Chapter Text
“Hayes, man, I need you to be normal about this.” Bood was holding Wyatt hostage, both hands heavy on his shoulders.
Which, while Wyatt had no problems with what was going on, just to make that clear, he was still very confused. Really he hadn’t planned on seeing any of teammates today. This late into the off season usually most of them were on their final trips and vacations far away from Ottawa. Today, though, apparently Wyatt hadn’t been the only one to want to squeeze in a work out on the good equipment in the team gym.
“No problem. I can be normal.” If only Bood would let him go, then Wyatt could check his phone. What was happening? Was the trailer for the new Spiderman film leaked or something? Did Sony and Disney finally get their heads out their asses and realize Tom Holland’s Peter Parker and Across the Spiderverse crossover opportunities were actually so so cool?
It was only when he saw Evan on the floor, legs and arms spread out like a starfish while Nick looked like someone had slapped him on the rowing machine next to him - the very still and not moving rowing machine despite Nick’s body being braced in position - that Wyatt felt the first trickle of unease.
“I can try to be normal.” He amended as Bood’s strange gaze continued.
There was a long moment, only Evan’s hyper breathing to be heard, before Bood began pulling Wyatt further into the team gym. “I think you should sit down.”
“Oh shit, what happened?” Wyatt wanted to check his phone for a very different reason now.
“No one’s hurt.” Bood was quick to offer, pulling Wyatt more insistantly now, towards a bench next to the free weights. Wyatt let his feet follow Bood’s steps, mind still racing. What could it be?
“Fuck, did someone get traded?” Wyatt knew his voice was cracking, but fuck, the team had been so good last season. They couldn’t mess it up now. Not when things were really getting good.
“Jesus fuck, just tell him.” Came Evan’s voice, high and squeaky.
“Not until he’s sitting. Look at what it fucking did to you.” Bood was pushing him down now. Wyatt heard and felt his legs slap down against the cold metal. His stomach felt like it was down there, by his feet. It didn’t help that Bood was too pale, now that Wyatt was really looking at him. Part of him was tempted to hold out a hand and feel for a fever. Something was up. And if it was affecting all of them like this, it had to be hockey.
“Not Roz?” His next question was barely a whisper. He could barely force the words out. But who else could it be? Wyatt had also been swept away in the stardom of Rozanov, shocked and scared to meet their captain a few seasons back, but then he had gotten to know Ilya. Not Rozanov, hockey number one asshole, but Ilya. Their wonderful captain, who sometimes looked so alone Wyatt resisted the urge to take him home after a bad practice. He knew he hadn't been the only one on the team who had noticed, who worried.
“Not what you’re thinking. Jeez, you’re much too negative here.” Bood had finally let go of Wyatt, seemingly satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Well, with how you lot are acting, what the fuck am I supposed to think?” Wyatt fought to keep the anger out of his words. He was never one to raise his voice, even now.
“Hollander didn’t resign with Montreal.” Came the estranged sentence from Nick, who still looked frozen in place.
“What?” Wyatt made a move to stand, but Bood was quick to push him back down. “Fuck that, what?”
“Oh no, you’re staying seated for this one. I can’t have another player passing out on me. Coach would kill me.” Bood ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “It’s true. The news is going to break later today.”
Wyatt felt his mouth gape open wide. He wished he could say he was thinking through all the possibilities here, but there wasn’t a concrete thought in his brain. He didn’t know how to imagine Shane Hollander not in Montreal blues.
“Roz is going to lose his shit.” Evan was giggling now, wild and manic.
Wyatt could only nod and agree. Not that he thought Ilya would be mad, but, still. Yes, the Montreal and Boston rivalry had been broken by Ilya first, but, fuck, where was Shane going?
“Where did he resign?” Wyatt felt like he was practically vibrating in his seat. Fuck, if this information wasn’t even released yet, it’s not like he just look it up. But how the fuck did Bood already know this?
Instead of an answer, Bood let out his own strangled laugh, both hands coming to his hair now, pulling at it and giving Wyatt a crazed grin to complete the look.
“Roz is going to lose it.” Evan was repeating, over and over again quietly.
And that’s when Wyatt first had the thought. The possibility crossed his mind. Flew by, really, a shooting comet of impossible possibility. An event that only happens every couple hundred years.
“Bood. Tell me it ain’t so.” Wyatt started, his hands coming up to cover his gaping mouth. “Tell me he didn’t sign to Ottawa.”
Bood’s barking laugh was all the answer Wyatt needed, really. He felt all the blood drain down, his brain struggling to operate on minimum capacity. Distantly he heard Bood laughing, saying “Hey, at least you got it on the first try. Dykstra thought Hollander was going to Boston first!”
