Chapter Text
Ilya fought back a grin as he entered the chaos of the locker room. There was a lot of yelling and backslapping, but what got Ilya excited was the general hum of electricity that rang throughout the air. Their first practice had gone well. Maybe it was the fact that their new goalie, Johansson, made Ilya’s job a bit harder than McIntire ever did. Maybe it was the fact that Hammersmith had set a personal drill record on day 1 of the new season. Maybe it was the fact that Ilya himself was a married man and still in the honeymoon phase.
Regardless, Ilya knew that this was his last season with his team. His contract expired at the end of this season and his new agent, Farrah, had already started putting feelers out to the Ottawa Centaurs. Ilya needed to make sure that this was the year that he took his team back to the cup.
Ilya knew that moving was the best thing for his future. He had only been away from Shane for a few days now and already the distance was starting to grate on him. He was excited for the transfer. But looking at his team now, he was feeling a bit overly sentimental — a feeling which he immediately shut down. Russians do not smile like fools for no reason. This was surely Shane’s fault.
“Marlow,” Ilya yelled as he pushed his way into the room, “you dropped my pass. You got slow this summer.”
“Fuck off, Rozy.” Marlow threw his jersey at Ilya’s face and Ilya caught it with a smirk. “We did fucking great for a first practice, and you know it.”
“Yes, first practice. There is a lot of work.”
“Come on, Rozanov, just admit we did good.”
“I will admit nothing,” Ilya said, but by now his team was watching him, and could see the smug smile starting to take shape.
“We’re going to fucking win this,” Marlow smiled as he stood from his spot on the other side of the room.
Ilya let the silence build for a second before he spoke. Say what you will about Ilya, but he knew how to get people’s attention. It wasn’t until all eyes had finally turned to their captain that he allowed himself to smirk. “It’s our fucking year.”
Cheers echoed from around the room and it was almost as if they had already won their first game. Somehow, with three new rookies to the MLH and one trade, the team gelled instantly. The celebration was stupid and Ilya rolled his eyes, but he allowed himself the happiness none the less. “You are all assholes,” he yelled with no real anger in his voice.
“Ilya Rozanov!” cried a voice from behind him and Ilya knew, by the first and last naming, that the voice had to belong to one of the new rookies.
“Yes, Parker Sebbin.” He turned around.
“Oh! Um,” Parker sputtered as he rubbed his neck with his gloves still on, “I was just wondering if you have any advice on, um, well– “
After a few seconds of silence, it was clear that the rookie wasn’t about to offer any more details. “Your saucer pass could use work. Try setting up water bottles on the ice in front of the goal and hitting the goal in many places. You are not bad, just need accuracy.”
“Thank you!” The rookie looked way too excited about being told he was bad. “You know, back in Michigan, I was always just passing the puck to teammates, so I guess that- so long as I was close- it was good enough. But yeah, being a part of a real MLH game now, I guess it’ll go too quickly to count on others, yeah?”
“Others can be stupid. But you can also be stupid. We need all of our team to be the best to win.”
“Of course! And, you, of course, have some experience with that.”
“Being stupid?” Ilya asked, just to make the rookie squirm.
“No!” The kid squawked. “With being the best! Because you are the best. I mean, you brought the Bears to the cup on your first year of captain ship. You inspire so many people. You are on video games and posters and jerseys and— yeah, I’m going to shut up now.”
Ilya smiled again. “Parker, you make my head too big. It will be balloon.”
“No, I mean it! You should’ve won the cup in 2015 too. When Hollander was battling you on ice and he kicked the stick out from under you! The ref was blind for not seeing it. The Bears should've won the cup, not the Metros.”
Ilya could not remember what call the rookie was referring to, but he nodded politely and let the rookie keep talking as he started removing his pads. Turns out that Parker could talk! He also had the memory of an academic and was telling Ilya facts about his own life like he had flashcards. If Parker wasn’t careful, he would be nicknamed Parker the Parrot.
