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There’s a trade, and that’s how they acquire yet another twenty one-year-old.
“We will open a daycare soon,” Ilya tells Shane when the news drop, voice dry.
“As if you’re not glad to get rid of Dillon.” Shane gives him a smirk.
The guy’s name is Colin Smith, he’s a decent forward as far as Shane can tell from the videos he’s watched of him. He’s a former Guardian, of all teams, and overall, he seems like an unremarkable guy. Shane hopes he will show potential once he arrives.
As much as Ilya likes to talk shit, Shane knows he (together with Bood) deeply cares about setting an example and being welcoming to the new guy from day one. Shane appreciates it- their positive team spirit has helped them win a cup and many games by now.
Bolduc is assigned to be Smith’s buddy, which is something Bood came up with after seeing it at his son’s pre-school. It’s the first time he gets to do it, and the way his chest puffs out in pride is kind of sweet.
“Make sure you show him the Cen spirit!” Bood tells him, clapping his back.
Bolduc salutes with a grin. “For sure, Cap!”
At first impression, Smith is quiet. He doesn’t talk much on day one, apart from polite greetings. During practice, he’s unremarkable: not bad, but not outstanding either. Shane immediately notices very decent shot accuracy and reaction time, which he files away in his brain for later.
“You know who he reminds me of?” Shane overhears Troy saying to Ilya when they stand next to each other on the ice, “Ryan Price. He was this quiet, too.”
Ilya hums. “Because he felt uncomfortable and anxious, I think.”
“Do you think Smith’s anxious?” Troy asks.
“Don’t know. We will see.” Ilya shrugs. “This team is like a pack of stray dogs anyway, so.”
Troy snorts. “That sounds like we’re shit.”
“No, stray dogs are strong. Resilient.” Ilya’s eyebrows furrow in the way that makes Shane’s heart somersault, “Anya was a stray, she is the best dog in the world.”
“I have to disagree on that,” Troy replies, but there’s a little grin on his face.
Ilya lets out a dismissive noise and watches Troy skate away.
Over the next few days, Smith doesn’t really thaw. The young players put a valiant effort into trying to get him to open up.
“So, Smith, what do you like to do for fun?” Holmberg asks when they’re on the bus on the way to an away game.
“Um. Work out.” He looks like he’s startled to be spoken to.
Holmberg narrows his eyes. “What else?”
Smith blinks rapidly before answering, “Watch movies.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of movies?” Young turns around in his seat to look down at Smith.
“...action movies?” He says it like he’s a schoolboy, trying to guess the right answer.
Shane catches Ilya’s eyes, and they exchange a look.
“Fuck yeah, dude! Have you seen the new X-Squad one?” Young’s eyes light up. Shane only knows about the movie because Rose is in it- her character is now a teacher to the new generation of mutants instead of the main character, which makes Shane feel old as fuck.
“No, not yet,” Smith admits, looking nervous.
“We should watch it together, all of us! Movie night!” Young proclaims, immediately setting off a chorus of ‘movie night! movie night!’. Sometimes Shane thinks, men just like to chant things as a group.
The game goes fine.
Smith doesn’t score, but he’s on a line with Luca, who scores twice. It’s unfair to compare him to Luca, really, because Luca is a generational talent who is growing into himself more and more now that he’s found his confidence. But Smith holds up just fine.
“We need to do video analysis on this game,” Shane tells Ilya when they’re on the bench.
“What are you noticing?” Ilya asks around his mouth guard.
“Smith’s not playing to his full potential. He keeps passing to Luca when he wouldn’t have to. He could have tried for a goal earlier.”
Ilya hums, watching closely in silence. After a minute, he nods. “You’re right. We will talk about it.”
They do when they’re back in Ottawa. Coach stands by the massive tv, playing a sequence in slow motion.
“-right here, Smith.”
Colin flinches, watching the tv with wide eyes.
“This pass, I appreciate you wanted to go for safety, but you were in a good position to score.”
Smith nods and blushes, his face stony. “Sorry, Coach.”
Wiebe looks mildly concerned at how hard Smith seems to take this. “It was your first game, so you’re still getting used to your line. Just keep it in mind for next time.”
“Yeah!” LaPointe exclaims, reaching for Luca next to him and squeezing his neck, making Luca laugh and duck. “This guy doesn’t have to score every time.”
“I will try to keep it in mind,” Smith says, voice artificially devoid of emotion.
Shane speaks up. “I noticed you have very decent accuracy in practice. Your passes were great, but you should use your accuracy to score when you’re in the better position.”
