Work Text:
At this point, it’s a running joke.
Shane and Ilya, team dads, har har.
Ilya doesn’t mind it, if he’s honest. A team is supposed to be close-knit, and in his opinion, it helps them be better on the ice if they’re close. If they trust each other. And from the moment Ilya became captain, he made it his mission to make everybody feel welcome on this team. Knowing what Shane went through with the Metros, knowing what Troy went through, living in and feeling forced to contribute to the toxic team climate in Toronto, hearing from Ryan Price how the insults and pressure made him quit. Seeing the difference in the eyes of rookies when they join, expecting hazing and being treated like dirt for the first few weeks until they prove themselves.
No, Ilya would have none of that on his team. He’s determined to be a role model. Maybe not in the way Scott Hunter is, but in his very own way.
“Hey, Roz.” Hazy stops him after practice, and his face tells Ilya something is wrong. Ilya briefly glances at Shane, who gives him a nod, signaling that he understands this is important. “I’ll wait outside.”
Ilya gives him a thumbs up, then turns to Hazy. “Yes? Don’t tell me you are thinking of retiring.”
Hazy flushes and lets out a surprised scoff. “No, fuck. No.” Then, he shifts on his feet a little awkwardly. He looks concerned, his brows tightly knit together. “Could you maybe check on Haas?”
“Is something wrong with him?” Ilya asks, crossing his arms. Luca has been doing just fine on the ice; as far as Ilya is concerned, the kid has a bright future ahead of him.
“I think something is off,” Hazy shrugs, holding out his hands, “I roomed with him in Tampa, and he was on the phone all the time. In German, of course, so I couldn’t understand. But I think…” Hazy looks across Ilya’s shoulder to see if someone is listening, “I think I woke up to him crying during the night.”
“Ah, shit,” Ilya says without thinking.
“He’s been playing well,” Wyatt quickly adds, “but, I don’t know, man. I’m worried about him.”
“I’ll check on him.” Ilya briefly squeezes Wyatt’s meaty shoulder. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Anytime, man.” Hazy gives him a crooked smile. “These young guys, I don’t know. I just want them to do well.”
“Yes, same.”
In the car on their way home, Ilya can feel Shane glance at him for a few minutes as if he’s trying to read Ilya’s face.
“Ask,” Ilya eventually tells him.
“What was that about?” Shane asks immediately. It’s funny- he’s usually the least perceptive person in the world, but at the same time, once he knows something is up, he’s curious as hell. It brings a little smile to Ilya’s face.
“Hazy asked me to check on Luca. He thinks maybe something is wrong.”
Shane furrows his brows. “He’s been playing fine. Great, really.”
Ilya lifts his shoulders to his ears with a little sigh. “He’s a good player. Maybe he can hide whatever is wrong.” He reaches over, squeezing Shane’s thick thigh. “You won the cup while you were lovesick for me.”
Shane snorts but doesn’t deny it. “Do you think he’ll tell you?”
Ilya nods. “I think so.”
Shane frowns ahead at the road, and Ilya can see his brain working. After a minute, he asks, “Do you think it’s a relationship thing?”
Ilya grunts. “I don’t know.” Luca isn’t dating anyone, as far as they know. Ilya has a sneaking suspicion he isn’t entirely straight, but he keeps it to himself.
“You should talk to him soon.”
“Because you’re nosy?”
“Because I’m concerned.” Shane rolls his eyes at him. “This is my team, too.”
“Yes, yes.” At the red light, Ilya leans across the middle console to steal a kiss.
-
Ilya drives to work early the next morning.
Luca goes to the gym at the asscrack of dawn, and they’ve run into each other a few times, when Ilya couldn’t sleep or just wanted to get another workout in. It’s quiet, because none of the other players are in this early. Usually, they train together in friendly silence, but there have been a few good conversations over the months as well.
When Ilya enters the gym this morning, he finds Luca already there, sitting on the end of a weight bench, staring down at his phone. When Ilya walks in, he glances up at him, eyes bleary behind his glasses. Ilya gives him a nod, and Luca raises his hand in reply.