The locker room had died down a bit and several players were returning things to the equipment room or rinsing off. At this point only ten players or so were in the room and Parker was still going strong.
Ilya ran a hand through his hair. Parker froze.
“What?” Ilya asked and, in the silence, all eyes turned.
“I just didn't know you were married is all. Sorry. I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that, as you can tell, I’m a really big fan and I can’t believe I didn’t know. I thought you were the womanizer type. Not that that’s a bad thing! Women are one of the major perks of professional hockey and, if I have been getting this much, you definitely had every right to get some. But, I just never heard of you with anyone serious and–”
“Cool it, Parker!” Feller called from across the room. “Rozy ain’t married. You didn’t miss anything.”
This only made Parker more confused and Ilya wondered if his cross necklace had come untucked. Ilya subtly adjusted his shirt and felt that his necklace was, as expected, hidden. He also knew based on the weight that his ring was on it. He had been extra careful this morning. So there was no way for the rookie to know, right?
“But–” Parker began again.
“Good luck getting anyone to settle down with this lunatic!” Connors yelled from the equipment room next door.
“You have a ring tan?” Parker explained as Boston players began to filter back in, clearly interested in the conversation.
“No way,” Marlow huffed as he walked over and went to grab Ilya’s hand.
Ilya snatched it away and quickly put it underneath his old pads--which was just as damning. “Is nothing,” Ilya tried.
“Dude!” Marlow exclaimed. “Did you fuckin’ Vegas elope with Jane this summer and not invite me!”
“Who said it was Vegas?” Ilya tried to use his arrogance like a shield.
“You’re a terror, my friend. You are not a white dress and throw the bouquet kind of man.”
“I would if she was hot.”
“I’m sure Jane is smoking, no one else could tie you down. Now, let me see the ring.”
It was clear that no one would be convinced otherwise, so he sighed. Picking his hand out from under the pile of smelly pads, and went to grab out his necklace. The second his hand was visible, he could see the tan making Parker’s statement plausible. It wasn’t a joke, their captain had indeed tied the knot.
And, as Ilya slotted out the necklace and showed off his gold band, he could swear he heard someone suck in a breath. It was quieter than he’d ever heard it before.
“You’re an idiot,” Hammersmith ended up piping in.
“Why?”
“Dude, you had your pick of anyone! Prime pussy in every city! Why settle down?”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “I didn’t want it anymore. I don’t do anything I don’t want, Mr. Tool. You know this.”
“Eh, your funeral.” Hammersmith raised his hands in mock surrender. “More for me.”
“You are gross.”
“I am an opportunist. There was this one time in Florida, where I scored a set of identical triplets in one night! I’m telling you, man–”
Ilya couldn’t believe he used to be close friends with this guy. With someone so hollow. He thinks about being fully known by Shane, and fully loved. Something no hookup could ever amount to. Plus, having sex with someone who knew his preferences was infinitely better than a stranger.
Victor St-Simon walked up to him then. He and Victor never really talked much outside of hockey. He was pretty tight with Carmichael and neither of them really came to any social events. But they weren't assholes, so no one really resented them.
“Victor?” Ilya asked as Hammer the Tool continued telling tall tales.
“Ilya, you’re married?”
“I thought we discussed this, yes.”
“Well, yeah, it’s just–well, Ryan and I have been the only married ones for a while. It’s been a joke for so long that our wives even call our date nights the ‘married men’ club.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, we hang out every Saturday. It’s just been the two of us and our wives, but you’re welcome to come. If you want to.”
“Oh.” Ilya sat back, confused.
“You can bring Jane, if you want.”
Ilya would definitely not be bringing Shane, but he nodded along instead.
“Great! I’ll text you an address and time. Charlotte will be so happy to hear of another teammate getting married. She’s been super tired of hosting a bunch of different girlfriends every week at the games.”