Smith is clearly completely overwhelmed by the compliment, his blush becoming more prominent now. “Thank you. I will.” Shane is grateful he seems to swallow down the “Sir”.
“What are the plans tonight, boys?” Holmberg asks after practice on Friday. “Are we going out, or are we going out?”
There’s whooping and hollering from the younger guys, of course.
“Smithy, are you coming?” Holmberg turns to Smith, big, friendly grin on his face.
Smith ducks his head, avoids his eye. “Sure. Yeah.”
“Awesome, man.” Holmberg goes to clap him on the shoulder, and Shane notices the flinch.
Shane doesn’t always love being touched by people outside his inner circle either, but this is a different kind of flinch. Something is off.
“Something’s off,” he tells Ilya when they’re in the car a few minutes later, “With Smith.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Ilya says, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Do you think he’s just a weird guy?”
Ilya shakes his head. “Troy thinks he’s expecting some kind of hazing ritual or something.”
“Hazing is illegal,” Shane says very seriously.
Ilya just gives him a sidelong glance over the rim of his sunglasses. “Cocaine and weed are also illegal.”
Shane huffs, crossing his arms. “Does Troy think the Guardians would do that?”
“We did not talk about it at length, but he said back when he first joined them, they did a bunch of shitty stuff.”
“But it’s illegal!” Shane reiterates, and hears how silly he sounds in the same moment.
“Sure, the stuff people get prosecuted for is frowned upon. Like, sexual assault, physical assault. But getting people black-out drunk is not.”
Shane frowns at the road in front of them. “...that sucks.”
“So maybe he is expecting it here as well,” Ilya concludes.
“We should make it clear that stuff like that isn’t tolerated in Ottawa,” Shane says darkly.
“I think the kids will do a good job.”
“Do you trust them to?”
Ilya nods. “Yeah.” Then, he adds, “We cannot be responsible for even more adult toddlers, Shane.” and Shane snorts beside himself.
They pick up Anya from daycare, and Shane drives the short distance from there to the house so Ilya can hold her in his lap and shower her with affection after a long day without her.
He talks to her in a wild mixture of Russian and English that barely makes sense to anyone but her and him, and she seems to love it, wiggling in his lap, contorting herself to give him slobbery kisses.
“My perfect little angel, I missed you so much. You were a good girl today, yes? Yes? Was everybody nice to you?”
The babytalk is so silly, but it never fails to make Shane’s heart melt. If people only knew the great, scary Ilya Rozanov could be like this. Shane is glad it’s their little secret.
Shane reaches over to pet her, and she nuzzles into his palm, trying to lick his wrist. Shane doesn’t let her slobber all over him like Ilya does, but he will wash his hands when they come home anyway, so it’s fine this time.
“I think your new treats arrived in the mail,” he tells her; he’s long since stopped wondering why he now thinks it’s completely normal to talk like a small animal like it’s a human. Her tail wags harder when she hears the word ‘treats’. “The yoghurt drops you like.”
“Those are for special occasions.” Ilya pushes his entire face into her soft fur. “Like candy. But there is chicken for you in the fridge, babygirl.” Anya whines longingly at the mention of chicken.
“I saw you eat nutella with a spoon this morning,” Shane grins.
“Yes, but I am a responsible adult,” Ilya tells him seriously; Shane hums in teasing disbelief. “She is just a little baby.”
baby centaurs + responsible adults 🦫
Bolduc: hey
Bolduc: can we do another team get-together soon? bbq or board game night or whatever else you old fucks do
Bood: wow thank you for asking so nicely
Bolduc: sry
Bolduc: but I’m seriously asking, please
Bood: sure
Ilya: why are you asking this
LaPointe: we took Smith out to the bar and i think he was really uncomfortable
Luca: We want him to feel welcome with the whole team
Bood: That’s nice of you. Let me talk to Cassie.
-
A few days later, they do meet up at Bood’s house. It’s too cold for a barbeque, but Bood just got a new teppanyaki built in his kitchen, so they’re good on food.
Some of the guys bring their partners, kids, and dogs, and so it’s as lively as it usually is. Like one big family get-together. Ilya loves it, reveling in the warm atmosphere.
Smith came, but Ilya has the distinct feeling he felt like he wasn’t allowed to say no. Now he’s sitting by himself in a chair, awkwardly letting the conversation pass by him like he’s unsure of what to make of all of this.
Ilya saunters over to where Troy is standing next to Harris, who is animatedly talking to Selena Chouinard. Troy is clearly tuned out of the conversation, so Ilya briefly baps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Come.”
