Chapter Text
Hayden perhaps felt this was a little much. In his defense, he was trying to look out for his friend. Still, Jackie would probably be curious as to why he rented a fucking car when they went over monthly finances. He supposed he could have gotten an uber, but climbing in the back seat and yelling “follow that car” was a bit of theatricality that he feared he did not have.
So here he was, following Shane’s uber in a car that was the antithesis to what he drove. He wanted something that was unlike anything he drove (ie: not a minivan) but not conspicuous enough to draw attention. He figured a silver 2014 Toyota Corolla had two seats less than what he usually drove and, additionally, was about as nondescript of a car as he could think of. The perfect age to not be falling apart nor flashy in its newness. Perfection.
Hayden tried to justify his stalking to himself as he drove. See, he was worried about Shane. The last time he had hooked up with Lily had been a disaster, if Shane’s actions in the fall out were anything to go by.
When Shane had returned to their hotel room, Hayden had pretended to be asleep. He wanted to pry for information, but Shane was as allergic to talking about Boston Lily as he was to pollen. Hayden had settled into this middle ground every time they were in Boston: Shane would return after a few hours, smiling like an idiot, and Hayden would pretend to have just woken up, mumbling something sleepy in hopes Shane would open up, lulled into complacency by Hayden’s presumably altered state. It usually worked.
Over the years, he watched Shane fall deeper and deeper in love as he smiled in these sleepy moments and told Hayden that Lily was doing great.
This night, however, Hayden was admittedly more tired than he usually was when Shane had gotten back. Shane was out for much longer than he usually was which Hayden had incorrectly assumed meant that it was going better than usual. However, when the man returned, he slammed the door behind him and turned to the language of expletives that he really only turned to when he was really worked up. He stalked into the bathroom and Hayden heard the shower blaring. He must be really fucked up; he was usually so careful to not wake up Hayden.
Hayden sat up, suddenly a lot more awake. He was tempted to go into the bathroom and check on Shane. He knew he could get in easily, Shane never locked the door behind him. Not after he had gotten locked in a bathroom in Columbus and it took four very apologetic hotel staff and a lockpicking kit to get him out. Still, Hayden stayed put, deciding that the lecture he would get on boundaries was not worth it.
He reflected on Shane’s state when he returned. He had seen him standing in black sweats that were a little too large, even as built as Shane was. Something clicked in Hayden’s mind then.
See, Hayden had always assumed Lily was a married woman. It was the only explanation for the amount of secrecy Shane carried in the relationship. However, seeing the huge clothes on Shane made him realize he didn’t have the whole story. The size of the clothes suggested somewhat of an athletic build, and hockey player seemed to fit the bill exceptionally well. Shane got weird at precisely two times: when Montreal played Boston in Boston and when Montreal played Boston in Montreal. Hayden could never figure out why Shane would get so dopey during both home and away games, but Hayden realized it now. He was hooking up with one of the player’s wives. It must have been a wag who pretended to be all devoted and go to the Boston/Montreal games to support her husband and the league’s whole rivalry between the two teams and was just there to have sex with Shane. He would have thought this was the root of the Hollander/Rozanov rivalry if not for Rozanov’s status as single and also as a womanizer. Fuck, he was a bit disapointed: he thought Shane would be better than that. Still, his buddy was so clearly in love that he couldn’t hold it past him.
Shane standing in a different man’s clothes could only mean one thing: the husband had walked in on them and the relationship was over. Scandal may be heading Shane’s way if the guy went public with it. Hayden scrubbed his eyes and heard the wet slap of clothes hitting the ground in the bathroom and a poorly stifled sob as the shower turned off. Had Shane showered in the man’s clothes?
The night had ended even weirder than it had started. Hayden remembered working himself up to give a speech, but Shane shook his head sadly when he locked eyes with Hayden for the first time since he returned. Hayden did not say anything but a quiet “It’ll be okay man,” as he hugged Shane slightly awkwardly, trying not to do the dude-bro back slap he did with most of the teammates. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he awkwardly patted Shane’s back as his buddy cried.
It was a weird night.
One that Shane never mentioned again.
It was a strange next couple of months. Shane was the mopiest that Hayden had ever seen him, clearly heartbroken and not knowing how to deal with it. Hayden wondered if this was Shane’s first serious relationship. It had to be: he didn’t really hear the man talk about anyone else.
