Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hayden could barely wait until they were in their seats, seatbelts in place, ready for takeoff. He hadn't spoken to Shane since the Olympics, not alone at least, and although he was eager to ask too many questions, he had been even more eager to spend some time with his wife and kids when he got home. Whatever mess Shane got himself into, it could wait, and the curiosity was surprisingly easy to forget when he found himself neck-deep in dirty diapers and loud toys.

The separation also gave him time to think. Time for his mind to begin to wrap around what he saw. Not just in Korea; images of dozens of interactions, strange smiles and stranger messages assaulted his conscience when the house finally settled into quiet for the night.

Jackie, the saint that she was, didn't push. She might have chuckled once or twice, when a particularly obvious detail made him sit up in the bed as he was falling asleep with son of a b on his tongue, but she understood he couldn't tell her, not yet. He suspected she knew more that she let on anyway.

Over the break, the realisation settled. He was a fucking idiot. Completely blind. The clues, the clues were fucking everywhere. It took Marleau days to connect what Hayden had been looking at for years.

Sometimes, images of a different sort flashed before his eyes. Where the first kind appeared with a hot prod of embarrassment in his right temple, these announced themselves by tugging at his stomach, like bony fingers creeping through the cavity. Clutching and refusing to let go until cold sweat erupted from his brow.

They came from the locker room. From the rink. Stills of twisted smirks, furrowed brows. Sometimes they were just words without images, echoing in Hayden's mind in the thousands different voices that had spit them over the years. The same old slurs, Scott Hunter's name as a joke, a curse.

The loudest of them came from the most recent locker room, and when they took the spotlight, Hayden was grateful for the dark of the bedroom. It covered what he knew was an intense crimson of embarrassment as the conversation from the training camp played in his head, turning from Hunter to Rozanov. Shane's — what exactly? Boyfriend? Fuck.

He was a terrible friend, letting it get that far. Terrible person, really. He'd done nothing to make Montreal a safer place for Shane.

The worst thing was, looking back, it wasn't like Shane was being that good at hiding it either. Hayden just really wasn't looking all that carefully.

Now, strapping himself into an air plane seat next to his best friend, he knew he had a lot to make up for. He could start right now by finally asking his best friend about his love life. A small first step, long overdue.

It still took a long breath and a careful look around their surroundings to give him the courage to ask, 'So. The elephant in the room? Spill.'

'It is a pretty big elephant, Hayd, what do you want to know?' Shane seemed, surprisingly at ease with the question. Maybe even happy to hear it. Fuck, he probably really needed someone to talk to. At the same time, his mischievous smile made Hayden very aware that he was not going to like what he learned. Whatever. Hayden could drink his mind into oblivion about it later.

Shane had to know the questions were coming, especially as they were about to leave for Boston. Which, he seemed very excited to do, despite the fact that it was only Hayden who'd lost a bet to Marleau and was forced to come.

Yeah, he could see Shane was excited about lots of things these days, now that Hayden paid a little more attention.

'Let's start with when,' Hayden decided on the most important question first.

'You mean, when, ugh, Lily and I started dating or…?' Shane seemed amused by the question.

'Lily?' Hayden had not put that together. Fuck. Of course. A code name would make sense if the whole thing was a secret. He was a fucking idiot. He was also not going to panic, trying to remember when he first heard the name. Because it has been… Fuck!

'Right, of course, Lily. But… that's been years! Fuck, Shane!'

Fine, he was definitely panicking about it a little. Maybe even a lot. Because, that couldn't be right, could it?

'You've been dating Ro— I mean, Lily, for years?' Fuck. For the first time, Hayden was doubting if he got it right. Because that was a huge fucking thing he'd missed right there.

'Not dating, no, that part is petty new, actually.' Still that stupid smile. It froze Hayden's right off his face.

'Right. Wait. Oh fuck. Right. Riiiight. Fuck. I mean, I want to know, like everything, about you. Like, I tell you stuff all the time. About Jackie and I, right? But, I mean Lily? Fuck, can you like, tell me about you without telling me about Lily? Cause, yeah, I don't want to imagine Lily…'

Hayden didn't know how to put his words in front of each other. He knew he wanted to be a good friend. And he was very much curious. About Shane's life. Less so about Rozanov's. Which, he was coming to terms with, were not really touchable one without the other. It also probably made him an asshole. A bad friend. Again. Shit.