Troy excuses himself and follows Ilya. When he realizes where they’re going, his brows furrow, his gaze becoming serious. Chiron, who sat by Troy’s feet, follows him, trotting along.
They bracket Smith, sitting down to his left and right, and he looks at them with wide eyes when they do: the two most intimidating players on the Centaurs (and maybe in the whole league), plus Troy’s huge dog.
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, like he’s getting ready for something.
Troy leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You know we don’t do that shit here, yeah?”
Smith blinks rapidly. “What?”
“You know I was with the Guardians for a long time. It was probably worse, back then with Kent.” Troy says his name the way someone would say ‘shit’ or ‘vomit’. “I was part of it, I’m not proud of it. The guys pretend it’s just in good fun, that rookies have to earn their place.”
Smith blinks again, swallows, looks down at his knees. Chiron approaches him, and sits down on his feet, leaning his heavy, large body against Smith’s shins. Smith freezes for a second, but then relaxes when Chiron lets himself sploot to the floor and turns belly-up, tail wagging. Not therapy dog material my ass, Ilya thinks.
“I don’t know how bad it is now, I haven’t talked to any of them in ages, but I imagine they just got better at hiding it.” Ilya appreciates that Troy doesn’t ask, it’s not a question Smith has to answer.
“We do not do that shit here, whatever it was,” Ilya chimes in now. “You are part of our team. This is what we do.” He gestures all around; at Shane and Bood, clearly arguing about food; at Selena and Harris, who have been joined by Nick with his hand on his wife’s waist, all three of them laughing together; at Milo and Susie running by while Anya chases behind them; at their ‘rookies’ who are crowded around the foosball table, curiously glancing over to them. “This team is a family, and you’re part of it now, yes?”
“Thank you.” Smith reaches down and buries his hands in Chiron’s thick fluff. “I’m not used to everyone being so nice to me.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Troy reaches out and squeezes his shoulder; Ilya feels a spark of pride in his heart.
“Hey.” Bolduc suddenly materializes by Ilya’s side, grinning down at Smith like a little boy who’s about to ask the neighbour’s kid if they want to come out and play. “We need a third man, are you up for it?”
Smith grins, and this time it’s a real one, much less guarded. “Yeah, sure, man.”
“Awesome!” Bolduc offers him his hand, pulling Smith to his feet, and off they go.
Troy and Ilya watch them leave towards the foosball table, then exchange a look. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on Troy’s face. Ilya gives him a smirk. “Tell me again how you’re a shitty person.”
Troy rolls his eyes and laughs. “Fuck off, Rozanov.”
The evening is nice, the way it always is. Ilya likes it when everybody brings their families, having the kids around makes it fun in a different way.
Nick’s daughters, Grace, Rebecca and Eden (yes, it’s very on the nose), sit around the living room table, coloring with endless patience. Ilya watches them, and thinks of his niece for a moment, wondering how she is now.
Grace, the middle child, looks up as if she feels his eyes on her, and gives him a big smile. One of her front teeth is missing. “I’m drawing Anya for you!”
Ilya smiles at her. “Yes? Maybe it can be my new tattoo!”
Grace giggles, and covers her paper with her hand. “Don’t peek yet. I will show you later!”
“Of course,” Ilya tells her seriously, holding up his hand, “I swear.”
Later, Shane and Ilya get roped into a game of foosball themselves, the two of them versus Holmberg and Luca, while the rest of the guys crowd around them and cheer.
Of course they easily destroy their rookies, because not winning is never an option when Shane is involved. “Ha!” Shane yells triumphantly when the ball flies by the other team’s little goalie, landing with a hard plasticky thunk.
“Nooo!” Holmberg wails, covering his face with his hands. Stella, who is standing next to him, laughs and pats his arm consolingly.
“Good thing you are not a goalie, huh?” Ilya asks him with a smirk, and Bergy flips him off.
Suddenly, there is a little tap-tap on Ilya’s thigh, and when he looks down, Grace is standing there, craning her neck up at him with her gap-toothed smile. “Daddy says we are leaving soon, so I wanted to give you the painting I made for you!”
Ilya immediately crouches down to her eye level. “You mean the sketch for my new tattoo!”
She giggles and holds out the piece of paper. Then, her face suddenly turns serious. “But! It’s for you and for Shane, together. You have to share. Because Anya is both of your… is your dog for both of you.” She frowns, stumbling over the grammar in a way that makes Ilya feel very sympathetic.
“Of course,” he tells her, and he can already feel Shane lean down over his shoulder.
