Archive of Our Own

Late November, 2020

“Have you guys seen Barrett?”

Ilya took in the negative answers from his teammates. Most of them had congregated in the private hall the hotel provided for breakfast. He knew he should've intervened when he saw Troy Barrett sneaking back into the hotel last night with poorly concealed liquor bottles. Good captains did that. 

Ilya was not one.

He'd put up with Barrett on the ice multiple times over the years; he said some terrible shit. Not the worst, but still. He expected there to be tension, to butt heads, to have to shut down inappropriate comments. So, when he met Barrett as a teammate, he couldn't be more confused. He was quiet, reserved, dare he say, skittish. Barrett stayed back, watching the team interact as if he wasn't allowed to speak. Not unlike a stray cat brought inside for the first time. 

Well, he had to make sure Barrett didn't drink himself to death.

As he crossed the lobby, heading towards the vending machines, he heard his name being called.

“Ilya Rozanov.” He turned to see a man standing from the hotel lobby seating, his companions remaining in their seats.

“Yes?”

The man strode over to him like they were old friends. He was older, probably in his fifties. He extended his hand when he reached Ilya. 

“I'm Troy's father, Curtis Barrett,” he introduced himself in a loud, confident voice. 

“Ah, I see,” Ilya shook his hand, “I have not seen him today.”

“Knowing him, he's probably trying to kick some puck bunnies out of his room.” His laughter was ugly. Ilya fought the urge to wipe his hand on his jeans. “They're only good for one thing, and it ain't marriage!”

Despite Barrett's reputation as a womanizer, Ilya doubted he had company. He'd been neutral about Barrett since his trade this past week, but his father? With the way he talked about women, Ilya never wanted to see him again. He wondered if Barrett felt the same. 

“I can tell him you're here,” Ilya offered, mostly as an excuse to never see the man again. 

“Sure, thanks. If you see him, tell him I've been trying to reach him all morning. It's rude to ignore people.” He said it in a joking tone, but Ilya was certain the man was upset. 

“I will let him know if I see him.” Ilya smiled tightly and excused himself.

Once he was by the vending machines, and out of sight, he let the sneer he was holding back crawl across his face. He hated men like Barrett's father. He was curious however, how a man who clearly didn't respect women, raised a son who picked a fight with a rapist. Toronto had been so upset that they traded Barrett for pennies. He desperately wanted to know what Kent said to spark the fight. Sue him, he was a gossip.

Whatever, he still needed to make sure Barrett was good for the game later. He took out a few bills and got himself a chocolate bar and a Gatorade for Barrett. He paused, considering which flavor to get, before selecting light blue. Barrett had only been around for two practices and both times he drank light blue.

Items in hand, he marched to the elevators. 

Troy Barrett was kind of pathetic like this. 

Ilya had barged into his room, empty like he suspected, and set about surveying what his new teammate was really like. He sat Barrett in front of the TV with the Gatorade bottle to get him to wake up. The man looked like he was about to keel over at a moment's notice. 

“This is habit?” Ilya asked, but Barrett was staring numbly at the screen. 

He sighed and went about picking up the bottles around the bed. Typical, not even a good Russian brand of vodka. He made his way to the bathroom and dumped what little was left in the sink.

Upon returning, he was met with a confusing scene. The talk show host on the TV was talking to an actor about coming out as gay. Ilya usually blocked stuff like that out since all it did was bring up bad thoughts on why he couldn't be out. What caught his attention though, was how devastated Barrett looked. 

Had he been a fan? Barrett has said some pretty homophobic things on the ice. Was he upset that his favorite actor was gay? His gaze locked onto the TV as the host switched the subject. 

“Okay, enough! Tell us about the real reason you came out!” The host said playfully. Probably has a boyfriend or something.

“It's true, I came out because of my fiancé! I couldn't marry the man of my dreams before showing the world he's off limits. Justin and I met on set and what can I say? These past ten months have been the best time of my life,” the actor answered. Called it. 

All things considered, not that crazy of an interview. So, why did Barrett have tears running down his cheeks? 

Oh.

Ilya recognized that particular look of devastation. It was one he wore back when Shane and Rose briefly dated. Not only the anger and jealousy of seeing the love of his life with another person, but also the envy of being able to do so publicly. All this, of course, accented with the absolute agony of no longer being together. 

Wow, Troy Barrett used to have a boyfriend. 

“—was actually the first man I ever dated! Only one I'll ever love.” the actor cut back in. Ugh, love. It was only cute when he did that.

“Liar.” Barrett's voice cracked. His breaths were shaky and the hand holding the Gatorade bottle was trembling. Troy Barrett didn't just have a boyfriend, he was in love with this man.

“Hey, Barrett,” Ilya tried to get his attention by placing a hand on his shoulder. But Barrett's focus wouldn't budge. 

Adrian Dela Cruz, a graphic on the screen provided, moved on to talking about some cloud tattoo. For fucks sake, it matched the one on Barrett's wrist, a small, simple design. The tattoo piqued his interest when he first saw it in the locker room. He thought it was from a night of drunken shenanigans. 

It was such a naive thing to do; this man had to be Barrett's first love. He couldn't imagine getting his loon tattoo and having to watch Shane talk about marrying another man.

Adrian must've said something about their previous relationship because Barrett let out a guttural sob. The Gatorade bottle fell to the floor and he dropped his head into his hands. 

