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“Is it true?”
Shane is startled by the young player in the locker room. He is sitting in his stall tying his skates as he looks up at the man, well boy really, hovering near him. His name evades Shane so he tilts his head, confused. “Is what true?”
“Do you still use the same jockstrap you used in your junior years?” The boy asks with a starstruck look in his eyes. The murmurs around him quieten a little as other young players in earshot look up with curiosity.
Shane is not sure how to respond. Well, it isn’t technically the same one, what with all the repairs and replaced parts. It’s more new than he would like it to be. As he ruminates how to politely tell the kid that it’s none of his business, he is saved from having to do so.
“Pointy, go be a freak somewhere else.” Boodram’s voice is booming over the hush that has fallen.
“Come on, man,” Pointy, LaPointe Shane recalls, sulks and walks over to his own stall next to Hayes. The room goes back to its original decibel.
Boodram gives somewhat of an apologetic smile and slaps a hand over Shane’s shoulder, “Yeah, you’re gonna be getting a lot of that from the kids and probably some older players too.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Shane had, but he was not expecting it to start before the first skate with his new team. He looks over at Ilya coming in from his meeting with Harris and catches his eyes. Ilya gives him a warm, quiet smile that helps settle his nervous heart a little.
Ilya moves over to Troy to talk to him and Shane notes how at ease he is in the room. Which is far from how Shane feels in the room. Most of these guys were at his wedding and he had seen them a few times over the summer so it shouldn’t feel as harrowing as it does to be in the locker room. He looks down at his hands and smiles at the black silicone ring on his left ring finger. It matches the one Ilya is sporting. It was hard to believe how much had changed over the past six months.
“You’re not gonna tell us about the jockstrap, are you?” Dykstra asks, sitting down in the stall next to Shane’s with an easy grin.
“Absolutely not,” Shane says, his voice more confident than he feels. He puts on his press smile and goes back to tying his skates, left and then right.
“Do you eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every morning on game days?” Dykstra questions after a few minutes, eyebrows quirked.
“No, he eats salmon and rice.” Ilya steps up to the two of them, with a smirk on his face. “Now, are you going to keep harassing him or actually try to win some fucking games this year?” Dykstra scoffs and goes back to getting his gear on.
Shane looks up at him, grateful to hear his captain Rozanov voice. He is already in his gear despite coming in later than most people. They look at each other for a few seconds before being pulled out of their reverie.
“Let’s fucking go, boys!” Boodram stands up and leads the way out and everyone follows him. Except Ilya who stays where he is.
“You okay?” Ilya asks, still hovering over him with a concerned look on his face.
“I will be once I get on the ice.” Shane steels himself and gets up to follow the rest of the guys. They tap each other’s helmets and walk out.
***
“That was…” Ilya trails off as he puts on his seatbelt.
“Really fucking bad.” Shane finishes for him, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.
“Was your first time on ice with us,” Ilya gestures with his hands. “It might take while for you to get comfortable.”
“The first game is in three weeks,” Shane says flatly as he pulls out of the parking lot, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He sees Ilya looking at his hands from the corner of his eyes and forces himself to stop.
“Yes, exactly. Three weeks for you to get it together.” Ilya replies with ease, but Shane knows he is also disappointed with how the informal practice went. Passes weren’t connecting, people were still distracted by the memories of the off season, and Shane had to get used to not being the Captain or Alternate for the first time in ten years.
Shane exhales loudly in response.
“I’m serious,” Ilya says as he places his hand on Shane’s thigh. “Took me some time when I moved.” Shane spares a glance at him before nodding and putting his hand on top of Ilya’s. The rest of the drive is silent with whatever playlist Ilya put on playing in the background as Shane’s mind races.
He hated it. Almost every second of it. After the initial joy of being on the ice wore off, he just could not connect with the rest of the team. The style was so different from what he was used to with the Voyageurs. For a second, a minuscule part of him wishes he could go back, back to a time when he knew every guy on the team, knew the barn like the back of his hand, knew exactly where his linemates would be when he needed them. Back before he got outed and back before he was hated by the guys he had once considered brothers. Even after months had passed, his rage at how unfair it all felt didn’t seem to.
