Chapter Text
The first time Ryan met Artemi he’d been a little bit nervous. The man is a genius when it comes to hockey. He’s an incredible athlete yes, but it’s not like Ryan hasn’t played alongside plenty of superstars. His goalie was Henrik Lundqvist after all. But secretly, he’d had a bit of a crush on Panarin since he’d entered the league. And those kinds of feelings are fine when the other person plays in Chicago or Columbus. Sharing a locker room? A team? That’s fully different and Ryan knew he’d have to tamp down on his attraction. He just wasn’t sure how easy that would be to accomplish.
When Artemi entered the room and began to make his rounds, shaking hands and exchanging greetings, Ryan stayed plastered to his stall, eyes darting to and from Artemi. He sat with his hands picking at his hockey shorts, pulling at the frayed threads distractedly. When Artemi reached him, Ryan stood and for the first time made eye contact. Ryan hadn’t done that before. When they’d played one another, he’d always been careful to not look. It wasn’t helpful. It was distracting. So now as he found himself gazing into the surprisingly blue eyes of his newest teammate, he felt like he was drowning. A blush quickly jumped onto his cheeks as he shook Artemi’s hand.
“It’s good to have you,” he greeted in a purely media voice. It was the best he could do. He needed to chill out.
A grin danced on Artemi’s face and he grabbed onto Ryan’s shoulder.
“Be fun having you as liney,” he responded, Russian accent drawing Ryan in all the more. Tearing his gaze away, Ryan caught sight of Mika raising an eyebrow pointedly in his direction.
He was fucked.
Over the first few weeks of training camp, Ryan found himself playing the best hockey of his career. Artemi had a way of elevating those he played with. It was exhilarating.
Off the ice though, Ryan kept his distance for the most part. He was still working on eliminating his crush. It was a tenacious fucker though and he was finding it nearly an impossible task.
Artemi’s car broke down on a stormy night about two weeks after the season debut. Ryan felt his heart lurch as he recognized the white BMW on the side of the road, hood up with a soaked superstar leaning over the engine. Pulling over, Ryan had jogged to Artemi’s side, holding his coat up over his head in a futile attempt to stay dry.
“Bread?” he shouted over the deluge.
The older man had startled, banging his head on the hood of his car. Looking over, curls flopping lower on his face due to the rain, forehead now bleeding sluggishly, Artemi actually grinned at Ryan.
“Tree! You come to rescue me?”
Artemi had taken to calling Ryan tree. He said Strome was the Czech word for tree and if Ryan were feeling particularly candid he’d admit it made him feel special. Everyone else just called him Stromer.
Blushing despite the cold of the rain, Ryan cringed through a smile. “I don’t know shit about cars, but we can call for a tow and I can take you to my place to get warmed up?”
The suggestion earned him an armful of soaking wet hockey player. Artemi had leapt on him like they’d just combined for a game winning goal, rambling in joyous Russian. They’d hugged on the ice last week, and Ryan admittedly relished the moment, but this felt different.
“We go now?”
Ryan pulled back and despite the warmth rolling in his stomach, he felt a tinge of worry. Artemi’s frame was trembling from the cold, his cheeks were pale white, and his lips a grayish tint. The cut on his forehead was still dribbling.
“Yeah, let’s get you home,” Ryan agreed, tugging Artemi under his arm (for warmth, he defended to himself) and guided him to his SUV.
Ryan dumped Artemi in the passenger seat and reached over him to pull napkins from the glove box, which he used to mop up the stream of blood and press into the cut.
“Hold this here,” he instructed before pulling away, shutting the door, and running around to the driver’s side. Cranking up the heat, Ryan dialed a local towing company and pulled back onto the road.
“So,” Artemi huffed out, shifting in his seat to look over at Ryan once the call ended. He was still shivering, but his cheeks actually had some life in them now. “We finally get time together.”
Ryan nearly choked at that. He hadn’t realized Artemi wanted to spend time with him. He figured he’d been getting along fine with Chris and Mika and the others. He wasn’t the life of the party by any means, and just kind of assumed most the guys were happy with him as a teammate.
“Um yeah,” he finally responded, pulling out of his frayed thoughts. “I guess we do.”
He expected that maybe they would chat about how the team is doing or how Artemi was settling in, but his teammate surprised him once again.
“What kind of music you like?” he asked as he fiddled with the stereo system.
“Um, I like Gregory Alan Isakov and the Lumineers. Just music that chills me out I guess.”
Artemi squinted at Ryan for a moment. “You like sad music. You sad Tree?”
Ryan felt his chest twist. Glancing over to see if Artemi was chirping him, he found the man’s eyes wide and honest, listening for a response to his question. That kind of almost made it worse.
Yeah he was sad. He’d bounced from team to team and struggled to put down roots. He was a closeted bisexual in the national hockey league. He was nearing 30 and had never really felt seen or loved by anyone outside of his immediate family. But he can’t complain by any means. He had his dream job and New York was great. He was absolutely sad, but didn’t feel like he was allowed to be.
“Um, sometimes,” he tried for a half truth. Sneaking another glance, he found Artemi’s head tipped thoughtfully.
“Yes,” Artemi said after a moment. “Sometimes me too. But I put on rap so no one can know,” he added with a playful grin.
Breathing out a laugh, Ryan shook his head. “Yeah, I guess that would be a good plan.”
They were quiet for a moment, just the sound of the rain clanging off the car and the quiet hum of jazz music. Ryan would never have pegged Artemi as a jazz guy, but what did he know? They’d only been teammates a handful of weeks and he’d done everything he could to avoid the man.
“You should smile more,” Artemi commented. “It’s nice smile.”
Ryan wasn’t sure what to say to that so he muttered a thanks and gave what was likely a painfully awkward grin.
When they arrived at Ryan’s apartment complex, he quickly ushered Artemi into the bathroom and pulled out his first aid kit. He wiped as gently as he could at the cut before placing a butterfly bandage over it.
He’d been distracted as he cared for the man, but now as his hands dropped, he realized how close they were to one another. Artemi sitting on the bathroom counter, Ryan leaning up against it, tucked between the Russian’s legs.
When he moved to pull away, Artemi grabbed his wrist and cocked his head.
“Spasibo,” he whispered, eyes thoughtful as he thanked Ryan.
Ryan didn’t really understand, but he just smiled before ducking his head and pulling back fully.
“There’s um. I’m going to grab some sweats if you want to shower and warm up,” he offered before rushing away.
The rest of the evening felt comfortable, familiar almost. It became the first of many such nights, with the exception of the broken down car or the injury. It didn’t take long at all for Artemi to become Ryan’s favorite person. He was sure that didn’t’ go both ways, but he was admittedly too greedy to keep himself from indulging in their friendship and then dreaming of the impish grin and compassionate eyes night after night.
It was raining as Ryan sat chatting with his younger brother Dylan on the phone. And as much as he’d tried to use the conversation as a distraction from his fears, rain always reminded him of Artemi. When the phone call came through and Ryan rushed to wrap things up so he could take it, his heart was pounding.
“Bread?” he answered the phone, voice laced with urgency and concern and relief.
“Hello Tree.”