Chapter Text
Cliff Marleau was seriously regretting not having called a cab at the club. He was stumbling down the streets of Boston, trying to get home, or at least trying to find the direction of his home.
The Raiders had beaten the Metros 5-3 that day, which had put the whole team in an excellent mood. They had of course all gone out to celebrate. Roz had joined them too, which was a surprise, because he never really went out with them after gams against Montreal. All though, Cliff supposed, Roz had disappeared pretty swiftly. No one had really taken notice of it though, everyone had been too shitfaced to care.
With his thoughts still on Rozanov, he pulled out his phone to do something, anything to help him get home. Maybe he could call a cab now, or at least check where he was, the club had originally just been a twenty-minute walk from his house. Or maybe he couldn’t do any of that, he supposed, as he looked down on his phone which was completely dead.
He stuffed it back inside his pocket and continued his walk. The chilly Boston air helped him to sober up a bit, and he swiftly realised the neighbourhood he had walked into was no other’s than his beloved captain’s. Which meant Cliff just needed to find Roz’s house and he could get home pretty quickly from there, he knew that path in and out after all.
Cliff and Roz lived fairly close, it was about a ten-minute walk separating their homes, all though Roz did live in an area a little bit more secluded and private. Because they lived so close they hung out often, it wasn’t unheard off, that Roz just showed up at Cliff’s house any time he pleased. But Cliff didn’t mind, he really enjoyed his friend’s company.
As Cliff turned the next corner, he happily recognized Roz’s street, he could even make out the other man’s house at the end of said street. He started walking towards the house, and with that, towards the path that would lead him home. As he got closer he could see the lights still on in his captain’s living room, and briefly considered popping by to see what he was doing. Then Cliff realised that this was a fairly stupid idea, given it was way past midnight already.
He shook the idea from his head and was just about to round the last corner out of his best friend’s street and towards his own home, when he spotted a cab pulling up right in front of Rozanov’s house.
Now listen, Cliff knew he shouldn’t be spying on his best friend’s life, but he was no saint after all, and to his defence he was still slightly under the influence of alcohol. Maybe it was a hookup? Cliff supposed. No that couldn’t be it, Roz hasn’t hooked up with anyone in a while, hasn’t even really gone out to the club with them “just because” ever since his mysterious two weeks disappearance he had pulled the summer before. Which Cliff suspected was to his Montreal girl’s house. So this could only mean the person in the cad had to be his secret girlfriend from Montreal.
Yes, Cliff thought, he’s been acting different since the summer. He had started noticing the change in his captain’s behaviour ever since the new season had started. he never hooked up with anyone anymore, never talked about women and was always texting someone with a stupid grin on his face.
Cliff had figured he had finally managed to lock down Montreal Jane, and he was truly happy for his best friend. But if that was the case, why did Roz never talk about her, not even with Cliff? And Cliff really wanted to know. So now that the perfect opportunity had presented itself to Cliff to get a glimpse at this mystery girl, he could not pass it up.
He carefully hid behind a trash can and angled himself so, that he could not be spotted from Roz’s house. Then the car door opened and out stepped… Shane Hollander? No, this couldn’t be right. What the hell was the Metros captain doing at Rozanov’s, his biggest rivals, house? How did he even know where Roz lived?
A million and one thoughts were running trough Cliff’s head. He was thinking about every possible scenario why Hollander could be here, but none of them made any sense. His eyes were fixed on Hollander, who walked up to the door and pulled out his phone. Then they waited. Cliff in the shadows, his brain almost breaking from trying to come up with an explanation for this, and Hollander by the door, looking nervously over his shoulders every second.
Then suddenly the front door was yanked open by non-other than the man Ilya Rozanov himself. Cliff held his breath. What would Roz say to Hollander? Would he beat him up? Or just close the door in his face? No, Hollander was surely here for a reason, Cliff just couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be.
After two seconds of Rozanov and Hollander staring intensely at each other, Hollander’s hand suddenly darted forward and pulled Rozanov towards himself. Cliff let out a surprised breath, but he was absolutely not prepared for what he saw next.
Because not only did Roz let himself be pulled forward, he quickly captured Hollander’s lips in a passionate kiss. Hollander’s hands made their way into Rozanov’s hair and Rozanov’s to Hollander’s waist. The kiss was heated, but also full of love and tenderness, the way Cliff had never seen from his captain before.
They did not break the kiss, clearly having missed each other very much, but Rozanov started walking them backwards into the house and swiftly shut the door behind them, which was a smart idea, because anyone could witness this if they kept doing it out on the street.
Luckily no one saw, Cliff thought to himself. Then he paused, because well, that was not entirely true. He had seen. He knew now. He knew that Hollander and Rozanov were in some kind of romantic relationship.
Then suddenly, as if on cue, everything clicked into place in Cliff’s mind. Rozanov’s Montreal girl was Hollander! That was the reason for the secrecy! That was the defensiveness about Jane! Why he never talked about her, never showed any pictures, never confirmed she existed outside of his phone. That was also probably why Rozanov always seemed to disappear in Montreal after they had played the Metros, to meet up with Hollander. It all made so much sense now!
As Cliff got up from his hiding spot and finally, finally started heading home he started to wonder. He couldn’t say he was surprised that Rozanov was also into men, that was just so on brand for him, not only rocking the women’s but the men’s world too. He had to be the best at everything after all. If he was being honest, he has had a suspicion about Roz not being entirely straight for a while.
He had entertained the idea multiple times, that Montreal girl was actually Montreal boy. But he had never brought it up with Roz, it wasn’t his place to ask. He would bring it up if he wanted to. And it was not like Cliff was particularly interested in who his best friend was fucking, Roz was still the same old guy, no matter where he put his dick.
Hollander was good for him, he supposed. An unlikely match, sure, but the more Cliff thought about it, the more sense it made. The two have known each other since their rookie season after all. They were both by far the best players in the league, and that came with a pressure only the two of them could understand. Add on top of that the whole “not being straight” thing and you suddenly start to see all the ways they are similar and could understand each other. But their opposing personalities balanced them out perfectly.
It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Roz, Cliff mused. He didn’t know who knew about this, he wasn’t even really sure what this was, if he had to guess he would go for secret committed very gay relationship, but one thing he knew for certain; he would take this secret to his grave if that was what Roz wanted. He only wanted the best for his best friend after all, and if that was Shane Hollander, Cliff would do anything that meant Roz could keep him.