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1.
Nicky can feel something different when he walks back into the locker room after the showers, for some reason. Almost everybody's cleared out, save a few stragglers, but that's to be expected when Nicky takes a while in the shower to wind down and let off some steam after a hard game.
It's when Nicky actually turns to face his locker that he realizes what's different. Sitting on the bench in front of his locker is a bouquet of roses. They're red and white, and it's painfully obvious they're for him. There's no tag on them, but as soon as Nicky turns around and sees Alex, studiously untying his laces on the bench at his locker with a bit of a red face even though he should have been gone fifteen minutes ago, he knows.
Nicky coughs before speaking out loud in rough, rudimentary Russian, "These are for me." The only thing the lockout was good for was giving him something else to bring him closer to Alex.
From the corner of his eye, Nicky can see Alex still for a few moments before reassembling that mask of bravado for which he's so well-known. "Yes. You looked like you needed them," Alex replies, hesitant but sincere.
Nicky's not going to let this go that easily. He switches to English as he turns around to face Alex. The locker room is empty now, he notes. Good.
"Alex-"
"Sasha."
A pause. "What?"
"Sasha. You not Nicklas, you Nicky. I'm not Alexander, am Sasha. Not Alex."
"Sasha," Nicky tries, trying to ignore the light rush of warmth that fills his heart at the sound of the somehow much more appropriate name. The brilliant, gap-toothed smile that elicits makes Nicky think he would say Sasha's name a thousand times more if it made him this happy.
"You got me flowers. Why did you get me flowers?" The more Nicky speaks, the more he feels like he's missing something.
Sasha's stare is suddenly fixed on his skate, and Nicky can see him take a deep breath before quietly replying, "Why men normally get other people flowers?" and oh. Oh.
"Sasha," Nicky repeats, taking a step towards him and hesitantly reaching out a hand, waiting for him to look up. When he doesn't, Nicky slowly moves closer to him and crouches down in front of him, looking right at him until Sasha returns his gaze. He ignores the burning in his thighs; there are more important things right now.
"Sasha, look at me," Nicky murmurs, voice almost pleading as he prompts Sasha with a gentle, "Say something."
Sasha cracks a small, crooked smile, ice blue gaze boring into Nicky's as he admits, "Am a little scared. Not know if you..."
"If I what?" And if Sasha doesn't say something soon, Nicky might hit him. Or kiss him. Or both.
Sasha looks at him for a few moments, smile dropping, before he blurts out, "Don't want to lose what we have, Nicky. I say something, you maybe never speak to me again, we get messed up, team get messed up..."
"What do you want, Sasha?" Nicky asks, a bit frustrated at this point, getting up--his thighs are going to hate him in the morning, he notes--and sitting right next to Sasha, feeling the warmth that radiates off his body.
"You," Sasha replies wryly, looking over at him and awaiting his answer. He seems casual, but Nicky knows him too well. There's a set in his jaw and a coolness to those Russian steel eyes that Nicky knows mean he's nervous.
"Why?" Nicky asks in a much quieter tone, dropping his gaze down between his legs so Sasha doesn't have to see the flush that runs across his cheeks and the slight shaking of his hands as he fidgets.
Nicky can feel Sasha's stare on him, but he refuses to look up. He hears Sasha sigh long-sufferingly and murmur, "Have you seen yourself?" He goes quiet for a few moments, before softly adding, “You my center. Always have you by my side, always want you there.”
Nicky can only sit next to Sasha, in stunned silence, and let his voice wash over him.
"Am afraid. Almost like you too much," Sasha jokes lightly, knocking Nicky's side lightly and making Nicky's head snap up to look at him. Sasha is looking at him fondly, and Nicky thinks this is the quietest he's ever heard Sasha speak. "Don't want to burn up like me and Masha. You mean more."
"You fool," Nicky whispers absentmindedly, eyes searching Sasha's expression. Sasha’s face falls for a moment before hardening at Nicky's words, and oh. Nicky needs to consider his word choice in the future.
As Sasha starts to turn away, Nicky reaches out to grab his wrist, holding him down, holding him close to Nicky, and whispering, "How could you never notice? Sasha, I went to Moscow with you. I went halfway across the world to play with you. How could you not think I felt the same way?"
