Work Text:
The Bears are going to take it.
Because of fucking course they were.
Everyone knew the Centaurs were nothing to be afraid of, even with the second-best NHL hockey player captaining them.
The telly was aglow with the Boston Bears about to win. From a scoring standpoint, they could use this win. The situation wasn't dire (at least not like Ottawa's), but without Ilya on their roster, they were nothing special. Not bad, but not amazing. But Ottawa was worse, and that's all that mattered now.
Shane winced when St-Simon snuck past Dillon and scored. Ottawa needed this win. Ilya needed this win. Shane had never been the best with feelings, his own or others, but he'd be an idiot not to guess that for someone as competitive as Ilya Rozanov, being on a chronically losing team was a downer. Shane winced again as the first period timer ticked down. Downer was a goddammned understatement.
The men next to him howled. It was a rare day off, and they'd put on the game with the excuse of studying Boston's plays for tomorrow, but really, it was to watch the Centaurs flail. They'd lost yesterday to the Admirals; it hadn't been devastating, the opposite, actually, with a 1-0 score by the final buzzer, but still, the guys wanted something to boost their egos. And it seemed that watching the Centaurs-oh, who was Shane kidding? Watching Ilya get slaughtered was doing the trick.
He stifled a sigh and then a swear as Dillon fucked up another pass. He got it, sure, but it could've been, like, ten times smoother. At least. Shane didn't really want to watch this, but as Captain, he had to stay, and he owed it to Ilya to watch at least some of his games. Even if they both agreed that they sucked.
Finally, intermission came, and Shane "sneaked" to the kitchen. There, he found Jackie chopping grapes in half while also watching two pots on the stove. Whatever they were smelled delicious, but they were also bubbling a lot. It reminded Shane he should cook more.
"Oh, are those for Amber?"
Jackie sighed, "It's silly, isn't it? But my mom keeps sending me all these stupid parenting videos, and now I can't get it out of my head that she'll choke. Like I haven't done this three times already."
Shane chuckled, but it was awkward. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He had no idea whether to agree or disagree, or which would make her feel better. Was it even his place? Maybe if he'd had younger siblings… But Shane thrived on actionable plans.
"You, uhh, want me to do that? The grapes, I mean."
She smiled, "And this is why you are my favourite."
When she stepped back to allow him to take her place at the cutting baord he noticed a small salad sitting to the side, the pretty blue bowl covered in cling wrap. Just for him. He blushed despite himself. Shane was everyone's favourite, Canada's Golden Boy, but it felt nice to be someone's favourite off the rink. Maybe that was what drew him to Ilya.
"Least I could do."
She followed his gaze. "Oh, it's no trouble… those grapes though, good luck."
Shane laughed, for real this time. He quartered the rest of the grapes, holding a handful out to Amber in her high chair for inspection, "Good enough for you, your highness?" It felt silly, and for a second, he wasn't sure why he had said it, but then she cooed and reached for the grapes with a wide smile on her face.
Kids. They'd always been an awkward subject for Shane, but now that he could imagine a family without a woman in the picture (well, aside from his mother and Rose, who would surely be a great Aunt of sorts when she had the time), they didn't seem so bad. Shane had always enjoyed the young hockey fans, and he'd seen the way Ilya was with kids…
Shane looked back at Jackie at the counter. "Erm, can I…?" He felt suddenly like he phrased that badly. Amber wasn't a dog, and these grapes weren't treats… but she was far too young to be much of anything yet… but that smile.
Ilya would probably love her.
"Oh, sure, it's almost lunchtime."
Amber picked slowly, but eagerly, through the grapes, then Jackie gave her some warm milk.
"Mind if I use those stellar knife skills of yours a bit longer?"
"Oh, yeah, of course." And Shane got to work pre-chopping some carrots and cucumbers for the Pike childrens' lunches this week.
He was a bit surprised; he'd heard most kids didn't like cucumbers. With the way Hayden side-eyed his "bird-food", they must've gotten it from their mother. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed as he'd heard she squeezed in three pilates classes a week, even with four kids. Maybe Jackie was the real All-Star here, Shane mused as he divided the vegetables into small Tupperware containers.
All that was left was some chicken that Jackie insisted she could do herself, but eventually let Shane cube without too much of a fight. Truthfully, he wasn't quite ready to go back to the living room yet. It was quiet here. Jackie was deft in the kitchen, and Amber was cute. She had her father's smile.
"Oh, come on, Lily!"
The knife slips over the raw chicken breast, and Shane just manages to unclench his hand and let it clatter to the floor before it takes a finger with it.
"W-what?"
He blinks, finally registering Jackie in front of him. In her high chair, Amber was starting to cry, small chubby hands over her ears. "Shane? Shane, are you okay?"
He felt stupid. Really fucking stupid. "Yeah, just got startled… let me wash this."
"No, it's fine. Go be with the boys. They need their Captain, and" She jabbed the handle of the wooden stirring spoon she was holding into his chest lights, "you need to relax. You've almost done it all anyway, you overachiever."
Shane blinked, "…Yeah. Happy to help."