They both go through their routines, and Ilya notices that he can predict which exercise will be Luca’s next by now.
Forty minutes later, Ilya drops on the bench next to where Luca is recovering from his bicep curls.
Luca glances at him, gives him an awkward smile, looks away. Ilya takes in his face; there are blue-ish rings under his eyes, and behind the flush of his cheeks, his skin looks slightly pallid.
Ilya wipes the sweat from his own face with his towel, then says, “Something is wrong.”
“What?” Luca blanches. “With my game?”
“No. With you. Your game is fine.”
Luca has blushed; he’s probably the only person who blushes even more easily than Shane. “I promise, my game isn’t affected.” His voice sounds wobbly.
Ilya scoffs. “Yes, I know. You’re playing well. Because you’re a great player.”
Luca mumbles a “thank you” but lowers his eyes to the floor.
“Sometimes things aren’t about hockey,” Ilya tells him, “Hard to believe, I know. Shane would disagree, too.”
This gets a small smile out of Luca.
“You don’t have to talk to me, or Bood, or anyone on the team if you don’t want to. But talk to someone, yeah? Team psychologist is there for a reason.” Ilya considers it for a second, then adds, “I go to normal therapist.”
Luca glances up at him, surprise showing in his eyes. “You do?”
Ilya shrugs. “Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. Like I said… if something is wrong, talk to someone.”
Luca swallows, looks back down at the floor, then back up at Ilya. There is the slightest wobble in his bottom lip; he bites it quickly, and wow, Ilya feels his heart clench uncomfortably. Without thinking, he reaches out and squeezes Luca’s shoulder. It seems to open the floodgates, because Luca’s eyes fill with tears, and he quickly covers his face with his towel, sniffling into it. “Sorry. Fuck, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ilya tells him, and his voice sounds unfamiliarly tender. He stays quiet, waiting for Luca to continue talking.
“It’s… family stuff. My mom… they… they found a…” Luca gestures, clearly searching for the right word, “A lump. In her breast.” He gestures to his own chest. “She’s having surgery this week.”
“Ah, fuck,” Ilya says, with feeling. “I’m sorry to hear.”
Luca nods, swallows heavily. “It really sucks. I’m worried for her.”
“Of course.” Ilya understands how he feels. So well. “Do you need time off to fly home?” he asks, sincerely.
“It’s the middle of the season.” Luca shrinks, ducking his head. “I don’t want to do that to the team.”
“Your mother is more important than hockey,” Ilya tells him fiercely.
“She told me not to come. Told me, let’s not make a big deal out of it.” Luca’s lips pull into a lopsided, sad little smile. “She said, she wants to watch us win every game from the hospital bed.”
“She will. We’ll win them all.”
Luca’s smile wobbles again, and he squeezes his lids shut for a second, rubbing at his eyes.
“You have a sister, right? She is with your mother?” Ilya asks.
Luca nods. Ilya has met his sister before; she’s funny and kind, and Luca and her are close. Ilya thinks, he would have felt much better about leaving his father with someone like that when he was sick, instead of Alexei. He’s met Luca’s mother, too, and she’s just as kind and funny, and he knows Luca has a great relationship with her.
“I know what it’s like, being in different country when your family is not okay. It sucks.” There is no other way to say it, really. Luca nods emphatically. “Switzerland has good hospitals, yes?” Luca nods again. “Your mom is in good hands?” Another nod. Ilya gives his shoulder another squeeze. “We will win for her. Tell her that.”
“Thank you,” Luca mumbles, but the smile on his face has turned less sad. Ilya stands, and pulls him to his feet, and then into a brief hug. He can feel Luca stiffen against him, not expecting a hug. Ilya claps his shoulder and lets go before Luca feels too awkward.
“Come on, let’s grab coffee before practice.”
They walk to the Starbucks across the street, and Ilya pays, getting a cakepop for himself, and one for Luca, too.
-
Shane hounds him the second they’re home. “Did you talk to him?”
Ilya nods, pulling off his jacket, grabbing the fleece one from the hook by the door. Anya is circling his feet, ready for her walk.