He holds onto Ilya’s hand tighter and feels the silicone ring under his touch and knows there is not a world in which he could go back to that. He knows there isn’t a world in which he wants to. Not when the alternative is this; playing with his husband, a locker room full of guys who are more concerned with his game day rituals rather than who he sleeps with, and a coach with a heart of gold. Seriously, why is Weibe so nice? Thierault would have chewed him out if he showed up to a Voyageurs practice the way he had today. He feels his heart ache at the thought of not having this and guilt courses through him for missing his old life. He would get through these feelings. He just needs time to adjust.
“I love you.” Shane says quietly, needing to voice it as they turn onto their street.
Ilya rubs his thumb on Shane’s thighs and says, “I love you too.” Like it’s simple, like it’s easy. He supposes it is now.
***
“Great goal there, Hollzy,” Bood says once they’re back in the locker room. The guys are all breathing heavy after their fifth practice back, two weeks before their game against Winnipeg.
Shane acknowledges the comment with a nod. It could’ve been cleaner, should’ve been. He barely touched the puck and it felt more like luck than anything else. He feels a hand on his back and knows it’s Ilya without looking from the way the hand lingers like it knows he needs the grounding touch.
It’s gone a few seconds later. They were still navigating through not only being a married couple, but also a couple everyone now knew about. Especially in the locker room. None of the guys ever said anything or gave any weird looks and Ilya would vouch for each and every person in the room to not be a bigot. But thirty years was a long time and for a majority of it, Shane had been around guys who were nice enough but still turned out to be assholes.
“Do you really throw up before every game?” Elias, a defenceman, stops as he is walking past and asks Shane. Without waiting for a reply, he continues, “Because if you do, I need you to know I have that thing where if I hear someone throw up, it makes me throw up and I don’t wanna throw up before playing a game if I can help it.”
Shane blinks at him. “Uh, no?”
“Cool,” Elias turns to his stall and starts undressing.
Shane is confused as he walks into the showers and thinks the Centaurs are a little odd.
***
“Uno!” The plus four lands on top of the cards piled on the coffee table. Shane gives into the urge to straighten all of the cards underneath into a neat stack.
“No way Hollzy, you can’t do that.” Hayes slumps his shoulders as he picks up twelve uno cards.
“Looks like I just did.” Shane holds his one card to his chest. “I want blue.”
“Of course you do.” Hayes looks at his cards and puts down a nine.
“Hazy, you need to start thinking before inviting him over for games,” Ilya smirks. “He’s a killer.”
Shane is having fun, he thinks. They just had their last practice before the opener the next afternoon. The guys wanted to relax a little before the usual nerves of the season set in. So obviously nothing relaxes the mind like a card game that tears families apart.
He has been playing a lot better with the team, enjoying going out with them since most of the older guys just like relaxing and talking over a beer. He can do that. He can be the new guy and make new friends. He can do the team bonding thing. The chemistry clicking off the ice helps them on the ice. It also helps when he sees Ilya happy to be around his team. It was weird to think about how much they didn’t get to experience together even after years of being with each other. So Shane tries to not think about it. Too much. They could experience it now and that’s what matters.
“I win.” Shane says as he places his wild card once it’s his turn again, pleased with himself.
“Shocking,” Ilya says around the mouth of his beer bottle, before taking a long swig.
“Fucking whatever, this game sucks.” Hayes puts his cards down, arranged by colour and numerically.
“It was your choice,” Luca retorts, putting down his own hand.
“Does anyone want another drink?” Hayes gets up and looks around at the three of them, ignoring the comment.
Ilya puts his own cards down and shakes his head. Hayes’ eyes narrow on the cards.
“You had another plus four and you didn’t play it on Hollander?” Hayes’ eyes are bugging out now.