Barrett just… cried.

Ilya didn't know how much had piled up for Barrett to break in front of his new captain, but he was shell-shocked. Truly, he'd never been in a situation like this. Comforting teammates? Yeah, he's done that before, but those were all with people he'd played with for years. He met Barrett properly three days ago. 

He snatched the remote and shut off the TV before Adrian said anything else. He spotted a used towel on the arm of the couch and grabbed that too before returning to Barrett. Ilya knelt in front of him, placing down the towel to absorb the liquid, and placed his hands on Barrett’s shoulders. He shuddered unconsciously and leaned into the touch as he cried. Ilya couldn't help but feel for him a little. He spoke in the same calm voice he used when Shane was panicking.

“It is okay. Everything is alright.” Ilya tried to be soothing in English but his words felt stilted and he didn't think he was getting through to Barrett. He switched to Russian instead, letting his native language roll off his tongue, rubbing his hands along Barrett's shoulders. He did what he wished his mother could've when Shane was with Rose. 

It took a bit, but Barrett's sobs lessened. He saw the awareness creep back in and Barrett's realization of the current position they were in. But before he could speak a word, Ilya cut in. 

“He was your boyfriend, yes?” 

Considering the fact that Barrett looked completely freaked out, he should've eased into it better. 

“Please.” Barrett pleaded. He stood from the bed, breaths coming in short again, and backed away from his captain. “Don't tell anyone.”

“Hey, hey, Barrett,” He kept moving until his back hit the wall. Ilya followed him the entire way there and returned his hands to Barrett's shoulders. “Calm down.”

He did not calm down. Barrett was trembling again, body wracked with panic. He squeezed Barrett's shoulders trying to ground him. Outside of Shane, Ilya hadn't needed to calm anyone down from a panic attack before. Shane liked physical contact, so he'd keep at that unless Barrett reacted against it. 

“Rozanov,” Barrett looked at him with tears in his eyes. “You can't say anything. Please.”

“Barrett, it's okay.” Ilya felt for him, he couldn't imagine being figured out just days after being traded to a new team. He also could've broached the topic better.  

“It's not. This is all I have. I'll do anything, just please don't tell anyone.” Barrett’s emphasis on how it wasn't ok to be gay caused a pang of sympathy to course through him. He truly believed it. He couldn't see a world where hockey and queerness could coexist. 

“It's okay, you don't have to do anything.” Ilya tried to reassure him again. It wasn't the end of the world, Ilya would never tell anyone. 

“Don't tell management,” Barrett's voice was getting hysterical. “I can pay! I'll pay you just don't—”

In an instant, he thought of Alexei. His constant requests for money had been a major point of stress for most of Ilya's adult life. Of course, Ilya felt obligated to help his family, but a part of him always feared what Alexei would do if he refused. He could imagine him outing Ilya, it had always been a possibility ever since he walked in on Ilya and another boy when they were teenagers. When Ilya finally put his foot down after their father’s death, he’d obsessively checked the tabloids for months to see if Alexei said anything. For the past few years, it was radio silent, but that possibility was always looming. 

He didn't want to be that for Barrett. 

“Barrett, I will not tell anyone you had boyfriend!” Ilya raised his voice slightly and made eye contact to try to pierce through Barrett's panic. “It would make me hypocrite if I told anyone.”

“You're—” Barrett froze, eyes wide. He couldn't finish his question, like there was no way what Ilya was suggesting was true.

“I'm bisexual, yes.” Ilya had said it to a handful of people over the years. Svetlana, Shane. He was taking a chance with Barrett, but with the new information he had, he hoped Barrett was a different man than he let others believe.

Barrett sagged in relief and slid down the wall until he was seated on the floor. The touch seemed to help, so Ilya followed him, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

“I'm—” Barrett hesitated, “I'm gay.”

“Черт побери (Damn it)!” Ilya cursed and pouted trying to lighten the mood. “Am I doomed to be only bisexual left in the whole league?”

Barrett laughed; so that was a success. Ilya let his hand fall off Barrett's shoulder as he continued to laugh out his panic. Barrett let out a big exhale once he finally calmed down. 

“You are something else Barrett. I was supposed to be scary captain and make sure you were okay for the game tonight.”

Barrett seemed to catch on quickly since he asked, “You knew I bought booze?”

Ilya snorted. While he was definitely not buying cigarettes last night, he saw Barrett speedwalk towards the hotel elevators with a very obvious bag. 

“Oh yes, you are not good at being sneaky. Since it was the first time, I let it slide.” He shrugged and continued. “Do you do this often?”

“No, I just hate this fucking city.” Ilya was sure that Barrett grew up in Vancouver, but he couldn't judge. There were many times he could not stand Moscow, but he knew he’d always have a soft spot for his country. 

“Good,” Ilya nodded. “Also, your father is in the lobby.”

Barrett went rigid and let out a deep breath. That answered his question from earlier. Barrett did not seem excited to see his father.

“I'll text him,” Barrett stood and headed to his nightstand. “I don't want to see him before the game.”

Ilya stood and watched Barrett for a moment. He was willing to intercept Barrett's father now and any future game he showed up for. If there was one thing he did not tolerate, it was shitty parents. 

“Family can be difficult. Fathers, especially." Ilya was beginning to see that he and Barrett had more in common than he realized.

