Chapter Text
Ilya knew that there were exactly three instances when he was guaranteed to find his husband in a good mood — after a win, after sex, and after a workout. Which meant Ilya always knew exactly when he needed to strike if he wanted the best chance of getting a ‘yes’ out of Shane — for any request, really — but especially one like this.
At first, Ilya had considered waiting until their upcoming game against Philadelphia (which, as far as he was concerned, would be a guaranteed win for Ottawa), but he’d gotten too impatient. If he managed to talk Shane into agreeing, they’d need some time to prepare.
He’d come very close to bringing it up the night before, when they were both naked and slightly out of breath, their bodies still entwined beneath the sheets… But Shane had looked so adorable and peaceful in the dim light of their bedroom that Ilya couldn’t bring himself to ruin the moment.
Which is why, when his husband emerged from their basement gym that morning, lips stretched into a sexy smile and his entire body glistening with a fine layer of sweat, Ilya knew it was now or never.
“There is something I have been meaning to ask, moye solnyshko,” Ilya began, keeping his tone conversational as they sat together at the dining table with their breakfast. “Are you busy next Sunday? The… 27th, I think?”
Shane’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t think so… That’s the weekend we play St. Louis, right?”
Ilya nodded, pausing to swallow a bite of his toast. “Yes, the day after. It is a home game,” he reminded him.
Shane nodded, but his brow remained furrowed in the most adorable way. “Right,” he agreed. “Well, I don’t remember making any plans or anything… Why? Did you have something in mind?” Shane asked with a smile.
It was Ilya’s turn to nod. “Yes,” he replied simply. Then he went right back to munching his toast – and sneaking a bit of crust under the table for Anya – without further comment.
Shane took a bite of his eggs, eyeing his husband expectantly for several moments before he finally spoke again. “Okay… And were you gonna tell me what it is? Or…?”
Ilya shrugged, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Why does it matter? You did not have plans, now you do. With me.”
Shane set his fork down on the edge of his plate and narrowed his eyes. “Do you really think I’m gonna fall for that one again?”
“I do not know what you mean,” Ilya lied. “I just want to spend time with my husband.”
“Doing what, exactly?” Shane asked. “Giving me another heart attack?!” The look on his face almost made Ilya burst out laughing.
In retrospect, tricking Shane into doing that high-speed Bugatti test drive with him probably wasn’t Ilya’s finest moment… but all the time he’d spent making up for it was more than worth getting to see his husband’s reaction, if you asked him.
Ilya shook his head slowly, a smirk still dancing across his lips. “I promise this will be much more boring, do not worry.” He put down his own fork, leaning across the table toward Shane. “You saw the text from Wyatt, yes?”
Ilya examined the rapidly-changing expression on Shane’s face as he worked out the implication behind his husband’s words. At last, he seemed to settle on an expression of mingled amusement and disbelief.
“You’re kidding, right?” Shane shook his head and chuckled softly. “I don’t think so.”
Ilya was unsurprised by Shane’s reaction, of course. And undeterred too. “Why not? It will be fun!”
Shane rolled his eyes. “For who? Wyatt?”
“Well, yes,” Ilya agreed, shrugging. “But for us too, I think,” he lied. “I have always wondered why these conventions are such a big deal. Might be interesting to find out.”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “Alright, well if you wanna go, go. But you don’t need to drag me along with you,” he replied simply.
“It is not just for me, it’s for Wyatt,” Ilya insisted. “You read what he said, yes? Lisa is working, and he does not want to go alone.”
“Yeah, and if you go, he won’t be alone.”
Ilya pressed on. “This is the first time we play at home the weekend of the convention… Poor Wyatt has been wanting to go for years. And it will be more fun with friends.”
“Sure. And you’re his friend, so you can go.” With a shake of his head, Shane pushed back from the table and went to clear his plate, Anya following along at his heels and Ilya following along behind her.
“I cannot believe that after all this time, you are still so boring!” Ilya teased, already kicking himself for not asking the night before instead. Post-orgasm Shane would have probably been easier to convince.
