2minsforslashing | (FIC) And You Give 1/2

Title: And You Give
Author:Konishi_zen
Rating: R
Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Sheldon Souray
Summary: The All-Star Weekend in Montreal. Two lost souls. Will they connect or simply stay adrift?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything connected with the players or the NHL. As far as I know this never happened and I am not claiming it ever did.
Warnings: Angst, Introspection, morose people, hard-r sex in later chapters.
Authors Notes: It's one of those experiments and character studies at the same time, coupled with major what-if. And also cause it would be damned hot. Title is borrowed from Matthew Barber's song of the same name. And also a major thanks to

lovelyracketeer for the beta-reading.

And You Give

“And you give and you give

Give it to me and you give and you give all that I need oh

And I take, and I take the blood that you bleed

And you give, and you give, and give it to me oh...” Matthew Barber

It is the All-Star Weekend and Sheldon’s not sure how he feels about being there. He’s a reserve and he would have honestly rather stayed in Edmonton watching the game on television if he’s honest with himself. But with the NHL now getting strict about them attending, there isn’t much of a choice. He tells himself that it’s part of the job and grimly goes along with it.

He gets to Montreal, gets to his hotel and stashes his stuff. Once that’s done, he finds himself with time hanging heavily on his hands. Watching television just smacks of desperation and he’s pretty sure that he would probably come across something that his ex had done and he didn’t need that, thank you very much. Sheldon shudders at the idea and flops down on the bed.

After staring at the ceiling for a few moments, he decides to go down to the hotel bar. It’s better than sitting in his hotel room alone being totally morose. He knows he needs the company and he may even run into Martin or one of his former teammates. Hell, maybe he could have a drink or two to fortify himself before facing the press. Pleased that he had some kind of plan, he got off the bed and pockets the key-card he carelessly tossed on the generic desk before he goes downstairs.

Once he gets there, though, his heart sinks when he sees that the place is more or less deserted. Sheldon didn’t realize how much he wanted some kind of company until there was none to be had. The only upside was that the place was dark and had private enough seating. At least he could sit and brood without feeling like an utter moron.

Deciding that he’ll at least have a drink as compensation, he approaches the bar and signals to the bartender. He gets some kind of Quebec micro-brewery beer, and as he’s waiting for it to be served someone jostles his arm. Sheldon freezes a bit at the invasion of his personal space and is about to snap at the person when he looks up and sees it’s none other than the Boy Who Would Be King: Sidney Crosby. Somehow he doesn’t look like the carefully groomed and polished superstar the world knows. This Sidney Crosby looks tired, crumpled and disillusioned beyond belief. There are dark circles under his eyes and he looks drawn and haggard, older than his twenty-one years.

The sight of the younger man looking so careworn and stressed makes Sheldon bite back the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he decides to tolerate the closeness until the bartender serves him his beer. Unfortunately looks like it’s not going to happen anytime soon, by the looks of the casual demeanour of the man who is still hunting in his cooler for Sheldon’s beer. He sighs in frustration and his temper rises a bit due to the delay with his drink and by how close Crosby is standing, but he tramps down his annoyance. Besides, he tells himself, it’s not like Crosby’s noticing me anyways. There’s simply no point in being rude just because he’s feeling like hell, even if the boy wonder is a little too close for comfort.

Sheldon only looks over at him once and feels his eyes widen in surprise when he sees that Crosby’s got a couple of glasses full of Jack Daniel’s in front of him. His gaze moves up and he’s sure his eyes must be bugging out of his head when he notices Crosby holding yet another Jack Daniels shot and drinking it back like a practiced pro. The illusion only lasts until he swallows it down.

Crosby splutters and coughs so hard that Sheldon is suddenly afraid that the kid has done himself some kind of damage. He can just imagine the headlines: “Sid the Kid dead from accidental alcohol overdose! Tragic loss for the hockey world! Random Oilers player sort of tried to help.” Maybe it’s his own messed up state of mind or the fact that if he doesn’t do something soon he may be wearing Sid the Kid’s vomit all over his good suit, but something prompts him to give Crosby a good slap in the back. A really hard one.

