Chapter Text
When Troy Barrett gets traded to the Cens, Bood’s surprised at what a little coward he is.
Bood hates Dallas Kent, thinks he’s a complete fuckhead, but at least he was honest about being a racist asshole. Even when they played on the same team in juniors, Kent talked shit about Bood being black - the only difference between juniors and pro hockey was that once they were on different teams, Kent could stop pretending it was ‘just a joke, man, stop being such a little bitch’ and started pretending it was just a chirp instead. If Kent was traded to the Cens, he would’ve strutted in and spewed the same racist crap as he always does - chest out, head high, voice loud.
Bood likes to think he’d punch out Kent the first time he tries it but, inside his heart, he knows he wouldn’t. No one likes an angry black man.
Troy Barrett laughed along with Kent when they were on the Guardians together. His favourite was talking about how Bood got a big dick instead of a big brain (what the fuck), and making hooting monkey noises. But he doesn’t say boo when he’s alone on the Cens - keeps his eyes down, his mouth shut. It makes Bood’s lip curl and his fists itch.
Bood laughs because it’s not funny. How fucked up is it that he has a ranked list of which hockey players are better at being racist?
Bood keeps a close eye on Barrett when he comes over for the BBQ. He’s been on his best behaviour so far but Bood knows how guys have a way of showing what they really think once they’ve had enough booze.
Plus, Cassie’s pregnant. She and the baby don’t need the stress of hearing what some racist thinks about a white, blonde lady having a baby with a black man. She gets enough of that shit from her own mother.
Barrett’s welcomed with open arms before long - he’s handsome and white and good at hockey. It’s good publicity for the team that he has a nice convenient story about how he’s changed and become a better man through the power of gay love and realising that raping women is wrong.
It doesn’t take too long before half of the Cens social media content is photos of Troy Barrett and cute dogs. Drover and the social media team are thrilled - apparently fan engagement stats are up.
The Cens charity focus is on access to sports, education, and opportunity for Ottawa kids and youth. Bood believes in the mission, especially for poor kids and non-white kids - too often those are the same kids.
Drover always posts at least one photo of cute kids on the ice, or attending a game. The rest of the feed is still mostly Troy Barrett and dogs.
Drover is always around the team these days, taking photos and filming shorts and snuggling with Barrett.
Plenty of people think it’s cute, think it shows what a welcoming, safe workplace the Cens are creating.
Bood thinks that if Cassie worked for the team and he spent half his time pawing her, she’d be fired and he’d be sent down to the farm team before the first day was over. He guesses it’s different if you’re cute and white and gay.
Things change when Ilya Rozanov signs with the Cens. Now he’s all over the Cens marketing and social media because he’s the great hope for the perpetual rebuild and finally bringing a Cup to Ottawa.
But Barrett’s back on the feed soon enough when he and Rozanov become friends and lineys. That’s a good story too - Hockey Superstar and Ex-Asshole score goals and win games, hockey is for everyone!
At least, Barrett doesn’t seem to have a problem playing on a line with Bood. Hugs him and everything during cellies. Doesn’t say a word about his big dick and small brain. Only whoops of victory, no monkey hoots. Yeah, he’s a changed man.
Things change again when Rozanov and Hollander are outed, and again when Hollander signs with the Cens too. PR and social media have the Hockey Husbands plastered all over their branding and advertising to show their support and welcome Hollander to the Cens family.
It’s probably a smart move, probably helps Hollander feel grateful and like he owes the Cens something - after all, they signed and welcomed him, even though he was unprofessional enough to get filmed kissing Rozanov. Now Hollander owes them a Cup.
Hollander’s PR game is flawless.
The front office executives love him. They love his personal branding - all clean-cut excellence. Even being gay and Asian is good - new markets to tap into for profit. Hollander gives white-toothed smiles and firm handshakes. He nods seriously and makes comments about expansion and growth, fan engagement, and development.
Bood knows that he and Hollander both barely finished high school and even when they went the focus was on hockey, not learning stuff. Front office never talks to Bood about business though. Sometimes they’ll ask about his workouts.
Hollander knows how to work a locker room too.