“You know what’s boring?” Shane asked with a huff, turning around to face his husband again. “Spending the day surrounded by giant crowds of sweaty nerds in ridiculous costumes.”
“Oh, come on! It cannot be that bad,” Ilya insisted, hoping it sounded like he actually meant it.
“You’re right… It’s probably worse,” Shane called over his shoulder as he headed to the fridge and pulled out the large tupperware container that held the dog food. “Rose told me she did a few of those nerdy conventions after the first X-Squad came out,” he explained. “And they sound like a fucking nightmare.”
Ilya gently nudged Shane out of the way so he could take over preparing Anya’s food for her. “Listen,” he began, his tone more serious this time. “Wyatt loves this nerd shit, yes? And he wants to share it with his friends. He has even been talking about doing a ‘group costume’.” The way Shane rolled his eyes made Ilya instantly regret mentioning that particular detail. He tried his best to ignore it as he drizzled some broth over Anya’s breakfast. “But Luca is the only other person who wants to go.”
“Okay… And…?” Shane grabbed the now-full bowl of dog food and set it down beside Anya’s water dish. “That doesn't mean I have to go. I’m sure you’ll have a great time with Wyatt and Luca.”
“Maybe… But I would have an even better time with you,” Ilya said, coming to stand beside Shane and wrapping an arm around his waist.
There was a beat of silence before Shane finally turned to face his husband, his eyes suddenly alight with understanding. “Right… because then you won’t have to suffer on your own. That’s why you’re trying to drag me along, isn’t it?” Shane’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You need someone else to be miserable with.”
Fuck. Ilya should have known Shane would see right through him. It was time to change tactics. “Maybe… But if it is really so terrible, then you have to come, yes?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
“What? Why?!”
“So your poor husband is not abandoned in the sea of sweaty nerds.”
Shane elbowed Ilya in the ribs, pushing away from him. “Fuck off,” he said with a laugh. “If you really wanna torture someone that badly, why don’t you ask Troy to go with you?”
Ilya shook his head slowly. There was no way Shane was being serious. Ilya knew full well that he could be an asshole sometimes, but he wasn’t that cruel. Well, not to anyone but his husband, at least. And something told him Troy stood less of a chance making it out of the convention alive than Shane did.
“Shane,” Ilya said seriously when he finally found his voice. “Troy would rather die than go to geeky convention.”
“And you think I wouldn’t?” Shane chuckled softly to himself and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“No. But you are my husband,” Ilya explained, watching as Shane’s fingers moved across his phone screen. “You are obligated to suffer with me.”
Shane simply smiled in amusement, his eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and Ilya’s face. “Says who? I don’t remember anything about that in the wedding vows.”
“You don’t remember anything from the wedding vows,” Ilya corrected him. “They were terrible.” Even now, he still sometimes regretted not writing their own.
Shane’s sigh was heavy but his smile was fond as he lifted his eyes from his phone so they could meet Ilya’s. “I’m not going,” he said firmly, despite his smile. “Sorry.” He sounded anything but.
Ilya let out a sigh of his own as the feeling of defeat set in. He knew his husband’s mind was made up. “Fine. I will go have nerdy fun on my own.”
“Not on your own,” Shane insisted, just as a soft buzzing came from the phone he still held in his hand. He smiled down at the screen for a moment. “Sounds like I’ve got plans on the 27th now anyway. But I don’t think Troy does…”
He put his phone back in his pocket. Then, with a cheeky smile in Ilya’s direction, Shane headed off to take a shower, leaving his husband alone in the kitchen with Anya.
Less than ten minutes later, as he and Anya sat together on the couch in the living room, Ilya’s phone lit up with a text from Troy.
‘Am I going crazy or something? Why is Harris suddenly convinced you and I have plans with Wyatt next weekend?’