"Shane, I'm serious. Sit." And she looked serious, too. Sure, she was a pretty chill woman, but she was a mother of four, and it seemed that her "mum scowl" worked on Shane, too.
He held his hands up, feeling lighter, "Okay, okay. Sheathe the deadly weapon, please."
She rolled her eyes and wagged the spoon at him one last time before setting it down to comfort Amber.
Shane was being high-strung. All the W.A.G.s were here, and it was hard to keep track. Wives were pretty easy, but girlfriends, especially among some of the guys, came and went with the seasons. Lily was probably one of them, getting into a friendly debate about hockey as the second period started. Maybe she had family in Ottawa. In fact, he should probably at least introduce himself or something, as captain. This was supposed to be a team bonding day.
He'd only just sat down when it happened again.
"You can do better than that, Lily!" The words were drowned in laughter, but teh voice was definitely J.J. Boiziau, and he was looking right at the telly.
On screen, Ilya was trying to execute a pass, but the line-up wasn't working. Everyone was out of sync. Where was Lily? She hadn't said any–
Shane felt himself turning to stone. "… Why are you calling him that?" His limbs felt frozen, but his mind and heart were racing. 'How- did they know? How could they? No, no I'm just- oh my god…'
J.J. snorted, "Because he's playing like a little girl."
"Yeah, fucking pussy." Someone agreed, but Shane's ears were ringing too hard to pick out the voice.
Suddenly, the ringing was interrupted by a bowl of salad slamming down on the table. Everyone turned. "Hey!" It was Jackie's "mum tone" again. When the room was silent, she continued, "No. We respect women in this house." Amber seemed to frown at J.J. in agreement.
"Yeah, not cool, dude," Hayden muttered. Jackie swatted him. Hayden was the breadwinner, but it was very clear who was in charge. And for good reason, it seemed.
Slowly at first, a chorus of embarrassed apologies filled the room. A few of the W.A.G.s snapped and clapped.
Jackie looked apologetically at Shane, but the bowl was intact, and the salad looked as delicious as it had in the kitchen.
Shane thanked her quietly. She smiled just at him, shaking her head before setting Amber in Hayden's lap and returning to the kitchen, probably for the pots Shane had seen earlier.
At last, when Boston scored again, making the score 3-1, the air of celebration returned to the room. Shane steeled himself to ask, "Uhhh, why 'Lily', though? Of all the names?"
J.J. shrugged. "It's the girly version of Ilya." He didn't bother hiding his dislike of saying Rozanov's first name. And why should he? He was among people who hated the guy's guts… right?
Shane wasn't sure what to say. He hated how often that happened these days.
Hayden threw something (some sort of infant teething toy, maybe?) at J.J. "No, dude, it's really not. And besides, that's Shane's girl's name. So, ew," he mimed puking, then turned to Shane. "Your girl lives in Ottawa now, right? You think she went to the game?"
Shane couldn't focus on the second question, "What?"
"Duuuude," Hayden dragged out the word, bouncing Amber on his knee, "I know you like your privacy, but you really think I haven't noticed. I'm your best friend-yeah I'm uncle Shane's best bud-" he added when Amber looked up curiously, "You don't meet her in Boston anymore. It's Ottawa, now. You're not, like, James Bond or anything."
A few of the other guys snickered, but thankfully, Ottawa's Goalie, Hayes, executed a save, and it died down quickly.
"Oh." Was all Shane could say.
Hayden took pity on him, "So did she go? To the game, I mean. I mean, I figure she'd be obsessed with hockey, right?" He groaned when Shane didn't answer, "Cooomme onnn. You gotta give us something, dude."
"No," Shane finally managed. His secret was safe… for now. "I don't. I don't have to give you anything. But, yeah, she's a huuuge Ottawa fan."
Hayden rolled his eyes at the not-as-poor-as-he'd-have-liked-to-say-it-was impression, "Seriously, man. I can never tell when you're joking."
'Good.'
Still, he flinched when J.J. chirped "Lily" again from his place way to clsoe to the telly.
"Jeez, man. Maybe pick another name, yeah? Like, I dunno," Hayden thought for a moment, then perked up, "Jane."
And Shane died a little inside.
Was it really worth it? Living one mini-heart attack to the next like this?
'Fuck.' He really wished Ilya were here right now, even as a friend. He wished he weren't so damn famous. Maybe if his face weren't plastered all around Ottawa, the highest, cheapest seats would be a safe place to watch from. Maybe if Ilya had stayed in Boston, he could at least have been watching him win. He wished, even though the team dynamic would never work, that Ilya had joined the Metros. But mostly… he wished they didn't have to hide at all.
J.J. clicked his tongue at "Jane" again.
The breaking down of the human body was inevitable; a professional sports career could only last so long. All his life, he'd been told it would be fleeting, but right now it felt like it would last forever. And instead of euphoria, he just felt "meh".
He shoved the feeling down, whistling sharply. "We see these arseholes tomorrow, let's knock 'em down a peg!"
"Fuck yes, Cap!"
Fuck. Yes. Captain.
This is what he was fighting to protect. And it was worth it, he assured himself. Absolutely.