He’s still got the same firm handshake he used with the front office but he throws in a backslap or a bro hug now and then. He remembers stats about everyone’s game, even the newest rookies and call ups. He’s the right amount of modest about his own achievements, enough to reassure even the most insecure fourth liner that Hollander’s just one of the guys, that he’s all about the team.
Hollander keeps smiling as Rozanov introduces him to Barrett, listens patiently to the bullshit Rozanov spews as he hypes up Barrett. Hollander shakes Barrett’s hand, and doesn’t punch anyone, not even when they deserve it. Bood wonders how Hollander does it, stay married to a man whose best friend used to spew racist shit at Hollander every time they shared the ice.
Seriously, flawless PR game.
And Hollander does the same thing, day after day after day. At the rink, in the weight room, on the plane. Same smile, same calm. There’s never any tension around his eyes. His smile never turns into a snarl. He never slips up - not with Bood, not even with Rozanov.
Part of Bood’s impressed at how good Hollander is at it. Part of him wonders what sort of shit Hollander had to deal with so he had to get so good at it.
Until one day when Bood notices there’s something off.
Hollander and Rozanov come in together, just like always. The guys call out, say hi, say thanks for hosting yesterday’s party.
“Thanks, guys - Harris and I had a great time,” Barrett says, as Hollander walks past to his stall.
Hollander gives him a small smile. “Glad to hear it, man.”
But Rozanov doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at Barrett, and just jerks his head in a single sharp nod.
Rozanov’s not a captain who calls meetings. He fixes problems in the moment, whether it’s on the ice or in the room. So Bood’s surprised when Rozanov asks to meet formally, captain and alternate, outside of the locker room.
“We need to change team parties,” Rozanov says. Bood’s never seen him look this serious - he was intense during playoffs but now he looks like someone’s life actually depends on where the team holds its parties. “Not at my house anymore.”
“Sure, Cap. Cassie and I can host more - it’s easier now Milo’s older.”
But Rozanov shakes his head straight away. “No. Is not meant to make more work for you and Cassie.”
“Hey, I’m AC - that shit’s part of my job. And I don’t mind hosting. I love grilling.”
Rozanov has a stubborn look on his face though. “No. You and Cassie are busy with Milo. You do enough as AC and head WAG. So I’m think team parties change so everyone takes turn, and sometimes we go out instead and everyone pays a bit. All equal and shared.”
Bood’s only ever played on the Cens and he’s been hosting BBQs since he was rookie. But Rozanov’s idea isn’t bad - plenty of other teams do it the new way he wants to try. It does spread out the work and the cost.
“No problem, Cap.”
“I think you or me should do the first and last team party of the season - proper welcome and goodbye. But other parties are somewhere else. Okay?”
“Works for me. Cassie will be glad to get a break.”
Bood guesses that this matters to Rozanov for whatever reason because he looks relieved when Bood agrees.
The topic doesn’t come up again until a few weeks later after the Cens win four in a row.
“Hey, we should celebrate!” Lapointe shouts. “Party at Cap and Hollzy’s place!”
“Ugh, no,” Rozanov replies. He ignores the rookies’ protests and pulls an exaggerated face of disgust. “I’m sick of stinky hockey players always in my pretty house - no more team parties there except at start and end of season.”
“Nooooo,” Holmberg groans. “Where will we party then?”
“We take turns,” Rozanov says.
Haas looks like a schoolkid as he raises his hand. “Cap? I don’t think the team can fit in my apartment. There’s a lot of us and we’re all big and my apartment is small.”
“Oh god, I didn’t even think of that,” Young says, looking freaked out. “What happens if guys want to bring WAGs and kids and dogs? My place is even smaller than Haasy's!”
“Can the guys in apartments not have to host?” Lapointe asks hopefully.
“No, is compulsory. You will learn leadership for when you become vets and captains one day.”
“Why don’t the younger guys host in pairs with each other or with an older player?” Hollander suggests mildly.
“Yes, genius idea!” Roz beams at Hollander. “We also don’t always have to go to someone’s house - we can go out somewhere, book a restaurant where everyone pays a bit.”