Ilya grinned. Maybe this would be fun after all…
—
Troy was having a difficult time deciding what was making him more uncomfortable – the hideous outfit and mask Wyatt had insisted he wear, the sheer overwhelm from the size of the crowd milling about the convention center, or all of the cruel intrusive thoughts that kept popping up in his mind every time someone walked by in their own super-fucking-ridiculous costume.
He’d worked so fucking hard over the past year and a half to not be a dick anymore. Was Ilya trying to ruin all the progress he made? Or maybe he simply wanted Troy to keel over and die from secondhand embarrassment at all this fucking nerd shit? It was hard to say for sure.
“Woah… Look at some of these costumes,” Luca muttered appreciatively as a man in a full suit of futuristic body armor walked by. “I wonder how long it takes to make them,” he marveled. Troy had a feeling the answer was something absolutely ridiculous.
“Oh, the hardcore cosplayers spend months working on them. Sometimes longer,” Wyatt smiled brightly beneath the blue bandana that covered the upper half of his face as he confirmed Troy’s suspicion. “I’ve always wanted to try making something, but I can never find the time. I don’t know how these guys do it…”
Troy shrugged, the giant shell on his back shifting slightly with the motion. Despite how accustomed he was to the bulk of his hockey gear, he found the weight of the costume Wyatt had bought for him extremely uncomfortable. And the thick layer of green facepaint only made things worse.
“There’s no way these people’s schedules are as packed as ours,” Troy explained. “Like, I’m pretty sure ‘normal’ people have a lot more free time than we do.” Wait. Did any of these people actually qualify as ‘normal’, Troy wondered? Shit. No. Don’t be a dick!
Ilya nodded slowly in agreement. “Yes. But also a lot less money,” he added, giving Troy a small smirk before turning his attention to Wyatt. “I am sure you can afford a very nice nerd costume. No need to make your own.”
“But it’s not the same!” Wyatt insisted, shaking his head. “I already felt guilty enough buying these.” He gestured toward his and his friend’s costumes with the pair of plastic swords he held in his hands. “I’m definitely gonna plan ahead for next year, so I can make something. And you guys should start thinking about it too!”
Troy’s eyes widened. “Next year?!” he repeated. Troy was already desperate to get the fuck out of there and go home. Was Wyatt seriously making plans to drag them back next year already?
Before Wyatt had a chance to respond, Luca was chiming in. “So… Where do we want to start? There’s so much to do!” He sounded excited as he peered down through the slits in his purple mask at the little map of the convention center on his phone screen.
“Right? God, I really missed going to these things.” Wyatt let out an almost wistful sigh as he leaned in close beside Luca to look at the map.
Troy shifted uncomfortably and the little toy daggers in his belt pressed awkwardly into his thighs. His eyes darted around at the large crowd coming and going from the huge lobby of the convention center. He was certainly no stranger to large crowds of obsessed fans, but Troy was used to groups of loud, half-drunken men in hockey jerseys arguing over penalties or placing bets on the final score.
He wasn’t used to… whatever the fuck this was. Troy watched as a woman walked by in a flowing purple wig and an outfit that looked like it belonged in a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. The man beside her wore a pair of giant striped horns on his head and had a long felt tail trailing along behind him as he gave his companion what sounded like a frame-by-frame breakdown of some kind of movie trailer? Weird.
“See? What did I tell you?” Ilya muttered, nudging Troy with the end of one of his plastic nunchucks. “Fun, right?”
Troy raised an eyebrow at his friend, his skin stretching uncomfortably beneath the layer of face paint. “Fun?”
“Yes. It’s free entertainment!” Ilya gestured toward someone in a full-body wolf costume walking alongside a companion whose bright orange fox suit was just as detailed. Troy never realized comic conventions had mascots too.
“I guess…” he muttered as he watched the pair of mascots walk by. “And at least Wyatt and Luca are excited.”
Ilya nodded, his eyes peering out beneath his orange mask to eye his friends as they continued studying the map. “Like Christmas morning, but for nerds. It is very cute.”
“Haasy, look!” Wyatt cried triumphantly, pointing down at Luca’s phone. “There’s a workshop for designing your own superhero… You brought your sketchbook, right?”
