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1
The start of a new season always means new faces in the locker room. Ilya is used to it by now. Some of his teammates leave, new ones arrive, it is just the name of the game.
He is just getting ready at his stall with Cliff next to him, keeping an eye on everyone as they arrive. Trying to get a read on the newbies. This is his first season as captain and he is going to make the most of it.
“Okay people, listen up!” He gets up on his bench so everyone can see him. “This year we are taking the cup! I don’t care that the season has not started. That is our goal and we will work for it. Fight for it! Every day! Starting today!” His tone brooks no argument. He wants it. More than breathing. More than anything else. He wants the Stanley Cup and he needs every single one of these men to play their best to get there. Better to set the expectations early. He is met with cheers and claps. Boston has always been a hungry team. A few years ago when Ilya was drafted they had been a struggling team and had not made the playoffs in years. Now they are at the very top and it is all thanks to him. No need to be modest. It’s true. He will show the everyone that he is a winner, someone to be feared, someone to be proud of.
He gets down from his bench and Cliff claps him on the shoulder. “Good speech, Cap. Think we can whip this horde of monkeys into shape?”
“Will not be easy but I think they can be trained.” They both chuckle and put on the rest of their gear.
Before leaving the locker room Ilya takes a look around and spots one of the new rookies. His jersey reads “Daniels”. Ilya has never heard of him but that doesn’t mean much. He walks over, might as well start introductions.
“Hey Daniels! How do you like Boston?” All part of being captain now, checking in on the others, especially the new kids.
Turning around Daniels can not be older than 20. Not much younger than Ilya himself, but he can feel the few seasons under his belt and the C on his chest with a gravity that makes him feel older than his years.
“It’s great so far! Just got into my place last weekend, so I haven’t seen much.” The energy and enthusiasm is refreshing. Nothing better than some fresh meat to get the team going. He will be one of their own in no time. Ilya remembers his own start in the league, wanting to prove himself.
Luckily there is one surefire way to build team spirit. “No worries, we will show you around. After our first game, when we win, we will go out to celebrate. Show you what Boston has to offer.” This has always been the easiest part of hockey. The camaraderie, the joking, the partying after a win. It comes to Ilya as easy as breathing.
“Hell yeah! I can’t wait. First game is against Buffalo, right? We’ll show those cocksuckers who we are. Send the faggots crying home to their mamas.”
Now that. That won’t do. It’s nothing Ilya hasn’t heard before. It could be considered tame when it comes to locker room talk. But as captain he made a promise to himself and he feels a little sorry to do this to Daniels on his first day.
He sighs and looks down, letting his disappointment show. Then he grips Daniels’ jersey and hoists him against the lockers so they are eye to eye. The rookie is dangling a few inches in the air, the colour rapidly draining from his face. “Let me make one thing clear Daniels. We don’t talk like that here and I will not stand for it. You can talk shit about the other teams. But there are limits. Understand?”
“What? What are you talking about?” The younger man sputters.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I am talking about and I don’t want to hear it again. Understand?” He raises an eyebrow in question. There is only one acceptable answer and Daniels know it. He just nods, still looking a little scared. Ilya sets him back down, pats him on the shoulder and heads out to the ice. One at a time. He will train them one at a time.
2
All Star weekend is a glorified field trip in Ilya’s opinion. No one really cares who wins or loses but it’s nice to have a little break from the regular season and play with different players. What is not so nice about it is that those other players include Dallas Kent.
As the hockey gods willed it, they are on the same team and even during practise Kent can’t stop showing off. He is walking around like he owns the fucking arena, never mind that he was not voted captain. Kent is the type of guy who is to self important to accept any criticism. It doesn’t help that he is actually a good player. On his own anyway. His vanity makes him a shit team player. He won’t pass if there is even a one percent chance that he could score himself and it is only more enraging when risk pays off.
Ilya is just keeping his distance. It’s one game that doesn’t count towards anything and there are enough other friendlier players around that he doesn’t have to interact with Kent too much.
Problem is, that Kent apparently wants to interact with him.
He tries to come up to him in the locker room but Ilya can walk out towards the rink before a conversation begins.
Then during practise they are not paired together which makes it easy to evade him.
It is afterwards that Ilya makes the mistake of taking too long to shower so the locker room is almost empty when he comes out. Almost, except for a few stragglers and of course Dallas fucking Kent.
“Rozanov! If I didn’t know any better I’d think you are avoiding me!”
Ilya only grunts noncommittally. He is avoiding Kent but it seems unnecessary to bring that up. No need to start drama.
Kent leans against Ilya’s stall as if they are old pals who talk to each other after practise all the time. A part of him wonders why Kent is so keen to get him alone.
“So me and a few of my buddies are going out tonight. See what the clubs have to offer. I thought you might want to join us.” It’s not a question. It’s an assumption made based on his public persona.
