Chapter Text
Shane has been feeling like shit for months now. He never knew stress could take such a fucking toll on his body. He’d won 3 Stanley Cups, which is pretty fucking stressfull, but he’d never felt this shitty outside of IR-level injuries. He was tired all the time, a few months ago he just kept throwing up (luckily only in the mornings, before practice and games). That had stopped, but now he was just swollen all over. The team doctors had been concerned about his fluctuating weight, but Shane hadn’t bothered them with any details. He knew that this was most likely stress, but he couldn’t really sit with that thought because then he would have to reckon with the source of that stress. He would have to reckon with his team of 10 years icing him out for being gay.
He had told the team first in a pre-season practice. Hayden and J.J. had clapped him on the back and congratulated him and a few more guys muttered their “good for you's” from the benches. Then Comeua had casual as anything asked him if he was a “fucker” or a “cocksucker” and Shane had to tell him to fuck off immeadiately and couched the idea of telling them about Ilya into the next century. He had a tense meeting with Coach Theriault and the GM afterwards. They seem assuaged by the fact he wasn’t planning on coming out publicly anytime soon, but insisted he start showering last “to protect the team from lawsuits”. He knew they had taken a risk, signing a half-asian, omega hockey player all those years ago and while it had certainly paid dividends for them, here he was, adding another label for them to deal with.
Hayden said it was homophobic bullshit. He was determined to be a good ally no matter how much the more asshole-ish members made snide remarks about him leaving his wife to be Shane’s boyfriend. It’s like they had forgotten that Hayden and Jackie were the picture perfect dream of an Alpha-Omega couple. He was sad that Shane hadn’t told him sooner, but hell Shane had barely known himself. He was a better ally right now than J.J. who with all the love in his stupid heart was trying to set Shane up with any single gay guy he knew. He knew he should probably be nicer about that, maybe even entertain one and cancel last minute, but he just barely had the energy for that kind of deception right now.
He was just so glad they were playing Ottawa tonight and he would be able to see Ilya. Things were tense with them too, Ilya was obviously lonely in Ottawa and maybe taking the losses of his team a bit to heart. Shane really didn’t know because Ilya was frustratingly not talking to him about anything like that. He had to hear it second-hand from his parents. But they would see each other tonight at Shane’s place in Montreal and fuck it out. God, Shane was so ready to get on his knees for Ilya, or on his back, or front, he really didn’t care. He just didn’t want to think for a while and feel the fucking glorious closeness he felt since he and Ilya decided to try and have a future together. It was the end of the season, and while Ilya was going home soon, Shane maybe had a few more weeks of playoffs, maybe the final. Shane obviously always wanted another cup, but he was also a realist. (The team had not been playing at a cup-worthy level as some assholes he used to call brothers seemed to forget that he was on the ice to pass to and protect from checks.) Then they could be together 24/7 again at the cottage. Just a few more weeks.
Jesus fuck, if only he would stop cramping in his stomach. He never had cramps this bad outside of heats.