“Yeah. Sometimes.” Barrett didn't turn around. Ilya left it at that and moved to lounge on the couch. Kneeling and sitting on the floor for that long was not good for his knees; not that he’d ever admit that aloud. He studied Barrett for a moment. The little he previously knew needed to be reinterpreted. He particularly wondered how Barrett managed to hide a relationship while playing in Toronto.

“Ask,” Barrett said. He grabbed two water bottles from the mini fridge and moved over to join him on the couch. 

“Did anyone know?” He doubted anyone on Toronto knew, except Hazy maybe? But then again, Hazy said they barely talked when they found out Barrett was getting traded. 

“Fuck no,” the laugh was harsh. He handed a bottle to Ilya while relaxing into the cushions. “My biggest fear was the team finding out.”

And how could he not relate to that. Even now in Ottawa, the thought of telling the team scared him. Did he want to tell them? Yes. Did he know that their treatment of Harris was a good indicator of their opinions? Yes. Did that stop the spike of anxiety every time he contemplated it? No, and more importantly, Shane would freak out if they didn't stick to the plan.

At least in Ottawa he could imagine coming out. Boston, not so much. When he became captain, he put a stop to slurs in general with little pushback. There were still the occasional jokes and comments that slipped through, though. He could tell that a lot more was being said outside his presence; there was only so much he could do. His mind drifted to Marley; the only person on the team he'd considered telling. 

Cliff Marleau was many things. A good teammate, a great partier, his best friend. But over the course of their friendship, he'd never gotten a clear read on his feelings towards gay people. He laughed at some jokes, not others. Punched some opponents over slurs, not others. He couldn't map it out. 

It was the main reason he'd been dodging Marley's recent invites to meet up after games.

He pushed the sad thoughts from his mind. He’d only end up feeling worse than he currently was. Barrett's ex-boyfriend would be a good distraction, “He was your first love, yes?”

“Shit, Roz, anyone ever tell you how perceptive you are? Yeah, what clued you in?” He'd look up ‘perceptive’ later, but Barrett looked uneasy. Probably freaked out that he put it all together so quickly. He was always good at picking up on those types of things, with one exception the size of New York City.

“The tattoo, only idiots with no experience do that.” And he was right. He never met a person who didn't regret getting a tattoo of their relationship. Except himself, of course. 

“Yeah, but I gave it to myself first. He begged me to give him a matching one months later.” No way, Barrett did tattoos?

“You gave him the tattoo?”

“Yeah,” Barrett laughed. “Last winter. I'm no professional, but it's not hard to give yourself a simple design.”

“Last winter?” Ilya was under the impression that they’d broken up years ago and Barrett never got over his first love.

“Roz,” Barrett's voice was resigned. “He broke up with me two weeks ago.”

His gaze shifted from Barrett to the TV, and then back to Barrett. What a piece of shit. He couldn't remember exactly when the actor said they got engaged. Regardless, with how devastated he was, he doubted Barrett knew the actor was in a relationship when they started dating. 

“Oh, he is asshole.” Barrett sunk into the couch at his words. “So, you date, he breaks up. And now you find out he had other man the whole time?" 

“Wait, what?” Barrett turned to look at him. “Roz, no. We dated for two years.”

Ilya choked on his water. Two years? Shit. Barrett was the one who was cheated on? 

“He is even worse! What was reason he gave for the breakup?” Never give up an opportunity to learn more. Svetlana taught him well; he used to feed her all the player gossip in Russia and Boston. He started to do the same for Ottawa before she stopped him, proclaiming the team too boring to learn about.

Barrett crossed his arms over his chest. “He gave me a lot of reasons but I stopped listening when he said I was too athletic.” 

That most definitely wasn't the main reason. With how honest Barrett seemed to be so far, it must be pretty bad to not say. But it seemed like the actor said anything to get rid of Barrett any way he could. Either way, Ilya didn't want to push any further. So he played along.

“You are a pro athlete!”

Barrett shrugged and winced. He brought his leg up to the couch and absentmindedly massaged his right ankle. An old injury? A flare up now did not bode well for their game tonight. 

“I'm also a dickhead. It was probably karma for all the stupid shit I've done.” 

“You were big asshole in Toronto. Chirped a lot.” Ilya eyed him, curious for Barrett's response.

“Yeah,” his voice was distant. His gaze was similarly unfocused. “It wasn't a place where you could stay silent.”

“No?”

“My first day, I had to listen to the vets talk about how they wanted to beat up two fags they saw at the bar.” Jesus fucking Christ. He couldn't imagine being nineteen again, being in a new country, and hearing that in the locker room. His mind drifted to Shane. A conversation like that would've had him spiraling, especially since he hadn't even accepted he was gay then. Who knows how much longer they would've waited before getting together. But Barrett continued. 

“In Toronto, staying silent was the same as supporting gay people and if you were vocal, there were consequences. Why do you think Hayes barely played?” What the fuck.

“Everyone thought that coaches were being stupid. Hazy never gives details about Toronto.” Ilya was laser focused. When Hazy got traded, he was tight-lipped about his time there. None of the players minded though, everyone hated Toronto and their chirps. But Ilya was so, so curious.

“No,” Barrett sniffed, massaging his ankle a bit harder. “No, it wasn't good there.”