Luca nodded, gesturing toward the large brown shell on his back. Troy had to admit, ridiculous as they looked, it was pretty clever having them double as backpacks.
“Oh shit… No way!” Luca’s eyes had suddenly gone wide. “Craig Noyes?! He’s running it? He’s here?!”
Troy turned a curious gaze toward Ilya. Who? he mouthed. Ilya responded with a shrug,
Wyatt nodded at Luca, his toothy grin gleaming extra-brightly against the green that covered his face. “Oh, there’s tons of cool people here! Just wait!” He looked down at the phone again. “Looks like the workshop starts in about ten minutes… Barrett, Roz, you in?”
Troy bit his lip uncertainly, no doubt messing with the makeup Harris had so painstakingly helped him apply that morning. Despite feigning interest for Adrian’s sake, Troy really didn’t have much interest in superheroes. And when it came to drawing, well, Troy was certain he didn’t have an artistic bone in his entire body. But wouldn’t it be shitty to bail on his friends? And where the hell else would he even go anyway? Forget about a fish out of water –Troy might as well have been a fish on a different planet – one inhabited by a bunch of nerds in weird-ass costumes who were into a bunch of geeky shows and videogames he’d never heard of in his life.
“Well, uh…”
“Yes, we are in! Definitely.” Ilya grinned at Wyatt as he spoke, and Luca gave a little half-cheer of excitement in response.
Well, shit.
About fifteen minutes later Troy found himself peering down through the small holes in his fabric mask, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried not to rip his paper by erasing too hard – again. He was already on his third piece, and he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to ask for a fourth.
At least it was quieter in this room than the lobby had been – everyone was so focused on their drawings that the only sounds that filled the air were the scratching of pencils on paper, the occasional word of encouragement or piece of advice from the artist – Craig Something-or-other, who was apparently a big deal, according to Luca – and only the softest murmurings of conversation.
Troy’s eyes darted over toward Luca, who frankly looked a bit ridiculous at the moment, with his glasses on over his mask so he could see his paper properly. He couldn’t help but wonder what his friend was drawing – Luca had been practically beside himself with excitement as soon as he heard about this workshop thing, and it was no secret that Luca was an amazing artist. Whatever he was coming up with had to be good. But Luca was so focused on his drawing that Troy simply didn’t have the heart to interrupt.
Instead, he leaned in toward Wyatt, peeking down to spy at what he was working on. Troy’s eyes roved over the paper for a moment, examining the rough pencil sketch. Wyatt had drawn a smiling, bearded man in a long trenchcoat. He was surrounded by what appeared to be some kind of bubble or dome with a bunch of little circles with tiny lines – compasses, maybe? Or pizzas? – floating in the air around him.
“What are those weird little circles supposed to be?” Troy whispered, blurting out the question before he could stop himself.
To his immense relief, Wyatt didn’t seem offended by Troy’s rather blunt question. “Little pocket watches,” Wyatt replied softly, angling his paper so Troy could get a better look. “I haven’t thought of a good name yet, but this guy can like, shift time. Speed it up or slow it down, you know?”
Troy nodded slowly as he examined Wyatt’s somewhat crude drawing a bit more closely. The comic artist had tasked them each with thinking of a superpower they felt would be fun or useful, then designing a character around it. And, though his art skills certainly left something to be desired, it was clear Wyatt had understood the assignment.
“Cool power,” Troy muttered in response. “I wouldn’t mind being able to fuck with time.”
“Right? Imagine making everything go faster when you’re stuck in traffic, or something.” Wyatt had gone back to sketching now, though he continued whispering animatedly to Troy as he did so. “Or slowing everything else down so you don’t have to rush to finish something in time.”
“Yeah, or what about on the ice? Like, during a game, I mean?” Troy asked, smiling a bit. “Imagine if you could slow everything down any time the puck’s coming at you… Nobody would ever score on you again!”
