the news doesn’t break until the middle of november, which is amazing because geno proposed in june. still, sid doesn’t exactly like coming into the locker room to find three missed calls from his agent.
sid told the team once they’re back, of course, right after the end of practice, and duper and flower had maybe cried, and the rookies had been ridiculously excited, and everyone had promised they wouldn’t say anything. which, sid trusts his team, so he knows it’s not their faults, which is why he waits until after the media scrum to hear from geno.
"so," he says, once geno picks up, "pat just called me and told me there’s a bunch of rumors?"
"sorry," geno says, sounding sheepish. "someone got picture of me leaving jewelry store, and no one got to kill story fast enough, so. know you not want say, but if deny, going to sound like cover up."
"well," sid says, humming as he leans against the back of his stall. "i mean —" he pauses, and finally decides not to be a fucking wuss and go for it. "we could. you know. not deny it."
over the line he can hear geno suck in a breath. “you — sid,” he says, careful. “you sure?”
sid shrugs, even though geno can’t see it. “i’m sure about you,” he says finally.
"right," geno says, and sid can practically hear him smiling. "right."
of course the problem with saying he doesn’t want to deny the rumors does mean that he has to do something for the media just to talk about how he’s engaged. if he had his way, he’d just make an announcement and then talk to absolutely nobody, but unfortunately hockey’s greatest star being engaged to a hollywood a-lister is a apparently big deal.
"it’ll be easy," anne from pr says, towing sid along. "one reporter, a few soft-ball questions. just say nice things and how he supports your hockey and we should be good."
"it’s for vogue,” sid says, still feeling slightly freaked out.
"one interview!" anne says. "jen called us, so it’s just to sort of help out with geno’s. we’ll do a public statement of support later for the pens themselves. one non hockey interview. you can handle that, right?"
sid sighs, because, well, yeah, he can, but. vogue.
the reporter herself is nice enough, pouring them both coffee and smiling across the table as her photographer takes a couple shots. they talk a little about pittsburgh traffic and the bakery she visited that morning, and by the time the notebook gets flipped open, sid’s feeling a little less like he wants to be anywhere else but here.
"i promise i don’t bite," she says, clicking her pen and smiling.
"i hope so," sid offers, and she grins.
"so, sidney crosby," she says, "how does it feel to be engaged to a hollywood a-lister?"
"i mean," sid says, rubbing the back of his neck, "i — he’s not really a movie star to me, you know? he’s just. geno."
"geno," she repeats, smiling. "well, how is geno?"
"he —" sid pauses, unable to keep the smile of his face. as he fiddles with his necklace, the ring geno proposed with slides around on the chain. "he’s funny, and goofy, and sweet, and. i. he can be such a jerk but he’s also — you know."
"you must love him a lot," the reporter says, smiling softly at him.
"yeah," sid says, hearing the click of the photographer’s camera even as his cheeks start to hurt from smiling. "i — he’s my geno."