This wasn’t bad news, rationally, but Wyatt could see some merit behind Evan’s repeated mumblings. Sure, a team with one of the greatest hockey stars was great. Flourishing, actually. But two? And then, of all two, Hollander and Rozanov? Hockey’s biggest rivals?
“Whose idea was this?” Wyatt felt himself snap back to reality, whoops there goes gravity. He needed answers.
This question seemed to one not asked yet, as Evan and Nick both slowly sitting up to face Bood, who still stood in the center of the gym, hands in his hair.
“That’s where things get crazy. Like, fucking batshit crazy.” Bood turned to face Wyatt, his face gaunt. “It was Hollander’s idea.”
“We’re so fucked.” Evan groaned at the same time Nick threw a fist up in the air with “This is our year, baby!”
Wyatt had more questions. Too many questions. “How the fuck can we afford him?” At Bood’s awkward shoulder shrug, the next, “Does Roz know?”
“I mean, he’s the fucking captain so I hope so.” Was all Bood had up to offer.
Next question: “How did you find out about this?” Wyatt knew Bood had some connections in the media side of things, but nothing that could warrant this. This was ground breaking. Game changing. There were sure to be riots - two of hockey's biggest suddenly trading to a perceived joke of a team like Ottawa, only years apart. All eyes would be on them.
Bood still looked haunted. “The fucking lockers. I went to go get some stuff set up, just some clothes to change into later, but they were all out of order. Shifted.” He threw a hand out towards Evan, “Dykstra’s name was where mine was last season, my name over yours, Hayes. Everything was different. So I took a look around. Find the cause. What was different.” A muffled laugh. “And then I saw them, right next to each other. Hollander and Rozanov. And I went and fucking asked Coach. Cause there was no fucking way.”
“Shane Hollander’s signed to Ottawa.” Wyatt didn’t speak it as a question, though everything in him wanted to. But, if Coach Wiebe was saying he had, then Wyatt would just have to shift to this new reality. Oh my god, this was actually so cool. He was going to share a locker room with Shane Hollander. Oh my god, he was going to play on the same team as Shane Hollander. Oh my god, Shane Hollander could be his friend. Nick really might be onto something. Wyatt didn’t want to jinx them, not even this early into the season, but with both Roz and Hollander on their team? Who could stop them? Wyatt let his head fall forward, nearly between his knees and tried to take a few deep breaths. Thank god Bood had made him sit down.
And, as if things weren’t crazy enough, this is how Roz and Hollander found them.
Wyatt saw the door swing open in his peripheral vision a half second before he heard Ilya’s booming voice, “And here, also a very sexy place. Team gym. Where all the magic happens to get better than Montreal.”
And then the two men, the two superstars of the NHL stepped into the now absolutely silent gym. Wyatt, head half turned up, was frozen, breathing suddenly a foreign concept. Based on the choked noise he heard from Bood, he wasn’t the only one experiencing difficulties. Both Ilya and Hollander froze, Wyatt watching them take in the sight before them. Evan, still starfished out on the floor, Nick half on, half off the rowing machine, Bood standing stock still between two treadmills. Wyatt, perched uselessly on the weight bench, not a weight in use.
Wyatt watched Ilya take it in, really, unable to really look at Hollander yet. He watched the shocked gaze first, as if Ilya really hadn’t been expecting to see anyone yet, on his personal tour for Hollander. Then, confusion and a flash of concern as he took in his teammates. Finally, humour, as he rolled his shoulders back and leaned in, close, too close, to Hollander and stage whispered. “As you can see, we are already back, hard at work.”
Wyatt instantly knew he was teasing but that didn’t stop the blush from spreading across his face. This was Shane fucking Hollander. And they looked like a bunch of fools.
But when Wyatt chanced a look at Hollander, he didn’t see disgust or disappointment, or even laughter. No, Shane Hollander looked terrified. He was hiding it well, most of his face neutral, but his eyes gave him away, panicked and fluttering back and forth between the four of them and Ilya.
“Um.” Shane Hollander started. “Hi.”
And suddenly Wyatt was transported back to Ilya’s first day. How scared they had all been, how nervous they had been to impress Mr.Rozanov. But Wyatt had forgotten all those thoughts when he had taken a second to take in Ilya and had seen the same fears and worries reflected back at him. As if, being one of hockey's top stars didn't protect him from the basic human need of wanting to be liked. Which, in retrospect, it was probably so alienating in moments. No wonder Ilya had been so nervous.
Though, if anything, Shane looked even worse.