“Hazy used to be very nervous if he missed a puck in practice.” He initially chalked it up to new surroundings and goalie weirdness. But Hazy always looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It took weeks before he was able to even begin to relax around Wiebe.

“Coach was old school; liked bag skates.” There was definitely more to that and Ilya felt uneasy. He had his fair share of crazy coaches, but at the end of the day, they cared about their players. Barrett was still massaging his ankle and it reminded him of something.

“He sprained his knee at the end of last season. He was surprised that he was put on reserve.”

Barrett froze his massaging before responding, “Toronto doesn't like injured players. Management says it looks weak.”

Toronto also had the record for least players on injury reserve in league history. A fact that Shane recited last summer when he and Ilya played hockey trivia against Yuna and David. Hazy’s surprise about Injury Reserve and Toronto’s record together was damning. He preferred more than two facts before coming to a full conclusion but he did not like how those pieces looked together.

“They also love giving away their best players to Ottawa.” Ilya snorted. “They look stupid.”

“Well, what goes around comes around.” 

“Canadians and their stupid sayings. What does this one mean?” Ilya asked dramatically.

Barrett looked like he bit into a lemon. “It's like karma. What happened to me happened because of what I did to Hayes.”

“Explain.” The command left his mouth immediately. Hazy never talked about Toronto; if something went down behind the scenes, he needed to know now before tensions flew on the ice. 

“I need to apologize to you first,” Wait, wait, wait. How was he involved in this? 

“Back when you announced the charity with Hollander, the team was watching and I said something that led to, uh, homophobic comments.” Barrett looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, as he should. But he maintained eye contact with Ilya anyway. “No one was speculating for real, but the things that were said—that I said afterward were not okay and I'm sorry.”

“Speculating?” Ugh, another new word today. 

“No one was actually trying to figure out your sexuality,” Barrett explained simply.

“Ah. Thank you for the apology. How does Hazy fit?” Truly, he never expected an actual apology from Barrett, let alone for something he wasn't even present for. He’d grown numb to most things said on the ice by now. Barrett’s chirps rarely, if at all, affected him. Russian players were the ones who knew how to cut deep. It felt kind of weird receiving the apology, if he was honest. He doesn't recall a time where someone flat out said ‘I’m sorry’ about saying something homophobic to him.

“Hayes defended the two of you,” A small smile crawled across Barrett's face. “He told us to grow up and that he was sick of our shit. He was already on thin ice, but management was done with him when he backed Ryan Price after he came out.”

“Pricey came out to Toronto?” What the fuck? Granted, he knew Pricey was gay, but he hadn't heard a single rumor about him from other players. Toronto guarded that secret close to their chest before he came out in a comment on his boyfriend's Instagram. He didn't know how to feel about Toronto keeping Pricey's secret better than Montreal did with Shane's. 

“You didn't know? He came out in the locker room, like, 20 minutes after Hayes yelled at us. Basically threatened us if we continued to say stupid shit.” Again, what the fuck? Yeah, Pricey was a beast on the ice, but off? He was like an overgrown mouse, in the best way possible. He could count on one hand the amount of times Pricey initiated a conversation. Next time they met, Ilya needed to buy him a beer. 

“I was in the room by chance when they brought up trading him. They couldn't decide where to move him.” Barrett continued. 

“So, you suggested Ottawa? Why?” Ilya was conflicted. On one hand, he was truly happy Ottawa got Hazy, he was thriving here. But to know that another player had a hand in his trade because he dared support a gay player infuriated him. 

“During the 2019 MHL Awards, I overheard Boodram defending a gay staff member who worked for Ottawa.” Definitely Harris. When word got around that their social media admin was gay, the team put in work to defend him. Nowadays, people don't say shit to their faces, but it doesn't take much to guess what went on behind closed doors. 

“They were talking about trading Hayes because I started shit. So yeah, I made a comment about Ottawa.” Barrett ran a hand through his hair. “If they took the bait, he'd get actual time on the ice and at least one other person who'd be vocal in the locker room.”

If someone told Ilya a week ago that Troy Barrett influenced Wyatt Hayes's trade to Ottawa so he could be on a team that'd actually value and support him, he'd personally check them for a concussion. 

“Does he know about this?” He couldn't imagine Hazy knowing this and still giving Barrett a lackluster welcome on his first day.

“Doubt it.” Barrett shook his head.

He did it out of guilt and care for Hazy, without any expectation in return. He knows Barrett's said some fucked up shit over the years. Ilya also knew how to hide behind a persona. He wondered how differently Barrett would have turned out if he didn't feel like he had to hide behind a facade. 

“You surprised me Barrett. Who knew you could be such good person?” Good behavior should be commended, no?

“Yeah, well, I don't know if that's true. I caused the entire situation.” Barrett blushed that hard from a simple compliment? Ilya had a new game forming in his mind.

“True, but Hazy really loves it here. Centaurs are a good team. What you did ended up good in the end.” It was true, Hazy shined like the sun in the sky.

“Was Boston a bad team?” Damn, when Barrett wasn't freaking out, he was surprisingly intuitive.

“What are you talking about?” Ilya tried to play it off. “Boston is a good team. The best when I was captain.” 

“You know what I mean.”

