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Shane had never been one for after game socialising. The Metros pulled him out of his hotel room on occasion, they would insist he had to do it as part of his captain duties. They also insisted they had his back and that wasn't accurate.
Now he found himself in a local Ottawa sports bar, a spot the team favoured after games. Nothing to do with the fact they basically drank for free when they won, or lost for that matter. Ilya brought a tray of shots to the table and nodded over his shoulder.
‘They miss me, or maybe miss winning games.’
The boys laugh and Shane eyes up the Boston boys settling in on the other side of the bar. Tension pools inside Shane’s stomach. He can't place why, it's not like it's his old team. Ilya toasts in the direction of the Boston team, smirking as his arm settles round Shane's shoulders. He downs the shot with ease. Ilya picks up another and brings it to Shane, he shakes his head.
‘It is bright green, I am not putting that in my body, Rozanov.’
Ilya blows a raspberry and takes the shot.
‘You were drinking some green thing this morning. How is this different?’
‘Vegetables.’
‘Wow, you must tell me about them sometime,’ Ilya smiles slyly, before giving Shane a peck on the cheek. He whispers into Shane’s ear ‘I know one vegetable. Eggplant?’ and Shane turns the colour of an eggplant.
‘Hand me a shot, this weekend we're baby free!’ Bood calls excitedly. The boys cheer, despite the fact the entire team were essentially uncles to Milo and would die for that kid.
Shane heads to the bar to grab another alcohol free beer. A trick Harris had showed him, so the guys wouldn't give him shit. They likely wouldn't care now but the taste had grown on Shane.
‘How’s Ottawa treating you?’ Marlow shuffles into the bar next to Shane. Shane takes a sip from his fresh beer.
‘With respect. It's nice.’
Marlow smiles, claps Shane's back.
‘You going to introduce me?’ A sharp tone becomes from behind Cliff. When he steps aside, he sees the latest rookie Boston signed. His brown hair is slicked back, his nose a little wonky, likely from an old injury.
‘Shane Hollander, this is Reggie Wilde. Reggie, meet Shane Hollander.’
Shane holds his hand out, Reggie pauses and eventually shakes it. His eyes are narrow and he looks between Shane and back to their table where Ilya is sat.
‘You had a great game tonight, that goal in the first period was impressive.’
Reggie just nods absent-mindedly, wait, is he chewing gum? Shane is getting distracted by the squelch.
‘Yeah, it was nothing. Being touted as the new Rozanov but well-’ and he starts laughing, it's croaky and even Cliff furrows a brow at it.
‘Well, I'm not fucking up so my secret boyfriend can win. Ilya was-’
‘Reggie!’ Cliff interjects.
'Take that name out of your mouth. How dare you even accuse him of that. You're a fucking rookie, show some respect.’
‘Shane-’
There's a hand on Shane's shoulder, he turns around to see Ilya standing there. He's studying Shane, giving him a mental once over. Shane gives him a nod, takes a deep breath and takes Ilya’s hand.
‘I think you've got some apologies to make, Wilde.’ Cliff grits out. Without missing a beat, Ilya steps forward, huge grin on his face and puts his hand out to shake.
‘Hi, Ilya Rozanov, the guy who gets laid and plays better hockey than you.’
Reggie sheepishly shakes his hand, before murmuring something about going to the restroom. Ilya squeezes Shane's hand.
‘I’m going to kill that little shit.’ Cliff barks out before glugging half his beer. Ilya shakes his head as he chuckles.
‘We used to be the same. Make sure he learns manners.’
Cliff rolls his eyes before heading back to his table. Ilya pulls Shane into his chest, and whispers into his ear.
‘I need to fuck you right now.’
Shane cocks his head around, brow raised.
‘Of course that did it for you.’