Wyatt forced his body to move, feet nearly stumbling as he stood up too quickly. A few short steps had him in front of Shane, and Wyatt had a half wild thought of realization that Shane was shorter than him. Almost encircled by Ilya. Protectively. Like Ilya thought he needed to protect Shane from Wyatt. Like Shane looked to Ilya for comfort. Huh.
Never mind that, Hayes. Introductions. He forced his hand out. “Wyatt Hayes. Heard I’m your new goalie.”
Shane's hand was slightly shaky in his. A handshake that started out weak, and then suddenly, as if Shane was shocked with electricity, firm and full of fake confidence. Wyatt pointedly kept his face neutral.
Defect. Take the attention off Shane in the moment. Let the man breathe.
“So, Roz. Was there going to be a message in the group chat sometime soon, or all the rest of the poor souls going to have to find out with the rest of the mortals?” Wyatt took half a step back, giving both men a bit of space but still close enough to fix Ilya with his ‘i’m not mad just disappointed’ look.
It was there, in the second it took Ilya to respond that Wyatt finally noticed the tension in Ilya's shoulders. The glint of fear in his eyes. Sure, Shane being nervous was explainable, but what would Ilya have to be afraid of?
But Ilya's cocky grin and bark of laughter erased all the evidence before Wyatt could look closer. “I was thinking of just adding him to group chat. Making him introduce himself.”
Shane’s body shifted in a silent gasp, a heated glare emerging so suddenly and almost reflexively Wyatt almost didn't believe the contradictory calming of the air around them.
“What?” Shane was asking, voice slightly quiet but no longer hesitant. “You were really just going to throw me to the wolves and let me fend for myself?”
Wyatt watched, mesmerized as Ilya lit up, his grin slipping into something real and playful as he swung a hand in the air lazily. “We are Centaurs. Not wolves. Keep up, Hollander. This is your team now.”
Shane seemed to be forgetting they were there, voice rising. “Well excuse me for not thinking. I guess I just assumed it was the job of the team's captain to introduce any new players. Or do you not do that here?”
Ilya leaned in close, grin turning sharp. Feral. “Ah. 15 minutes.”
What? Wyatt was no longer following this absolute masterpiece of a conversation.
“What?” Shane echoed, but Wyatt could swear there was a fond beat to his tone. His mouth almost forming a grin.
Ilya leaned back, out of Shane’s reach, turning his gaze to the ceiling, with a devious grin Wyatt recognized from when Ilya knew whatever he was about to say would piss the other off. “15 minutes. That's how long it took you to challenge my role as captain. Such a shame, Hollander. I would have thought you would have at least waited until first official practice.”
A part of Wyatt tensed at the words. The shocked laugh from Evan behind him served as a sudden reminder that he wasn't alone in watching this two man show. Which was good, because Wyatt was definitely going to have to ask Bood, Evan, and Nick if they had also seen what happened next. Because, well, did that really just happen?
Shane Hollander, legendary captain who had brought his team all the way to the cup for the first time in decades, jabbing Ilya Rozanov with a pointed finger like they were back in grade school, hissing “That's not fair. You tricked me into that one.” Ilya, laughing, light and joyful like he was blind to the absolute pissed off Shane Hollander right next to him, who was still ranting, “I mean, just put me in the group chat? Let them find out from the news? What would I even say? Oh hi. No, this isn't a mistake that I'm here. Yes, Rozanov actually does have my number because yes, yes! We are actually friends. And now teammates. Yes, I fucked off from Montreal because those guys are a bunch of assholes. Glad to meet you all? Fuck you, Rozanov.”
Wyatt didn't think he'd ever heard Shane Hollander talk like this. Or ever say so many words at once.
He also couldn't think of a time that Ilya Rozanov had looked more at peace. Not even on the ice did he look this relaxed. What the fuck was going on?
Bood shifted into Wyatt’s view, throwing an arm around Wyatt's shoulder and saying, far too loudly to be a private conversation, “I think Roz has finally met his match.”
And strangely, both men froze. Shane, eyes wide, retreating back into himself slightly. Ilya, walls that Wyatt hadn't even been aware of sliding back into place. But it was better than the first moments in the gym. New, uneven footing but more rooted.
Ilya's smile was less fake as he asked, “Well, given that Wyatt didn't start hyperventilating, how did you all already know?”
“Hyperventilating?” Came the quiet confusion from Shane.
“Oh, I definitely lost my shit when Bood told me you're joining the team.” Wyatt shrugged when Shane finally met his gaze for the first time. “I'm a huge fan.”