“Is this hazing?” Young asks. He still looks nervous. “I heard the Guardians do a thing to their rookies and call-ups where the whole team goes out to a fancy restaurant, orders heaps of expensive booze and food, then leave the rookies to cover the bill.”
“We are nothing like the fucking Guardians,” Rozanov spits.
Haas looks proud and embarrassed when he tells the team that he signed his first big sponsorship.
“It’s for TAG,” he says. “They sent me a watch.”
“They should send you lots of watches,” Rozanov says. “So you can wear them all the time and show them off and they think you are an amazing brand ambassador and you get more sponsorships. Like Shane - Rolex loves him.”
“Congrats, Luca,” Drover says. “We can post about it on the Cens social media accounts - TAG will probably like that.”
“Check with your PR team and publicist first,” Rozanov orders Haas. “No posting unless they say it’s okay.”
“I don’t have a PR team or a publicist,” Haas admits.
“You need one now you’re getting sponsorships - to look after your personal brand. Shane has both - they are from big firm that only do PR and publicity - and is in his contract that they are in charge of his social media. It’s very smart so I changed my contract to do the same.”
Drover frowns. It’s a big change from his usual happy, smiley face. “Sure, a private PR firm like that makes sense for big stars like you and Shane but Luca’s practically a rookie. The Cens have a great communications team - we can post about Luca’s sponsorships.”
“Yeah, Harris and the team look after my accounts and stuff,” Barrett says.
“Oh, didn’t know you started getting sponsorships,” Rozanov says and Bood can see that he’s casual and relaxed on the surface but tense as fuck underneath. “Didn’t know Harris looks after both team and sponsorship stuff for you too.”
Rozanov isn’t wrong to be sceptical - Harris and the Cens communications team might love Barrett but the sponsors don’t. Between being an asshole, being Kent’s friend, being Kent’s ex-friend, and being gay, Barrett’s pissed off every demographic out there. No decent brand’s marketing department wants to touch him, no matter how pretty he is.
“Luca, we can give you the contact details of the PR firm that manage us,” Hollander offers. “Even if you don’t need the same level of input that Ilya and I do, they’ll have something that suits you - it’s better than trying to manage your accounts yourself.”
“Wow, thanks, Shane!” Luca says, eyes wide. “I’ll call them straight after practice.”
They have three days off and all the guys are talking about how much relaxing they can cram in before heading into a week long roadie with five away games.
“Hey, why don’t you come over to our place and hang out tomorrow?” Barrett says to Rozanov and Hollander. “Anya and Chiron can play. Harris’ sisters dropped off a fresh batch of cider too.”
Rozanov is busy throwing stuff into his duffel bag, barely seems to be listening. “Hm. Maybe. I have to check my calendar because I am a big, busy superstar.”
“Go ahead, if you want,” Hollander says. “I’ve got a call lined up to catch up with Rose.”
“I still can’t believe I’m friends with one of Rose Landry’s friends,” Drover gushes. “Why don't you come over and take the call at our house? We don't mind. She probably has a really crazy filming schedule.”
“She does,” Hollander agrees. “And she’s careful about her privacy, especially for projects that haven’t been announced yet. I’ll just call her from our house - thanks though.”
It’s a smart play - keeps Drover from inviting himself over too - but Drover still rallies for another attempt. “You know, if she’s ever in Ottawa, we’d love to feature Rose Landry in some of our content. Carter Vaughn’s girlfriend does some stuff with the Admirals.”
Hollander smiles but it’s non-committal. “I can let Rose know but her PR team has a really focused strategy - Hollywood’s like that. You understand, you’re in the business.” He's polite but he shuts it down. Who's Drover to argue with a huge Hollywood movie star?
Chatter drifts and some of the other guys are looped into the invite to Barrett and Drover’s place to play with dogs. Bood can’t tell if Rozanov feels better going there in a group or if he manages to duck out totally.
Bood waits until the voices get loud and the guys are distracted before he approaches Hollander. “Hey, I thought I might have a small bunch of people over for a BBQ. Something quiet, not like the usual big team thing. You want to come? You can bring Rozanov and Anya too.”
Hollander gives Bood the same smile he gave Drover, the same smile he gives everyone at the Cens and the Metros. It's very professional. “Maybe.”