Chapter Text
Cliff couldn’t wipe the sappy smile off his face as he entered the locker room the next day. Usually, two games in two days were a nightmare, but Cliff did not care at all this time.
His date with Hayden was perfect. They’d gone back to his apartment and kissed, fucked, ordered dinner, then fucked again and then ate their cold pizza whilst watching shitty tv movies. Without the time (and public decency) constraints of the penalty box, Hayden was even more wonderful, and Cliff was on top of the world.
He practically danced into the locker room, which was a bad move because his team was not that oblivious.
St Simon was the first to call it out. Pretty much as soon as Cliff walked in St Simon pointed at him and declared “You fucked last night.” Which wasn’t untrue but was drastically understating the gravity of the fact that he went on a date with Hayden, and they had another one planned.
Soon, however, the whole locker room was joining in, with loud cries of ‘he totally fucking did’ and all the boys congratulating him.
Until Carmichael asked “Who was it then? Do we know her?”
The locker room went silent, waiting for Cliff’s response. He shrugged, scratched the back of his neck and then said “Hayden,” realizing a second too late that he should have lied.
“Do we know any Haydens?” Carmy asked as chatter started up again.
“My aunt’s called Hayden but she’s like fifty so that would be weird.” DickRap said, unhelpfully. A couple of the guys still looked at Cliff which was kind of gross because he had standards and wouldn’t sleep with anyone related to a man called DickRap. So, he shook his head.
“The only Hayden I know is Hayden Pike.” Ollie Taylor said. Ollie was one of their goalies. He was an odd sort, as most goalies are, and rarely joined in on conversations like this. Cliff wished he hadn’t joined in on this one.
“Who the fuck is Hayden Pike?” Carmy asked.
Ollie looked at him, confused “You know Hayden Pike. You must know him. Hayden who attends the penalty box?”
“How the fuck do you know him? You’re a goalie! You don’t even get penalties!” Cliff chimed in and God did he wish his brain moved faster than his mouth. Everyone was staring at him.
“Because I’m a decent guy and know the names of our staff?” Ollie replied, “And because I’m a goalie, and goalies know things.”
“Holy shit,” said Connors, faintly “You fucked the penalty box man.”
The room once again erupted. This wasn’t right. They couldn’t know. He needed to correct them, make up a lie about some other Hayden, or say he got the name wrong, and it was Hailey or something. Fuck, just say anything.
“I didn’t just fuck him! It was a date! And we’re going to have another!”
Anything except that.
Cliff stood in the middle of the room, bright red and helpless for what felt like hours until Ilya banged his fist on the side of his locker loudly, and everyone quietened to look at him.
“This,” he said, voice full of authority “Stays between us. Nobody is saying anything about Cliff to anyone, yes?”
Everyone nodded.
“And if anybody has a problem with him dating guys, then they can leave. Now.”
“Nah it’s all good, man.” Beef said happily from his place on the bench, “I had a boyfriend once.”
This time, the room in the noise was not aimed at him, and he was eternally grateful to Beef for his skill in distracting the room whenever questions about Cliff’s personal life came up.
Ilya lingered again as the team headed out to the ice. Cliff stayed with him. Roz was good about his sexuality and all, but it made sense that he would have questions, and he was one of the few guys Cliff didn’t mind answering them to.
“Thank you.”
“Is no problem. If guys are dicks, then they can go be dicks somewhere else. I will not have that here.”
“Still, I appreciate it. Is everything okay with you?”
Ilya hummed, trying to work out his next question. “You and penalty box man. Hayden. You are dating?”
“Yeah, starting to date. Yesterday was our first.”
“You led me to think you wanted to fuck him. I did not think dating.”
“I didn’t lead you to think anything. You decided I wanted to fuck him.”
Ilya waved his hand, dismissing that. “He is good to you? You love him?”
“Christ, Roz, I don’t know. It’s a bit early for love. But I really like him, and yeah, he’s good to me. He’s good generally.”
Roz nodded, a dangerous look coming over him, “We shall see,” and started to head out to the ice. Cliff ran after him the best he could in skates, which made it a weird waddle more than anything else, but he still caught up.
“Roz, what are you planning? Don’t do anything to him!”
Ilya didn’t reply.
It was another game against Toronto, and they were pissed after losing last time. It was kind of fun, thought Cliff, that him meeting Hayden and the team finding out about him were both on games against Toronto, as accidental as that was.
Hayden waved at him from the box and Cliff, as usual blew a kiss back, ignoring the oohs and aahs from his team. It was going to be a good game. Cliff could feel it. And he no longer needed to get penalties to see Hayden; he could do that outside the game. So, he was prepared to play the best and cleanest game of his life. His team did not feel the same way.
Ilya was the first. Barely two minutes into the game he tripped a Guardian’s player in perhaps the most deliberate way possible, and Ilya did not get penalties often. He played hard, but he played cleanly. Cliff watched as Ilya shrugged, let out the least sincere ‘oops’ that Cliff had ever heard, and got marched to the penalty box with a smile on his face. Roz was looking at Hayden like a shark looking at its prey, and Cliff knew almost immediately what the rest of this game was going to be like.