“Of?” Oh, ok. That hurt. Wyatt was glad to see the same undercurrent of pain he felt mirrored on Ilya's face.
“Of you.” Wyatt started, gently. “Like, a mega fan. I mean, how could I not be? You're Shane Hollander. And to find out I get to play on the same team as you? God, I hadn't even dreamed of this.”
Bood was nodding beside him, “Dykstra passed out when he found out.” Evan’s squawking protest behind them startling Shane. Ilya's hand instantly raising, gentle on Shane's shoulder. Shane, relaxing but blushing. Interesting.
“Yes, yes.” Loud and confident again, “Shane Hollander. Blah blah blah. Will someone answer my question? It was in English, yes?” Ilya fixed them with a mock glare, but Wyatt could have sworn his eyes looked near tears. Pride, shining out. Was that for them? Or Shane?
Bood scoffed, launching into a retelling of his locker room discovery instantly but Wyatt barely listened, eyes still focussed on Ilya's hand on Shane's shoulder. His thumb, sweeping back and forth along Shane's collarbone. Steadying. Grounding. Shane listening intently to Bood’s story, seemingly at peace with Ilya's hand so close to his neck.
Shane's groan pulled Wyatt's gaze back up. “Really? We had to be next to each other?”
“What? You think this is my fault?” Ilya's voice seemed to rise when he was just talking to Shane, his words coming out faster and freely.
Shane propped a hand on his hip and fixed Ilya with such a look that Wyatt heard an echo of Bood’s words in his head. Ilya had finally met his match. “Oh, and I'm supposed to believe this to be a coincidence?”
“So what?” Again, hands thrown up in the air, a lightness to the movement so unlike the Ilya Wyatt knew. “It doesn't matter. Maybe this is good thing, no? The captain looking out for new player, yes?”
“Oh no, you are not turning my own argument against me. I'm going to talk to Coach Wiebe about this.” And with this, Wyatt, Bood, Evan, and Nick watched Shane Hollander march out of the team locker room, a stumbling Ilya Rozanov following him with half formed protests and pleas.
At the door, Shane paused, shooting them a small grin. “It was nice to meet you guys.” Before continuing down the hall, Ilya in tow.
Again, silence in the gym.
Then, laughter. “Holy shit. Roz has really met his match.” Nick was fully on the floor now, clutching at his stomach as he laughed.
Bood was shaking his head, still looking towards the door. “I think we know who is really in charge now.”
Evan, finally sitting up from the floor, still pale, “Is it just me, or was Hollander kind of scary there?”
Wyatt, who was inclined to agree, offered up an alternative, “It was like watching an old married couple bicker.”
The ding of their phones, a quick look showing Ilya adding a new contact to the team group chat without warning set them off again.
***
As much of a fever dream that day in the team gym was, and you better bet Wyatt was going practically every other day to check if Shane Hollander's locker was still there, he had expected that to be the most shocking moment. Had ranted, hours, to his wife about those most amazing five minutes with Shane Hollander, trying to get all the fan energy out before he needed to turn on his best version of professional for the upcoming season. He needed to be Shane Hollander’s teammate (and friend, hopefully), not his fan. And he thought he did pretty well. That last week, he thought and talked about Shane Hollander so much, he would be burnt out. It helped too, to see Shane's awkward messages in the group chat, a mix between polite niceties or berating Ilya.
Then they had their first official practice. And Wyatt got to see, to experience, the magic that was Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander on the ice at the same time.
Usually there would always be a few stragglers, late to early morning practices, but this day it felt like everyone was there much too early. When Wyatt had shown up, a whole 15 minutes earlier than his usual 10 early, the locker room had been nearing half full already.
“Holly here yet?” Wyatt asked Evan as he began to change into work out gear for the pre warm up he always liked to do before getting on the ice. Bood had declared, once everyone had been made aware that the new number and teammate in the group chat was Shane Hollander, that Hollander had been too long to type or say, so Shane was officially crowned Holly, or Hollzy by his new team mates. Ilya hadn't replied directly to that declaration, but had taken to replacing Shane's name in any relevant messages with a holly leaf emoji. Shane, for what Wyatt could glean over text, seemed mildly overwhelmed by the action but had yet to put out a word against it. Wyatt wondered what they'd called him in Montreal, if anything.
“Not yet.” Evan was nearly ready for practice but seemed to be putting on his socks very slowly, face half turned towards the door. Waiting. Hell, it seemed like the entire team was waiting for Shane Hollander to arrive. Wyatt was glad to have the first meeting over with. He could be normal. He had to be normal. Shane deserved normal.
