’s ninety-two, has outlived all but one of his brothers, is the head of Clan Staal, can’t see anything, and looks forwards his outings with his grandchildren, children, and nieces and nephews. So much for the life of a hockey star.
James smiles, looking up at his uncle. Taking out a lighter, he quickly lights the candles in the little glass bowls, setting them in the niches specially designed for this purpose. “Bye, Daddy,” he whispers, kissing the nameplate that marks where Jordan’s ashes would be if he and Sidney hadn’t scattered them to the winds. Then, turning to the one next to it, he smiles. “Bye, Dad. Thanks for everything.” He kisses it quickly, then turns to his uncle.
“Eric…ready to go?” he asks. “Come on. We need to meet my fiancée for lunch.”
Author: Demosthenes Voxcreepy_crawly
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Jordan StaalxSidney Crosby (both of the Pittsburgh Penguins), Eric Staal (Carolina Hurricanes)
Warnings: slash, hockey, HIV, cursing, reality
Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish I owned…*sighs*
Wordcount: 3.980
Archive? Wir Träumen von der Welt: An Diesen Modernen Tagen; Träum von Mir Ezine; anywhere else as posted by author
Summary: Before every great love, there are great dreams. After every great love, there are great tragedies.
Autor/Herausgeber Anmerkung: Für die WTvdW Herausforderung »An Diesen Modernen Tagen« ursprünglich geschrieben. Herausforderung sollte keine weniger als drei umstrittenen Themen von der heutigen Welt, von einem Hauptschwierigkeit, welches die Welt gegenüberstellen, und von einem »Austauschformat« einschließen. Meine Kontroversen sind: homosexuelle Verhältnisse, homosexuelle Annahme und die Behandlung von HIV (Humanes Immunodefizienz-Virus/Menschliches Immunschwäche-Virus)/Aids (Erworbenes Immundefektsyndrom) in einem Verhältnis. Mein Problem: HIV/AIDS. Austauschformat ist verwendet worden. Meine Muttersprache des Deutschen nicht; ich entschuldige für irgendwelche Hauptstörungen. Genießen Sie bitte.
Author’s/Archivist’s Note: Originally written for the WTvdW challenge “An Diesen Modernen Tagen” (In These Modern Days). Challenge was to include no less than three controversial topics from today’s world, one major problem facing the world, and an “exchange format”. My controversies are: gay relationships, gay adoption, and the treatment of HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus)/AIDS (Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome) in a relationship. My problem: HIV/AIDS. Exchange format has been used. German’s not my native language; sorry for any major errors. Please enjoy.
Sidney kisses him, and Jordan purrs happily.
Jordan loops his hands around Sidney’s waist and pulls him closer. Sidney’s hands are warm, and Jordan’s skin is quickly getting warmer. They’ve been off the ice for all of forty minutes, and already there’s a fire starting. They both know it’s not going to stop burning any time soon, and can only hope that it doesn’t burn them.
Sidney’s hands slip down, down, down to his hips, and then up, up, up his shirt. Jordan moans into his touch, nipples tightening beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. Sidney grins, seeing the way the rings push against the fabric of his shirt. Lowering his mouth, he sucks on them. Jordan gasps and throws his head back, trembling slightly. Grinning, Sidney does it again.
Jordan moans, the sound low in his throat and trembling out. Sidney grins slightly, letting the wet fabric slip from his mouth. He’d been present the day Jordan got the second piercing done, and hadn’t realized how much the younger teen got off on it. But now, he understands, feeling the way Jordan is writhing under him, seeing the way his eyes have rolled back and his lips have parted, all from the feeling of Sidney’s lips on his rings.
Sidney slips his hands down, toying with the hem of Jordan’s pants. As he starts to fiddle with the button, though, a hand lands on his. Sidney looks up, surprised.
Jordan gasps out, “Sidney, don’t,” voice husky with want, cheeks flushed in shame.