'But you're okay imagining me?' Shane teased. He was not even trying to hide how much he was enjoying Hayden's discomfort.

'Oh fuck off. You know what I mean. I tell you about me and Jackie.'

'And I've asked you repeatedly to stop,' Shane replied. 'I have to see her, occasionally, you know. So, I know exactly what you mean. And I had to suffer with you, so you will suffer with me.' He seemed very smug as he said it.

Who was this man? This man, who wouldn't even admit Lily existed, for years, even with evidence right under Hayden's eyes. And now, he was offering the dirty details? Hayden was at least ninety percent sure it was just to make him uncomfortable. But the remaining ten whispered that maybe Shane really wanted to talk to someone, now that he finally could.

'But… it's Lily,' Hayden protested weakly. He did not want details about Lily.

But he was Shane's friend and if Shane wanted to talk, he ought to be there. He had quite some time to make up for.

His mind was at war with itself on the two points.

'And?'

'And nothing,' Hayden backtracked quickly, 'Lily is, uh, cute, I'm sure?'

Shane laughed. He really looked like he'd dropped ton of weight off his chest in the past weeks.

'You'll get all the dirty details,' he promised with a mischievous grin, 'Just not here.'

Hayden nodded. And was a little relieved. There was probably no way Shane could have given him the details while still talking only about Lily.

'Your turn. When did you know?'

Hayden sighed. He knew the question would come. He was not proud of how long it had taken him.

'Those ridiculous pyjamas,' he sighed stupidly.

Shane gave him a confused look. Hayden waited for a moment. He was hoping Shane would realise what he meant, but he was not so lucky.

'Okay, so I had some… interesting conversation with, uh, our Boston teammate?' Shane would hopefully know whom he meant. Hayden wasn't really sure how careful he should be about names, what he could and couldn't say since they were very much still in public, so he decided he'd rather be safe than sorry. 'I mean, I was convinced he was into you or something, so I tried to talk to him about that..'

'Hayden!' Shane was laughing, which was a relief, but also, sort of offensive? 'A Boston teammate? Seriously? Gee, I wonder who that could be, so many Boston players in Montreal these days…'

'Fuck you. Whatever,' Hayden rolled his eyes. He was fucking trying. 'Anyway, he talked to me, in the end. Obviously he didn't tell me anything about you,' he quickly added, seeing the horrified expression on his face, hoping he didn't almost get Marleau killed in that moment.

'But yeah, he just, called me out on some stuff. Then Jackie told me you two had an interesting conversation at the barbecue. And I started to think that, maybe, like I wasn't think Lily in particular, but I thought, maybe that was, you know, your type? That maybe you had someone of that… type in your life?'

'That type?' Shane was now openly laughing at Hayden's attempts to be subtle. Maybe little louder than he should.

'Uhhhh, Holzy got himself an exotic girl? Nice!' Smith, who was sitting in the row behind them, and who just reminded Hayden how really careful he'd need to be about this conversation, slapped Shane's shoulders.

'Hey, I don't think you should be saying that,' Hayden cooled him. He did not like him listening, and he wasn't sure he liked his choice of words either. He looked at Shane, who shrug his shoulders, then over at JJ across the isle. JJ shook his head at him, obviously catching the exclamation.

'Yeah, don't say shit like that. Not cool man,' Hayden repeated with more confidence after JJ's confirmation. 'And sit your ass down, we're about to take off.'

Smith rolled his eyes. But he sat down.

'Good job, Holzy,' he repeated before giving Hayden a middle finger and putting on his headphones.

'Anyway. I still though that it could be. You know. Marlene.' Hayden whispered; he was being really careful now. One uncalled for input was more than enough, thank you very much, and JJ must have heard the comment too. Fuck. He'd definitely have questions, but hopefully later. Giving Shane some time to figure out how he wants to handle that, if he hadn't already.

'What the fuck, Hayden,' Shane laughed. 'Tell me you didn't. I told you! You asked me and I told you it wasn't.'

'I know, I know. That was before, okay? But then. When we had a guest over in, you know.' He tried to mouth Korea, hoping Shane would get the message, or fill in the details somehow.

'And you put on that stupid maple leaves pyjamas that everyone makes fun of. Like, you hide those pyjamas under a blanket or something if anyone knocks on the fucking door, but you didn't care that Lily saw them? Also, Lily said nothing? Lily? Didn't make fun of you and shit? If anything, was trying to take that abomination off you with his — uh, her — eyes?'