Shane looks at him affronted. “I don’t need you to let me win,” he grumbles, more seriously than he intended. They don’t do that, they compete and try to beat each other. That’s kind of their whole thing.
“Of course, solnyshko,” Ilya laments, looking guilty, “I just want to go home. Long day, no?”
“Yes, fine.” Shane replies after a beat.
“Yeah, Shane needs time to call his parents before he stops talking to them for the whole season.” Hayes chuckles.
“Yeah, I— what?” Shane is once again left confused. Where are they getting these from? Shane definitely needs to look up what people are saying about him and his superstitions, because it is getting ridiculous.
“Oh man, I was hoping that one was true,” Hayes frowns, “Now I owe Dykstra twenty.”
“You guys are betting on this?” Shane is now wondering if this is some weird Centaurs hazing. The Voyageurs just got the rookies drunk and left them alone in bars. Even that stopped once Shane became captain, or at least he hoped it did.
“Long day, longer day tomorrow, we’ll see you at the game,” Ilya says quickly, pulling Shane to the door.
“Are you guys just fucking with me?” Shane asks Ilya in the car, a little annoyed at being the butt of the joke. He would be more upset if it wasn’t so bizarre.
“No, sweetheart,” Ilya pulls out of Hayes’ driveway.
***
The crowd goes electric as the puck slides into the net under Winnipeg’s goalie, the last seconds of the power play ticking by. Shane rushes to Ilya and grabs his helmet as the whole team on the ice crowds toward them for their first NHL points together. Shane feels like he is floating surrounded by their team, his eyes only on one man, as the goal song “All I Do Is Win” plays.
They were up four nil now near the end of the third. Shane had the puck and had shot it to Ilya for his second goal of the season. Things were clicking tonight. Shane looks at the roaring seats and doesn’t think he had ever seen such a big crowd in Ottawa when he had gone to games as a kid. It thrills his heart to see it.
The rest of the period goes by without much excitement. However, the energy of the building while the last seconds go by is palpable and Shane thinks he can feel it in his bones and every fibre of his being. He loves how much the city came together for the team, his team. He loves playing good fucking hockey.
In the locker room, it is just as loud as the Voyageurs used to be. Shane wants to shake any thoughts of his old team out of his head, but he sees Harris coming and knows he is not going to be able to avoid those thoughts for much longer. He takes off his jersey so his shirt shows one of the few brands that still decided to work with him after the video came out.
“You know why I’m here.” Harris says before grabbing his arm and pulling him out to the hallway outside where some reporters had gathered. He has several microphones and cameras instantly shoved in front of him.
“Shane, what a welcome to Ottawa! That was an amazing assist at the end there, what do you want to say about it?” A voice calls out from somewhere behind the cameras.
“Yeah, it was good. Good to get a win with the team and always good to contribute where you can.”
“Rozanov got two goals in there, how has it been playing with him?”
“Yeah, I mean he has always been an unreal player. Amazing to watch. Keeps the plays alive and it’s dangerous.” Shane responds, keeping his smile on as he wipes the sweat off his brows. It felt a little odd to talk about Ilya as a teammate rather than an opponent after a game. He loves it, he thinks.
“Seemed like some heated words were being exchanged between him and Wilson, before the ref got in between them.”
“Yeah, I mean that’s the game sometimes, people get frustrated.” Shane’s smile feels a little tighter as he shrugs. He had noticed Ilya seeming off after the incident in the first period, but that was a conversation he would have later. The first of many post game debriefs, he was sure.
“How are the Centaurs treating you?”
“They’re a great group of guys and I am excited for the year ahead. They had an amazing run in the last season. Feels good to play for my hometown.” Shane’s heart starts racing a little because he knows what’s coming next.
“You’re playing Montreal this weekend, how unique are the emotions playing against your old teammates?”
Shane takes a beat before letting out what he hopes is an easy laugh. “Yeah, we’re ripping off the band-aid right away here, it’s good to kind of get it out of the way. So we can all focus on the season. I’m happy to be playing here in Ottawa.”