Shane gave some of the worst performances on the ice in his career and only seemed to find his way back to himself when he started dating Rose Landry. God, to be as famous as Shane, rebounding with that A-list of a celebrity. Not that Hayden would want that life, of course. Him and Jackie were happy, but still, it was nice to imagine.
Shane still got weird every time Boston and Montreal played, but his anxiety was underpinned with sadness rather than his usual exuberance for a good hookup.
Hayden had tried to google the wives of the players on the Raiders, but no one had a wife with a name even similar to Lily. He was well and truly confused. Although, perhaps they were using pseudonyms to like…avoid anything getting out. There was an Ashley. He supposed those names were somewhat similar.
Hayden still caught Shane staring longingly at his phone from time to time. It seemed that Lily didn’t text, but Shane’s eyes went soft and sad as he re-read old messages on his phone.
So yes, the fallout was strange. However, what was even stranger, was when Shane stopped being seen in public with Rose and was back to smiling at his phone like an idiot. What the fuck was happening?
He googled and googled, but none of the Raiders were getting a divorce. Which, okay, maybe that wasn’t announced but…well it all just felt weird. Hayden’s spidey senses were going off and Shane shut him down every time he tried to ask literally anything. Something weird was going on and he was getting to the bottom of it.
The next time they played Boston and Shane snuck out, smiling to himself and texting with one hand while he got dressed in a black fucking shirt that Hayden recognized from months ago Hayden had thought enough. He had rented a car already, giving Shane some excuse about hating taxied everywhere and wanting to do some sight seeing for once. He was only vaguely thinking of using it to tail Shane, but that damn black shirt solidified things for him. He needed to pull Shane out of this weird thing where he was, Hayden didn’t even fucking know, roleplaying(?) Lily’s husband? Or ex-husband? Jesus.
So, he followed Shane out of the hotel. He didn’t usually need to be worried about being recognized while he was out (only really intense fan girls really knew who he was in Montreal so there was a 0% chance of him getting recognized anywhere else), so he wasn’t used to using a disguise. He took a guess from the movies and put on a hat that said “Dad Jokes Incoming” (courtesy of Jackie) and aviators that made him feel unbelievably cool. And with that he went down to the parking lot and saw Shane staring at his phone in front of the hotel while he waited for his ride. Hayden walked quickly to his own rental and sat inside, waiting.
And that was why he was here. To help his best friend. And maybe get some information. But mostly to help Shane.
Tailing the car proved to be slightly more difficult than he thought. Traffic was crawling in the city, so speed wasn’t the issue. Moreso, the absolutely dickhead moves on the road that Hayden was seeing from literally every car around him. Was driving school optional in Boston?
If Hayden got out of this alive Shane owed him so much babysitting. Unpaid. He needed to suffer like Hayden was suffering now.
It got much easier to drive when they left the city. Hayden looked at the trees as he drove, wondering how far this Lily girl was. Half the time Hayden assumed they were hooking up must have just been traveling. He felt a whole new sense of pity for Shane.
Finally, a house came into view and considering it was the only one anywhere near here and made entirely of glass, Hayden needed to find a less conspicuous spot to watch. He pulled a decent way away from the house and hoped the brush would hide him somewhat. As he sat back and took in the clearly expensive house he realized two things: 1) there was no way Lily would get the player’s house in the divorce (were they still together?) and 2) he was way too far to clearly see any faces. He came prepared for this eventuality and grabbed the binoculars that he had thrown on the passenger seat. He held them to his eyes and watched as Shane climbed out of the car, sent a quick text, then knocked on the door. He suddenly felt like a creep, and how the fuck was he supposed to know who’s wife this was? God this plan sucked.
He realized he should have pointed his binoculars at the glass to see who answered the door instead of watching Shane anxiously twist his hands when the door opened, concealing whoever was inside.
Hayden anxiously tapped his finger to the outer shell of his binoculars as he waited for Shane and Lily to cross the thin threshold of wall that hid identities. Seriously, most of the house was glass. It was a modernist masterpiece. Shane probably loved it.