Sidney blinks. “Jordan?”
Jordan carefully seizes his hands and pulls them away from his pants, away from his fly. Bright red, not looking Sidney in the eye, he nearly starts crying as he admits it.
“Sidney, I can’t. I’ve got HIV.”
----
Eric listens patiently to his little brother’s tale of woe, nodding and “mm-hmm”ing and sighing at all the right parts. He knows his part will come soon enough, and he’s patient enough to wait for it, to wait for the tired flow of words to cease.
Jordan sighs heavily. “I don’t know what to do, Eric. I fucked up, major. God fucking damn it, it was Sidney fucking Crosby and he fucking wanted me! Me!”
Eric sighs, too, ever the voice of reason. “Jordan, if you hadn’t told him, it would be worse, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be a bigger fuck up to let him fuck you, or to fuck him, or let him blow you, or rim you, or jerk you off, or finger you, knowing that you had HIV and that he didn’t know?”
Jordan stops, thoughts halted. “Eric!” he winces. “God, don’t say things like that. I don’t need to know how much you know about gay sex!”
Eric laughs. “You think I’ve never done half that stuff? And you’re forgetting, Mum made us all sit through “the Talk” when I was, oh, what, twelve? And then again, when you were ten. She made us all learn about sex, gay or straight. She knew you were gay before you knew.”
Jordan shivers. “And where does that leave you, huh, fucker?”
Eric snorts. “Bisexual, asshat,” he reminds his little brother. “And while we’re on what an asshat you are…go right to Sidney’s room the instant you hang up, knock on his door, and whine, plead, beg…do whatever it takes, buddy.”
Jordan whimpers slightly, curling up on the bed. “But…Eric…he won’t want me…he…”
“Eric, he won’t want me,” the older man mimics. “Jordan, get your head screwed on straight, okay? God, he had you pressed against the sliding glass door, for Christ sakes! What more do you want, a gilded invitation? From what you told me, this was not the first time he’d done something like this. Wake up, smell the coffee, Sidney Crosby’s gay. He’s probably heard the risks speech a million times, and you know as well as I do that while it is dangerous, having sex with a pos man is not an instantaneous death sentence.
“Jordan, you and I both know that there are ways you can still have sex, regardless of whether you’re pos or he is. Yeah, life sucks, you’ll be using a condom all the time, but come on, Jordan, you’re smart. You wouldn’t have unprotected sex, even if you were negative. Think about it, Jordan. You’ve been positive since you were fourteen. It’s been four fucking years, and there’s gonna be a hell of a lot more. You’re not on the cocktail, your counts are up, you’re as healthy as it’s possible to be in your situation.”
“Eric,” Jordan whines, “it’s not as easy as that. You’re used to having a brother with AIDS. Most people don’t even know someone with it. They freak out and think they’re gonna get AIDS from sharing a water bottle with me or something!”
“Jordan, you do not have AIDS,” Eric says harshly. “You have HIV, contracted because the blood in the bloodbank wasn’t screened carefully enough. You’re a careful man. And you and I both know you don’t share water bottles, anyway. Too easy to get the flu or a cold or mono.”
“Eric, Eric, Eric,” Jordan sighs. “See, there’s my proof. I don’t share a fucking water bottle, anyway! Too easy to give something deadly to the pos kid!”
“Jordan!” Eric bellows. “Fucking hell! I don’t share a water bottle, either, and I bet you twenty dollars that Sidney doesn’t, either. Managements like to keep their good players healthy, you know. And trust me, kiddo, Sidney falls under the category of ‘good player’.”
Eric laughs slightly before continuing. “You just need to yank your head out from your ass and go talk to him. Convince him you’re worth it. Tell him…if he doesn’t already know…that you can come from having someone play with your nipple rings. That always gets boys. They love the temptation.”
