Sick - Evgeni Malkin (PT Diaries, Episode 10)
Requested by anons: In love with PT diaries😍, could part 8 possible be Parise trying to pursue the reader? Geno gets super jealous and maybe he kisses her out of anger ?
Could you please do another PT Diaries where another player is nice to you and Geno’s upset about it but you’re like “no way are we doing this again. Especially while you’re injured” (sorta like part 5??) Thank You!!!
A/N: Okay, this sucks a lot and has nothing to do with the prompts and I’m awful. I’m so sorry. I hate it. Ugh. Send me brutal criticism, I deserve it.
Word count: 1108
Warnings: none other than stomach sickness.
Our trip to Minnesota couldn’t have been more turbulent and I am still not feeling well by the time we get to the hotel. We are staying in Saint Paul for a couple days and then in Detroit for another two before going back to Pittsburgh.
“Feeling any better?” Michelle Crechiolo, and my roommate, asks me.
I shake my head, using my thumb and index finger to pinch the bridge of my nose. I am quite dizzy, my head is pounding and my stomach is rather upset after getting motion sickness on the plane and then endure a bus trip from the airport to the hotel.
“Maybe you should stay here and skip practice today.” She suggests and I nod, plopping myself on the bed and burying my head on the pillow. “I’ll tell everyone. Get better, babe.”
I don’t say anything but I hear the door opening and shutting behind her, leaving me by myself. The room is dark and I can feel myself drifting into sleep, snuggling into my pillows. Knocks on my door wake me up and I try to get on my feet as soon as I can and open the door, finding Geno on the other side of the door, holding himself up with his crutches.
“Geno, hi.” I say, rubbing my eyes. The pounding in my head and the dizziness are pretty much gone but my stomach is still upset.
“Michelle say you are sick.” He tells me. “Guys are worry.”
“I’m feeling a little better.” I smile a little trying to convince him, or convince myself. “I’ll be okay for dinner.”
“Good.” He says, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear on a swift move. His hand lingers on the side of my face for a second, caressing my jawline until he gets it back to his side. “Uvidimsja (I’ll see you later).”
“Geno…” I warn him. He hasn’t taught me that one yet.
“It means ‘see you later’.” He says and I nod, trying to remember the word.
“Bye.” I wave at him, shutting the door carefully.
The Xcel Energy Center is buzzing with excitement as the players from both teams jump on the ice, there are quite a few Penguins fans on Minnesota. I’m still feeling quite sick, but I stand on the bench, helping Fleury tape his wrists for the game when I see him, Zach Parise.
“(y/n), long time no see.” He says, leaning on the edge of the bench.
“Zach.” I acknowledge him. “How is your thigh?”
“It’s alright.” He says, putting his leg up and stretching his muscles. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Nothing to report.” I laugh, finishing Flower’s wrists up and helping him with his gloves so he can jump on the ice.
“I’ll say something.” He tells me and I raise an eyebrow. “You are looking stunning today.”
“Of course I do.” I say, shaking my head. “Go away, Parise.”
He smirks and skates away, joining his team for warmups. I bite my lower lip before turning around and walking towards my spot on the staff line-up when I see Geno looking at me, anger clear on his face. He is sitting on a chair next to the bench, supporting his teammates before going to his private suite to watch the game.
“I’m not doing this again, Geno.” I warn him when I see the rage in his facial features. I have only seen him this mad once, an Zach Parise was also involved. “When you are injured. Not now. Not never.”
“I don’t like him.” He just says and I shake my head.
“Why do you care?” I whisper, trying to keep my anger at bay. We are surrounded by people and I don’t feel like giving the team, staff and fans a show.
“He is not good for you.” He tells me and I groan, wanting to slap him.
“We were talking, Geno.” I say. “TAL-KING.” I articulate.
And then I have to run, going straight to the bathroom and throwing up all the content of my stomach. I have eaten very little since yesterday when we landed, but everything it’s going down the drain.
“(y/n)?” I hear a voice behind me. I know who it is, so I don’t turn around. “You good?”
I nod, but as I do I gag again and I throw up bile.
“You need doctor.” Geno says and I wave my hand, trying to say no. “You need to sleep.”
I’m not going to say no to that, I feel exhausted. After a couple minutes I get on my feet and splash some water on my face. Geno is looking at me with a concerned look and I give him a small smile.
“I think I’m gonna go to the hotel.” I tell him and he nods.
“I’m going with you.” He says and I don’t argue.
Geno tells everyone that I am not feeling well and the Wild’s therapist agrees to treat our team if something happens when I am gone. We get into a taxi, seating on the back. Geno holds me close to him, keeping an eye on me in case I feel sick again, but we make it to the hotel without any incidents and Geno pays up before I can even open up my bag.
“I feel bad.” I say and he chuckles.
“I know. Sleep will help.” He answers me and I shake my head, following him across the hotel reception to the elevator.
“No, no, no, not that. Well, that too.” Great, my brain isn’t working now. “You are missing the game and you paid the taxi and…”
“You are sick.” He cuts me off. “We can watch game here.”
We take the elevator and go up to the tenth floor to my room, using my card to get inside. Geno walks to the bedside table and grabbing the remote, turning the TV on and going through the channels until he finds the game. Five minutes in the second period and the Penguins are winning one to nothing. I change into a pair of leggings and sweatpants and crawl on the bed, sitting next to Geno.
“Thanks for bringing me back.” I whisper after a while of both of us just watching the game in silence.
“Budet delat’ eto v tysjachu raz (I’d do it a thousand times).” He says and I look at him; he has said that to me before when I cut my foot with a piece of glass.
“That means ‘you are welcome’, right?” I ask and he gives me a sideway smile.
“Kind of.” He says and we go back to watch the game.