“Dude! What the fuck? You trying to kill me?” Crosby splutters out once he regains his composure. Sheldon opens and closes his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. He feels his face heat up and he’s sure that he’s probably turning a really dark shade of red in embarrassment. He only wanted to help, but the way that Crosby’s looking at him makes him feel like an utter fool.

“Sorry...I just...look...never mind. I gotta go.” Sheldon finally manages to mutter as he weaves around Crosby and heads for the exit.

“Wait,” Crosby says and grabs his arm to prevent him from leaving. The gesture surprises Sheldon and stops him in his tracks. Despite the fact that Crosby’s at least three inches and twenty pounds lighter than him there’s a sense of quiet power emanating from him that Sheldon has no defence against at that moment. So he stays, despite feeling like an utter fool.

“Hey, look, I think I overreacted back there,” Crosby muttered after a few minutes of them staring at each other. “I guess I kind of needed that, what with the Jack Daniels going down the wrong way. Teaches me to drink that crap straight.” He smiles ruefully at Sheldon, who only stared back at him. Another awkward silence falls between them again and is only broken when Sheldon finally gives Crosby a stiff nod.

Although he really appreciates Crosby not being a prick about the situation, Sheldon really wants to get the hell out of that bar and hide in his room till the next day. He’s already had enough and all he wants to do is be alone and lick his wounds, but it seems that fate and Crosby have other ideas.

“Look, I just came here to get away from that entire circus out there. I just want to drink and forget that I’m supposed to be the second coming of Christ on ice.” Crosby said, making Sheldon’s eyes narrow at the thick bitterness that lay under Crosby’s words. “I’m guessing you’re probably doing the same. After all, I’m sure that this place probably doesn’t have good memories for you either...so maybe we should just forget that little incident, sit down, and have a few drinks and talk. It might do us both good in the end.” Crosby doesn’t really say please but Sheldon can hear it anyways. Right now, Crosby isn’t the best thing in the league. Right now, he’s a sad, tired and disenchanted kid who really could use a shoulder to cry on.

Sheldon isn’t one to nurse his own wounded pride when there’s another person hurting worse asking for help. Exhaling loudly, Sheldon nods.

“On one condition though,” he stipulates, making Crosby frown.

“Which would be?” Crosby asks, his eyes wary as he speaks.

“You mind letting go now? I promise I’m not running.” Sheldon says as he pointedly looks at his arm, which Crosby’s still got in his grip.

“Sorry,” he apologizes before dropping it like a hot coal and moving towards the bar and his shots, leaving Sheldon grinning to himself. Seems he’s not the only one that can get flustered, Sheldon thinks before he follows Crosby to what hopefully won’t be too much of a maudlin night.

“...and then he comes back right? And the house is just totally fucken trashed. And Staal’s like wasted in the corner, Geno’s half-way out of a closet, and I’m wearing some party hat and passed out behind the couch, man was Mario pissed!” Crosby got out, spluttering good whiskey everywhere as he spoke. It should piss Sheldon off, seeing the good stuff getting wasted, but by that point they were so hammered that it just adds to the surreal quality of the story that Crosby was telling. So all he does is laugh his ass off and take another swig of the bottle he’s clutching in his right hand.

He grimaces at the taste and closes his eyes as he feels the burn in his belly. Sheldon lets his head drop back, and at that moment he’s entirely grateful that he agreed with Crosby’s suggestion. Once they had both gotten their drinks, Crosby got that look of utter hopelessness again and signalled the bar tender back again. After some skilful negotiations, Sidney was holding two big bottles of the good stuff and heading upstairs once they finished their original drinks.

Despite the promise he had made to himself earlier, Sheldon found himself agreeing to take the other shot and go up to Crosby’s suite to drink the rest. He didn’t think that anything worse than drunkenness and sloppy rambling would happen. Or maybe just the drunkenness. Crosby was a cagey bastard and he wouldn’t be surprised if they just sit there in morose silence until they both pass out.