He did not need to wait long as Shane was pushed into the light. Though, his hands, clenched to the fabric of a clothed chest, dragged a second figure into view. Two thoughts came to him simultaneously. The first was that Lily was shockingly tall. The second was that Lily was not a ‘Lily.’ Or a girl. Or a wag. For a second, Hayden thought he was experiencing an earthquake as everything in his vision shook. He then realized that his hands were trembling with the material force of the realization that Shane was kissing Ilya Rozanov. Hard. With a familiarity that chilled Hayden to his core as he realized how long Shane had been texting “Lily.” Fuck, all that searching up the wives of Raider’s players looking for similar names and it never struck him how similar Ilya was to Lily.
He watched as they stumbled past the kitchen to the living room, lips never parting until Ilya fucking Rozanov shoved Shane down over the arm of the couch.
Hayden needed to get the fuck out of here.
How he managed to return to their hotel in one piece while his thoughts were racing and every other fucking person in the world was driving like the world was ending in five minutes, he could not tell you. However, Boston’s dickbag drivers gave him something else to be mad about, which was exactly what he needed. He decided right then and there that the worst part of this whole thing wasn’t that Shane was in love with Ilya Rozanov, one time stanley cup winner and his multi-season rival, but that Ilya Rozanov was from Boston. Well…not from Boston but, like, from Boston. Like he lived and Boston and probably fucking drove like this. No wonder he was such a fucking asshole, Hayden would be too if he had to deal with this all the time.
Hayden wisely said nothing to Shane about this discovery when Shane returned to their room that night. Hayden, in fact, stuck to pretending to be asleep. He did not budge in his silence as Shane silently got into bed with a lightness that Hayden could feel. His buddy was in fucking love with Ilya fucking Rozanov.
He needed a drink. Or a cigarette. Or a lobotomy.
Hayden tried to play it cool the next day as they got ready for the game. He kept his eyes on Shane’s screen, hoping to spot a password. Maybe he could go into Shane’s phone at some point and try to figure out when this all started. Although, that was maybe more invasive than he was comfortable with. And it didn’t even matter, Shane didn’t have a password on his phone. Which was absolutely fucking crazy, considering Shane seemingly had lots to hide. Hayden considered chirping Shane for it but figured that would probably get him nowhere.
So, he geared up a little behind the rest of his team due to his distraction and got ready to win this fucking game. He didn’t know how he was supposed to focus but he skated onto the ice for warmups, hoping he could get into the mood by doing.
His mental fortitude was quickly undermined when he saw Shane skate up to Rozanov on center ice. Inconspicuous must not have been a word in Shane’s vocabulary.
After a brief conversation where Hayden could tell they were doing some weird foreplay, Shane skated back up to him.
Hayden figured he could try to get some information. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. Just offering my condolences."
I’m sure. “Oh, yea. That’s nice. Fuck I should have done that. What did he say?”
“Told me to fuck off.”
“Jesus. What a dick.”
“He’s not that bad. It’s mostly an act.”
Oh, Hayden could guess. “A pretty convincing one.”
“Well. Yea. Let’s make sure we win this one, right?”
“Fucking right!”
Happy to hear that Shane was serious about winning, Hayden skated off with a quick headbutt. It made sense, he supposed. After all, he’d been with “Lily” for a while and Hayden had never seen him give it anything less than his all against Boston. He supposed that may be some of the appeal of the relationship.
His need to slam Rozanov into the boards was buzzing underneath his skin and Shane’s demand to “make sure” they won was all the permission he needed. He supposed he could try to coax Shane out of the closet later. He could casually point out hot guys or mention watching Brokeback Mountain or something. Let Shane know he was cool with that.
Despite Shane’s insistence that they win, Shane’s head was anywhere but in the game. Seriously, he skated through the neutral zone while looking behind him. 30 seconds into the game. Hayden watched Shane go down and while he supposed he should probably check to see his buddy was fine, he had other priorities. Namely, making sure that Marleau had his face caved in for the way Shane lay unmoving on the ice.
So he threw his punches and figured he would worry about Shane later. He would be in better hands with the medics than Hayden’s clumsy hands that only knew how to deal with baby vomit and masculine aggression.
Having to play the rest of the game was a test of tortured patience. He knew he was Shane’s emergency contact on the road (and Shane was his, god forbid something happen), so when he got the call after the second period saying what hospital Shane was in and that he was stable but still wasn’t really responding, Hayden knew he would have to end this game swiftly and violently. No overtime, no shoot-out, just three brief periods and he could go find Shane.