“What did he say?” Shane toes off his white sneakers and grabs the muddy old trainers, his dog-walking shoes.
“His mother needs surgery. For a lump in her breast.”
“Ah, shit.” Shane’s curious face falls, turning into an empathetic one. “Fuck. Poor Luca.”
“Yeah.” Ilya bends to clip the leash to Anya’s harness. She contorts herself to try and lick his hand. “He’s worried, but he doesn’t want to take time off. She told him not to, apparently.” He knows with certainty Yuna would do the same. “Surgery is on Thursday, when we play at home.”
Shane has frozen with one of his feet half in the shoe. He’s chewing on his lip, clearly thinking. “Do you have Lisa’s number?” he asks after a moment.
-
They win the game on Thursday, Ilya makes sure of it, but Luca scores the final, deciding goal. When they hug on the ice, he can see a tear running down Luca’s cheek.
When the game is over, Luca practically sprints to the locker room to check his phone, but Coach Wiebe meets him halfway, already on FaceTime with Hanna Haas, Luca’s sister. Ilya sees her smiling over Luca’s shoulder as they exchange words in quick German.
Then, the camera flips, revealing Luca’s mother in her hospital bed, clearly still groggy but smiling. She is surrounded by a sea of flowers, balloons and teddy bears.
Ilya changes out of his gear while Luca talks to her, an enormous smile on his face. Ilya hopes this means good news.
“Hey, uhm, my mom wants to talk to you?”
Luca appears next to him, awkwardly holding out his phone.
Ilya takes it immediately, waving at the screen. “Hi Mrs Haas! Your son did a great job today!”
“Hello Ilya!” she replies in heavily accentuated english with a smile, waving back. “Thank you so much for all of this!” She waves her hand around, indicating all of the flowers.
Ilya smiles. “Was Shane’s idea, wait-”
He grabs his husband, pulling him into the frame. Shane waves at her as well. “Hi, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Very nice to know so many people are thinking of me.” She sounds genuinely touched. Ilya suddenly has to bite his lip, hard.
“It was the WAGS who organized it,” Shane tells her sheepishly, “We wanted you to know people are rooting for you, even at the other end of the world.”
“You are sweet. Thank you. Now celebrate your win!”
“We will!” Shane smiles, the same time Ilya says, “Get well soon!” before handing the phone back to Luca.
After a few more words, Luca hangs up, and sniffles. “Thank you guys. That’s really kind.”
Ilya pulls him in, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, tousling his hair. From the other side of the locker room, Bood hollers, “We take care of our own!” and Luca ducks his head with a smile.
“We have something else for you.” Shane leans forward to look around Ilya. On cue, Young and LaPointe run to grab something from just outside the locker room (where, Ilya knows, Lisa, Harris and some of the other WAGS are waiting).
They unfurl it with huge grins. It’s proof of a large-sum donation to breast cancer research.
“You guys.” Luca immediately covers his face and starts sobbing. Ilya quickly pulls him against him, patting his shoulder, biting back his own tears.
-
“You’re a good captain.” Shane is leaning on his elbow, smiling down at Ilya. His other hand is slowly playing with Ilya’s curls, wrapping strand after strand around his fingers. They’re in bed, happy and sated. Ilya squints up at him, smiling back.
“I’m trying.”
“If you’re not careful, people will soon catch on to the fact that you’re not really an asshole,” Shane teases with a grin.
“I’m still an asshole to people I don’t care about.”
Shane laughs softly and presses a kiss to Ilya’s lips, then lays his head down on Ilya’s shoulder. Ilya wraps his arm around him, pulling him close.
“You always make the world better around you. And I love that about you.”
Ilya swallows hard, blinking away the tears shooting into his eyes.
-
A week later, Luca texts the group chat.
hi everybody, just wanted to let you know my mom’s biopsy results came back and fortunately it’s not cancer. she needs regular check-ups from now on, but she is good for now. thank you all for your support, really appreciate it 💛
Ilya reads the message, heart-reacts to it and sends a GIF of them celebrating on the ice. Then, wiping the tears off of his cheeks, he wraps his fingers around the cross on his necklace, and says a quick prayer in his head.