He looks to Harris standing near him, just on the outskirts of the media frenzy, and sees him nod his head.
“Alright, thanks, guys.” He turns to go back to the locker room.
“That was good, short and succinct.” Harris says as he looks at his phone. “Can’t wait for the headlines about how you hate your old team.”
“Yeah and how ungrateful I am for the team that drafted me.” Shane can’t help but roll his eyes.
Harris looks up from his phone with kind eyes boring into Shane, “You did good, Shane. I hope you’ve been practicing your lines for the game against the Voyageurs.”
“Been practicing since I left,” is all he gets out before being pulled into a hug by Boodram and moved further into the room. The music is louder than it had been when Shane had left the room. All of the guys are at different levels of undress chatting with one another.
“Alright guys!” Ilya shouts over the noise and instantly everyone turns their attention to him. “Great goals by me, Dykstra, and Haas,” he pauses as everyone cheers. “Hazy with the shutout,” more cheers. “Beautiful assists all around,” Ilya looks at Shane and his smile still makes Shane’s heart soar. Maybe even a little higher than before, seeing it openly in his, their locker room and not just in the privacy of their own homes.
“Big games coming up so rest up.” Ilya finishes and claps his hands. The team goes back to loud chatter, still pumping from the adrenaline of playing for the last couple of hours.
***
“What was Wilson saying to you at the game?” Shane mutters as nonchalantly as he can as he scrolls through an article written surprisingly quickly about how much he hates the team that gave him three cups. He scoffs at the quote of him saying he loves Ottawa being cited.
“Some bullshit.” Ilya is sitting up on their bed stretching his neck. They had gotten ready for bed the second they got home after grabbing a couple of drinks with Troy and Harris. Shane is laying down next to him, under the blanket his dad knitted for them.
“Yeah, like what?”
“That men like us should not play in league. It’s disgrace.” Shane isn’t surprised, but he feels his heart crack a little. He had not known Wilson very well, just played against him and he had never seemed the type to be an asshole on the ice. They even played together for the all star games a couple of times. He had seemed alright.
Shane supposes he should have expected this. And he had. He had expected some brands to stop working with him when they did. He had expected some friends that frequently checked in with him to stop talking to him altogether. He had expected the league to make it hard for him. He had expected some players would be causing problems on the ice. He knows all of this but some things just feel like losing the last little bit of hope he didn’t know he had been holding onto. Wilson had seemed alright, but he had believed a lot of the Voyageurs did too.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Shane reaches for Ilya’s arm and pulls him to lay down next to him under the blanket, facing each other. They let their legs entangle and Ilya sighs.
“Yes, me too.” Ilya brushes his thumb against Shane’s cheek. He frowns, “Is not new, hearing homophobic comments.”
“But it sucks more now that they know about us,” Shane finishes his thought and Ilya nods.
It does suck. Something they had tried for years to protect was out there now for everyone to dissect and analyze and rip apart.
“I don’t know how Scott has been doing it for so long.” Shane wonders, not for the first time, how lonely it must have been for him to be the only active player who was out.
“Once he retires this year, we’ll be only gay team in the league.” Ilya says solemnly.
“He’s not going to retire.” Shane shakes his head before considering it. “Is he?”
“Took some bad hits in finals last season.” Ilya shrugs, “If he is not thinking about it, he should be.”
The Admirals had made an impressive run for the cup, taking it to game seven in the finals before a heartbreaking loss in overtime. When the reports came out in the summer about all of the injuries the players had played through, it had looked rough but especially bad for Scott Hunter. He had to have knee surgery over the summer and had to bow out of attending their wedding and coaching at the hockey camps in July.
“Do you ever think about it?” Shane asks, curious. They had been playing for eleven years now and most of the guys they had started out playing with were already retired. But Shane knew he still had a lot more to give when it came to hockey.