'Hey, it's just pyjamas, man,' Shane seemed almost offended, as if he himself didn't hide his lucky pyjamas from most of the team. Only roommates were privy to their existence, and Marleau had to be sworn to total secrecy under threat of violence after he saw them. 'Why does everyone get hung up on them? They're very comfortable, high quality wool. Really warm. Not too tight. Breathing well.'

'Well, Lily did not seem interested in the wool. Or its exceptional properties. Also, you smelled like a fucking ashtray the next morning. Fucking weird, considering you were not the one who spent the evening in a bar…'

'And you didn't say anything?' Did Shane seem impressed with him? Was Hayden really that much of a gossip in his mind?

'I mean, I did very obviously tell you I was taking Marleau shopping for whole day that one time. How much time do you think a person needs to buy souvenirs for kids? You know my kids, man. They always want stuffed animals, and I have to pick the same damn thing for all of them or they start fighting! Not my fault you didn't get the clue.'

Shane seemed pretty amused by the idea.

'Lily figured it out, but thank you for the effort. Apparently, Marlene thought she was getting you out of the room.' Marlene? Was Shane making fun of his attempts at subtlety now? Or did he actually want him to go back to the fake names? Hayden looked around, but most of their present teammates had headphones on. Still, he promised himself to be subtle.

'So you did? Actually, in our room? I mean, I know I literally organised it, and you are welcome, by the way, but I mean, our room? Gross, man. Fucking gross.'

'Yeah, we did not get that far. Some captain business got in the way,' Shane sighed. Yeah, Hayden could imagine, he would not like to be interrupted either. How often do they even get to…? Between Montreal and Boston, it can't be that often, right? Ugh, he could not imagine that for Jackie and him. How did Rozanov, mister ten-hookups-a-week-and-that's-only-what-the-paps-know-about agree to that?

'Yeah, sorry about that. Fuck man, that sucks for you. But also, speaking of Marlene.. how long has he — uh, she — known?'

Shane sighed. 'I think she figured it out pretty early after coming to Montreal? I mean, she knows Lily pretty well, I guess we didn't even realise how much we shit we picked up from each other over the time, but, uh, Marlene spotted it right away. It didn't help when she clocked I understood… Lily's native language…'

'Wait, you speak… Lily's language?' Now Hayden was really shocked. When would Shane have time to learn a whole new language?

'Only a few, eh, useful phrases,' Shane specified. The smug expression on his face made Hayden laugh.

'I'm sorry. Please, tell me those phrases are about hockey and not what I think. Because then I really don't want to know, how Marlene figured out you know them. Or why would Marlene know them…' Hayden was very much getting confused about the logic of that. Unless he was partially right about him too? Was he involved somehow? Was this a three people situation? Or had him and Roz —?

'Some phrases can be, a bit universal?' Shane replied with a smirk. Thank fuck. Hayden left out a breath. He was trying to be supportive, but he didn't think he was ready for this to be a three people dynamic.

'What phrases would those be?' Hayden was trying to imagine in, he really was. 'Do you shout goal when you finish fucking Lily?' Now he was laughing. And trying really hard not to imagine that. 'Fuck you do, don't you?!'

'Jeez, Hayd, fuck you and no.' For the first time in their conversation, Shane looked honestly horrified. So, talking about Lily was okay. Joking about hockey, a step too far. Got it.

'Also. Fuck. Do you fuck Lily? Or…?' The question popped out a little too naturally.

'You want to know? You sure?' Shane was back to his cheeky self from the past hour. The self Hayden could barely remember meeting before, unless they were talking about hockey.

'Fuck. I don't know. I mean, I tell you A LOT of stuff. A lot. But also, yeah, it's Lily, I don't want to know about Lily.' Yeah, that was the part Hayden was still struggling with. He could imagine being okay with Shane, making out with a guy, right in front of him. He'd probably encourage him, scream go get it tiger, as he did when he had no idea who was hiding behind the Lily nickname.

But the idea of Rozanov. The rude, brutish asshole, putting his hands on his best friend. Yeah, that image was hard to swallow, even though Hayden had seen a different side of him in Korea. Even though he knew his friend was more then two hundred pounds of pure muscle and did not need him to defend his honour.

'Fuck this is hard,' Hayden groaned.

'That's what Lily said,' Shane chirped happily. Like he'd been waiting to use that for some time.