He never talked seriously about Boston. Hell, he never talked seriously about anything ever. People liked jokes and fun times. It was the easiest way to become friendly, but Ilya always struggled taking the next step and having serious conversations. Apart from Svetlana and Shane, he struggled to maintain relationships. He didn't talk to anyone from his Russian team and the only person he texted from Boston was Marley; and even then, Ilya wasn't texting back these days. 

Last they spoke, Dr. Galina had mentioned going about creating relationships differently. Something about breaking a cycle and leaving his comfort zone. Maybe he could try the serious thing with Barrett and see what happens. 

“I never let them say slurs and no one complained. I don't know if things have changed now that I am gone.”

“Is that why you left?” 

“No,” Ilya could feel the smile form on his face. He looked down, and tried to keep his voice level. “Not at all.”

Barrett was silent for a moment before stating, “You must love him a lot if you went to Ottawa.”

Fucking hell, how was Barrett able to guess that so quickly? This must be karma for freaking him out over the actor; he just didn't think it'd happen so soon.

Ilya let out a little laugh and ran a hand through his curls. “Yes, for many years.”

“Does anyone know?”

Ilya could feel the smile start to slip. “His parents, and a few of his friends. And now, you.”

And truly, despite being surrounded by good people, he felt like he had no one. He knows Yuna and David love him, but they still felt like Shane’s people in his mind. He had no one he could freely talk to after practice. Couldn't tell anyone about how sweet Shane was to him. Couldn't ask for advice on gifts around the holidays. Couldn't be seen with Shane.

Usually, Ilya would take control of the conversation and joke to distract from uncomfortable thoughts. Instead, he studied Barrett, waiting for him to speak.

“I know we barely know each other, but if you ever want to talk about him, I'll listen. You don't ever have to tell me his name. You can tell him about me too. He'd probably be relieved that you aren't alone.”  

Ilya sat there for a moment. For someone like Barrett, who crafted an entire homophobic persona to avoid suspicion, that offer was enormous. 

“Thank you, Barrett. I like you a lot more this way.” It was true, and he was entirely touched by the offer, but a small part of Ilya wanted to see Barrett blush again. 

And blush he did, so much so that he turned away. Ilya usually teased people with chirps but there was something exhilarating about teasing Pike, and now Barrett, with compliments. They reacted so differently; maybe he should try this out with more people and see how many different reactions he could get.

Ilya took a glance at his phone. Damn, practice was soon. He needed to get going. 

“Okay,” Ilya said while standing. “Practice is soon and optional. You stay here, shower. Make sure you're good for game.”

He left the room without waiting for a reply, he would be late if he didn't hurry. Ilya also made a mental note to bring this up during his next call with Shane. 

It hit him in the elevator, he didn't ask a single question about Dallas Kent. He smacked his forehead harder than he meant to; Svetlana would be so disappointed in him.

Barrett was not good for the game. He was terrible, actually.

He was favoring his left leg. He missed passes and shot wide every time he had the puck. By the third period, Wiebe replaced him with Luca Haas and dramatically reduced his ice time.

Every time Ilya’s gaze drifted to him, he saw Barrett holding back tears. He doubted he would've picked up on it this soon if he hadn't seen Barrett break down this morning. Ilya’s eyes flitted over the rest of his teammates. No one noticed. Not even the ones sitting right next to Barrett on the bench.

After the game and all throughout their flight to Calgary, Ilya was hyperaware of how the team interacted with Barrett. Which is to say, they didn't at all. He got a weird sense of second-hand embarrassment watching Barrett watch the conversations that happened around him, waiting for someone to turn and speak to him. No one did though, not even small talk. He knew the reason; Barrett’s reputation preceded him. 

He also knew things about Barrett no one else did. If the others could see how different he was, maybe they could, at the very least, tolerate him. 

And if they grew into the winning team he knew they could be along the way? Well, there was a saying Shane liked to say about birds and stones. 

The team had gotten to Calgary on a bright morning, a day before their game. And luckily for Ilya, a scheduling mishap postponed their practice well into the evening. Most of the team decided to hang out at the hotel’s indoor pool. 

He now had the time to put his plan into motion much earlier.

Step 1: Get Troy Barrett out of his shell. 

If he could get Barrett to relax around him, the other players will pick up on it. At least, he hoped they would. Regardless, he marched to Barrett’s room for the second time in as many days and knocked. 

“Everything good, Roz?” Barrett asked upon opening the door. 

“Come on, we’re going out.”

“It's noon on a Tuesday," Barrett deadpanned. “I don't drink that early.”

“No, no,” Ilya laughed. “We are going to fun place.”

“Oh? What is it?” Barrett’s brow lifted. Good, he was curious. 

“It is secret. Come.” Barrett looked like he was going to decline, before he sighed and grabbed his jacket and wallet. Ilya smirked to himself as they entered the elevator. 

The walk itself was quick. He couldn't help but chuckle as Barrett took in the surroundings, trying to figure out where Ilya was leading him. Eventually, they arrive at a rundown storefront. 

As they crossed the threshold, he watched Barrett take in the smell of the musty carpet and the colorful lights in the dim room. He could hear a few machines going off at different intervals. 

“An arcade, Roz?” Barrett’s voice was incredulous. “Why are we here?”

Ilya clapped a hand onto Barrett’s shoulder, “You are stressed, some fun will do you good.”

He dragged his teammate to the self-service kiosk and loaded two arcade cards with entirely too much money. 

“How’d you even know about this place? The front looks deserted.”