Jordan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not worth it, though,” he says finally. “I’m just the little eighteen-year-old, drafted ‘cause they think he might be worth something, based on what they’ve seen of his family, who plays winger pretty shittily and has a thing for Sidney. I’m HIV positive. I’m not worth the risk of him getting the virus, too.”
Eric sighs. “Yes, you are, Jordan. You play winger damn well, and you’ve been a center your whole life. You were drafted ‘cause you make me look like a shitty player. And trust me, if Sidney’s willing to risk his reputation to try and climb in your skin with you against a fucking sliding glass door in a public hotel overlooking a beach, he’s willing to try safe sex.”
Jordan shakes his head. “Whatever. Thanks, Eric. I’ll call you later, okay?” he asks, and hangs up. Shoulders shaking slightly, he curls in on himself and cries himself to sleep.
----
Sidney knocks on the door. Okay, really, it’s more like he pounds on it, fist slamming into the thin wood of the hotel door. “Jordan!” he demands.
Jordan grumbles, awakened from his emotionally-exhausted not-rest. Hearing a voice at the door, too tired to try and recognize it, he sits up. “I’m coming, Mark,” he yawns. God damn it, why doesn’t Mark ever remember his key? What had Jordan done to deserve this? Grumbling, he wanders over to the door, nearly stumbling over the long pants he sleeps in. Cursing under his breath, Jordan flops his hands out from underneath his long-sleeve shirt and opens the door.
Sidney pushes the door open just a little more, steps into the room, and slams it closed behind him.
“Jordan,” he breathes, and then pushes the other teen against the wall and kisses him, hard and hungry and wanting.
Sidney’s no fainting virgin, and Jordan recognizes this fact. He especially recognizes that Sidney has definitely kissed a lot, because there is no way in hell that anyone, Hockey God in human form or not, can kiss like this without practicing at least a little. Not that he’s complaining, mind, because he can’t pull his two remaining brain cells together to get coherent enough to understand the word ‘complain’.
Jordan’s not even sure he’s got two brain cells left. Sidney’s tongue is down his throat, and his hands are on his hips, and his lips are caressing his, and the long, in-need-of-a-trim ends of his hair are tickling against Jordan’s cheekbones and his eyelashes are soft against the side of his face, and Jordan’s got his hands tangled in Sidney’s shirt and wrapped around his shoulders, one leg between Sidney’s thigh and goddamn, but Sidney’s as hard as rock in those jeans.
‘Sidney’s…oh, shit,’ Jordan thinks, breaking the kiss and letting go of his teammate. Sidney looks up at him, confused and somewhat-hurt, and Jordan feels his heart breaking in his chest. Good lord, how much is he going to fuck this up? Maybe he should just go ahead and ask for that trade now, before Mario finds out how much he’s fucked Sidney over.
“Jordan?” Sidney pleads, looking up at him, scared and jittery.
“Sidney, we can’t,” Jordan murmurs, eyes closed. If he can’t see Sidney, then his teammate’s puppy eyes can’t work on him. “Jesus, didn’t anyone ever tell you? You can’t have sex with me, Sidney. It’s too fucking dangerous!”
Sidney sighs. Placing his hands on either side of his teammate’s face, he begins the speech he’s spent the past…well, too long working up the courage to say.
“Jordan, look at me,” he commands. When the blonde opens his eyes, surprised, Sidney continues. “I don’t just want sex with you, okay? Maybe that’s alright with guys at clubs, but not with you. You’re worth too much to me. You’re gorgeous-inside and out. You’re sweet, kind, caring, and gentle. You live with a passion that scares me, almost, and at the same time, makes me want a piece of that passion. I want to feel what you feel, Jordan.”
“Sidney…what…” Jordan begins, only to be cut off by one calloused finger over his lips.
