Work Text:
“Roz, I get that you’re eager to become Canadian, but wouldn’t a maple leaf be more meaningful than a loonie?” Zane Boodram, whose tattoos had been their own locker room subject, was again trying to get his captain to open up a little bit by addressing the large aquatic waterfowl in the room.
Ilya Rozanov had always been a private person. Not that most people would know this.
Most people experienced him as a little too public.
And Ilya liked it that way. He had very carefully curated his personae. On the ice he was the Russian Menace, always with the perfect chirp to knock you off your game. In the locker room he was the consummate captain, always interested in you, your family, your hobbies. To the fans he was accessible and friendly, always had a moment for a photo and a signature. For the press he was the brash blowhard, always good for a quote and a quick mug for the camera. For the coaching staff he was the most annoying player they’ve ever been unable to live without. For the social media department he was a rogue asset who drives engagement like no other, but doesn’t always seem to understand that not all engagement is good engagement.
There were only three people in this world for whom those carefully created masks fall away and they all shared the last name Hollander.
And now he was in a locker room with his husband and a question only the two of them knew the answer to was hanging in the air.
Shane got that look in his eyes when Ilya was trying to secure one of his masks. This time it came with fully raised eyebrows. “He’s never told you why he got that tattoo?”
“Moya utka, what are you doing?”
“You know a loon isn’t a duck. It’s an aquatic diving bird. You can tell by the bill. Loon bills are sharp for spearing their prey, while ducks' wide flat bills are for dredging and straining.”
The rest of the team was in varying degrees interested, mystified and not paying attention.
But Bood sensed a story and as an avid connoisseur of the tattooing arts, knew there was more going on than just a conversation about waterfowl taxonomy. “So, why the tattoo?”
Shane quickly became more guarded, almost apologetically so. He looked to Ilya who almost imperceptibly nodded, giving Shane permission.
“What has Roz told you about our timeline?”
Now the three of them had the rapt attention of everyone in the room. Ilya had been tight lipped about the whens and wheres of his relationship with Shane in the seven months since the team - and the rest of the world - learned that Ilya Fucking Rozanov was, well, fucking Shane Fucking Hollander.
Shane registered this renewed attention and began, “During the 2016-17 season I asked Ilya to come to my cottage for the summer, well a couple of weeks of it at least.
“It wasn’t until Scott Hunter came out in the most conspicuous way possible that this guy,” gesturing to their captain, “decided we were worth it.
“I know we all think of Russians wrestling bears and feeding their pet wolves vodka and borscht, but Ilya is a city boy, born and raised, never even been camping. And I’d invited him to spend two weeks in rural Ontario where there’s pretty much swimming in the lake and staring at the fire to keep you occupied.”
In a locker room full of Canadians and Minnesotans, heads nodded knowingly. Evan Dykstra, scion of Manitoba, grinned widely, knowing where this was going.
“He is not telling you about synthetic rink, best gaming rig, bedroom with king sized bed and en suite bathroom.” Ilya felt the need to give more context.
There was the hint of shudder through the room as the team processed why that last point was important enough to mention.
“Do you want to tell this story?” Shane shot lasers, lovingly, at his husband.
“I am enjoying your version, moy karandash.”
“Pencil? Really?”
“What author uses, no?”
“Anyway, we’re sitting outside the first or second night watching the fire. He’s bored out of his mind and bitching about it when a loon calls its mate. He freaks out thinking we’re about to be eaten by wolves. When I explained what’s happening, he called the loon ‘stupid Canadian wolf bird’.
“At that point I pulled out the marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers just to get him to stay at the fire. Which worked better than I might have liked, because now there can’t be an open flame around him that he doesn’t try to roast marshmallows over.”
“What? Is there other reason for open flame? Light bulbs give light. We have central heating. Fire is for tasty, tasty treats.” Ilya petulantly insisted.
This satisfied most of the team.
Wyatt Hayes was not most of the team. “You were dating Rose Landry that season.” It wasn’t a question, but it was replete with inquiry.
“We try not to bring up Rose in these conversations” Shane wryly said, avoiding eye contact with Ilya because laughing at this moment would not improve his relationship.
“So after you broke up with… a movie star, you decided to hook up with the captain of your team’s #1 rival?” No one expected Eric Holmberg to get involved in this conversation, but he generally wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer that was the Centaur’s locker room.
“Oh, he really hasn’t told you anything about the timeline, has he?”
He was met with a bunch of shaking heads.
“I think that’s enough history lesson for today, at least if team doesn’t want to be doing bag skates entire practice today.” Ilya interjected with an arched eyebrow.
The team did not.
“So, yes, I got tattoo because of stupid Canadian wolf bird. Now, everyone finish gearing up and go practice.”
At least Bood now knew why Cassie bought all that chocolate and stuff every time Roz announced he’d make it to a BBQ.