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Shane looks down and fiddles with the lanyard around his neck as he and Bood are led towards the back of a warehouse. The block capitals of the word ‘DECEASED’ stare back up at him and he wonders what exactly a ‘dead’ person does in an exercise like this.
Coach had approached the team the week before, looking for volunteers to take part in a drill for emergency services to practice their protocols in the case of a mass casualty event. It turned out that Coach Wiebe’s brother-in-law was high up in the fire department and it was hard to get volunteers for stuff like this in Ottawa. Shane hadn’t initially wanted to volunteer (he would’ve much preferred spending the day doing yoga or reviewing game footage) but as the captain of the Ottawa Centaurs, he knew it was always best to lead by example. As such, he and 6 other players had agreed to give up their time to take part in the exercise, a decision which Shane was already regretting. Obviously, the Centaurs weren’t the only volunteers, there were easily around 100 people with gaudy orange lanyards around their necks, but because they were in Canada and the other volunteers all seemed to be hockey fans, the Centaurs had gotten more than a little attention.
Shane always appreciated the support from fans, but he got overwhelmed easily. Having a mob of hockey fans surrounding him and asking question after question about their hopes for the rest of this season and Shane’s reasons for parting from Montreal the season before meant his social battery had drained around half an hour after arriving at the warehouse the drill had been organised at. The only saving grace was that fans in Ottawa tended to treat him more like a person and not just a celebrity. They were generally well meaning, if a bit suffocating at times which Shane would take any day over some of the more hardcore fans in Montreal.
The volunteers had been split into groups to be positioned at certain points at the ‘scene’ and apart from his alternate captain, Zane Boodram, Shane doesn’t recognise any faces around him. Thankfully the fact that Shane Hollander is in their group doesn’t seem to be an interesting thing for these volunteers. He turns to see if he can catch sight of any of the other guys and instead sees Bood staring at him, or more specifically his lanyard.
“What’s up?” Shane asks.
Bood yanks his own lanyard from over his head and holds it out. “Switch with me?”
“What? Why?” Shane looks around, the organisers hadn’t mentioned anything about switching cards. He’d seen a couple of people trade lanyards earlier so he figures nothing would go horribly wrong if he took Bood’s lanyard and switched with him but the rule follower in him feels weird about it.
Almost as if recognising his captain’s internal panic, Bood looks up pleadingly, “Man I’m running on no sleep.” He and his wife had recently welcomed a baby- Milo and from what his alternate captain had said in the locker room, the baby had a decent set of lungs on him. He knew Bood had been trying to do what he could so his wife, Cassie, could recover from a traumatic birth but the constant waking up in the middle of the night was taking a toll. Bood continues, “dead people don’t have to move. Switch with me so I can have a goddamn nap!”
Taking pity, Shane nods in agreement, pulling his own orange lanyard over his head and trading it for the one in his alternate captain’s hand. “You know you probably will have to do something right?”
Bood shrugs, “Whatever Hollzy, we both know you can’t sit still. Enjoy being manhandled by hot firefighters.” Shane frowns at that statement. Moreso the nonchalance with which Bood says it.
Coming out to the Centaurs had been a dream compared to when Shane did the same with the Metros a few seasons ago. Most of the players hadn’t cared at all, they just switched from asking him about girls to asking him about guys when talking about his dating life. Like it was that simple. Like it didn’t matter if Shane was into guys if he could still play decent hockey. Even now, a good few months after he’d told his team he was gay, the simple mention of them knowing he was into guys still left Shane waiting for the other shoe to drop. His therapist says its due to the extreme negative reaction he’d received from his old team. The players that weren’t Hayden or JJ hadn’t taken him coming out well and the entire team dynamic had changed, and it had taken Shane a long time to be comfortable sharing his sexuality with his new team.
He tries to school his frown back into a neutral expression. “How do you know they’re hot?”
He rolls his eyes, “Dude, I’m straight but I’m not an idiot. Firefighters are jacked, and it’s statistically guaranteed that at least some of them will be gay or into dudes.”
Shane looks down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess.” He mumbles. It still feels strange to Shane to be having a conversation where him liking guys is not disgusting to another person.
Ever the hype man, Bood cries, “Dude you’re a fucking millionaire! And literally everyone has seen that Calvin Klein ad downtown.” He pats Shane on the chest, “Seriously man, go get yourself a hot firefighter to date.”
“This is a training exercise,” Shane protests weakly. “I’m sure they’re not looking for dates.” Bood just snickers and waves as he’s directed by an event organiser to a different area.