'Fuck off!'

_______

When Marleau first invited Hayden, Shane and JJ to Boston, Hayden had, logically, assumed he did it to be a dick. Then he figured out Shane's big Boston secret and thought that maybe, actually, he was just trying to hook his boys up, which would be kind of sweet. But now, meeting him in the bar he had chosen, Hayden went back to the original assumption.

God only knew how long Marleau was waiting for them, leaning against a doorway leading to a quiet, private section of the bar. How long he had to hold that oh-so-casual pose before Hayden, Shane, J.J, and the six Metros players who heard about the party and wanted in walked in.

Why they would want in, Hayden had no fucking clue. He was not sure about their expectations either — he wasn't even sure about his own — but he had no reason to make them refuse the invitation Marleau oh-so-helpfully sent to the whole roster. And oh boy did he try to find one. But Metros were nothing if not happy to party, especially if someone else was buying their drinks (multimillion contracts or not).

In a full Boston asshole fashion, Marleau strutted towards them, dressed head-to-toe in Boston merchandise. Even opting to wear sweatpants into the objectively nice bar, just to multiply the Raiders logos assaulting Hayden's eyes. The ensemble was broken up only be the Canadian Olympic jacket, loosely draped over his shoulders. And a fucking Olympic gold medal hanging from his throat. Sure. Why the fuck not. Just your usual evening wear.

To complete the effect, the Olympic jacket dropped to the floor immediately as Marleau reached to clasp hands with his former teammates, crowning the theatrics of his arrival. Hayden didn't see it again after that.

'So, uh, you play for Boston?' he had to ask, because how could he not? Marleau only laughed, slapping Hayden's shoulder instead of an answer like he was campaigning for the title of Boston's biggest asshole.

Was that just something that playing for Boston did to a person? Or some misguided attempt to make Rozanov seem not so bad in comparison?

Fuck, was Marleau playing some 5D chess over here, showing up Hayden once again while he was just learning how to be a proper friend to Shane? Yeah no, fuck Marleau, he would not let that go. He could be just as good an ally, better, even.

The rest of the Boston party arrived just as they had sat down. They were a much smaller group than their own, constituting of only two players — Rozanov and one of the youngsters who's name Hayden didn't know. From the look on Rozanov's face, he was just as surprised at the inequality as Hayden was. And Hayden didn't need to look at Marleau to know he would be grinning like a bitch.

'Eh, no. Marleau said only Olympic team will be here. Not fair.' Rozanov stopped in the doorway, looking like he might just leave. His teammate stopped when he did, following his captain's example like a good little rookie.

Hayden looked around, but none of the Metros, not even Shane, looked like they would particularly mind if Rozanov did leave. Fuck, the two of them were probably having second thoughts about meeting in front of this many people, and it definitely wasn't helping that the attendance was heavily skewed towards the Metros.

'Scared of us, Rozanov?' The taunt came to Hayden naturally. He knew he was painting a target on his back for an endless teasing to come, but if being a dick to him was going to break Rozanov's hesitation, he would endure it for Shane's sake. He was his friend. Of many, many years. He was not getting showed up by fucking Marleau.

Before he could change his mind, before he could think and let himself realise how badly the rest of the evening would suck, Hayden moved out of his seat at the end of the long table. It was a great seat, far from Marleau, right next to Shane, and he was offering it to fucking Rozanov.

'We don't bite, you know,' he assured him in a condescending tone, knowing Rozanov will not let the challenge unanswered.

His theory was immediately confirmed as Rozanov raised his eyebrows so high they disappeared behind his curls, but walked directly to the seat offered.

'Scoot, Hollander,' he basically barked at Shane, 'or I sit in your lap?'

Hayden looked at Shane, who was trying very hard not to look like he would in fact like that very much. His default stoic expression was doing him a favour, but he was not moving. Only when Rozanov nudged his shoulder, he finally did the same to JJ at his other side, both of them finally shuffling one seat over.

With Rozanov following after him, Hayden's original seat remained open. Waiting. Right next to fucking Rozanov. Perfect. He really hoped Shane was aware of what a good friend he was being, and that maybe it would make up for him not being there before. It fucking better.

'So. This is cosy. Me, Hansen, and table full of Montreal players.' Rozanov complained loudly.

'Hey!' Marleau complained back. 'What about me, asshole?'