Sasha is just looking at him, expression soft and a bit shocked as he processes Nicky's words, and Nicky's getting impatient. He tugs on Sasha's wrist until their faces are close enough to touch, Nicky pinning him with an intense look before leaning in and pressing their lips together, shivering a bit at the rush of pure heat it makes him feel down his entire body. They've been waiting too long for this. He's been waiting too long for this.
When Nicky pulls away after what must be only a few moments but feels more like an eternity, Sasha's expression is dazed, pupils blown as he looks at Nicky.
"Why you stop?" Sasha complains, impetuous as always, breath heavy but quiet as his eyes track Nicky's every move.
"We are not doing this in the locker room. My back hurts, Sasha."
"We doing this?" Sasha asks, smile creeping back onto his face.
"We're doing this," Nicky confirms, right hand slipping into Sasha's left, fingers intertwining and grip firm.
2.
It's a hell of a night for both of them, three-point nights each. But that's not what's important.
Some nights, after playing beside him for so long, it's easy for Nicky to forget that Alexander Ovechkin is probably the best goal-scorer in hockey history. Tonight is not one of those nights.
It occurs to Nicky, after feeding him a pass from the face-off for a beautiful flick of his wrist that sails in, that Sasha is at his most beautiful on the ice. He's explosive, strong, and somehow always manages to leave Nicky stunned, time and time again.
It's after Sasha's third goal of the night, though, that Nicky is honest-to-god speechless. All Nicky can think about as he's skating up the side is getting the puck to him, and Sasha does not disappoint. The pass goes clear across, and Nicky just knows as he sees Sasha gear up to take his shot.
What he's not prepared for is the ferocity and sheer joy he sees on Sasha's face as he holds his hands up triumphantly when he scores. It takes Nicky's breath away, and he realizes just how fucking much he's fallen for Sasha, how much he loves this man. They've come full-circle, as Sasha always loves to do, and again, they've done it together. His heart leaps out of his chest and his mouth goes dry as he skates right over into Sasha's arms, where he knows he always has and always will belong.
After the game and the incessant chatter from reporters praising Sasha, they both manage to slip away long enough to get out into the parking lot unseen. Nicky looks over at him, a question in his expression, and Sasha's twinkling eyes give him the answer. They make their way to Sasha's car. Sasha smiles at him and makes them take a picture together for Instagram. Of course Nicky puts up with it. He puts up with all of it, and he'll keep doing it for as long as he lives. What everyone else doesn't get to see is the way Sasha kisses him after putting down the camera, gentle and promising. Sasha holds Nicky's hand atop the gearshift the whole way home.
As soon as they get home and Nicky's feet are out of the car, Sasha pulls him into his arms for a fierce kiss. Nicky can only hold on and kiss him back senselessly. Sasha's emotion is as radiant as a sun, and Nicky feels like he's going to melt into it.
All Sasha does that night is hold Nicky in his bed, both of them sweaty and shirtless, refusing to shower in favor of having this moment. Sasha's hand comes up to cup Nicky's cheek, pressing their foreheads together and whispering a gentle, "fifty." Nicky knows exactly how he feels. He lean in to press a gentle kiss to Sasha's lips and murmur a quiet, "fifty," in response. They did it together, and Nicky has never loved him more.
3.
Everyone on the ice is exuberant after game 7 against the Flyers; the look of pure glee on Sasha's face after scoring his second goal from right under Giroux's nose had made Nicky audibly laugh, prompting Simmonds to turn and stare at him with disdain for a moment.
In the locker room, though, it's a different story. Everyone else is still all smiles, clapping Holtby on the back proudly and sending Burkie to go find a bottle of champagne, because they deserve it, goddamn it.
Everybody except Sasha.
Sasha's sitting on the bench, not changing, not celebrating, just watching. He keeps catching Nicky's eye for a few moments, a nervous look on his face that Nicky's only ever seen once, before looking back towards the rest of the locker room as if it had never happened. Nicky is having none of it. The next time Sasha looks his way, Nicky jerks his head slightly towards the door. Sasha blinks and looks away. With an internal sigh, Nicky gets up and breezily proclaims to the room, "I will be back. Don't drink yourselves into insanity while I am gone, we have at least another round to go," prompting grumbles from Tom and Mike about how Papa doesn't let them do anything. Nicky strides out of the room, a ball in his hand to keep him company, and leans back into the wall of the hallway a few meters down. He waits.