“Jordan, you’re in love with life, and I want you to be in love with me,” he says. “I fucking love you-I have since the first time I saw you. You’re a beautiful man…strong, tall, and god…fucking hell, but you’re hot!” Sidney laughs. “And more than that, you give a damn about everything. You play hockey like you live for it, and you do. I don’t give a fuck if you’ve got HIV, okay? We can use condoms. We can be fucking careful. Hell, if you’re that worried, I can spend all of our time together on my knees, sucking you off. I want to be with you, forever, even if it means we spend forever just making out.”
“Sidney,” Jordan whispers, lip trembling. Reaching forward, he strokes hand across Sidney’s cheek, and then collapses, trembling and crying, in Sidney’s arms.
Jordan’s entire body shakes as he cries, and sympathetically, Sidney tucks him close against his body. He lets the younger teen shiver against him, pitiful whimpers escaping him. He’s not coherent, and his sobs blur any words that he manages to get out. Sidney comforts him as best he can. Together, they stumble towards the bed, and Sidney flops down, letting Jordan curl around him as he cries.
Sidney’s okay with waiting. He doesn’t care if he’ll have to wait forever. Jordan’s just worth too much to him to just give up on. He likes the way the other teen moves, thinks, feels, lives, exists. He wants Jordan like he’s never wanted anything in his life. Jordan’s more than anything, more than practice with his friends, more than swimming in the summer with the guys, more than hockey, even. Sidney will wait as long as he has to.
Jordan’s sobs slowly quiet and die, and he’s left, clinging to Sidney and sniffling. For some odd reason, he’s not half as embarrassed as he should be. Sidney’s hand, stroking through his hair, is comforting, and he lets himself relax against the older teen.
Sidney sighs. “So…we gonna talk?”
Jordan stiffens, then buries his face in Sidney’s shoulder. “You do know what you’re getting yourself into, right?” he asks. “Doctor’s appointments, viral loads, cell counts, cocktails…we’ll never be able to have sex without condoms. You’ll probably need to give me head with a condom, just to be safe. If I get hit during a game…”
Sidney rubs his back, holding him close. “Shh,” he murmurs. “I do believe I can survive using condoms, Jordan. And, besides. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how sexy handjobs can be?”
Jordan blinks up at him, surprised. Sidney can’t help but grin, already working at the buttons on Jordan’s fly. To stop any rising protests, he kisses Jordan again, teasing his mouth open as he slips a hand inside his pants. Lost in the feeling of Sidney’s mouth on his, Jordan can’t even think to protest. When the older teen’s hand starts to slide along him, he moans, delighting in the taste of Sidney and the feel of a hand that isn’t his own.
“Sidney!” Jordan moans, hips arching. “Oh! Oh, god!” he cries.
“Jordan?” a familiar voice asks, the door cracking open.
Sidney and Jordan freeze, startled as Mark Recchi opens the door and starts into the room. Mark seems just as startled as they are, and stares for a few seconds before backing away and closing the door.
Jordan just looks up at Sidney, somewhat shocked. Before long, he’s collapsing into laughter.
Sidney joins him not much later.
----
Eric bursts into the room, immediately spotting his brother’s partner asleep on the edge of the bed, hand tangled with Jordan’s.
“Sidney!” he pants, still struggling to regain his breath. “What…how…is he okay?”
“Eric?” Sidney mumbles, waking up slowly. “Oh, god, Eric!” he gasps, looking up at the older man with teary eyes.
“Sidney,” Eric murmurs, placing his arm around the man’s shoulders. “What happened?”
“Eric…Eric…” Sidney whimpers, crying against his shoulder. Eric just holds him, knowing how scary anything happening to a teammate can be. Add to that how scary seeing someone you love collapse is, and then mix that all with the fact that the one you love-your teammate-happens to be HIV positive, and you’ve got a recipe for panic.
Sidney finally calms down enough to talk. “He…I don’t know, Eric, I don’t know. He…he just sort of…collapsed. I called 911 and they came tearing down to the apartment and brought him here, and the doctors won’t tell me anything because I’m not family and…oh, god,” he sobs, weak and tired.