It helped that Rozanov was playing like garbage. He missed passes he could have made with his eyes closed, snapped at his team mates (especially Marleau) in a way that was completely uncharacteristic, and seemed to be a thousand years away mentally. Fuck, Rozanov was as in deep in this relationship as Shane was.
Hayden almost felt bad enough to mutter to Rozanov where Shane was, but he didn’t want to risk pulling Rozanov out of this funk. He had a game to win and could take Shane’s phone to call “Lily” later. If Shane wanted him there.
Despite not having their captain, the Metros still managed to eke out a win all thanks to Rozanov’s sloppy playing.
Hayden skated off the rink as fast as he could to change, grab Shane’s stuff, and get a taxi to the hospital.
When he arrived he was handed a thin stack of paperwork and a warning that Shane was still pretty out of it. Hayden sighed and signed all the lines that would grant him admittance. With a new wrist band that marked him as a visitor and a quelling pit of anxiety in his stomach, Hayden was granted admittance.
As he opened the door he heard a sharp intake of breath then a loud sigh as Shane’s face visibly fell.
“Oh. Hey, Hayden. I’m repeating myself! Hey Hey Hey-den. Lot’s of hey. Are you a horse?”
So, the nurse was vastly understating it when she said he was “out of it.”
Hayden smiled widely and decided to tease Shane a little. “You don’t seem too happy to see me! Should I leave?”
“NO! No. I was just hoping you were someone else.”
Hayden, fearing he already knew the answer, asked, “Who did you wish I was?”
“Issa secret,” Shane replied with a goofy smile.
Hayden laughed at that. “Well, I can’t ask you to tell me your secrets. How about you tell me how you’re feeling, or is that a secret too?”
Shane’s smile stayed firmly in place as he replied, “I feel great! I could feel greater but I don’t feel not great!”
“I see. Would having your stuff make you feel greater? I brought it in my car.”
Shane nodded seriously. “Yes, I need my phone.”
“Sorry, bud. The paperwork says no screens with your concussion.”
Shane’s smile dipped. “I see…Could you go on my phone and text Lily? He needs to know I’m fine.”
Hayden pretended not to notice the slip. “Of course, Shane. Let me run to my car and grab everything for you.”
He had Shane’s bag from the arena in his car, though Shane’s phone was in his pocket, so he ran down to the parking lot in case Shane wanted a change of clothes once he was out of the gown. He stared down at “Lily”’s contact, and added Rozanov’s number to his phone. He never wanted to need it again but, well, he’d rather be safe than sorry.
He idly wondered as he made his way back up to Shane’s room if he should wait to tell Rozanov to come. He didn’t want Shane, high on drugs, to be indiscreet and spill any secrets to the hospital staff that he didn’t want spilled. Although, maybe it wouldn’t matter. Shane seemed somewhat discreet already minus the pronoun slip. He figured it must be lonely keeping such a large secret. That train of thought led him to imagine himself in Rozanov’s position if Jackie was in the hospital.
Nearly mindlessly, he fished Shane’s phone from his pocket and pressed the dial button.
“Sha-”
“Listen up, Rozanov. Yes, I know it’s you. He’s fine, but you’re the only thing on his mind. Which makes you okay in my book. For now. So get here right fucking now.”
Hayden bulldozed anything Rozanov might say to tell him which hospital Shane was at.
“I’m in your corner, man,” Hayden angrily said before pressing the “end call” button before Rozanov could say literally anything.
Hayden sighed, slipping Shane’s phone into his pocket and wondering aloud how this was the reality that he was in.
He climbed the stairs, making his way back to Shane’s room. The exact same set of expressions crossed Shane’s face when Hayden entered the room.
“Did you text Lily?”
“Yes I did. He’s on his way, Shane.”
Shane’s eyes widened and he stuttered out “It’s, It’s not,” suddenly sounding much more sober than he did a few seconds ago.
“It’s okay dude. I’m happy for you. I’ve seen you love him all these years.”
Shane smiled, wide and unrestrained. The uneven tilt of it indicated that he was still rather out of it.
Hayden smiled back and set Shane’s bag next to his bed. “Here you go buddy. I’m going to go make sure Rozanov can get in.”