Sure enough--Nicky knows him so well--Sasha follows. Nicky knows Sasha would follow him anywhere. It warms his heart a bit. Sasha peeks his head out of the locker room, looking down both hallways before seeing Nicky, relaxed and expectant. Nicky beckons to him slightly, and Sasha comes, a guarded look on his face still. Nicky waits.
"I wanted to--" Sasha starts, dubious, before shaking his head a bit--it's alarming how much that makes him resemble a dog--and starting over.
"I have something to show you," Sasha continues slowly, almost anxiously. "I hope you understand why I get. You know I--Well. Let me show first."
Nicky's confused and a bit skeptical of whatever could have Sasha this nervous, but the deep breath he takes in expectation is almost punched out of him when he sees Sasha pull his shorts down his right hip.
There, inked delicately just to the left of his groin, is a tattoo. It's not exactly small, but it's coverable, and fully healed--did Sasha plan this to coincide with their playoff sex ban? How had Nicky not noticed in the locker room? He's sure his reaction would have been the same - maybe it's best this was kept private. On Sasha's hip are three elegantly drawn crowns. Tre kronor, Nicky thinks absently, still breathing heavily. His eye catches on the small script in the lower-right corner of the middle crown and it feels five times bigger in his head than it is on Sasha's hip. That's his number. That's his number. Nicky feels like he's stopped breathing at this point.
"Sasha," Nicky whispers, rougher, his voice a bit broken, at this--this declaration. He doesn't even know what to say.
"You understand why I get," Sasha replies, still apprehensive, but a bit more relaxed that Nicky hasn't--What? Left? Yelled at him? Nicky doesn't want to know what Sasha was expecting of him.
In reply, Nicky reaches his hand out, gently placing the tips of his fingers on the side of Sasha's hip and hesitantly whispering, "Can I touch it?".
Sasha's eyes close slowly, and he nods, taking a deep breath. Nicky takes his permission and gently sweeps his thumb over the tattoo, eliciting a soft shiver from its owner. He's in awe. He can't help looking back up at Sasha's face, and he's surprised to see the most peaceful expression Nicky has seen on him since the playoffs started.
"Why did you get this?" Nicky asks anyway, wanting to hear it from Sasha's mouth, to convince himself he's not actually going crazy--or worse, dreaming.
Sasha's eyes open, and his gaze flickers to Nicky's eyes, clearing his throat slightly before replying evenly, "You my center. Want to keep you at my right. Always."
It's Nicky's turn to close his eyes and take a deep breath, because this? Suddenly this, them, feels so much bigger. So much more real.
Nicky realizes Sasha is awaiting a response. He elects instead to lay his right hand on Sasha's cheek and press a soft kiss to his lips, looking him in the eye afterwards and murmuring, for the first time, a soft, "I love you too."
4.
The morning before training camp starts, Nicky wakes up to an empty bed.
He rolls over and immediately faceplants into Sasha's pillow, taking a deep breath and taking in the scent that is so purely and clearly his. It's comforting to know the pillow still smells like Sasha, but that doesn't explain why Nicky's bed is surprisingly Russian-free this early in the morning. He's loath to get up, but at some point he does have to go find his missing captain, so he sighs and sits up, rubbing at his eyes and taking in the disaster that is their room. Sasha's phone is on his nightstand, about to fall to the floor, his jersey is strewn at the foot of their bed, and his side of the covers looks like a hurricane swept through. Nicky smiles fondly. He couldn't imagine the thought of Sasha not coming in like a storm wherever he passes, because that's just how he is. That's why Nicky loves him.
A clanging breaks Nicky out of his reverie, and it's very clearly coming from downstairs. Nicky groans, ready for whatever sight will face him, and gets out of bed, slipping on one of Sasha's Team Russia hoodies on his way out.
Nicky was not ready for the sight that is currently facing him.
Sasha is at the stove, a pan in front of him with what looks like eggs, cheese, and chicken going. In another pan, it looks like he's trying to make some sort of potatoes, and there's coffee brewing in the coffeemaker beside him. The kitchen actually smells good, surprisingly. All in all, he looks like a bit of a housewife.
Until Nicky notices what he's wearing.
Nicky's attention is drawn immediately to his side, bare and displaying his tattoo, and he's a bit surprised because even if it's just an old Caps shirt, Sasha usually doesn't go shirtless around the house. It's when Nicky's gaze drops a little lower, though, that he wakes up a little bit more and feels his face run hot. He recognizes those blue and yellow compression shorts. Those are Team Sweden Olympic shorts. Those are his.