The next two minutes were awful. Not in terms of the game (Toronto’s power play hadn’t gotten any better since they’d last met), but because Cliff had no clue what Ilya was saying to Hayden, and he knew for a fact that Ilya wouldn’t tell him.
Carmichael was next. He was not a fighter, but about thirty seconds after Roz was released; he punched Dallas Kent in the face. Going by the whisperings around the league, Kent deserved it, so Cliff didn’t feel too bad about it as he was pretty certain it was his fault. After that, The Guardians seemed to pick up on what kind of game this was going to be, and the penalties kept coming.
The Raiders seemed like they were on a mission to get every penalty available. There was interference, slashing, boarding, roughing, holding, a too many men on ice (that one was Beef’s fault and Cliff thought it may have been accidental), and so, so much fighting. Hammersmith got a ten-minute misconduct near the midpoint of the period, which he said was ‘totally worth it’.
At one point Cliff looked over at the penalty box, and there were five of his teammates in there seemingly quizzing Hayden, who looked more tired than anything else (The Guardian’s had five players of their own serving penalties at the same time, and they looked like they were finding it much less enjoyable).
Cliff had hoped that after one period, 37 penalty minutes for their team alone, a single goal for Toronto, and Reilly losing his mind at them, things would cool off a bit. He was wrong.
Period two started with Toronto’s Aucoin picking a fight with Connors who hadn’t yet served a penalty this game. Ten seconds into the period both teams had ten more penalty minutes and two players each in the box. Cliff was losing his mind.
Luckily, things slowed a little after that. They weren’t great, but Boston only got one more minor and one double minor penalty through the remaining nineteen minutes (a high-sticking and a double for roughing).
The scoring picked up instead. Five minutes into the period they were down three, and then Ilya scored a beautiful backhand off a pass by Cliff and the dam broke. They finished the period tied at four (Cliff scored one himself and got to see Hayden smiling at him during a brief moment of peace in his box).
By the end of the second period, there was a grand total of ninety penalty minutes between the two teams. Fifty-three of which were Boston’s which Cliff privately thought wasn’t too bad a ratio considering his team were trying to get penalties whereas Toronto was only playing hard to match them.
St Simon was the only player from Boston besides from Cliff and Ollie Taylor who hadn’t yet gotten a penalty by the start of the third and Cliff pulled him aside just before they left the locker room.
St Simon’s eyes were glinting with mischief and Cliff sighed heavily.
“I know what you’re planning to do.”
St Simon smiled, “And you can’t stop me.”
“No, I can’t, but can you tell Hayden to meet me after the game.”
St Simon’s smile widened “Second date already? Marleau you dog.”
“No,” Cliff replied, “I just want to apologize to him for all of you idiots.”
It took fifteen minutes for St Simon to finally get his penalty (a slash on Troy Barrett), and right before the whistle blew, Ilya charged Dallas Kent, just because he could.
The game finished with over a hundred penalty minutes (fifty-seven to Boston) and an upsetting loss (seven – eight Toronto).
Coach Reilly was ready to murder the entire team except Cliff, which was a nice change, and in contrast, the locker room was buzzing, and all the talk was about Hayden. His team liked Hayden. A lot actually. There was a lot of questions about why Cliff hadn’t told them how funny ‘his man’ was and all Cliff could do was tell the team that Hayden wasn’t ‘his’ at all. He was his own person, but yes, he was hilarious, and Cliff was absolutely smitten.
Cliff showered and dressed quickly, and Hayden was waiting for him outside the locker room when he left. He greeted him with a quick kiss and a much longer, rambling apology about his team, which likely would’ve been even longer if three members of his team hadn’t walked past them and let out a chorus of “Bye, Hayden.”
Cliff stared at them incredulously and turned to Hayden “They like you more than me. I’ve been on their team for years, and they like you more than me.”
Hayden laughed at him, and Cliff could deal with the team liking Hayden more if it made him laugh like that.
“They don’t. I’m just new to them.”
“Are you calling me old?”
“Shut up, Cliff.” Hayden said and pushed his shoulder gently.
Cliff frowned, “I really am sorry, though. I should’ve told you the boys found out, I just didn’t expect them to do... that in the game.”
“It’s fine, Cliff. I figured it out pretty quickly anyway after Rozanov explained in detail all the ways he’d kill me if I ever hurt you.”
Cliff winced. He loved his team, of course, but sometimes he really hated his team. He lent down, tucking his burning face into Hayden’s neck.
“Did they all threaten you like that?” Cliff asked, words muffled.
Hayden thought for a moment, arms coming up to wrap around Cliff, “Not all. I think I got twelve death threats, eight questions about what my intentions were with you, three questions about my favorite Star Wars movie, and Connors asked what I thought the opposite of fire was. He seemed pleased when I answered ice.”
“I’m so sorry about them.”
“Cliff, it’s fine, genuinely. I’m glad you have so many people who care about you.”
And yeah, Hayden was right about that. Cliff had truly never been happier.