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It's insane how long 10 minutes can feel when you're answering stupid questions instead of driving home to curl up on the couch with your husband.
The Centaurs had crushed it, again, and not a single question so far had even remotely come close to highlighting that. It was still all, frankly, bullshit about last year. Despite his perfectly stoic face, Ilya could feel Shane's anxiety radiating through the air between them like electricity as the next question came.
A reporter in the front row spoke over everyone else, eventually winning out when he just refused to stop talking. "MLH Daily here. Shane, despite your great performance tonight, there's been speculation that you might be getting a little clumsy. Which is it, are your skills rusty enough to miss once in a while, or do you only miss or trip when it's planned in advance?"
Ilya feels white hot fury ignite in him immediately. But Shane, beautiful media trained Shane, doesn't react at all. The irony of all these fuckers accusing him of falling on purpose, when all of them are so far beneath him.
It's blink-and-you'd-miss-it subtle, and it takes less than a second, but Shane looks at Ilya, blinks once, and communicates everything he needs to. Permission granted.
The silence must go on a half beat too long, because the reporter grins wolfishly. "Sorry," he feigns, "did I hit a nerve with that one?"
Ilya leans forward, pulls the mic toward him, and smirks. "No, sorry, is fine, was just caught off guard. How long you have worked at MLH News?"
The reporter frowns. Not the reaction he expected. "Uh, three years. If you could let Shane respond to-"
"And this is full time job? Interview, form complete sentences?" He doesn't pause for the guy to answer. "So you can see why my beautiful husband was surprised, was not expecting such a terrifically bad question."
The silence hangs in the air. Shane, perfect and beautiful media trained Shane, doesn't smile, but Ilya hears the faintest exhale of a laugh. So he grins more broadly. "This is not hard job! Is frankly embarrassing! Don't worry. I will help you. Shane, do you have any standout moments with new team? Perhaps when team synergy seemed to come together?"
It's a real question. A good one. For Shane, it's basically a softball. He'll get to be honest while still feeling prepared for the question.
Shane, little shit that he is, turns his full body towards his husband and makes a show of pulling the mic towards him. Ilya props his chin up on a hand, enthralled and ready for the answer. "Great question, Ilya!" Shane says brightly. "I think we've really connected as a team in a way I've never experienced before. Honestly, I was pretty nervous coming here and entering a new dynamic. I thought people might have preconceived notions about Ilya and I's past and careers... Turns out, anyone with eyes can see how competitive we are, and this team really cherishes that. We turned our first practice together into a competition right away and everyone ended up working even harder for it. It felt like the team really clicked. And everyone definitely gave it their all. Just like we did when we won," he emphasized the word, "on the ice tonight."
Ilya's eyes soften, just for a moment, before he turns back to the reporter, leaning into the mic. "See? This is good question, answer is interesting and even has to do with hockey, which is what the H stands for in title of your publication! Second best hockey player, your turn- do you want to try for second best question of the night?"
Shane doesn't miss a beat. "How are you handling the shift in team culture, moving from Boston to Ottawa?" He mirrors Ilya's pose, hand under his chin.
Ilya grins. "Ah, you are fishing for hometown compliments!" Shane doesn't grin, but his mouth does visibly twitch, and his eyes are shiny, and that's basically the same thing. "Ottawa is beautiful place. I am blessed to live with two beautiful Hollanders." Shane raises an eyebrow. Ilya puts on a face of mock horror. "You forget our beautiful daughter Anya???"
Shane slowly leans forward and very deliberately speaks directly into the microphone. "Anya is a dog."
Ilya snatches the microphone back. "Yes. And she is our beautiful biological daughter. But team culture!" He barrels forward, ignoring Shane's eye roll. "I still have much love for many of my old teammates from Boston, but I must say, is very easy to captain this team. Everyone works hard, yes, but this has also been true in the past. Biggest source of change with the Centaurs is the absolute trust they put in each other. No one has to hide who they are in the locker room. No one is stupid enough to accuse each other of failing on purpose. So when we do struggle, we are able to recover, as a team. Would be, what is word.... Is Disney dog, Shane?"
Shane sighs. "Goofy?"
Ilya claps his hands together loudly. "Yes!" His tone shifts immediately, eyes darkening. "Would be absolutely fucking goofy to pin all dynasty hopes on just one person. Would be absolutely fucking goofy to blame him for losses because no one else on the team is capable of playing good hockey. Would be absolutely. Fucking. Goofy. To imply the only good player in your team, perhaps the best player in the sport, is the reason you lost." He lets the pause drag on and finally plasters a lazy grin back on his face. "But this would never happen in Ottawa! Fantastic question to end on, Shane!" He turned back to the reporter. "You are taking notes, da? Study up, that will be all. Hope not to see you again."
And fuck, Shane actually laughs at that, fully cackling as he darts out of the press room as fast as he can. Ilya saunters out after him and finds him collapsed on the bench next to several bewildered Centaurs.
"Roz, what the fuck did you say this time?" Bood asks.
Ilya just grins.