“Yes,” Ilya stated.
“Well. Yeah. That was it, man. It’s good to have another member in the club.” He opened his palm and Ilya grabbed his arm in a firm shake, “So, anyways. I’m all packed up and Isaac has colic, so I’m going to head home to help Charlotte out a bit. I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Saturday,” Ilya nodded and wondered what he had just gotten himself into.
—---------
Victor’s house had an honest to God, white picket fence. It looked so normal, so unlike any other hockey player house that he double checked the address three times before exiting the car. He was suddenly thankful that he had brought a bottle of wine.
Shane had teased him about it when Ilya had called with the news. Said that bringing wine was always something that his mom told him to do, not something a playboy hockey player brought. But Ilya was Russian, and had been trained from birth to never come empty handed to an event. Also, he was no longer a playboy, something he took his time reminding his husband of.
The doorbell had a camera and Ilya awkwardly smiled at it as he rang the bell.
The door opened a few minutes later and a woman with long blond hair greeted him. He recognized her picture from Victor’s stall and knew that this must be Charlotte.
“I brought Malbec,” Ilya said by way of introduction.
“That’s so kind of you, Ilya. Come on in.” She gestured for him to walk past, but it was clear by the way she was looking past him that she had expected his supposed wife to also be there.
“Jane could not make it last minute,” he explained. It was a blatant lie and they both knew it.
“No worries, come on in,” she gestured again and Ilya finally entered.
“Ilya!” Ryan shouted from his spot on the couch as Ilya walked into the house. “Nice of you to join us!”
Ryan was in dirty jeans and a flannel top. He was sipping a bottle of beer, and the only thing missing from his farmer boy look was a straw hat or something else stupid. His wife Jessica was a redhead who looked way too put together to be with a hockey defenseman from the midwest.
“I brought wine,” he said again to the room in general.
“Come on into the kitchen.” Charlotte pointed to the right. “Victor is finishing up the steaks right now, but he’ll be inside soon.
“Right.”
“So you gonna tell us when you got hitched?” Carmichael asked as he stood and followed everyone into the kitchen, moving towards the barstools.
“Was not a big deal.”
“Dude, marriage is a big fuckin’ deal.”
Jessica lightly hit her husband as she moved to sit beside him on the island’s stools. Charlotte grabbed wine glasses out of the cabinets and Ilya hoped the wine was still cool enough to serve. He had done his best, but had drawn the line by not bringing Shane’s cooler in the car with him. That seemed a bit excessive.
“Seemed like next step.” Ilya tried to shrug off.
“So, do you love this chick?”
Ilya paused and smiled. “Very much.”
At that, a slider nearby opened and St- Simon walked back inside. “You’re all interrogating him without me?”
“They are being very mean,” Ilya agreed as Charlotte began to pour 5 glasses.
“Only 5?” Victor asked as he noticed his wife.
“Jane couldn’t make it,” Charlotte responded, sharing a pointed stare with Victor that Ilya could only guess as to its meaning.
“So is she real?” Carmichael asked after a few seconds of silence.
“Yes, she is real,” Ilya responded, confused.
“Sorry, man, but someone had to ask. I mean, you're suddenly so committed that you have a ring tan, but she’s never come to a single game before. You gotta admit, it’s pretty weird.”
“Jane is very private person. She does not want to be in photos.”
“But, she decided to put a ring on it. So she’s obviously decided you’re worth it.”
“True.”
“So why not bring her tonight?”
Ilya couldn’t tell them the truth. That Jane was really Shane and that they had gotten married so that Ilya could start the long process of getting Canadian citizenship and that, if one of them were ever injured again, they would have a legal right to any information. Ilya couldn’t tell them that Shane had freaked out so hard when he found out that Ilya had no one listed on his emergency contact forms, as Svetlana was moving and his father was dead.