Ilya tries to deflect. “What makes you think that?”
Kent doesn’t seem surprised by the question. He is all nonchalance when he answers: “Oh I just thought, based on what I heard and read about you, that you are the kind of guy who knows how to have fun. Let’s be honest, nobody here cares how we play. We might as well seize the opportunity to go out, find a few bitches to have fun with and then get out of here the day after tomorrow. This is basically an all you can eat puck bunny buffet. We can have our pick, Rozanov. It doesn’t get better than this. Also there is no real competition this year. Most of these losers here are too whipped to cheat on their wives or are homes like Hunter. Fucking disgrace of the league.”
Ilya, once again, has the urge to punch Dallas Kent. It might be chronic by now.
Kent looks as calm as ever, like he suggested merely having a beer together at the hotel bar, and not going on the prowl after every woman who doesn't run fast enough, and casually insulting so many people at once.
Ilya has to take a deep breath and sort through the words in his brain so he can say exactly what he thinks.
“Keep that shit to yourself, Kent. You are a bigot and an asshole and that you think I would agree with you on any of this only shows that on top of everything else you are an idiot.”
Ilya turns away and gets dressed. Kent only huffs and leaves the locker room. If he ever gets the chance during a game, he can’t wait to punch that fucker. Knowing Kent he will present an opportunity rather sooner than later.
3
Going out after a win is the best thing in the world. With the adrenaline from the game still coursing through his veins, Ilya can’t wait to get lost in some club in Boston. His city loves him and he loves them. Dancing the night away with people he doesn’t know and will never see again, drinking with his teammates, it is always a wild night and perfect to forget everything else in his life. Every negative thought leaves him when all he can feel is the bass and another body grinding against his.
Ilya doesn’t know how many drinks he’s had but he is somewhere in the zone of delightfully tipsy before it turns into actually being drunk. He is dancing with a beautiful woman. Maybe he will take her home, maybe not. „Jane“ has not texted him in months and they won’t see each other for another few weeks so it’s been a while. Maybe he should. Hell, last season he wouldn’t have thought twice about taking someone home but now he feels reluctant. It’s not as fun as it used to be and it certainly doesn’t feel the same. But those are thoughts for sober Ilya. This is a time for carelessness, for letting go.
He dances a while longer before he makes his way to the bar for a new drink. There is some guy next to him that is a bit deeper in his cups, going by the way that he is swaying back and forth. He glances over at Ilya and then does a double take.
“You are Ilya Rozanov!” Not a question. Here in Boston it is very rarely a question.
“I am.” Ilya is not interested in meeting a fan tonight. He doesn’t want to be Ilya Rozanov, captain of the Boston Bears, tonight. He just wants to get lost in the music and not think about deep brown eyes and freckles.
At first he thinks the guy takes the hint but he obviously is too far gone when a few seconds later he leans over and resumes talking as if there is a conversation to begin with.
“Hey, I saw you dancing with that hot chick earlier. She is here with some friends I think. What do you say we get those bitches drunk. Bet they put out easier with a few drinks in them.” He is slurring his words but the glint in his eyes in unmistakable.
Ilya doesn’t have the patience to deal with asshole tonight so he keeps his answer short and to the point: “No. I don’t do that. Is not right.”
Apparently it is not clear enough. “Don’t play coy with me, Rozanov. I hear the stories about you. Biggest womaniser there ever was in the NHL. And from what everyone says the most successful one too.” He winks and swings an arm around Ilya’s shoulders as if they are already friends.
“Can’t tell me in all the years you have picked up girls, you never helped them along a little. Some of them play hard to get and they just need a little convincing.”
Ilya shrugs off his arm and takes a step back. “I don’t know if this will make it through your thick scull but I say it again. I don’t do that and you should not either. If you need to convince a woman to sleep with you, she never wanted you in the first place.”
The guy looks stunned for a second, then grumbles and turns away. “Whatever dude I was just messing around.”
Ilya grabs the guy by the shoulder and pulls him close enough to talk into his ear so nobody else can hear him. “I don’t think you were and if I ever see you messing around, you will think that that hit I landed on Wagner last game looked like child's play.”
He pushes off and turns to leave. No reason to stay, just in case that guy starts to make a fuss.
Well this night is officially ruined. On his way out he stops by the table of the girl he was dancing with and lets her and her friends know to look out for the weirdo at the bar. They all offer him a sincere thanks. He also points the guy out to the bouncer. It’s not his job to drag him out of the club but this way he knows it will get done.
4
Ilya hates post game press. All these dumb questions no matter if they win or lose. It always boils down to two key factors: We played good or the others played better. It is as simple as that and Ilya has no interest in indulging the vultures of various media outlets. But as captain he has his duties. Luckily today has been an excellent game and the Boston Bears won 4-1. This should be over quickly. It is the typical barrage of boring questions:
Are you happy with how the team played?
