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Luca is still a bit in disbelief that he is on the same team as Ilya freaking Rozanov.
It's mind-boggling, truthfully.
It makes no sense.
How he was good enough to end up on the same team as Ilya.
Though, judging by the Centaur's stats previously, maybe it's not about being good enough?
But on the ice, it is, and he knows he screwed up today.
He missed three shots that should've been easy assisted goals.
Ilya slid them his way, perfect openings, and he missed.
Every.
Single.
One.
It's stupid too because Troy did the same thing in their game two nights ago, and they still won both games.
So, Luca shouldn't still be on the ice, an hour after the team has left.
He shouldn't be here running through the game, hitting pucks from every goddamn assisted angle he could've tonight.
He shouldn't, but he is.
His body is sore.
He was checked into the boards seven different times tonight by an overzealous rookie, same as him, and his ribs are bruised to high hell.
So, he should be heading to his apartment for a bath and his big ice packs that Troy and Wyatt helped him order.
"Care to explain you staying on ice after we all left?"
Luca jumps, and then promptly falls on his ass at the voice.
"Fuck!" yelps Luca as he looks at Ilya with wide eyes. "What did you come back for?"
"Why you are whining? You injured your ribs, and you still beat yourself up over missed goals for no reason. Is your fault you got scared," snorts Ilya as he walks across the ice to him, soft smile curving his lips.
"Hey, don't be a dick," grumbles Luca as he rolls his eyes at Ilya. "Seriously though I thought you had a dinner date. What are you even doing back here?"
"My husband got a call from his friend's new favorite person Hazy who said that you stayed after everyone left," replies Ilya with a snort as he holds out his hand to Luca, who takes it hesitantly. "Why you are punishing yourself for game that we won?"
"Because I missed easy shots," mutters Luca with a sigh as he's tugged into a standing position, steadying himself on his skates as he takes his hand back. "Why did you come when you didn't have to?"
"I do not like that you are still here beating your head against boards over mistake," replies Ilya with a shrug as he taps his knuckles against Luca's helmet. "Explain problem so we can fix."
"I missed easy shots, that's it. There's no other problem, just a general frustration about missing my shots," says Luca with a shrug that pulls at the bruises over his ribs harshly enough for him to twist his face and hide his grimace.
"Then off the ice, now. You get changed and come back to bench. We will talk once you are ready to leave," replies Ilya decisively, moving to gently guide Luca towards the rink's exit.
"What? I'm not done! I have three more shots!" exclaims Luca in protest even though he starts moving his feet to make the glide towards the exit easier.
"You shot sixteen pucks, I counted, and you think three more matters? You go change, now, and we talk after. I clean mess, and you clean after practice tomorrow," replies Ilya with one final nudge as they reach the exit. "Shoo, Haasy."
Luca throws his arms up in a half-annoyed, half-amused huff, before heading off to do as he was told.
It takes him a good fifteen minutes since he didn't actually shower after that, just stayed on the bench until everyone left. But he finally comes back out and ends up meeting Ilya at the tunnel.
"Come Haasy, let's talk," replies Ilya as he waves his hand and takes the lead heading over to their bench and settling on the seats. He pats the seat next to him when Luca just looks at him in pure confusion. "Why funny face? We are talking, so come sit."
"Do we really need to talk though?" asks Luca even as he complies because Ilya is giving him that look that says he's seconds away from calling another team meeting.
"You are beating head against boards, so yes, we do," replies Ilya firmly as he twists slightly to look Luca in the eye. "After win, you celebrate into night, not stay at arena and overdo it by hitting pucks into goal as though this is a practice after the game. Beating head against boards is for game only. If you think you need help with mistake, we deal with it during practice, never after a game. I understand you choose to stay after sometimes to work off excess energy, is fine. Is your way of doing things. I care when you do it for wrong reasons."
"Wrong reasons? This wasn't a wrong reason situation, Roz," argues Luca seriously because he won't be berated for staying after to improve on a mistake, game or not. "I stayed because I needed to practice those movements. I should've made those goals, that I didn't means I need to practice more. For tonight, I figured I'd set up a drill for it just to run for an hour. It hasn't even been an hour yet. It's not for the wrong reasons."
"Is for wrong reason when you think is mistake you made on purpose," replies Ilya with a knowing tone that knocks some of the wind out of Luca's diaphragm. "You did not miss on purpose. You did not make mistake in that way. Your mistake was not getting off ice when I said to for those ribs after the second hit. You still made first goal of the night, Haasy, and you missed those shots because your ribs were dying and you took checks on each one right before as you shot them. Goalie had time to move. Is not your fault."
"Yeah, but if I'd been faster—" Luca goes to give another argument, the same one he's been running in his head since the game ended.
"Faster does not always mean accurate," replies Ilya genuinely as he pats Luca's shoulder with a warm hand. "If you had been faster do you think goalie would have reacted? Do you think asshole rook would have hit you different?"
"Yes, the goalie would've tried, though I could've still made the goal," says Luca honestly because he doesn't see him missing a goal against their goalie. Without the hits, he would've landed each one, maybe in different spots though. "But the hit would've slammed my head instead of my ribs, probably. I got lucky tonight. My head should've been against the boards instead of my ribs almost every time tonight."
"Exactly," replies Ilya as he gives Luca's shoulder a squeeze before letting go. He switches so his elbows are pressing just above his knees, his head resting on his laced fingers as his eyes focus on the ice. "We cannot always make goals. We cannot always escape hits with only bruises. Tonight, you missed goals, but no head injuries are in your medical history. This is big win for how many times you got hit tonight. Fact you did not fracture ribs is huge, Haasy. Hockey is great, is fun, and wins mean a lot. But most goals does not always count as the win of the night. Remember that next time you feel like beating your head against boards over missed goals. Is not always the game win that counts as your win, sometimes that's more personal. Let it be, is okay."
"Thanks for the advice, Roz," breathes Luca as he stares at the ice with a newfound understanding, his mind running over each time he ran himself ragged after a game because of his own mistakes before rather than focusing on the wins outside of the scores. "I'll keep it in mind, I promise."
"Good because next time I call team meeting and we all get your head out of your ass together. I let Bood and Troy string you up by skates like they said earlier and everything," says Ilya with a soft smile, cracking a joke to ease the serious tension surrounding them. "Now, go home, and ice those ribs. Tomorrow, we will practice goals from tonight based on tapes. But only tomorrow, Haasy. Then you prove you know how to make them in game next week because you are benched until then."
"Yes, I know, Coach told me after seeing the medic," replies Luca with a deep sigh of annoyance because he hates that he's going to miss three games between now and then.
But he knows they don't want him to make it worse, so he gets it.
"Let me know you are home, and I will see you tomorrow. I bring Anya to practice so she and Chiron can take pictures for Harris," says Ilya gently as he stands and waits for Luca to do the same.
Luca just hums before following his captain out of the arena and into the parking lot.
As he climbs into his car, he finds himself eternally grateful that he's on the same team as Ilya because who knows what someone else would've done in response to his game play tonight.