He couldn’t tell them that Shane had proposed on that counter immediately, and Ilya had laughed it off and told him that Shane had better woo him with flowers and candles and that Shane had done just that. He couldn’t tell his teammates that Shane had snuck out of bed that very night and gone to the store and bought thousands of fake candles and real flowers. That Shane had woken him up at 5am to bring him downstairs, when it was still dark, to get down on one knee and propose properly. He couldn’t tell them that sitting in their living room, crying together and just holding each other was the most whole he’d ever felt and that he wished so, so deeply that he could’ve brought Shane here tonight. And that Shane was waiting up in his apartment in Montreal, hoping to hear how Ilya’s night went and wish him goodnight.
No, he couldn’t tell them any of that. “She had a work trip,” he said instead.
“Where does she work?” Charlotte asked.
“She actually works for a rival hockey team,” Ilya said. It was the most plausible lie they could come up with. One that Ilya and Shane had talked about with Yuna and Farrah.
“Oh my fucking God! Does she work for the Metros!” Ryan gasped and Jessica hit him again.
“Ryan Carmichael, I swear to God. You’ve got to start watching your language.”
“Sorry, babe,” he said sincerely before whipping his head back to Ilya. “But she does, doesn’t she!”
“Maybe,” Ilya shrugged as he grinned.
“Explains why she never sat in the Bear’s section during games,” Jessica sighed. “That must suck for her. I know that my family are die hard Bears fans, so dating Ryan was thrilling for them. I couldn’t imagine how they’d have felt if I started dating someone from an opposing team.”
“Yes, her family is Canadian and they really, really love the Metros.”
“Well, we won’t hold that against them.” Charlotte kissed her husband on the cheek and gestured for them each to take their wine glass to the table. She held the glass for both her and Victor as Victor brought the plate of stakes to the nearby dining table. The table was already preset with cutlery and water and sides. The scene was so domestic that it made his heart ache. He couldn’t help but notice that they had indeed set up a sixth plate, and he couldn’t help but imagine Shane sitting there with them.
“Thanks for making this lovely feast!” Jessica gushed.
“Oh, I just set up the sides, Victor really got us the feast.”
“Oh hush, you and I both know you organized everything. Take the compliment.”
Victor and Ryan thanked Charlotte in turn and Ilya followed suit. Surprised by how normal the interactions were. Marlow was really the only one from the team who he did non clubbing activity with and, even then, Marlow wasn’t a eat-a-nice-meal-at-the-dinner-table kind of guy. Ilya felt out of place in this domestic bubble without Shane to balance him out.
“So, how long have you and Jane been dating?” Charlotte asked once all the platitudes had been met.
Ilya just shrugged. “This food is delicious,” he said instead, taking a bite of the veggies he had scooped onto his plate.
“Thanks, I cooked them with steak seasoning. Now, how long have you and Jane been together?” Charlotte was relentless.
Ilya swallowed his bite of food and sighed, “We weren't exclusive for a long time. I just saw her whenever we played Montreal, that type of thing. But when she started trying to see someone else, I kind of reacted badly.”
“When was that?”
“A little before the All-Star game.”
“Oh my gosh. Is that why you were so pissy?” Ryan added unhelpfully.
“I was not pissy.”
“You were so pissy.” He turned to his wife, “The team would literally argue over who had to talk to Ilya after games. I swear every sentence he spoke was cursing and he would flip out for no reason.”
“Well,” Victor smiled, “now we know the reason.”
“I was never pissy.” Ilya slumped back in his chair and the whole group laughed a bit. Ilya smirked and let the conversation continue on around him.
Talking to his teammates and their wives was surprisingly easy. Ilya had been prepared to leave after half an hour, but as an hour rolled around and dessert was brought out, Ilya found he was still enjoying himself. He didn’t have to perform here. He could share little details about his life--like how he often craved cigarettes but was quitting for Shane, or how difficult it was to share homes and to have to buy two of everything because he kept forgetting if his jacket was in Montreal or Boston. It was good to be sappy, and to be praised for it, not teased.