The door swung wide open, a tense moment where it felt like everyone in the room held their breath, but it was only Luca. Their rookie, who really wasn't a rookie anymore after last season, but given that Shane was their new player this year and they sure as all hell weren't going to be calling Shane Hollander rookie, Wyatt found it hard to break the mental habit.
Luca’s gaze swung around the room, his shoulders slumping when he also didn't see Shane.
“It's ok, kid.” Nick placed a hand on his shoulder and led him to his new locker placement. “He'll be here.”
Luca nodded slightly, before fixing the team with a hard look. “He's actually a part of the team, yes? This isn't like some prank or something?”
That earned a few chuckles as Nick laughed and promised he'd seen Shane Hollander in the flesh here, but Wyatt couldn't help but sympathize. Luca hadn't been quiet about his admiration for hockey's number one player last season, even once famously, the first time they got him drunk, breaking Ilya's heart. Their captain, helping Wyatt and Bood practically carry their rookie back to the hotel, had not missed his chance to ask, “And, who's your favorite player rook?” To which Luca had giggled loudly, sighing dramatically and swooning as he said “Shane Hollander!” Bood had laughed so hard he'd nearly dropped Luca. Wyatt remembered Ilya pretending to be so offended, but he's also still been the one that insisted on staying with Luca all night, just in case he got sick.
Luca's question seemed to loosen the atmosphere in the locker room, conversations and reminiscing over past pranks pulled bringing a semblance of normal back to the room. So normal, in fact, that no one reacted at first when the door swung open to reveal Ilya and Shane, still a good twenty minutes early to practice.
There was a moment, just a breathless intake, where Wyatt had to pinch himself. Shane Hollander was really here. Then, back to normal.
“Morning Roz, Holly.” Wyatt called. “Can you please assure Haasy that Holly here isn't a prank so he can start sleeping through the night again.” He felt a slight tinge throwing Luca under the bus like this, but better to let the jokes out now than have one of the other guys tease Luca about it later.
“Ha ha. Hollander is too boring for prank.” Ilya again with a hand on Shane's shoulder, guiding him towards their neighboring lockers. “Yes, good morning. Good to see you all. Yes this is Shane Hollander, second best hockey player, I know. How boring.” And then he dropped his voice lower, stopping briefly to introduce Shane to the players they passed, his hand never not touching Shane.
It was a bit surreal, but also, just like the start to any more season. The welcoming stretch of his muscles in the warm up, the comforting smells of the rink, Roz dotting on their new player. Though, well, usually he wasn't this touchy with them. Maybe there was some merit behind their stories of being actual friends?
Shane was quiet, hesitant and always in Ilya's bubble. He gave a stuttered, short hello during Coach Wiebe’s welcoming speech but this man, Shane and not Hollander, was so different from what Wyatt had seen during the games on ice. Not meak or weak, but shy, uncomfortable. He kept reminding himself of how it felt, those first weeks with a new team. Wyatt's experience with trading or switching had always gone relatively smoothly, but he'd also heard some of the rumors. Wild, outrageous stories of Shane's final season in Montreal. Tales so disgusting he barely let himself think about them for the sake of his blood pressure and restraining himself from sweeping Shane into a hug and never letting go. Given all that, it was a wonder Shane was brave enough to try again. To open himself up again to a new team. One with Rozanov, of all people.
And then they got on the ice. Started the first drill.
It was like night and day. Ilya had whined, quite childishly and playful, about needing to show their new teammate how it was done around here, before shooting off like a bullet, the typical relaxed and staring warm up lap around the ice turning into a one man race. Wyatt hadn't been the only one to huff at Ilya's antics, saw more than one pair of rolled eyes and watched Luca flush in second hand embarrassment for their captain.
Wyatt had been tempted to skate closer to Shane, say something about ignoring Ilya's attempts at instigation, but Ilya was already back, panting and grinning down at Shane.
“If you need to go a little slower, that's ok.”
A collective groan, cut off by Shane's triumphant grin. “This is just a warm up, no? I'd hope you could go faster than that.” Before he too, was speeding away, nearly a blur on the ice as Ilya laughed openly and freely.
Wyatt turned to send their Coach a helpless glance, to get him to control this madness if Ilya wasn't going to, but he found the man with an almost evil grin. A glint in his eyes as he watched Shane finish the lap around the ice with a proud nod.
And that's when Wyatt truly began to understand the absolute madness that was in store for them this season.
He could practically feel the sore muscles already. Could feel the cheers of the crowd, all around them. Could see their chances for the playoffs wide open in front of them.
With Shane Hollander on their team, they were going to be unstoppable.