Okay, so this might actually be fun after all. Hayden was already regretting his decision, albeit he knew it was the right one, to try and remain sober tonight. Or, reasonably sober-ish, he amended when the first round of shots was placed on the table.

Next to him, Rozanov continued bickering with Marleau, his complaints taking over the whole conversation.

'You are traitor, Marleau! Traitor to Raiders! You tell Connors and St. Simon they cannot come but invite all the Metros? Traitor! Metros can keep you!'

This was met with a quick refusal from all of the present Metros.

Hayden chuckled. They've shared the table for two minutes and already here they were. Marleau was now mad at both sides. Rozanov was trying to piss off everyone. Hansen was sitting at the edge of the table, as far from the Metros as possible, quiet. It was shaping up to be some night of camaraderie.

Hayden considered dialling Jackie and letting her listen on the evening as he raised his glass and downed the shot. She loved drama of all kinds and he was pretty sure that whatever was happening here, he would not be able to do it justice in his recollection. Especially when the liquid inside flowed so well down his throat, sweet with a subtle burn afterwards. He was in trouble.

Just as the mood was settling, giving Hayden hope that no fistfight would occur before at least fourth round of drinks, more Raiders appeared. Connors and St.Simon were leading the party, with a bottle of liquor in each hand, and a booming and synchronised, 'Surprise, assholes!'

It was obvious only Marleau expected this addition, and the addition was more than pleased that their arrival was a shock to the party. Hansen was unceremoniously pushed further towards Smith and Miitka to free some space for the latecomers, but before they could sit down, Rozanov stopped them with a loud protest.

'Eh, no. No no no. This is evening of, uh, camaraderie,' he shouted, much louder than necessary in the half-empty bar, 'you must, how you say, mingle. If I must suffer Pike and Hollander, you must mix too!'

Hayden shouldn't have been surprised when a meaty hand landed on his shoulder, digging unnecessarily deep into the muscles as Rozanov pulled him towards him. He could see Shane on his other side suffering similar encroachment, with notably less displeasure than himself.

Connors protested — not as loudly as the Metros who had to vacate their seats to accommodate this new arrangement — but everyone complied in the end, Metros and Raiders sitting side by side, passing glasses as drinks were poured.

Hayden let himself hope that maybe, something could actually be achieved here. A first step to — he wasn't even sure to what. What would even change for Shane and Rozanov if their teams could be friends? But it did feel like something, like a step towards something. It had to be. The something could be defined later.

Two more rounds of drinks went by in minutes, as if no one dared to speak before some level of drunkenness was established. Hayden didn't want to ask what the drink was when St.Simon slid him a glass, or how expensive the bottle was — it certainly did look very nice — not when he planned on pouring the contents of his glass out. The fake flowers must have gone through worse, he decided as he tilted the glass over the decorative planter.

It was a shame. But Hayden really had to keep his wits about him. If Korea was any indication, Rozanov would have a very hard time keeping his hands of Shane when drunk, and he did not expect Shane to be any better at it. He was already pretty bad at it when sober. And neither of them was going easy on the drinks, a fact so alien to Shane it was already drawing everyone's eyes.

This was definitely going to be a long night for Hayden.

Finally, the conversation settled into a known topic. Hockey. Hayden watched with amusement as his teammates, trying to skate around any explosive opinions, landed on the most boring hockey conversation of his life.

And he'd once shared a row on a plane with Shane and Miitty, his headphones mercilessly dead, as they discussed the differences between Olympic and MLH rinks for the whole four hour flight. Four hour debate over thirteen inches difference. And this was, somehow, worse.

'Geez, this is fun.' He could practically hear Marleau roll his eyes. 'Who the fuck cares about fucking San Francisco? The only two teams worth shit are sitting right fucking here!' That exclamation earned him some cheers at least. One point they could agree on.

'Said the guy who lost to fucking Tampa last week.' Well, almost agree on.

Hayden had to check he heard right. He had to lean over the table to see Shane, out of his sight thanks to sprawled Rozanov in the middle. But Shane was smiling. Clearly proud of his little quip. It didn't escape Rozanov's attention, who was staring at him, probably the same way as Hayden was.

Slowly, Rozanov took his arm off Shane's shoulder — had he really kept it there the whole time?

'Don't be shy, Hollander,' he taunted, loud enough to get the attention of the whole table on them, 'Everyone thinks you are good hockey boy. They do not believe the terrible things you say to me in face-off. They do not hear you mock my team when here we are, celebrating our new friendship.'