Nicky moves slowly over towards Sasha, a grin covering Sasha's face when he hears the footsteps and turns his head slightly to greet Nicky, wrapping his arms around Sasha's chest and pressing his face into his bare shoulder, a small smile on his face.
"Good morning, älskling," Nicky mumbles, pressing a soft, sleepy kiss into the skin there and closing his eyes, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Am cooking for you, but can't do if you hang all over me like this," Sasha replies, and even if he can't see it, Nicky can hear the big, gap-toothed smile in his voice.
"Can't cook anyway," Nicky grumbles in reply, but he can't help but smile at Sasha, ridiculous as ever. He can feel himself starting to wake up more, the heat Sasha radiates warming him from the inside out. A few seconds later, Sasha turns to put the plates on the counter and give Nicky a kiss, and Nicky has to blink for a few moments.
"I can see your dick through those shorts, Sasha," Nicky points out, running his hands down to play with the waistband of his shorts as he kisses Sasha good morning.
"Da, I know," Sasha tells him, crooked grin on his face smug as ever as he wraps his arms around Nicky, and Nicky can't help but move to bite lightly at his shoulder, almost as a rebuke.
"Thank you for breakfast, Sasha," Nicky murmurs against Sasha's shoulder, unwilling to move away from his embrace even for food.
Nicky can feel the rumble of Sasha's quiet chuckle through his chest and the warmth of Sasha's pleased, "Anything for my Nicky," through his heart.
5.
"Where are you taking me?" Nicky asks quietly, watching the streets of Washington fly by through the window of Sasha's ridiculous blue Mercedes.
"If I tell, Nicky, is not surprise anymore," Sasha replies, a big grin on his face as he carefully pulls up in front of a flashy-looking Italian restaurant and stops at the curb.
"Do you want me to go get a table?" Nicky asks, already moving to get out of the car. He quickly pulls his hand back when Sasha cries out, "No, Nicky, stay, stay," and flaps his hand at Nicky in a gesture for him to stop.
Sasha, surprisingly, gets out of the car himself, walking around and opening the door for Nicky, offering him his hand and a crooked smile as he helps Nicky get out. Never let it be said that Alexander Ovechkin can't be a gentleman, Nicky thinks.
Nicky's heard a lot about this place, the name of which he will probably never be able to pronounce. From what he knows, the place is usually full, and they don't take reservations. Sasha hands the keys to the Mercedes to a valet waiting expectantly - this might be the first time Nicky's ever seen him give the keys to anyone else.
"My Kolya," Sasha murmurs with a rumble, offering his elbow to Nicky and bowing his head slightly. Nicky winds his hand through the crook of Sasha's arm, leaning into him slightly, and lets himself be led through the glass doors.
There's not a single customer inside the restaurant.
"Sasha, what's going on?" Nicky asks softly, as the maitre'd leads them to a table in the very center of the restaurant floor, a bouquet of white roses laying peacefully beside one of the plates. Sasha just gives him a smile, pulling his chair out for him before taking his own seat and opening the menu.
"This place is always full," Nicky insists, not letting this go, "Why are we here, and why is it empty?"
"I... kind of bought out whole restaurant? Just for night?"
"Sasha. What? You can't just do that. What...?" Nicky's speechless.
"Well, I did. Have good reason!" Sasha protests, before dropping his gaze to his hands and fiddling with his napkin. "Do you know what today was ten years ago?"
"Should I?" Nicky prompts quietly, watching his... Boyfriend? Partner? Sasha's face snaps up, and his cool grey eyes look over Nicky's face before smiling softly.
"Ten years ago today, you play by my side for very first time. Wanted to celebrate."
"Sasha," Nicky murmurs in a low voice, reaching across the table to take his hand and rest his own in Sasha's palm, "You remember that still?"
"Could never forget," Sasha admits quietly, smiling brilliantly at Nicky as a sommelier brings them a bottle of champagne and pours each a glass.
Now that Nicky realizes it, he can see how much effort Sasha put into this. He's sporting the signature stubble that Nicky knows he loves to see on him even though for dinner he usually shaves. He's dressed even more cleanly than normal, and Nicky's mouth goes dry when he actually gets a good look at Sasha. He's wearing a neatly-pressed blue dress shirt that matches his eyes under a dark grey blazer. Nicky can vaguely recall a conversation where he told Sasha that was his favorite color combination for Sasha to wear. He's the epitome of class and style tonight, and Nicky can recognize that this is all for him.