“Shhhh!” The artist leading the workshop had raised a finger to his lips, making eye contact with Troy from across the room. Troy sank down a little lower in his seat and stared down at his empty paper, trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks.
“Oh shit, you’re right… That’d be awesome!” Wyatt whispered, completely unfazed by the scolding Troy had just received. He looked over at Troy’s mostly-blank paper and scanned the ugly gray eraser smudges for a moment. Even beneath his mask, Troy could see his friend’s brow furrow a bit. “Need help coming up with something?” he asked kindly.
Troy shook his head and his cheeks suddenly grew even warmer. “I’ve got an idea, I just… suck at drawing,” he admitted, shrugging.
“So do I, but I didn’t let that stop me.” Wyatt gave a nod across the table towards Ilya, whose tongue stuck out in concentration between his green-painted lips as he carefully moved his pencil across the paper. “And neither did Rozanov, from the look of it.”
“Fuck you, Wyatt. I am a brilliant artist,” Ilya insisted quietly, never lifting his eyes from his paper.
Wyatt let out a soft chuckle. “Uh-huh… Maybe you can help Barrett then, if you’re such an expert.” He looked back toward Troy’s face. “What do you want yours to be?”
Troy suddenly felt an unexpected wave of anxiety bubbling up in his stomach, which he knew was stupid. In fact, everything about what was happening right now — from what they were wearing to what they were doing — was stupid anyway, so why did it matter?
“Well, I’m, uh, not sure what I wanna call them yet, but it’s someone who can like… read minds?” he explained awkwardly. “But not all the time! That would be weird. And probably annoying,” Troy clarified. “But it’s like, as soon as they step onto the ice, they can hear everybody’s thoughts – their teammates, the coaches, the other team… So they’re in perfect sync with their linemates all the time, but they also know exactly what the other team is gonna do before they do it.”
Troy almost thought he detected something a bit teasing in the other man’s smile, but he couldn’t be quite sure. “Sweet!” Wyatt sounded sincere, at least. “Maybe he can play on the same team as my guy.”
Troy couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yeah! They’d be unstoppable!” he agreed.
“Shhh!” Troy winced and did his best to avoid the artist’s sharp gaze this time.
Across the table, Ilya shook his head and finally looked up from his drawing. “So you are saying your superhero’s power is… Being good at hockey?” He wasn’t even trying to mask the skepticism in his tone.
“No, it’s reading minds,” Troy corrected him. “Weren’t you listening?”
“Yes. It sounded very stupid.”
Troy’s already warm cheeks grew even hotter beneath the layer of paint, and he almost started to wonder how much more it would take before it all melted off. “Oh, fuck off! Let’s see yours then.” Without waiting for a response, Troy reached across the table and pulled Ilya’s drawing toward him.
His brow furrowed as he looked down at the crude drawing, and it took a moment for Troy to realize exactly what he was looking at. Ilya had drawn an incredibly muscular man wearing nothing but a long, flowing cape. His comically-large penis was on full display and he was winking at the viewer as several little stick figures swooned and drooled in the background.
“Ilya, what the fuck?” Troy choked out, half-amused, half-disgusted as he handed the paper back to his friend.
“He is known as The Curing Cock,” Ilya explained proudly. “He is able to charm any villain, and then he fucks them so good, they never do evil again. He is the perfect superhero, yes?”
Beside Troy, Wyatt was suddenly laughing so hard he had to put his hand over his mouth. Somehow, the man leading the workshop didn’t seem to notice this time.
“And you thought my hero was stupid?” Troy scoffed, shaking his head.
“Yes,” Ilya replied dryly. “And I still do.”
Wyatt was fully doubled-over now, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. Before Troy could come up with a witty response to Ilya’s insult, he noticed a small crowd of four or five people quietly approaching their table. Ilya and Wyatt both turned toward them as well, but Luca continued looking intently down at his drawing, seemingly oblivious to everything going on around him.
For a moment, Troy feared he and his friends were about to get scolded for being too loud – again – until he heard one of them mutter “Over here… What did I tell you? Look!”