-
Once Shane has been placed, it takes another half an hour before the exercise begins. He’s been put at the top of a small staircase which he’s happy with, he has a view of most of the warehouse from up here so he’s pretty much in prime position when the first responders start arriving with firefighters bursting through the door first. And oh fuck Bood was completely right.
The firefighters are hot. Well, most of the first responders are. Shane’s eyes track back and forth, following the movements of the men and women below as they start treating ‘patients’. He’s so focused on the activity below that he almost misses the man who appears at the bottom of the stairs he’s sat on. Shane shifts, locks eyes with this man and oh shit Bood was so right it’s not even funny. This is quite possibly the most gorgeous man Shane has ever seen.
He's tall, definitely taller than Shane if only by a dew inches, with golden curls peeking out from under his helmet and if he took off that turnover coat, Shane would bet good money that he’s jacked too. As the man approaches, his face comes more into view and Shane can see a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and a smattering of moles which really shouldn’t be legal. It’s bad enough this guy has the height and hair, he shouldn’t have a face as pretty as that too.
Shane has half a mind to run a hand over his mouth, just in case him metaphorically drooling over this firefighter is translating physically. He doesn’t end up doing that, just choosing to stare with his mouth open until the man is close enough to talk to him. “Hello sir, I am here to help,” Oh my god he has an accent too. Something eastern European. Russian maybe? “Can you tell me where it hurts?”
‘My dick’ is Shane’s first thought and honestly if this man continues talking, his dick might just get hard enough that it would be painful. All that comes out of Shane’s mouth is a broken sound and the man stares at him confused for a moment, then with a look that Shane has come to recognise as someone realising, they’re talking to Shane Hollander. “You are very bad at being dead.” The firefighter says, grabbing at Shane’s lanyard.
“I’m not dead,” Shane blurts out, “I just have...” he pauses to re-read his card, clammy hand brushing against the firefighter’s as he does, “a traumatic amputation of my left leg and a foreign body embedded in my shoulder.” He reads in a monotone voice. The firefighter pauses, something Shane can’t quite recognise flickering across his features.
“Hockey will be hard with no leg, yes?”
Shane shrugs, his brain working overtime to actually formulate a response and not just stare at this man. “There are para-hockey leagues.” Shane informs because of course this man trying to focus on a training exercise wants to know about the programs for athletes with amputated legs.
The firefighter looks amused, “I bet they would still beat Scott Hunter.”
“Those guys are hardcore, really awesome players.” Shane agrees.
“So are you.” Shane blushes. The man shakes himself back into action. “Ok, I need to do some checks and then I will take you to medics.” He grabs Shane’s lanyard and writes something on the back. Shane squints, making out that he writes some numbers and fleetingly wonders if this man is bold enough to write his phone number on the back of a volunteer lanyard. It takes him longer than it should to realise he’s written a time on the back, more specifically the time right now. Like the organisers had told them would happen so they can track the progress of the first responders. Shane wants to kick himself.
He watches as the gorgeous man works, checking his vitals and asking him questions about pain. Shane responds about how he thinks someone in this situation would- that is to say, he would be in a lot of pain. The firefighter seems to appreciate it at least, if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by. Once he’s finished his checks, the firefighter starts to move Shane, setting him in an easier position to lift. Shane tries to protest weakly, “Oh it’s fine I can walk.”
The golden-haired firefighter raises his eyebrows and deadpans, “Your leg is blown off, you cannot walk. I carry you.” And oh, if the sound of this Russian god saying he’ll carry Shane down some stairs doesn’t set something off in him.
All of a sudden, Shane is literally swept off his feet and into a fireman’s carry by the firefighter and lets out an undignified yelp. The man adjusts his grip slightly as he settles Shane’s weight over his shoulder and makes his way down the stairs. “Don’t worry, I will not drop you.” Thats not a something Shane had considered. Not when Shane feels he couldn’t be anything other than complete safety in these arms. It’s not the most comfortable of positions to be in but Shane can’t bring himself to mind, not when he would let the man carrying him carry him literally anywhere he wanted. The firefighter moves through the warehouse as if he doesn’t have a hockey player draped over his shoulder and it makes Shane swoon. He moves deftly, weaving through the throws of volunteers and first responders with an ease which lets Shane know how often he’s done this before and it makes Shane jealous of everyone who’s ever had the pleasure of being carried by this man, both in a professional and personal capacity.
It doesn’t take long, maybe a few minutes, to reach the area where the medics have set up triage. Shane can hear them before he sees them, his view blocked by the expanse of this Russian specimen’s back. “You got another one for me, Roz?” he hears, and he assumes this to be the firefighters name- maybe short for something? Shane can’t be sure.