Instead of tearing up, which he might have done at home, or throwing himself onto Sasha, which he shouldn't do outside of the bedroom, Nicky elects to just run his thumb smoothly across the base of Sasha's hand and whisper a gentle, "Thank you, Sasha. I love you."
The way Sasha's face brightens into absolute radiance and bliss when Nicky says that makes it worth the ten years it took them to get to this moment. Nicky suspects Sasha is getting just as much out of this dinner by making Nicky happy as Nicky is for receiving it all.
"Shall we eat?" Nicky suggests after a few moments, picking up a menu without letting go of Sasha's hand. He doesn't miss the way Sasha's smile grows fond as he picks up his own menu, nor the way that Sasha doesn't let go of his hand for the rest of the night.
+1
Nicky can appreciate good fucking hockey. So when Sasha scores quite possibly one of the most beautiful goals he's ever scored from his knees at the point, Nicky can feel his own cup suddenly start to feel very, very uncomfortable, especially when Sasha gets up and skates into his side gleefully. He's like a truck, imposing and warm in Nicky's arms, and Nicky can feel his face getting hot.
Thankfully, the goal comes near the end of the third period, and it's all Nicky can manage to do to wait for Sasha as he acknowledges the crowd while they're calling out his second star honors. Nicky catches Sasha's eye and fixes him with a heated look as he does a lap on ice. Sasha almost trips over his own blade. Good, Nicky thinks. He doesn't want to be subtle; Sasha and Nicky both know how tonight is going to go. Sasha knows how Nicky's blood runs hot when he makes plays like that. Nicky just hopes Sasha will have the common sense enough to get showered and dressed quickly before Nicky loses his patience and jumps him in front of everybody.
Sasha knows. As soon as he comes out of the showers, he gives Nicky, waiting impatiently in the doorway, a sheepish look, dressing as fast as he can. His shirt is inside out, Nicky notes absentmindedly, waiting for him to gather his things.
The moment they get out of the locker room and into the hallway, Nicky presses him up against the wall, arms around his shoulders as he kisses him senseless.
"Patience, my Nicky," Sasha mumbles against Nicky's lips, a smirk dancing across his own as he pulls Nicky back in, "Have to get home first."
"I have none," Nicky growls in return, slotting his leg in between Sasha's and evoking a low moan from his lips.
"Will be much better if we get home," Sasha tells him, breathing heavily and looking Nicky up and down, "Less clothes." Nicky can get with that idea.
The entire drive home, Nicky's hand rests on Sasha's thigh, a promise for something more.
Nicky almost drags him out of the car once they get to Sasha's house, taking detours to kiss him against the front door, the inside of the front door, the wall of the kitchen, and the side of the stairs all before they reach the bedroom.
"Impatient. I like today," Sasha tells him with his toothless grin, pulling Nicky down onto the bed beside him and rolling on top, letting his weight press down against Nicky as he explores the inside of Nicky's mouth.
"I can't play on same line as you anymore," Nicky gasps, arching up a bit as Sasha starts to suck at his neck. "Any more goals like that and my cup will break."
Sasha starts to laugh into the crook of his neck, body shaking against Nicky's until a well-placed contact of their groins causes both of them to groan. Nicky reaches a hand up to tangle in Sasha's hair as he devotes himself to marking up Nicky's neck again, biting and sucking at the skin there.
"Sasha, do something," Nicky pleads impatiently, rolling his hips up to seek some form of friction. Sasha just moves back to kiss and bite at his lips desperately, hands cupping Nicky's cheeks. Nicky feels like he's about to explode. Sasha pulls away.
That is not what's supposed to be happening right now.
Nicky presses against him, seeking contact once again, but Sasha just looks at him, cheeks flushed and a huge smile on his face.
"Marry me, Kolya," he breathes out in a pant, and what?
"What?" Nicky asks dumbly, a bit shell-shocked by the complete 180 Sasha has just taken and the interrupting of what was shaping up to be a good night, all things considered.
"Marry me, Nicky, I make it so, so good for you, we so good together," Sasha repeats, leaning down to kiss him and set every nerve ending in Nicky's body on fire yet again.
Point proven. Nicky can only surge up against him and kiss him back, needy and wanting as he clutches at Sasha's shoulder and whispers, "Yes," against his lips, a promise for this and everything else that comes with it. If it's anything to do with Sasha, Nicky wants it all.