“Yes, we won. I am very happy.”
Did you think Tampa would be more of a challenge?
“No, they never are. Defence is weak and I have to assume their goalie is blind.”
What are your predictions for the next games?
“We will win, of course. With me on the ice is the only option.”
How certain are you that you will make the playoffs this season?
“What kind of question is that? I told my boys it is time for second cup, so will win. Everybody else doesn’t stand a chance.”
You are often described as an aggressive player? What are your thoughts on that?
“Aggressive is such an ugly word. I simply make use of all the opportunities given to me. And if other players are unsteady like little deer on ice, is not my fault.”
How will you celebrate tonight?
“With my team as always. We will go out and have some fun. My boys deserve it after tonight’s win.”
And how many woman will you take home tonight?
Wait what? “Could you repeat that?”
The reporter seems a little flustered but keeps going. “You are frequently pictured with women when leaving clubs. I was just wondering how many of them we can expect to see on our feeds tomorrow.”
Ilya leans closer so his answer is unmistakable. “I will not be going home with any women tonight.”
He knows he has a reputation and he did nothing to counter it for years. In fact he was the one fanning the flames because he did hook up with lots of women. But he hasn’t been, not for a long time, not since he spend his summer at a cottage in Ontario. But none of these people know that and none of them would believe him anyways if he told them that he is in a committed relationship. So he doesn’t but he also doesn’t crack any jokes to ease the tension in the room. He looks straight at the reporter and waits.
“No more stupid questions? Great then we are done.” He gets up and leaves, quietly fuming that he couldn’t tell this room full of people exactly who he is going home with tonight. Someday he will. Someday. Hopefully.
+1
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Oh just chilling at home. You?”
“Booooring! I have a hot date. Hopefully she puts out.”
“With your ugly mug? No way!”
Changing after practise is always a loud affair. Even with the drills they just ran, everybody is chattering away, making plans for the evening or for their day off tomorrow.
“Cap, what are you doing tomorrow? You wanna come out with us?”
Normally Ilya would not turn his teammates down. But he has other plans for his day off. “Next time, I have plans with a special someone.”
The slight suggestion in his voice is involuntary at this point. So is the accompanying smirk. But it is also not a lie. He will spend tomorrow in a very comfortable bed in Montreal. And if all goes well, he will not be leaving that bed for his entire stay.
“Just one?” The laughter echos in the locker room. Ilya just grits his teeth and turns back towards his stall.
He is too tired to correct them, too tired to tell them that no actually he is not going home with more than one woman. He is not going home with any woman at all. He is very much looking forward to spending his day off with his boyfriend, who he has not seen in weeks, and he is slowly going out of his mind with want and longing.
He doesn’t say anything and pulls his shirt over his head. Cliff is next to him and throws him worried look but doesn’t say anything either. He might be a shithead but he is the closest thing Ilya has to a best friend and over the years he learned to read Ilya’s moods wether he wants to or not.
“Roz! Can’t you come out with us tonight? It’s always easier to pick up chicks when you are there. They get desperate when they realise they don’t have a chance with you. After all you can’t take all of them.“ Another round of raucous laughter.
Ilya hates this. He has no one to blame but himself but he wishes his teammates would stop talking about him as if he had no regards for human feelings. His phone lights up with a message.
Jane
Are you done with practise? When will you get here? Can’t wait to see you ❤️
Ilya smiles and types back.
Ilya
Just got done showering.
I’ll call you when I get to my car.
“Montreal Jane again? You going to see her?”
Ilya jumps a bit, but it’s just Cliff.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.” There is no point in lying. Cliff clearly saw the messages and he is not that dumb.
“I’m really happy for you, man. She is good for you.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, you always play better after you see her.”
Ilya can’t help but smile. Even if he can’t tell anyone the truth, it is nice that others can tell, in some way, that Shane is a good influence on his life. That he feels happier and lighter.
“And you are less of an asshole.” Cliff adds with a laugh and Ilya shoves him, which escalades into a small scale fight.
They both get dressed and are packing their stuff when one of the other guys pipes up again: “Roz, you sure you don’t want to come out?”
Before Ilya can say anything Cliff answers: “Guys, for fucks sake, give it a rest! He is going out of town to meet up with his girl and belief me he is too smitten to spend his day off with your sorry asses.”
There are some mumbles and hushed questions of “His girl?”, but nobody says anything else so Ilya lets it go.
Out in the parking lot he turns to Cliff. “Thanks, you didn’t have to say anything.”
Cliff just shrugs: “Those idiots don’t know when to leave good enough alone. And I know you like to keep some things private but that should keep them off your back, at least for a while. Now get out of here. I know there is somewhere else you’d rather be.”
Ilya just grins and jogs over to his car. It’s true, someone is waiting for him and there is nowhere else he’d rather be than in his arms.