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"What in the fuck knuckles is this?" Marlow laughed, standing from the patio table he'd secured to meet up with his former teammate, Ilya Rozanov.
"He is my boyfriend, you intolerant shit," Ilya said defensively, unwittingly taking a slight step in front of a trailing Shane Hollander.
"Whoa! Pump the hate brakes, Rozy!" Marlow laughed. "It's not me being homophobic, I'm just surprised anyone would date you!" He clapped a hand on Shane's shoulder. "Especially Golden Boy Hollander from polite Canada! Also, so proud of you for learning the word intolerant. Hollander teach you that?"
Ilya smirked, shoulders dropping. "Go fuck yourself, Marly."
"There he is!" Marlow cackled, sitting back down, dragging Shane to sit next to him. "How and when the fuck did this even happen?" He gestured between the two of them.
Shane huffed out a laugh, blushing as he replied, "That's kind of a long story."
"I'll say!" Marlow grinned. "It would have to be for any of this to make any sense. Hollander is way too hot for you, Rozy."
"I think maybe we should stop being friends, Marly," Ilya shot back, dryly.
Marlow only laughed and patted Ilya's cheek. They ordered dinner when the waitress came over, eyeing the three of them with obvious interest. Marlow warned her she couldn't come between Hollander and Rozanov, proclaiming not even a rivalry, the whole NHL, and the commissioner himself could come between them.
"So spill, Roz. How did I not-" Marlow froze, his coke halfway to his lips. "Montreal girl. Jane. Oh, I'm an idiot."
Marlow looked down at his coke, remembering introducing Rozanov to coke and how they'd bonded over it being both their favorite soda once he's tried it. He remembered how Roz had been glued to his phone that night, smiling softly when it would ping with a text from Montreal Jane.
"Roz, what the fuck? You can't be...he's been texting Montreal Jane since his second season!" Marlow exclaimed, looking between Shane and Ilya in disbelief.
"Well, actually before that," Shane corrected, unable to look Marlow in the eye. "We, uh, we first hooked up the summer before our rookie season. We've been texting since the first All-Stars game."
Marlow leapt to his feet, glaring at Ilya. "You fucking asshole. I never thought you capable," he gripped Ilya by the front of his shirt, hauling him to standing across the table from him. A gasp went around the tables nearest to them.
"How could you? All those years? That's how you treat him? You were like my little brother. I always saw the asshole act as just teasing, but you really are an asshole, aren't you?"
Ilya's face was painted in confusion. Shane stood, gripping and tugging at Marlow's wrists.
"Marly, what the fuck are you talking about?" Ilya's voice sounded small and hurt.
Marlow released Ilya's shirt with a shove. "You cheated on Shane so much over the years. I never thought you would do something like that. If you've been together all that time, then every woman you've been with since I've known you was you being the world's biggest dickhead over and over again."
Shane let go of Marlow's wrist. "Oh. Um, actually we weren't," Shane cleared his throat. "We weren't...exclusive. I was actually with other people too during that time. Remember Rose Landry?"
Realization dawned on Marlow's face. "Oh."
"Yeah," Shane went on. "And...well, a couple other guys for me, too. We only became exclusive in 2017. After the All-Stars game. Ilya didn't cheat. As far as I know, he's never cheated on me or anyone else."
"I didn't!" Ilya cried desperately, clutching Shane's hand. "I haven't cheated on anyone ever and I would absolutely never cheat on you! Solnyshko, who could ever compare?"
Shane smiled a goofy, love-drunk smile at Ilya who grinned lovingly back. A pink blush bloomed across the couple's cheeks.
Marlow saw it then with clarity. Every single interaction the two had had over the years rearranged itself before his eyes and he could finally see everything that he'd missed. Ilya Rozanov has always been in love with Shane Hollander. And Shane Hollander has always been in love with Ilya Rozanov. He saw in their eyes every obstacle they'd faced. He saw in their faces every reason they'd given themselves to give the other up. And he saw every reason in the love they showed each other now why they didn't.
Marlow laughed the kind of laugh that was more a release and glanced between the two of them. "I thought Russians didn't blush, Roz."
"Never in life have I blushed, Marly! You keep saying this! I do not blush! Shane blushes a beautiful blush. Blush is for pretty people," Ilya complained, snapping out of the daze his boyfriend had put him in.
"Keep telling yourself that big guy," Marlow patted Ilya's shoulder as they all sat back down, their food arriving. "It all makes sense now. Montreal Jane is Montreal Shane. Why you wouldn't go out with us when we'd play Montreal. Why you suddenly stopped going out or picking up women altogether. Why you moved to fucking Ottawa of all places. The greatest love story of a generation written right there on the ice and everyone was too stupid to read."
"You are poet now, Marly?"
"Maybe I'll become one. This is fucking beautiful, man. Makes me want to settle down myself if this is what it looks like," Marlow admitted. Shane and Ilya locked eyes, blushing again. "There it is again! Ilya Rozanov blushing like he's got a big fat crush! Ha! You have a crush on your boyfriend."
Shane laughed too as Ilya spluttered and pointed at Marlow. "Russians do not blush!"