Eric holds him, just letting him cry. He’s worried about his brother, yes, but he’s equally worried about his brother’s partner. Sidney’s as emotionally invested in this as any of them, maybe more. After all, Sidney’s the one holding Jordan’s hand through all the blood draws and whispering encouragement he needs to open the envelopes with the results. It’s Sidney who’s keeping an eye on the medications and reactions and doctor’s visits.
Sidney’s the one who has to face the reality every single day, every single time he wants to touch the man he loves.
“Eric?” his mother asks, entering the room. “Oh, good, you’re here already.” She smiles softly and strokes a hand through her son-in-law’s soft hair. “Shh, Sidney. He’ll be okay, baby, he always is. And,” she adds, smiling tightly, “I gave those doctors an utter tongue lashing. They won’t dare withhold information from you.”
Sidney wipes the tears from his eyes and laughs tiredly. “Thanks, Linda,” he whispers, hugging her. “One of these days, you’re going to take on the world.”
Eric smiles softly, and tangles his hand with Sidney’s and Jordan’s.
----
“Sidney?” Linda asks, yawning slightly as she answers the phone. “Sweetheart?”
“Linda…” Sidney sobs, shaking and shivering as he clutches the phone. “Oh, god, Linda!”
“Sidney?” she demands, sitting bolt upright in the hotel bed. “Sidney, what’s wrong?”
Linda’s face goes pale as she hears his wordless sobs.
Sidney finally drags together his mental facilities and speaks.
“Linda, he’s dead.”
----
Sidney is silent and stoic through the funeral, though tears gather unshed in his eyes. He’s right next to Linda, and she rubs his back and holds his hand through the whole ordeal. Eric keeps sneaking worried looks at him, remembering the promise he made to Jordan all those years ago.
Sidney takes a deep breath as he walks to the front of the church, preparing to say “good-bye” to his lover, his partner, his teammate and best friend one last time. It’s hard, harder than he thought it would be. Of course, he and Jordan always thought they’d have years of saying their good-byes. Jordan’s death was supposed to be slow and lingering, the slow decay of HIV becoming AIDS becoming the looming death sentence. Instead, it came on suddenly, a mistake in the prescribed dosage, a doctor’s mistake becoming Jordan’s death.
Sidney swallows hard. He doesn’t need a paper for this; he knows exactly what he’s going to say. The church is huge and filled with people who love Jordan, who worship the ice he skated on, who are in awe of his talents. Sidney’s own mother is holding his son, rocking their little adopted boy back and forth.
Sidney tries hard not to look at his son’s tear-streaked face as he says his public farewells to the man he still loves.
----
Eric opens the door to his brother-in-law’s room, peeking around the doorframe.
Sidney’s curled up in the center of Jordan’s bed, James fast asleep against his chest. Tears are streaming down his face, and he wears a grimace of pain as he mourns silently.
Eric walks in slowly and sits down on the edge of the mattress, then reaches forward and brushes a hand against Sidney’s cheek. “It still hurts,” he murmurs. It’s not a question.
Sidney nods anyway, twisting slightly to look at him. “How…?” he begins.
Eric shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I wish I could say, ‘here, Sidney, do this, and it won’t hurt,’ but I can’t. I wish I could, because it hurts more than anything to know that Jordan asked me to take care of you, and I can’t.”
Sidney sobs again, tightening his fingers against James’s back. “I just wish I…I could be there, with him,” he cries. “I…I wanted to be with him, all the way, if he was going to die,” he adds. “Does that make me horrible?”
Eric shakes his head again, knowing what Sidney’s trying to say. “It makes you feel awful to realize that you wish the one you love had died a slow, lingering death so that you could…”
Sidney finishes it. “…so that you could say good-bye every night, and one day, it would sink in, and it wouldn’t hurt half as much. So that you could have time to realize it was happening. So that you could hold his hand and kiss his forehead and promise him you loved him and you’d be joining him just as soon as you dared when he finally did die.”