“Now do you see what I was saying before?” Ilya asked softly, leaning across the table toward Wyatt as he spoke. “Sorry, Hazy. The fans will always find us. These weird lizard costumes cannot fool anyone.”
“They’re not lizards,” Wyatt corrected him, finally pulling his hand back from his mouth. Troy couldn’t help but notice that Wyatt had accidentally wiped off some of his green facepaint, leaving a few streaky patches around his lips. It somehow managed to make him look even more ridiculous than he had before.
“Turtles, then. Or snakes. Whatever.” Ilya waved a hand dismissively, earning a heavy sigh and eyeroll from Wyatt.
Troy glanced nervously toward the small crowd of strangers, who had almost reached them already. “You think they want autographs or something?” he asked the others softly.
Ilya shrugged. “Probably. Or maybe a selfie…”
Troy’s heart sank and he felt his eyes widen in horror. “Nope. No fucking way am I letting anyone take a picture of me like this…”
His entire body froze up as the group of strangers finally reached them, and Troy waited anxiously to find out what they might want. Maybe we can play dumb, he thought desperately. There’s no way they can see our faces THAT well… They can’t know for sure it’s us!
It only took a moment or two for Troy to realize that his fears were unfounded. The convention-goers had walked right past him, Wyatt, and Ilya without a second glance, instead forming a small semi-circle around the corner of the table where Luca sat. Only when he was surrounded did he finally lift his eyes from his paper, clearly surprised at the sudden arrival of an audience.
“Sorry to bug you,” the same one who had spoken before mumbled apologetically, still paying no mind to any of them but Luca. “I was just walking by a couple minutes ago and noticed your drawing.” He gestured down toward Luca’s sketch, which Troy still couldn’t make out from where he was currently sitting. “It’s incredible! Do you like, do this for a living, or something?”
“What?” Luca looked up at the strangers behind his glasses and mask with wide, uncertain eyes. “Oh! No, this is just something I do for fun,” he explained with a nervous laugh. Troy had a feeling that Luca’s skin was probably a deep shade of pink beneath the facepaint. “But thanks! You really like it?” Luca sounded almost hopeful.
One of the friends who had followed Luca’s admirer to their table nodded fervently, the pair of antennae she wore atop her head bobbing up and down as she did so. “This is amazing!” she cried. “Do you sell your art anywhere? Like Etsy? Or Ko-Fi?”
The look on Luca’s face told Troy that he was just as clueless about what she was talking about as he was. “Uh, no, sorry.” Luca shook his head slowly as he spoke. “I do have an old Tumblr account, though.” He sounded incredibly embarrassed about this. “I still post my art there sometimes.”
The small crowd of fans instantly lit up at that revelation, each pulling out their phones so they could find Luca’s account and follow it or subscribe to it or whatever the hell you did on ‘Tumblr’. Troy knew almost nothing about that site, except that he should probably steer clear of it, based on some comments Harris had made to him. Not a difficult task for someone as out of touch with social media as Troy was.
“Damn, Haasy,” Wyatt said appreciatively a few minutes later when Luca’s admirers finally headed back to their own seats. “Nobody’s recognized any of us yet, and you still managed to draw a crowd.”
Luca shrugged, but almost looked a bit pleased with himself. “That was kind of cool,” he admitted. “I liked getting attention for something besides hockey, for once.” Luca smiled down at his drawing for a moment. “And it does look pretty good, doesn’t it?”
He finally moved his arm back enough for his friends to see the beautifully detailed portrait of a female superhero with sparks of electricity shooting from her fingertips and a soft glow shimmering in her large and incredibly realistic eyes.
“Show off,” Ilya teased, reaching across the table to playfully nudge Luca’s arm with one of his nunchuks. He lifted his paper from the table and held it proudly in Luca’s direction. “I still think The Curing Cock is better.”
That got them all laughing – hard. So hard, in fact, that this time they really did get scolded for being too loud again, much to Troy’s horror.