Shane muttered, “This is weird. And it’s Ilya.”
“Nope!” Hayden said, popping the “p” as the door shut behind him.
He waited by the main entrance, where Rozanov (Ilya? Nope.) would need to go to get his visitor’s pass. When the man barreled in the door he looked at Hayden with somewhat wild eyes.
Hayden gathered all his acting chops and approached, putting on a show for the man behind the visitor’s desk.
“Hey Rozanov! Thanks for coming to visit, not all captains in the league have the sportsmanship to do so.”
“Yes. I don’t want to see anyone so badly hurt. Hollander must know that Marleau feels terrible.”
“Yes, well, go on and grab your visitor’s badge and you can tell him yourself.”
Rozanov nodded and walked silently to the desk, exchanging information for a room number. Hayden idly wondered how many room numbers of a different kind had been exchanged over the years. He then mentally kicked himself for the thought.
Rozanov, now armed with a visitor pass, didn’t wait for Hayden as he started for the door that would lead him upstairs. Hayden jogged to keep up.
“So, Rozanov.”
“Not here.”
“But-”
Rozanov slammed him against the wall, pinning him with a forearm across the throat.
“Do not.”
Hayden threw up his hands in an exaggerated expression of calm down. He knew he was instigating, but damn it was so damn easy to rile Rozanov up, especially when he was wound so tight. Granted, Hayden was pretty sure this was worry manifesting as anger but, still. He raised an eyebrow at Rozanov and gave him a flirty smile.
Rozanov, surprisingly, didn’t take that all too well. He pushed Hayden further into the wall before releasing him. Hayden rubbed his throat as they walked on.
“Not making a great case for me liking you here, bud.”
Rozanov made a sound that could be interpreted as anything and kept walking down the hallway towards Shane’s room.
Figuring that Shane and Rozanov should have a bit of time alone, Hayden found a bench in the hallway that was about as comfortable as the conversation he just had with Rozanov and waited. He needed a second to breathe away from Rozanov. If he hadn’t seen how in love Shane was over the years and the panic Rozanov was deep in he would be threatening Rozanov up and down. Still, it didn’t mean he had to like him.
Hayden reigned himself in, using a stupid, repetitive song about eating cereal that his kids liked to find some peace of mind.
He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until Rozanov shouted “Pike” with an intensity that implied that this was not the first time he had said his name.
Hayden scrambled upright and the tweak in his back said that he should not have fallen asleep here, but man, it was a long couple of hours.
“This hospital has a courtyard. Come,” Rozanov said before he set off down the hallway in, presumably, the direction of said courtyard.
Hayden followed somewhat groggily. He was surprised that Rozanov stopped to wake him up—he would have thought that the man would want to get the fuck out of there and avoid Hayden at all costs. Still, it wasn’t the worst surprise he had in the past 24 hours.
All of Hayden’s surprise that Rozanov wanted to talk faded the second Rozanov opened his damn mouth.
“You will tell nobody.” It was not a question.
“I haven’t yet,” Hayden replied. Then, just to be a shit, he said, “And I’ve had plenty of opportunities these past few hours.”
Rozanov’s eyebrows went up. “Shane told you?”
“No. Um. I may have…seen you two…”
Rozanov’s eyes went unfocused as he thought to when he and Shane could have been caught. “Where? When?”
Hayden dug himself this hole and god damn he was going to lie in it. “Your house? Yesterday?”
Rozanov’s jaw dropped as he uttered, “Voyeur. Not what I would expect from you, Pike. Although I suppose you’re so in love with Shane that you, what, wanted to see how he liked it?”
Hayden stuttered, “No! No. I…No. I wanted to know who Boston Lily was so I kind of followed him? One time? And obviously I saw you two making out but I left before he started to blow you or whatever.”
Rozanov laughed. “Jesus Pike, what the fuck is wrong with you.”
Pike laughed too, glad the tension had broken. He still hated the man, but he felt an odd tug in his stomach as he saw Rozanov rush the fuck out of the hospital. He wondered what Shane had said to him and figured that the man was shook by a combination of whatever that conversation entailed and having someone know about him and Shane.
So yes, Rozanov was horrible and Shane's taste in men was truly beyond being fixed, but he figured this could be a conversation he could have with Shane later, when his buddy was sober.
Maybe the world wouldn’t end.