“You find crazy things when you are drunk.” It was actually Marley that found the arcade. Years back, the Bears had been kicked out of a bar after a darts bet got out of hand. Hammersmith and St. Simon would not drop the unresolved bet until someone won. Marley, bless his soul, found the only 24-hour arcade and Ilya convinced them to change the bet so they could finally go back to the hotel. They had a fun time though, and made it a point to stop by every time they were in Calgary.

“Come on,” Ilya said, pushing the man forward. “Pick game where I will destroy you.”

“I- uh,” Barrett stuttered over his words as he let Ilya push him, “It’s been a long time since I went to an arcade. I don't know where to start.”

“Ok, I will show you my favorite.” Ilya took the lead once more, refamiliarizing himself with the arcade. It was pretty desolate too, but that was to be expected for the time of day. There were a few people hanging out, chatting more than playing, and there was a group of teenagers in the back that looked like they should definitely be in school. Oh well, he was not their father. 

Oh, there it was!

“Beer pong? How the hell do they even have that?” Barrett laughed a bit. Technically, it was called ‘Dunk-It’, a more kid-appropriate name. 

“Learn, child,” Ilya swiped his card on the machine and started playing. He shot the ping pong balls into the cups with precision. 

It was kind of fun to let loose and just play. They took turns at beer pong, becoming more competitive, forgetting they were surrounded by a plethora of other games. At one point, Ilya slapped Barrett’s ball out of the air. He turned his head slowly and looked at Ilya in utter disbelief; Ilya doubled over in laughter.

They spent hours trying to beat either each other or the high scores of previous patrons. There was a basketball game and, at first, they were trying to work together to beat the previous high score. That quickly fell to the wayside as they raced to see who could beat the record first. 

Surprisingly, they were terrible at air hockey. The puck managed to end up on the ground more often than each other’s net; and once, at a worker’s head as she walked past. They apologized profusely.

There were some more vintage games in the back mostly featuring Pac-Man and a few pinball machines. Ilya did find a Dance Dance Revolution machine and absolutely killed it. Barrett sat out; ‘terrible at dancing’ he said. Sure.

A shooter game called Tomb Raider was one of the ones they spent the most time on. Every time the game timed out, they reached for their cards with almost superhuman speed to continue before they were booted back to the start screen. They were going all in. Barrett even tried to block his sight when Ilya was leading in points. It was kinda pointless since they were being ranked as a team, but the game showed their individual points for a reason!

Ilya’s card ran out first and they let the game end. They waited with baited breath as they tried to find their place on the leaderboard. They managed to get first! Ilya let out a whoop and high-fived Barrett who also had a wide grin on his face. 

“Beautiful, Barrett!” Ilya patted him on his shoulders. He noticed Barrett leaning into the touch, he didn't seem aware he was doing it. Something to file away for later. “We are a dream team! Let's get food, there is a restaurant across the street.”

The quick journey landed them in a small cafe. 

After Ilya ordered a delicious looking ham sandwich and Coke, Barrett cut in. He placed his order as well, some healthy wrap and something called a macha latte. Barrett paid for both of them, probably uncomfortable that Ilya paid for the arcade. 

They picked up their drinks and took a seat, waiting for their food. 

“It’s green,” Ilya stated, staring intently at Barrett’s drink. 

“It’s a Japanese green tea thing,” Barrett snorted. “Its supposed to be healthier than straight caffeine.”

“Looks like grass,” Ilya raised a brow. 

“Wanna try it?” Ilya shrugged in agreement. Barrett took off the top of his drink and handed it over. Ilya took one sip before briskly handing it back in disgust.

“It tastes like grass,” Barrett laughed at him, that fucker. “Are you hockey player or cow?”

Whatever Barrett was about to say was interrupted by a worker bringing over their food. Fast service, then again, they were the only customers at the moment. Matcha latte temporarily forgotten about, they ate in companionable silence. 

They were picking at the fries that came with their meal when Ilya broke the silence. “How is the team to you?”

“Oh, uh,” Barrett looked caught off guard. Damn, he always seemed to do that. “Everyone’s been good. No trouble, if that’s what you're asking.” 

“Better than Toronto?” Ilya set him up to make a chirp about Ottawa’s standing in the conference. Sometimes, the only thing you can do in Ottawa is laugh.

“Way better.” Ilya’s hand that was reaching for another fry froze for a second. The fact that a team that blatantly ignored their new member was better than their previous team made him wonder how bad the previous team had to be. But speaking of Toronto…

“Kent,” Ilya made eye contact with Barrett. “He was shield? Or actual friend?”

“Both.” Barrett answered quietly. “I was able to hide behind him. I copied most of what he said, what he did, and no one guessed anything. When he wasn't spouting bullshit, he was fun to be around. Always willing to spend money so people could have a good time. Sometimes, I could forget all the stuff he did. Not for long though.”

“The posts. Did you know before?” And really that's what he wanted to know about. Gossip tendencies aside, he needed to know how Barrett fit into rape allegations against Kent. Sure, the video of Barrett's fight with Kent was a hint, but he needed a concrete answer.

“No,” Barrett’s sneer was ugly, one could argue, personal. Interesting. “I would've decked him a lot sooner if I did.”

Barrett continued, looking dead serious, “For the record, I believe them and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.”