Eric sighs heavily, tears streaking down his face again. “Exactly,” he whispered. “Do you know, I had eighteen years to get used to the idea that Jordan had HIV, and that one day, someday, he was going to die…and I spent eighteen years pretending he was okay, that he’d wake up one morning and call me and say, ‘ha, I had you fooled, didn’t I?’ and you’d be laughing, because he’d let you in on the joke.”
Sidney half-laughs, half-chokes on a sob. “I…one time, the condom broke, I guess, and we didn’t realize it until…until later, and I never said anything. I…I hoped that I had gotten it, because I didn’t want to live without him. And I never told him, because he would have been so scared, so, so, so scared and guilty.”
Eric laughs wetly. “If you’d have told him, he would’ve…”
Sidney grins, painful and sad. “Flipped, y’know? But I wanted…I wanted to be like him. I used to wish on shooting stars, on eyelashes, whenever the clock said 11:11…I’d wish that the condom would break someday, that something would happen, that we’d make a mistake, and I’d get it. I used to wish that I’d get it, and talk Jordan out of his guilt, and we could just get rid of the fucking condoms and be normal, because we were both positive, and then we could die together.”
Eric recognizes this sad, pitiful story, but says nothing.
Sidney continues, grin giving way for a pained grimace. “And then…then we adopted James, and Jordan made me promise that no matter what happened, I would live for James, almost like he knew what I was wishing for. He made me promise that even if he died in the next five seconds, got hit by a bus or something, I’d cry a little, let your mom take care of me for few days, then suck it up and continue living for James. He said I had to come home every once in a while and share a meal with you guys, particularly holidays, and I had to make sure James grew up and played hockey, and that I had to get him through college, at the least,” he pauses to sniffle.
“Eric, I think he knew what I was thinking,” Sidney continues. “Then he was serious, and he told me that after that, after James was out of college, I could do whatever I wanted. I could continue to live or I could kill myself, my choice. But I had to promise that if I did kill myself, James would never know-I had to write it out somewhere in my will that James was to think it was an accidental death or something-and that James had to have someone there for him.”
“Sidney,” Eric breathes, squeezing his brother-in-law’s hand. “Oh, Sidney.”
Sidney cries softly, cuddling the sleeping five-year-old against him. “And the worst part, Eric? The worst part is, even now, knowing I promised…I still want to kill myself. Anything to see him again.”
----
“James?” Eric calls, looking for his nephew with clouded eyes. “Come on. Your fiancée will kill me if I let you stay out here too long.”
“Eric,” the redhead laughs, turning to his eldest uncle, “Anne is a sweet woman. She won’t kill you. She’ll kill me.” He grins towards the blind older man, still kneeling before his fathers’ graves.
James, Eric thinks, is much too smart for his own good. He’s fairly certain that Sidney and Jordan’s son knows full well that Sidney chose to die, that the accident that wrapped Sidney’s Porsche around a tree was no accident. But he’s a strong young man, that’s for certain, and Eric’s fairly certain that his nephew doesn’t blame his father in the slightest for leaving him.
Eric sighs, shivering slightly in the cool breeze. Who knew it would ever end like this? He’s ninety-two, has outlived all but one of his brothers, is the head of Clan Staal, can’t see anything, and looks forwards his outings with his grandchildren, children, and nieces and nephews. So much for the life of a hockey star.
James smiles, looking up at his uncle. Taking out a lighter, he quickly lights the candles in the little glass bowls, setting them in the niches specially designed for this purpose. “Bye, Daddy,” he whispers, kissing the nameplate that marks where Jordan’s ashes would be if he and Sidney hadn’t scattered them to the winds. Then, turning to the one next to it, he smiles. “Bye, Dad. Thanks for everything.” He kisses it quickly, then turns to his uncle.
“Eric…ready to go?” he asks. “Come on. We need to meet my fiancée for lunch.”