However, no matter how freeing it was, Ilya’s life always came back to hockey.
“The Guardians suck ass!” Ryan added and then turned a terrified look to Jessica.
Jessica shrugged, unperturbed at the curse for once, “I agree.” Ryan smiled.
Ilya felt like he had to step in. “The Bears are better, obviously, but the Guardians were wild card last year and made it to game 2.”
“They were lucky,” Victor jumped in. Charlotte nodded along.
“Toronto has won almost double our Stanley cup total,” Ilya fought.
“Yeah,” Jessica laughed, “and their last one was in the 1960s!”
“Ryan Price just transferred there. He is a good defenseman.”
“But they also have Dallas Kent.” Victor scowled.
“Dallas Kent wins almost 70% of his face-offs. He is good player.”
Ryan sat up in his seat. “He only wins those face offs because he insults the other team so much that they can’t think straight!”
“Is valid strategy.”
“Well--when you do it, Ilya--you insult their hockey playing skills or something.” Ryan continued, “Dallas Kent literally told me, on the ice, that he thought Charlotte was hot and that I should be careful not to let her walk anywhere alone after the game! He said he couldn’t be blamed for what would happen if I wasn’t careful! The dude’s got, like, 5 pending lawsuits, I swear. I don’t know why the team keeps putting out his fires.”
“Because he is good player.”
“That’s what makes it even more annoying. He’s such an asshole.”
“I am asshole.”
Charlotte pipes in at this, putting her hand on Ilya’s across the table, “You are loud and brash, Ilya.” Ilya had no idea what the word ‘brash’ meant, but he would look it up later. “But you actually care about your teammates. Victor and Ryan knew that about you even before we invited you over.”
“You are too nice.”
“No one should ever compare themselves to Dallas Kent. He’s a monster.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“He’s a misogynistic, racist, homophobe.”
Ilya really had to take a dictionary to these events. “The first two are bad,” he hazarded a guess. “But you can’t want gay people on your hockey team.”
Victor sat up a little straighter at that and looked Ilya dead in the eye. “Ilya, Scott Hunter is gay. I’d love to have him on our team.”
“Scott Hunter is dinosaur who will leave soon anyway. What if we get a rookie who will be with us forever?”
“Then even better I guess,” Victor continued. The laughter of a few moments ago has subdued and all were looking at Ilya harshly.
“Victor,” Ilya had to know if this was how Victor really felt. So many people were ok with the idea of ‘opening the doors of Hockey’ and ‘selling more jerseys’. But the reality was far harsher. Shane had come out to a few people on his team this summer and already people were acting differently around him. “You can’t want gay people in our team. Where will we change or shower?”
“In the same place?” Charlotte piped in, “You do a lot of underwear modeling for someone who is so afraid of being sexualized.”
“You like my modeling?” Ilya laughed.
“I have a husband who I love very much,” Charlotte retorted. “Just because I’m attracted to men doesn’t mean I like you.”
“Everyone likes me. Is why my life is so hard.”
“I’m liking you less and less by the second,” she nearly growled.
“Look, Rozanov,” Victor takes over, “my younger brother played football for a long time and had to quit when he came out as gay because people were so terrible to him. I know you think that you might be uncomfortable being stared at, but trust me, he felt even more so. You are allowed to have your own feelings, I can’t change how you feel. But go change in a stall and shower at home if that’s what you prefer. Don’t make hockey a toxic place. It’s already bad, don’t make it worse. So many rookies look up to you and I don’t want you sprouting that nonsense to them and continuing this cycle and–”
His tirade was cut short as his wife put a hand on his shoulder, “All four of us feel similarly about this issue. I’m sorry if that is a problem for you. You are welcome to go home if you’d like, or you’re welcome to change the topic. But you won’t convince us, Ilya.”
“You really don’t mind having gay people in your locker room?” Ilya asked passively.
