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    Summary

    He knew this was wrong. This was a bad play on the ice that was going to hurt someone. And he just didn't know how to stop when he needed this to work. He needed Rose to work. He was bending low to reply to her when his eye caught on the tall unmistakable frame of Cliff Marleau dancing with a brunette near the bar. Marleau—Ilya's linemate, his friend, nearly as joined at the hip with him as Shane and Hayden. If Cliff Marleau was here it followed that—

    • Book: After a moment of brief, terrifying eye contact, Shane flees the club. Jealous, horrified, embarrassed, he ends up having to pull over on the side of the road to cry his eyes out. So sad.
    • Show: After a way worse moment of devastated eye contact while Ilya sucks a blonde's ear lobe, a visibly uncomfortable Shane ends up in bed with Rose while a split screen suggests that he is thinking about Ilya jorking it in the shower. Or Ilya could be jorking it thinking about Shane having sex with Rose. Really, why choose?
    • This fic: Imma make it worse. Forget Rose's gentle "Was it better?" hand-holding. We're not leaving this club yet.

    Centaurs Writing Room Weekly Writing Prompt #4: Inspired by a Song

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