“Sometimes,” Ilya admits. “We’re getting old in hockey years. Haas used to call me sir when he first got drafted. Feels like I spend more time recovering from games now than I do preparing for them.” Shane understands that even if he is a little taken aback. They just started playing together. He wants so much more time playing the game he loves with the man he loves.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Ilya puts two fingers between Shane’s eyebrows, smoothing out a frown he wasn’t aware he was showing. “I still have some years in me.”
“I’m not worried,” Shane bats his fingers away, the action softened by the way he holds his hand after.
“Yes, and I am not best player in league.” Ilya rolls his eyes.
“You’re not.” Shane smiles kissing him softly. It starts chaste and then turns into them lazily exploring each other’s mouths, their bodies tired and hazy with sleep.
“We’ll see who gets first hattrick.” Ilya whispers against Shane’s lips.
“We’re on the same team,” Shane groans.
“Yes, and I will still beat you.” Ilya turns to lay flat on his back before pulling Shane to his chest. Shane goes willingly and before he knows it, he is drifting off to sleep.
***
Shane is not nervous about playing the Voyageurs. He isn’t. The pregame press is just getting on his nerves. After the second roundabout question about how devastating it must be to play against his old team, he gives them what they want.
“Yeah, it’ll be weird to play against these guys. I spent a long time with them. I’m glad to be here in Ottawa now so I’m just focused on playing a good game for my team.”
“Pike is set to get to 1000 points this game. Is there any comment on that?”
“I mean, I hope he gets it in the next one.” The men and women surrounding him chuckle at that. Sorry, Hayden.
Harris jumps in and thanks everyone for their time and Shane beelines it to the locker room.
Shane keeps to himself as he gears up, going through the motions. His pulse racing to keep up with his thoughts. He wants to not feel the anger coursing through his veins. It had been a long summer and he had done his best to not think about the Voyageurs at all if he could help it. Now, it felt like he had done himself a disservice by doing that. He keeps thinking about that moment in the Voyageurs locker room, one of his last, when he felt the sharp strike of betrayal from those guys. He had done everything for that team, for those men. He thought he had done enough to earn their trust from the years of literal blood, sweat, and tears he put into that team. He was supposed to be a Voyageur for his entire career. His number was supposed to be retired and hung from the rafters. His worst fear had come true because their trust and support had been so conditional. They only saw him as the guy who made out with Ilya Rozanov and tripped in the first round of playoffs so Ottawa would win. Even after everything, he had not done enough.
Shane takes deep breaths as Ilya talks, giving his pep talk. Shane’s mind tunes it out and he only hears the blood rushing in his head. He feels like he is going to throw up. He thinks back to Elias and scoffs. Yeah, just what he needs now. For these guys to start an upchuck battle.
He looks up, not realizing how long he must have been looking at his laced up skates. Ilya has his piercing gaze on him.
“It’s fucking go time!” Ilya shouts to the team.
The team is up on their feet. Shane is up as well, steeling himself.
“Let’s fucking go!” He yells looking around at his teammates and they march out of the room with loud cheers.
***
“Original penalty on the ice to Ottawa number 28, two minutes for high sticking. Ottawa number 81 has two minutes for roughing. And then Ottawa numbers 2, 11, 39, and 73 have two minutes for roughing. And Montreal 9, 15, 22, 52, and 56 have two minutes for roughing. We’re gonna play four on four.” The sounds from the crowd are deafening as both penalty boxes fill up ten minutes into the first period. Shane sees the anger radiating off of both teams, but especially Ilya who has a small gash on his face. He spits on the ice before taking a seat, looking ready to murder someone, probably a Voyageur.
Shane is bending down for the face off trying to focus. Jameson stands across from him with a bloody mouth and grins viciously. “Fuck you Hollander.”
“You’re really not my type, Jameson.”
The puck drops. Shane wins the face off.
***
The game ends 8-7 Centaurs. By the time the last seconds went by, the crowd was on their feet, hardly caring for the hockey game breaking out in the middle of the fight. People definitely got their money’s worth.