‘Roz’ sets Shane down very gently on the floor and the controlled strength with which he does it makes Shane sure that this man could toss him around like a rag doll if he wanted. “Da, Maria this is Shane, and he has amputation of left leg and shrapnel in his left shoulder.” He goes on to spew some medical terms about Shane’s vitals and medical status to the paramedic, that the hockey player doesn’t fully understand. After completing his handover to Maria, Roz turns and winks at Shane before leaving. “Do not kill this one Maria, he is decent hockey player.” The paramedic scoffs and tosses a rolled-up bandage at Roz’s head, he ducks to miss it, exposing the back of his turnover coat emblazoned with the name ‘Rozanov’ on the bottom. So Roz is a nickname, Shane concludes. “I swear I’m gonna kill that boy one day,” Maria mutters, “kill one of my patients indeed, those boys with their rough hands are surer to cause some damage.” Shane wants to interject, to tell her that those rough hands had been nothing short of gentle with him, but it doesn’t feel appropriate. Especially when an official looking person approaches with a clipboard and starts asking Maria questions about her decision-making regarding Shane’s ‘care’.
Maria, Shane learns as she is bandaging him up, is 2 decades into her career as a paramedic and has a son who plays minor league hockey. Her experience on the job shows, with him being bandaged up in a matter of minutes and ready for transportation. Once there is an ‘ambulance’ available, Shane is transported via stretcher to one. Well, it’s not an ambulance, just an area outside the warehouse where all patients who would be blue-lighted to hospital in this situation have been placed. His injuries and treatments administered are reported to someone at the site who informs him he would have lived if it were real. Shane, weirdly comforted by that piece of information, instantly wonders how many of his team have ‘survived’ also.
He catches sight of Haas and Hayes a few metres away, both of whom also have bandages covering various areas of their bodies. He nods in greeting and makes his way over. “Cap are you alive?” asks Haas earnestly.
“Minus a leg but yeah, I’m alive. You guys?”
Haas nods excitedly, motioning to the bandage around his head, “head injury for me and a deep cut to the abdomen for Hayesy.”
The goalie puts his thumbs up, “it was touch and go for a minute there.” He jokes, “you seen Bood?”
Shane nods, “Yeah he’s dead.”
“Damn.”
“RIP Bood. Who’s gonna barbecue for us now?”
They all look at each other and promptly burst into laughter, causing a few of the ambulance are ‘patients’ to send them odd looks. Unfortunately, this also draws attention to the fact that Shane Hollander is now in the ambulance area, so he and the team are once again surrounded by avid hockey fans who ask them more questions and to pose for more pictures. Shane dutifully stands with the fans and smiles, letting them take their photos and tell him about their brothers, sisters, cousins and other family members who play hockey or are his biggest fans, all the while continually scanning the area hoping for a glimpse of Rozanov. With no golden curls or hot smiles to be found, Shane returns to his task at hand.
-
It takes longer than Shane would like for the crowds to disperse. The drill is long over, and the organisers are clearing the warehouse. Bood appears at some point and waits along with Hayes and Haas for Shane to finish. He’s shocked they stayed and tells them as such. Hayes waves a hand in dismissal, “course we waited Cap. Besides, I was telling Bood about that guy, the actor who was arguing with the paramedic?” Shane hums, letting him continue to recount the argument between one of the paramedics and a volunteer who was an aspiring actor claiming his character ‘wasn’t speaking to him’.
They head towards their respective cars and make plans to grab a bite to eat. Hayes and Haas are debating on a location that might fit with Shane’s diet when Bood interrupts. “Y’know Hollzy, I was kidding before. I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.” Bood says with a shocked chuckle.
Shane frowns, “what are you talking about?” Bood points behind him and Shane turns, catching sight of someone leant against the driver’s side of his Jeep. His frown deepens before recognising the blonde curls and chiselled jaw.
Shane’s eyes widen and he turns back to be met with matching smirks on the faces of all three of his teammates. “What?”
Bood raises his eyebrows in amusement, “Early practice tomorrow captain, don’t stay up too late.”
Shane’s cheeks flame at the gentle ribbing. “what- I. I don’t know- I said I’d come with you guys and I-“
His stammering is interrupted by Hayes “Hollzy stop.” he says, “Honestly if I weren’t happily married and there was a hot as fuck firefighter leaning against my car, I would not still be standing here.” He gestures to Rozanov, “for the love of god, please go and get that man!”
Bood and Haas nod encouragingly, “we’ll see you tomorrow cap. Have a good night.” Shane nods, bidding the three of them farewell and turning towards his Jeep.