“No,” Ryan spoke up, “we really don’t. And I can tell you that you’ve actually already had someone on your team who is gay. You just never realized, because it’s really not an issue.”
“Who?” Ilya asked.
“It doesn’t matter who it is or was, because being gay doesn’t make you a better or worse player.”
Ilya sat back in his seat, his head swimming with the realization that he may not be as alone as he thought. That maybe, just maybe, these two quiet men were the best allies he would ever have.
Ilya ran a hand through his hair before letting out a deep breath and smiling. “My husband will be glad to hear you say that.”
Ilya wished he could have taken a photo of his teammate’s reaction. It looked as though Victor’s eyes were going to fall out of his skull, and Ryan let out a confused huff of air before his mouth fell open wide enough to catch flies.
“Your husband?” Jessica asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes, he is very scared to talk about our relationship because he thinks hockey will not like me anymore if it comes out.”
“Husband?” Ryan asked again.
“His name is not really Jane. Jane is a fake name I put in phone for when Marlow looks over my shoulder.”
“Husband,” Ryan repeated.
Ilya smiled, patting Ryan on the head like a toddler. “Have you hit your head too many times Carmichael? Can you not understand English anymore? Мне нужно говорить по-русски?”
“Sorry.” Ryan finally shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “It’s just hard to wrap my brain around is all. You’ve been with so many women I’ve actually lost track.”
“Is true. But I’ve also been with many men. I am bi. I like both. Men are just very dangerous, so I don’t talk about them.”
“Why not!” Jessica asked. “If people realized Ilya Rozanov, the womanizing player and one of the best MLH players in existence--no offence, Victor--sees the value in relationships with men, then maybe it would help other people feel more comfortable being themselves!”
“You realize I am Russian? Da?”
“Ilya, I know you are stoic. But you can be an influence! You can help so many people!”
“Jessica. I am Russian celebrity. I am very famous–”
“Exactly!” Jessica interrupted. “Think of the impact!”
“Jessica.” The tone in Ilya’s voice shut Ryan’s wife down immediately. “It is illegal to promote gay ideologies in Russia. I would go to prison.”
Silence meets this statement, so Ilya continued, “I am in US, but it is very hard to get American passport. So I still have Russian passport. If Russia decides they do not like me anymore, they can take away my passport. Meaning I would no longer be allowed to play in the MLH and I would go back to Russia where I would go to jail. Is very dangerous. Is big secret.”
The silence was deafening. So much so that Ilya wanted to stand up and leave. However, he was stronger than that. Instead, he stared Jessica down and watched her mouth gape open and closed, trying to come up with an acceptable response.
“Thank you for sharing it with us.” Victor nodded, and all three around the table joined in the agreements. Jessica gave Ilya a comforting smile and seemed apologetic for her lack of a response earlier, Charlotte placed her hand on Ilya’s, and Ryan gave Ilya a nod of acceptance as he returned to his previous slouched position.
“I don’t know why I did. You are all stupid.” This seemed to elicit a chuckle.
“Is that why you got married?” Charlotte asked.
“Is one of reasons, yes. After wedding you must live like Canadian for three years before you can try to get citizenship. So my husband wanted to start as soon as we could.”
“That’s scary, Ilya, I’m so sorry.” Charlotte patted his hand gently before removing it.
“Thank you. But we have plan. Is a good plan. Very long, but we are long game, and we can make it.”
“Will we ever get to meet him?” Ryan asked as he finally relaxed, seeming to grasp the situation.
“Maybe in three years.” Ilya joked. “Jane is very private man. I did not lie. He does not want to be known yet. Is why I did not wear ring to practice.”
“But you had a tan line.”
“Da.”
“You must’ve been wearing that ring a lot over the summer to get that tan.”
“We did not take it off.”
Charlotte smiled at that. “I hope we get to meet him one day.”
Ilya smiled back, “I hope so too.”