So it is a pleasant surprise that Crosby turns out to be funny, witty and a great story-teller. Despite the benign exterior he presents to the rest of the world, once Crosby’s got himself away from prying eyes he was a wicked little SOB. More than a few times, he’s got Sheldon either in tears or close to it with a few of his anecdotes and send-ups of other players in the league. The fact that their moods get more and more genial as the night goes on is also another bonus to Sheldon. He’s glad that despite the earlier signs things are turning out better than he would have thought.

The other thing he has noticed is that Crosby’s also a very touchy feely drunk. The more he drinks, the closer he gets to Sheldon. Despite it being a big sofa, Crosby’s so fucking close that he’s nearly in Sheldon’s lap, a position that has him touching Sheldon every time he moves. And it’s not just the kind of touching where it’s because you’re losing your equilibrium because of the drinking. No. It’s more of the “I’m trying to be subtle here, but we both know that I’m going to be making you scream once we get to your bed,” kind of closeness.

Sheldon has noticed it, but he just doesn’t care at the moment. He’s full of good booze and Crosby’s good company. If he’s going to be honest with himself, if the night’s events lead to that he wouldn’t be turning down the opportunity. Not because it means sex but because of the unexpected comfort and safety that being with Crosby is giving his weary self. And nowadays, that’s such a rare thing to receive that he’s wholly grateful that he’s stumbled upon it.

So lost is he in his thoughts that Sheldon nearly misses the subtle whisper of fingers on his thigh. He thinks that it’s his imagination at first, but when it is repeated, this time with more pressure and more boldness, he knows that the time has come to face what Crosby’s been pressing for the past hour or so. Sheldon opens his eyes and blinks sleepily at Crosby, who is staring at him with those deep, lagoon-dark eyes that shine with such a terrible want that it makes Sheldon’s face flush again. But whether it’s because of the overt sexuality in the gaze or the desperate need of an insecure child, he’s not sure. There are too many layers and depths there and he’s not sure whether he’s the one to be unravelling them. Especially at a time when both of them are completely drunk. He’s already been there, done the unravelling and has the deep scars to prove it.

Besides, Sheldon’s sure that there would be a very special place in hell for him if he decides to go ahead and deflower the NHL’s Golden Boy. Although it’s a tempting idea, he’s not sure that he has it in him to throw all his morals to the wind and sleep with a kid. In all honesty that’s what Crosby is: a kid. Maybe it’s time to put the bottle down, say good-night and pass out in his bed.

Sheldon only gets as far as putting the bottle down when Crosby slides messily into his lap, grabs his head and gives him such a kiss that leaves him both breathless and cross-eyed. Sheldon’s torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to kiss him back with the same amount of force. He’s really never kissed a man before and he’s surprised that it feels as good as it does with a woman; the warmth, the taste, the way that the mouth moves over his own...if he closes his eyes, there’s no real difference.

But Sheldon won’t close his eyes. He finds that he can’t. The situation, although surreal, is something that he finds he desperately wants to keep every single memory of. He doesn’t know why, but has a feeling that this night will be important to him at some point in his future. He isn’t going to even speculate on what it will mean to Crosby. He tried that once and failed miserably at it.

So all he will do for now is enjoy it and memorize everything that is happening at that moment. The taste of Crosby’s tongue, the softness of his lips, the wetness of his mouth and the feel of his hands on his face: Sheldon wants to remember it all, just in case he is never going to get that close to anyone ever again. He wants to feel and to enjoy it, no matter if it turns out to be a one-time thing or more.

Sheldon loses himself so deeply in the kiss that he doesn’t notice the way that Crosby’s nimble fingers have made their way past his suit jacket and are now sliding underneath the buttons of his shirt. He is dimly aware of the buttons popping, but the sensation of Crosby’s blunt nails raking a trail through his scalp makes him moan and forget about the stupid buttons. He sighs against Crosby’s mouth and that sound encourages the younger man to get bolder in his touches.

Crosby pulls away from Sheldon’s mouth and grins this little wicked grin that makes Sheldon wonder if he was really as drunk as he seemed to be earlier on in that night. Sheldon vaguely wonders whether this was already premeditated on Crosby’s part, but quickly pushes the thought away when their eyes meet. There’s such raw want and anger in those black depths that he knows it’s as much of a surprise to him as it is to Sheldon. It scares him, the depths of Crosby’s emotions.