They spent the rest of the workshop in relative silence. Luca, Wyatt, and Ilya each worked on cleaning up their drawings and adding finishing touches, then carefully tucked them into their bulky shell backpacks to bring home. Troy, meanwhile, got out his phone and tried in vain to find a good drawing tutorial on YouTube that could help him. But, just as he feared, his drawing skills were far past the point of saving.
Troy ended up crumpling up his blank paper and throwing it in the recycling bin on the way to the door. Well that was a huge fucking waste of time. But at least his friends had fun with it, anyway. Even Ilya, from the look of it.
“Where is your drawing?” As though on cue, Ilya had appeared at Troy’s side as they exited the artist workshop. Even behind his mask, it was easy to see the playful glint in Ilya’s eyes. “I want to see Hockey-Man!”
Troy rolled his eyes and gave his friend a shove with his shoulder. Why couldn’t Ilya just drop it? “His name’s not Hockey-Man!”
“Fine. What is it, then?”
Troy sighed heavily, staring down at the ugly rug beneath their feet as they continued walking. “I didn’t get that far,” he admitted softly. “I didn’t even get to draw it. But like you said, it was stupid anyway, so…”
Ilya suddenly reached out to clap a firm hand onto one of Troy’s shoulders. “So what if it was stupid?” he asked seriously. “Most superheroes are, I think. That is why they are so popular! People love stupid shit.” Ilya suddenly lowered his voice to a whisper and gestured with his free hand toward the crowd of costumed people around them. “How have you not noticed yet?”
Troy couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s quip, and he had to admit, it made him feel a bit lighter. “Good point,” he agreed. “Maybe there’s hope for Hockey-Man after all.”
Before Ilya had the chance to reply, an excited and familiar voice was calling out to them. “That was amazing!” Luca cried as he caught up with Troy and Ilya, with Wyatt following closely behind. “And did you hear what Craig said about my drawing before we left?” he gushed. “I wonder if he likes hockey. Do you think I should have told him who I am?” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Maybe we should go back so I can offer him an autograph…”
Wyatt chuckled as he fell into step alongside the others. “Even if he’s a hockey fan, I’ve got a feeling hearing how much you look up to him means a hell of a lot more than an autograph.”
Ilya and Troy both murmured their agreement, and Luca seemed satisfied with that response, much to Troy’s relief. He really did agree with what Wyatt had said anyway, but he was also incredibly eager to not have to go back and face the man whose scolding had made Troy feel like he was back in elementary school.
“So, uh, where should we go next?” Troy asked the others as they paused at the corner of the hallway outside the room where the workshop had been held. “There’s still a lot more stuff around here, right? Where else should we go?”
Ilya and Luca each shrugged at him, then all three turned their eyes toward Wyatt. “I guess that’s up to our fearless leader,” Luca suggested with a smile, gesturing toward him with his long wooden staff.
Wyatt laughed softly and raised an eyebrow beneath his blue mask. “Fearless leader, huh?”
“Yeah!” Troy agreed. “You’re like, an expert at all this weird nerd shit, aren’t you?” Aw, fuck. Why the hell couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut today?
Yet again, Troy found himself overcome with a wave of relief at Wyatt’s unbothered response. “That’s me! Mr. Weird Nerd Shit, at your service.” He gave an exaggerated little bow as he spoke.
“Is that what you named your superhero?” Ilya asked with a grin.
“Oh shit, that would’ve been a good one!” Wyatt replied appreciatively before turning his attention back to Troy. “And to answer your question… I do have something in mind,” he admitted, his tone suddenly a bit guilty. “I can’t promise you guys are gonna be into it though.”
For just a moment, Troy’s eyes found Ilya’s. Oh God, what now?! he wanted to ask. It almost looked like Ilya was wondering the same thing.
But Troy had already come dangerously close to breaking his promise of not being a dick way too many times for one day — and, much to his chagrin, they still had many more hours of weird geeky shit ahead of them.
So instead, Troy turned back to Wyatt and gave him what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”