“Did you make a painting for us?” he asks, his voice kind.
She nods, then solemnly unfolds the paper in her hands, showing off her painting.
“Woow!” Ilya exclaims immediately. “This is the most beautiful painting I have ever seen!”
“It looks just like Anya!” Shane agrees, and Ilya can hear the held-back laughter in his voice. The painting is as good as it can be for something made by a five year-old; it’s definitely a dog, it’s the right color, and Grace even got the color of Anya’s collar right.
Like summoned, Anya wiggles her way through Ilya’s legs; he picks up her front-body, and lifts her. “Look at this beautiful portrait of you!”
Grace can’t stop giggling.
“I think Anya loves it,” Shane tells her, and she beams at him. Ilya quickly catches Shane’s eyes over his shoulder, something warm passing between them.
“We will put it up in our house.” Shane takes the painting when Grace hands it to him.
“Where should I get it tattooed?” Ilya asks her, and she gives him an appraising once-over.
“Hmm,” she taps her cheek with her index finger, all business. Ilya’s heart is about to burst. Then, she explodes into laughter. “On your face!”
“On my face?!” Ilya gasps, and she squeals with laughter.
“Gracie, come on! We’re going.” Selena and Nick come up behind them, a smile on Selena’s face when she realizes what’s going on. “We said you can give them the painting and then we’re leaving.”
“Okay!” Grace chirps. Before she goes to her parents, she jumps at Ilya, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Ilya thinks his heart might actually melt.
He stands, picking her up securely, and she squeals and holds on to him until he disposes her in her dad’s arms. Nick takes her from him, and she immediately wraps her arms around his neck now. Nick kisses her cheek with a smile, and she nuzzles against him.
Ilya is suddenly overcome with a strange, new sort of longing.
“She is the next Picasso,” he tells the Chouinards seriously, and they laugh.
“Yes, the Picasso of a million paintings on our fridge,” Selena tells him, then gives him a brief hug good-bye.
When Ilya returns to Shane’s side at the foosball table a minute later, Shane gives him a little smile, something knowing in it.
The teams have switched, now it’s Stella and Young against Bolduc and Smith, so everybody stands by and watches and cheers.
Ilya feels Holmberg’s eyes on him, so he meets his gaze. “What?”
“Why don’t you guys have kids?” he asks straight up, and Ilya is caught off-guard by the bluntness of it.
“Dude.” LaPointe slaps his arm with the back of his hand.
“No,” Holmberg shrugs, “I’m just asking. You’d be awesome dads.”
Shane catches Ilya’s eyes briefly, before saying, “You do realize neither of us can get pregnant?”
Holmberg flinches, while LaPointe barks out a laugh. “Obviously. But there are like, other ways, right? I should know, I was a foster kid,” Holmberg argues.
“Who’s that one actor? Him and his husband had a surrogate,” LaPointe seems to jump on the train now as well, “And they like… jizzed in the same cup, I guess so they wouldn’t know who’s kid it was biologically, and then they had twins.” He inhales deeply, “You could do that!”
“And who’s watching the kid when we’re both playing hockey?” Shane asks, his nose curled in disgust at LaPointe’s story. Ilya cannot say anything right now.
“Nannies,” Holmberg says lightly, “Or your parents, they’re awesome.”
He’s right, they are awesome.
“I don’t think the actual dads here would agree with how easy you make this out to be,” Shane tells him with a light laugh. “Our situation is kind of complicated. For many reasons.”
“What’s complicated?” Cassie hooks her arm into Shane’s, smiling at them.
“Nothing,” Shane says at the same time Holmberg says, “Them having kids.”
“Oh!” Her eyes light up with delight.
“No, it’s not like that,” Shane quickly says, and Ilya finds his voice again as well, even though his mouth is dry. “Not yet.”
“We’re on the road so much, and hockey takes up so much time, so.” Ilya can tell Shane is starting to feel backed into a corner, so he gently puts a hand on his lower back. Shane leans into it gratefully.
“If we have kids, we want to be there for them.”
“Of course,” Cassie says, her voice kind. “This is why we only have Milo. With Zane on the road so much, and me working at the hospital, it’s hard enough to do him justice. I love the little guy, but raising a child is hard work. You need a good system, you know.”
“We could babysit!” LaPointe grins, and both Shane and Ilya groan immediately.
“Over my dead body,” Ilya says, shutting this discussion down.
They put Grace’s painting of Anya on their fridge later, and Ilya stares at it for a minute, wondering what it would look like if there were more like it.