But it doesn’t scare him enough to make an effort to push his hands away from his chest, which he noticed with detached interest was bare. Instead, all he did was tilt his head back to let Crosby get better access to his mouth. Crosby’s grin gets even wider at the blatant invitation, but complies in his own way. He kisses Sheldon’s jaw, his cheek and temple before placing a deep kiss on his mouth.

“I think this is about the time that we should move it to the bedroom,” Crosby murmurs huskily into Sheldon’s ear before fluidly getting up from the older man’s lap. Sheldon’s reply is to blink up at Crosby before he nods and gets up from his spot as well.

Or tries to, since he loses his balance and lands straight into Crosby’s waiting arms. He’s slightly embarrassed, but Crosby smoothes everything over by simply settling him on his feet and going to the bed himself. Once he is there, he lies on his side and props his head on his hand and simply stares as Sheldon stands there, his shirt partway undone, his hair messy and tousled and his lips a dark pink from all the kissing they’ve been doing.

“So what now?” He asks Crosby, who smiles at the question.

“Strip. The rest will follow.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jai remarquer vous etes quebecois, donc je récrirai mon commentaire dans Quebecois ! Pouahaha

Jai aimé cette touche dans cette histoire que vous avez rappelée jack daniels est comme un orgasme à sid ! Jai apprécié vraiment la façon vous avez écrit cette histoire. Vous apprenez autant de de Sheldon avec si ptit. une belle histoire comme jai dit avant ! Désolée ma critique est boiteuse, il ne fait pas vraiment de justice pour comment bien vous avez écrit les deux joueurs !

XKL

Tu vais rire, pas que je habitue en Quebec, mais je ne ecrire en francais tout le temps. Je suis desolee si mon francais est terrible.

Le Jack Daniels histoire, je ne le connait pas. J'ecrit sa parce que je me souviens que toute le terrible histoires de mon amies a le Jack Daniels. :P!

Merci pour ton comments a Sheldon. Je l'aime pas est pour le personne a dit que son histoire est suffice avec un petit c'est un trop grand complement.

Merci est je suis hereuse que tu l'aime c'est petit histoire!

Ton Francais n'est pas si mal que ca !:P Jai étudié le francais kan j'étais jeune.

Pouahahaa, Jack Daniels.....Il est dit d'etre un tres fort alcool. Bon Sidney de choix et ces amies hein!!!

Pas de probleme poulette ! Je pense que vous écrivez tres bien. Le prochain chapitre bientotot ?;)

Ah! Merci, parce que mon premiere langue c'est l'espagnol. Jai apprende le francais quand je vais a l'ecole a Edmonton. XD!

Je rire parce que ce trop vrai le fort alcool. Je ne le boirez pas. Est le raison que Sidney le boire est parce que c'est parte de mon plan diabolique...que vair trop clair en le prochain chapitre.

Qui va bientot!

Ce soir! :P!

cool ! Je ne sais pas un mot d'espagnol. Bien...muchas gracias...porfavor... ? Pouahahah !

Ah ! Vous ne pouvez pas taquiner comme ca ! Pouahaha vous devez maintenant la hate le prochain chapitre ou.. p-e les émeutes arriveront ! O_o

Ce soir ! Je dis ce soir pouahaha !

De plus: Aimer votre icon !!

*rire* Ce sont le mots que tous le personnes connaitre parce que tout le monde regarde Diego, je pense :P!

Ah! Merci! Je pense que c'est un parte de ma charme! :P!

Je sais que l'autre chapitre arrive bientot e voila! Son chapitre est liste!

Ah Merci! Je l'aime aussi parce que c'est un vieux blague! XD!

Haha, love how Crosby's in charge here ;) Well.. more coordinated so far anyways XD
Can't wait til the next part!

*laughs* yeah, he sure seems like it at this point...all I can say is enjoy it while you can Sid! XP!

And yeah, the next part is on it's way...once I get my work done. :P!

Glad you liked this one part!

(FIC) And You Give 1/2

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