“Relax, Barrett,” Ilya said placatingly, “Team and management feel the same. They are not happy about the media blackout.”

“What is this place?” Barrett scoffed in disbelief. "Some magical land where everyone is a good person?”

“I have not met asshole besides myself,” Ilya laughed. He had similar thoughts back during his first season with Ottawa. 

“Well, make that two assholes now,” Barrett said self-deprecatingly.

“Barrett, you beat up Dallas Kent. You are, like, mostly-asshole now. Maybe in the future you can be mini-asshole.”

“Hopefully,” Barrett took a sip of his grass smoothie and watched people pass by the cafe windows. 

“You want to be better?” As much as Ilya wanted the team to connect with Barrett, it would not happen if Barrett stuck to how he acted in Toronto.

“I’ve been trying. I really don't know what I'm doing.” 

Truth be told, neither did Ilya. There wasn't really a manual for all this. How do you integrate a well-known asshole into the most accepting team Ilya’s ever been on? And on the hockey side, the team was… lacking. He knows they have good players; they have Barrett now too. Their practices are great! But when they step in front of the crowd, there are chains that wrap around them. No one thinks they can win, so, subconsciously, they don't even try.

Maybe he can use Barrett’s arrival as an excuse to switch things up. But first, everyone needed to become friendly.

“You should tell Hazy.”

“Wouldn't that be kinda pretentious?” Barrett caught on immediately, face filled with apprehension. “Like: ‘Oh, I did one nice thing! I'm a good person now!’”

“Well, you are definitely less-bad person.” Ilya argued back half-heartedly. 

“I don't know, Roz. I messed with him a lot. He’d have no reason to believe me.”

“Maybe, but start with an apology. Show him you were not completely bad in Toronto. Makes changing… smoother?” Ilya was a bit frustrated that his words were failing him now. He hoped Barrett could piece it together.

“Like, it shows I'm not trying to be a completely new person? That I just hid the good parts?”

“Да (Yes). Some people need to see that it's not Troy Barrett trying to be good now. Troy Barrett in the past was doing good things too.”

“I did a lot more bad than good, Roz. I hurt a lot of people.” The effort Barrett went through to sell his persona would be commendable if it didn't feed directly into the worst aspects of the league. 

“Barrett, I do not know much about you. But I can tell you that this,” Ilya gestured at the man in front of him, “is already 100% better than the hockey player I used to play against.” Barrett was already facing the right direction, he just needed to continue working upward.

Barrett blushed and tried to hide it by taking a sip of his drink. “Thank you.”

The silence dragged on for a moment. Barrett was picking at the napkin at the table before he murmured, “You know more about me than anyone ever has.”

And that was fucking tragic. 

They chatted on the way back about Toronto’s plays. Most people thought of Barrett as an asshole and instigator on the ice, which was true. They also tended to forget he was an incredibly smart player. Another layer to Barrett’s previous mask.

Hearing Barrett’s opinions on Toronto’s strengths and weaknesses made Ilya want to sit him down and talk shop about the Centaurs. One of these days, they needed to watch their games back together.

As they entered the lobby, they were greeted by Nick Chouinard. Well, Ilya was; he didn't acknowledge Barrett. 

“Hey, Roz. Coach was looking for you. Said something about room assignments?” Chouinard shrugged.

“Thanks,” Ilya responded. Oh, he should work on his plan. “Me and Barrett went out for food.”

Chouinard raised an eyebrow and just nodded politely before walking off, not a glance at Barrett. Not terrible?

He glanced over at Barrett. All of the mirth and relaxation was gone. He was stiff, face closed off. Barrett watched Chouinard leave and glanced around their vicinity. Probably looking to see if more teammates were nearby. All his work, gone.

“Hey,” Ilya nudged his arm, “See you at practice.”

Barrett pulled his lips into a grim line and nodded. As he walked off in search of Wiebe, Barrett's voice stopped him. 

“Thanks for today, Roz.” Ilya shot him a smile and continued on. It was time for the next step.

Which was nothing at the moment because Ilya’s plan only ever consisted of one step. He needed to consult the experts.

Ilya was finally able to call Shane. And after the loss to Calgary, he just wanted to hear his boyfriend’s voice. 

It wasn't that simple though, he still needed to tell him about Barrett and he knew Shane would likely panic. Ilya flopped onto his hotel bed and FaceTimed his love. 

Shane answered with a tired smile. 

“Я тебя люблю (I love you).”

“I love you too. What did you do?” Rude!

“You always think I am chaos.” Ilya pouted. Shane was having none of it and just stared at him, waiting for Ilya to continue. 

“Fine, but it made me…” Ilya snapped his fingers trying to remember the word. Ah! “Appreciate! It made me appreciate you more.” 

Shane’s gaze softened. He really didn't want to tell Shane, but not telling him would be worse. 

“Troy Barrett knows about me. Was in a bad place yesterday.” Sure enough, he saw Shane stiffen, panic flooding his face. Not unlike Barrett.

“Are you ok now? How’d he find out? If he tries anything I swear to God I’ll—”

“No, Мой шнурок (my shoelace), you misunderstand.” Ilya cut in, it was kinda hot how defensive Shane got over him. “Barrett was in a bad place. I figured out he had a boyfriend and he freaked out. Would not believe I would stay quiet until I came out too.”

“Oh,” Shane’s urgency settled, but the panic didn't leave. “Shoelace?”