Making his way over to his car, Shane can see Rozanov more clearly. He looks even better than he did earlier, his full protective gear gone revealing a simple Ottawa Fire Department t-shirt that moulds to his fit upper body like it was made specifically to star in Shane’s fantasies and his t-shirt sleeves stretching over his biceps shows tha Shane’s earlier assumption of him being jacked were correct. Rozanov straightens as Shane approaches.
“What are you doing?” Shane asks.
“I had to make sure Shane Hollander didn’t die,” the firefighter responds, saying Shane’s name in a way that makes him blush and imagine his name coming from that gorgeous mouth in other situations.
Shane nods, redness continuing to creep up his neck. He looks around reflexively, checking the quickly emptying lot and finding that the few remaining people actually couldn’t care less that he’s having a conversation with another man. “How’d you know which car was mine?”
“I looked for most boring car in the lot and I figure that must be Shane Hollander’s car”
“Fuck you, its practical.” Shane defends, “and its good in the snow.” Ilya hums, smirking. God Shane has only known this man for a matter of hours and he’s already getting right at home under his skin.
“Oh, Shane Hollander is car salesman now?”
“Why do you keep doing that?”
Rozanov frowns, “doing what?”
“Saying my full name like that. You can just call me Shane.”
Rozanov holds out his hand, “if you are just Shane, then I am Ilya.” He takes Rozanov’s – Ilya’s hand and shakes it. His hand is warm and strong and Shane doesn’t want to let go.
“It’s nice to meet you Ilya.”
The firefighters mouth splits into a blinding grin and he uses Shane’s grip on his hand to gently pull him in. “So Shane, do you have dinner plans?”
Shane smiles right back at Ilya, moving closer into his space and shaking his head. “I don’t”
“Would you like some?” Shane’s gaze drops as the intensity of Ilya’s green eyes boring into his becomes too much. A hand comes up to his chin to level their gazes once again and Shane manages a small nod.
Ilya’s smile gets even bigger, and he leans closer. Shane almost thinks he’s about to be kissed, prepares for it even, and is just about to close his eyes when the hand on his chin shifts so Ilya’s thumb can brush over his cheek. “So sweet,” he murmurs, and Shane relaxes into the touch, blinking lazily up at the Russian. Ilya removes his hand and walks around the car to the passenger side. Shane watches him move, absolutely not staring at the man’s ass. He tracks his gaze up the rest of Ilya’s body, finally landing his eyes on the man’s face, where he stands with his eyebrows raised. “You are not going to open the car?”
Shane reboots and fumbles for the car keys in his pocket, “yeah- uh yeah of course.” The car beeps as it unlocks, “do you not have a car?”
Ilya shrugs, “I got a ride in.” He opens the passenger door. “I said I had plans after so not to wait for me.”
Shane opens his own door, “plans huh? Very presumptive.”
“I do not know this word, but I was confident you would say yes if that is what you mean?” Ilya slides into the car with a wink, making Shane chuckle.
“Cocky asshole.” He chirps as he gets behind the wheel and Ilya smirks back.
“I think cocky works for you, yes?” He asks and Shane blushes.
“Yeah, I guess it does.” They hold each other’s gaze and Shane’s honestly not sure how long they stay there staring at each other. He just knows he never wants to look away.
Ilya breaks the stare first. “Chop chop Hollander, I am hungry.”
“Where do you want to eat?”
“I know a place. Just get to the main road and I will direct you.” Shane nods and starts up the vehicle. He glances over to the passenger side and notices something.
“Hey Rozanov?” Ilya hums in response. “Put your seatbelt on, wouldn’t want any accidents happening.”
Ilya makes no moves to do what Shane asks, just raises his eyebrows and responds. “I do know a sexy, strong firefighter that can help with accidents. Maybe give mouth to mouth?” He moves his head over towards Shane, as if going in for a kiss.
Shane laughs and shoves him away gently by his cheek. “Fuck off!” Shane jibes, “I’m serious, seatbelt on.”
Ilya acquiesces and reaches over his shoulder for the seatbelt. “You are very bossy Shane Hollander.” He says as the belt clicks into place.
Thinking he may have misread, Shane tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-”
Ilya shakes his head, “No don’t be sorry. I like bossy men.”
“You do?”
Ilya nods, “Da. I also like hockey, so you are basically my dream date.” He states and Shane’s heart stops.
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face even if he wanted to. “Really?” He asks.
“Really.” Ilya confirms, his own smile mirroring Shane’s. “Now can we go? Because I am very hungry.”
Shane clears his throat and puts the car into drive. “Of course- uh yeah.”
“Don’t worry Shane Hollander, this will be the best date you have ever been on.” Ilya claims and Shane can’t resist chirping back.
“The food’s that good?”
Ilya smirks, “The company is better.” He slides a hand over Shane’s. “You will see.”
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