Shane stands in the locker room waiting for Ilya to get back from his post game interview. He picks at his cuticles long and hard enough to make them bleed. The chatter around the room is a lot more hushed than it had been after the win against Winnipeg. Everyone is busy tending to their wounds and aches. Shane had lost track of the number of fights that had broken out during the game.
The atmosphere changes when Ilya comes back in and the whole locker room roars for their captain. Ilya smiles with his teeth, one of the front ones chipped from some time in the second period, and shakes his head. Shane knows the tense eyes behind that smile are anything but happy about how the night went.
Ilya walks over to him and Shane touches his cheek, but Ilya winces. The yellow, tender area was going to turn into a mean bruise. Shane grabs it again and attempts looking annoyed at him.
“That was stupid and reckless to do so early in the season.” Shane tries to sound firm.
“I don’t give a fuck.” Ilya’s face hardens and the anger from the ice is there again.
“I didn’t want this.” Shane says in a hushed tone. So maybe he is being naïve. He wants to believe there were better ways it could have gone. It could have been a clean game. But he knew from the moment they went out on the ice for warm ups, and saw the glares and disgusted looks from the other team, that it would be a rough one.
“You think I did?” Ilya asks in an enraged whisper.
“Yes!” Shane exclaims, just as quiet.
“Cap, that was straight up beauty,” Dykstra says, coming up behind Ilya. Dykstra gives a pointed look to Shane. “No one messes with our fucking team.”
Shane is struck by the intensity of his gaze and meaning behind his words. Evan Dykstra, a hockey player who grew up in small town Alberta, cares enough to let him know this. He cares about Ilya and the team and now Shane is a part of that equation too.
He looks around at the other players, some catching his eyes and giving him an easy smile like they would do all that and more for their team. For him and Ilya. And all of a sudden, Shane knows these guys have his back.
Shane doesn’t know how long he has been holding his breath, maybe since he started the game that day, maybe since the video leaked. Maybe since that cold day in Regina. He feels like he can finally let it out.
He gives a small smile to Evan and turns to Ilya and his smile gets bigger before he stops himself and shakes his head.
“Come on, Captain, time for us to go see the team dentist.”
“Did you really ask your old team staff to collect your teeth after fights so you could save them in a jar?” Luca asks, popping up out of nowhere at Shane’s side and giving him a scare.
“What the actual fuck?” Shane is getting a migraine from the night. “No, what? Seriously, where are you guys getting this from? I looked it up, none of this stuff is even a rumour online.”
“That’s what Roz told us after Marny knocked your teeth out a couple of seasons ago.” Wyatt says walking past them, toweling his head as he frowns.
The gears start turning in Shane’s head as he slowly turns to look at Ilya who gives nothing away.
“And who told you guys about me throwing up before every game?”
“Roz.” The guys around him chime in unison. Finally, Ilya’s mouth twitches.
“You fucking asshole,” Shane narrows his eyes at him. “I’m gonna kill you.”
“You won’t, you would miss me too much.” Ilya lets out a laugh, some of the tension easing out of his shoulder. “And Anya would never forgive you.”
“She will be fine,” Shane grumbles, not looking away from Ilya. “Why would you do that?”
“They kept asking about you all the time,” Ilya groans. “I had to say something. I would be bad friend if I knew nothing about you.” Ilya says, looking somewhere between terrified and amused.
“So you told them about my jockstrap?”
“That one’s true, ESPN had it in article.” Ilya shrugs as he looks around at the guys paying attention to them.
“Shut the fuck up, Rozanov.” Shane gets in Ilya’s face and has to keep himself from smiling at the absurdity of it all because that would be giving Ilya a win. When did ESPN write about that?
“Alright, the locker room is not the place for a lovers quarrel,” Boodram jumps in between, separating the two. “We got a win today, drinks at Monk’s, so hit the showers.”
“This isn’t over.” Shane threatens Ilya as he walks over to his stall.
“Oh, I hope it isn’t.”