Ilya grinned and nodded, he loved his boyfriend so much. Shane sat in silence, absorbing the information.

“Really? Barrett’s gay?” Shane said in disbelief. He couldn't blame him. While Barrett’s strategy for hiding worked, it came at the detriment of everyone around him.

“Wow,” Ilya exaggerated to alleviate the tension. “You think because he had boyfriend, he must be gay? This is bi-erasure!”

“So he’s bi then?”

“No,” Ilya grinned, “He’s gay.”

He had the pleasure of watching Shane close his eyes and take a calming breath; lest he rise to the bait. He loved riling up Shane. 

“But yes, it was shock to me too. His ex-boyfriend is huge asshole. Number two, right under Dallas Kent.” Ilya gossiped; he couldn't help it.

“What did he do?” Shane loved to say he didn't like gossip, but he always needed to know everything. Ilya didn't mind one bit. 

“Cheated for a year, then dumped him to marry another man right before the Kent fight.” He looked up that actor after leaving Barrett's room to straighten out the timeline. Holy shit was the guy an asshole.

“Jesus Christ.” Shane breathed. He froze for a moment though. “Hold on, should you be telling me all this?”

“Probably not, but it is payback for being friends with Kent all these years.” Ilya joked before stating the real reason, “And, he said I could tell you.”

Shane closed his eyes, dragging his free hand across his face to rub his temples. “He knows?” 

“Not about you. He guessed I left Boston for a man and I confirmed.”

He let Shane sit with the information. He didn't want to overwhelm him. A part of him was ashamed to be messing with the plan. He knew Shane kept to it as much as possible to protect the two of them, but he couldn't help but feel smothered by it sometimes. 

“Are you still freaking out?” Ilya asked, testing the waters. 

“Of course,” Shane let out a big sigh. “The more people who know, the easier it is for information to leak. Do you trust Barrett to be quiet?”

Ilya snorted, “Oh yes, he tried to pay me to keep my mouth shut. We have mutual secret and he will not risk starting problems right after his trade.”

“What about you? How do you feel?” Shane looked worried.

“I do not understand.” Ilya’s brows furrowed. Barrett was the one that broke down, not him.

“You were kind of forced to come out. Do you feel okay?”

Ilya paused for a moment, trying to assemble the right words. “Not… bad.”

“Really?” Shane blinked in surprise.

“It’s like the pressure is less than before? It feels nice having someone who knows; someone who understands.”

“Has the pressure been bad lately?” Yes. It was terrible. Damn near killing him from the inside. Saying that would hurt Shane though.

“Looking now, yes.” Shane looked concerned. “I did not realize how bad until I told Barrett.”

Ilya knew it was a lie. He was already aware how bad it was. But maybe a small lie like this could open up the conversation about their plan. Plus, it was easier than telling the truth and potentially hurting Shane’s feelings. 

“How bad is bad?”

“I’m seeing a therapist.” Okay, that was not what he had planned on saying. 

“Ilya…” Shane’s voice was soft. Ilya stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. He was thankful when Shane continued. “Are they helping?”

“I think so, yes. It is still new but she tells me bad things like ‘You need to communicate your feelings’ and that I need to ‘identify outside stressors so we can think of ways to minimize them’.”

“She sounds horrible,” Shane let out a chuckle. 

“The worst,” Ilya groaned, “Maybe I will fire her.”

“I—” Shane started, unsure. Ilya nodded for him to continue. “You don't have to share if you're not ready, but you can tell me things too. We face things together.”

“I know this is not true,” Ilya prefaced, wanting to make sure Shane understood him. “But sometimes, it feels like I am all alone here.”

Shane took in a deep breath, “Ok, explain it to me.”

“You have Hayden; a teammate who knows, I have no one. You have Rose; a friend who knows, I have no one. You have parents who know, and I—” Ilya dropped his head into the mattress. Feelings of envy crawled through his mind. There were times, late at night, where he would just stare at the ceiling thinking about how unfair it was that Shane had loving, accepting, living parents and he didn't. He could feel the burn of tears in his eyes. He took some deep breaths before continuing. 

“I cannot talk about you. I want to talk about you.”

Silence followed his statement and Ilya could feel the fear coursing through his body. What if this was it? What if it was too much for Shane? He was too selfish and now Shane would cut him loose.

He risked a glance up and saw Shane with eyes closed, brows furrowed in thought. His mouth was moving but no sound followed. Ilya swallowed roughly and willed his tears not to fall. 

“Okay,” Shane finally said, opening his eyes. “Okay, we need to rework the plan.”

“Huh?” Ilya questioned, not really understanding what Shane was implying. 

“What we’re doing now is hurting you. The plan exists for us. If it's hurting either of us, then it needs to be changed.” Shane said definitively. 

“How?” Ilya asked, a bit breathless. He thought he’d have to be the one to mention the plan. 

Shane chuckled incredulously, "I don't know.”

Ilya laughed with him, working out the rest of his nerves.

“After Winnipeg,” Shane grabbed his attention again. “You come home and we talk about the plan. Truthfully, just like the first time you came to the cottage. I don't want either of us to be miserable for the next decade.”

“Okay,” Ilya gazed softly at him with a small smile. Shane still wanted to be together in a decade.

Shane returned the loving smile, “Я тебя люблю (I love you).”

“I love you, too.”