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The hotels on the road are always good ones, but that doesn't mean that they are the same quality for all games. New York hotels are always the nicest, and Shane liked coming here since the beginning, but he does it even more now that he is allowed to come with Ilya. His trade to Ottawa after the Metros decided that him being gay was enough to ostracize him had been a lifesaver, even if Ilya and he are not public yet.
They talk about it, of course, and they don't think it should be an issue. Shane was up for it, the summer of the trade, but Ilya, who had been suffering through his panic attacks the months of the playoffs, had convinced him that they could wait some more time until they were ready.
It was not perfect, but it was way better. In Ottawa, they were friends. They could laugh and go together to bars, and Ilya, touchy by nature, could put a hand on his shoulders without worrying about anyone. They could share rooms on the road, and no one batted an eye. They don't always do it just because at some point Shane thinks it's going to start being suspicious, but it's getting harder to care lately. They have lost so many opportunities to wake up together that Shane doesn't have it in him to take even more away.
Shane is the first one in the reserved hall of their floor, having breakfast, the quiet atmosphere a blessing for his concentration. He would like to hit the gym before the practice because they had been talking about going to the Kingfisher afterwards, not only them but half the Centaurs, and he really didn't want to have to look at Scott's face after losing. He is eyeballing the eggs for his breakfast, calculating the quantity, when Troy and Luca appear.
"You're early, guys."
"Haas snores."
"I do not. You're just a sleepy princess that wakes up with the smallest of sounds."
"I do not."
Shane smiles. "How's your shoulder?"
"Perfect. Willing to go back to playing tonight."
Shane nods. Troy has only been out for a couple of games, but Shane knows how it is. They sit beside his plate and eat in silence, almost asleep, Shane lost in his thoughts until the known sound of Ilya's steps gets closer. He tries, hard, to avoid looking at the door, but in the end he can't stop himself. Ilya appears fresh-faced, and a smile shines on his face the second he focuses his eyes on Shane. He doesn't even bother with coffee before picking up a handful of chocolate-filled brioches. Shane rolls his eyes, but he doesn't say anything.
"Morning, team. My three favorite forwards on the same table."
"I thought Bood was your favorite," Troy says, glancing for a second at Shane, as if he knew who was really his favorite and knew it was not Bood. Shane tries to ignore it, but he feels himself go a little bit pink.
"Don't be jealous, Troy, or I will tell Harris."
"For the last time, we are not—"
"Yes, yes, whatever," he says, putting the second brioche inside his mouth. The chocolate explodes, and his lips are just a little bit covered in it. Shane is staring. Shane can't stop staring. Ilya fucking winks at him while he licks some of it from his index.
Shane rolls his eyes again.
"You're a pig."
"So," Ilya says, ignoring him and getting his attention back to Luca. "Ready to fuck with the Admirals?"
Shane disconnects from the conversation, thinking about the table of exercises he's going to do at the gym, covering them all in his head, and is drinking the last chug of his creatine-filled water.
He glances at Luca, who's blushing. He always blushes, even after months of not being the official rookie anymore. Shane finds it endearing now, like Ilya's relationship with Troy, but it was not like that in the beginning. Luckily, Ilya fucking loves when he's jealous and can prove to Shane he is the only one.
They manage.
Shane starts to gather the cutlery on his plate, making it easier to pick up after by the waiters, and he is starting to rise from his seat when Ilya fills his mouth with the third one. He can't do this. Now Shane is craving chocolate, and it's all Ilya's fault, and he really, really can't allow himself that kind of sugar before a game.
"I'm hitting the gym," he announces.
"I might join you later," Ilya says, after swallowing, smiling at him from his seat. There is a bit of chocolate on the side of his lip. Shane is too used now to spending mornings with Ilya, though; he smiles, puts a hand on the side of his cheek, cleans it with his thumb, and kisses him. They both close his eyes for the second and a half that the kiss lasts. Just a too-long peck, something chaste, and just as a—goodbye. Have a nice day. I love you.
The world stops. Ilya opens his eyes, enormous and big and blue, his mouth falls open when Shane gets away from him; he feels nailed to his current position. Shane is panicking. Shane panics so much that his body, in fight or flight mode, goes for the next motions with absolutely zero input from his brain. He cleans his own thumb with a napkin, mourning the sweet taste, and goes around the table to face Troy, who is almost as frozen as Ilya, but his mouth is closed at least. Which is good because then Shane leans down and kisses Troy on the lips, an even chaster kiss.
"Troy. Great to have you back."
Shane then looks at Luca. It's obvious to him that he knows he's next. A thought in the back of Shane's mind about Luca being a literal baby is the thing that changes his trajectory when he goes down to kiss him on the cheek. A choked-up sound comes from his back, where Ilya is located. Shane maintains composure.
"Luca. Always a pleasure."
He doesn't even look at Ilya, or he will shatter. So he clutches his phone in his hand, takes his dignity and his treacherous mouth with him, and leaves the room, miraculously avoiding running or having a panic attack.
He can hear them, even from where he is, unable to know what they are saying and honestly not caring.
When he's on the threadmill, is phone pings. Ilya says, "you left me, traitor," and Shane stumbles and almost eats the floor. He slows it down and is writing his apology message, but before he can send it, Ilya's next message arrives.
Ilya: we might need to revive Troy. Harris is superjealous. Luca won't forget it during his life.
Another long one.
Ilya: this was the funniest thing you have done in your life. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow.
Shane chokes for a second and fully stops the treadmill to avoid an accident; he dries the sweat on his face and neck with the towel. He starts writing a message and deletes it, in the end settling for, "You are the weirdest person I know."
Ilya: Is it working?
Shane looks around, then down, then sighs. He writes, "Yes."
Ilya: then let's go back to the room. there is still time, and you can reach your daily cardio with me.
"Promise me I will be able to walk in five hours, though."
Ilya: only if you're good.
And. Fuck. Shane has totally lost this one. "You are the worst," he finally sends, but he is already picking up his stuff, of course.
Ilya: you love me
And, well. Yes. Yes, he fucking does.