If anyone thought Rozanov was making it up, they were quickly proved wrong by Shane himself, shooting a death stare at him, then at anyone who looked his way. Which was, if not thanks to the original comment then definitely to the look, everyone.

'Okay, Rozanov, spill!' JJ had the courage to ask what Hayden was still considering. 'What does our sweet ca-pi-taine, who tells us do not get baited every match, tell you?'

'Nothing!' Shane exclaimed, sounding offended. Hayden worried it might be something inappropriate, that they were going to get Shane to admit to flirting, or worse, make him blush. But Shane seemed, for the most part, only pissed.

'He tells you that?' Marleau turned to JJ, ignoring seething Shane and smirking Rozanov. And the looks between them. Those fucking looks—

Real fucking subtle. Idiots. They were going to give Hayden a fucking heart attack.

'Fucking hypocrite if you ask me,' Marleau continued. 'What did he say to Roz when he missed that pass last month? Something like, are you're still stuck on the west coast, three hours behind the rest of your team?'

The room stilled in silence.

'It's not getting baited if I speak first,' Shane corrected no one in particular and the table burst out laughing. Hayden joined, a bit too late, when the shock subsided. He knew his friend was funny, even when he wasn't always allowing himself to show it. He knew he was also ruthless, he could feel it in his hamstrings weekly. The combination of the two was rare. It was also priceless.

'No fucking way! Capitaine!'

'That's not even the worst one!'

'Remember what he said to Hammer? After he hooked him in the last match?'

The exclamations pooled between the group. The give and take between the metros begging for details and raiders gleefully feeding them created a blissful balance for a moment. In the middle of which, ruling over the table, sat delighted-looking Rozanov, and now smug Shane.

Smug like Hayden had never seen him before, hiding behind repetitive roll of his eyes but unable to control the corners of his lips.

'So why was this a secret, buddy?' Hayden had to ask.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Shane deadpanned. Leading to a new round of shouting. Then came the magic words. Silencing the room like a fucking spell.

'I've got a drinking game!'

Yep. That would do it. Make bunch of grown fucking hockey players shut up and grin like a bunch of teenagers stealing a liquor bottle from their parents' cupboard. Fuck Marleau and fuck his stupid ideas. Hayden was probably going to kill him before the night was over. No way around it.

'Rules are simple!' Marleau shouted, unnecessarily as the silence still held. 'Since we know your captain better than you do—'

For the first time, Hayden was beginning to appreciate the seating arrangement as Marleau, flanked by two Metros, got to enjoy the reaction nice and personally.

'As I was saying,' he continued, fighting to keep his grip on Smith's elbow and try and mitigate the damage to his ribs, 'I tell you something said during a Boston-Montreal game. Any game. You guess who said it. I'll keep it simple. Rozanov and Hollander only. You get it wrong, you drink. All of you. You get it right, Raiders drink.'

The game was met with excitement and confusion. There was no fucking way they were going to get this wrong. So a new round of drinks was brought forward. Distributed. Everyone settled into their best poker face. And the game began.

'First one is easy,' Marleau promised. His smiled promised it would be anything but. Hayden did not want to think how long he'd been planning this. This was certainly not a spur-of-the-moment idea.

'Forgive my translation, but here goes—'

'What translation?'

'Oh, this was originally in Russian,' Marleau said with a smirk.

Which was an obvious bait. Everyone could see that. But no one knew Shane spoke Russian, and as much as Hayden tried to convince them that if anyone was dedicated enough to learn how to offend their rival in their native language, it would be Shane, the conclusion was, before they even heard the quote, that it had to be Rozanov.

So they found themselves drinking in the first round. Followed by the second and third. Hayden offered his silent apologies to the fake plant doing his drinking for him.

Rozanov, of all people, took mercy on them. Offering the next quote himself and having both Metros and Raiders guess, each man for himself.

'Who said Scott Hunter is so old …'

'Rozanov!' the answer once more proceeded the question. Hayden groaned, but it did him no good. His teammates were fucking idiots, learning nothing. He pointed at Shane himself and waited for his team to drink.

Rozanov clicked his tongue in response. Tsuk tsuk.

'I should make you all drink,' he shook his head. 'You are terrible at this game. You don't think Hollander ever said anything mean about Hunter? Never? He fucking punched him in the face! Fuck, Hollander. You are so boring, your team forgot you tried to kill Hunter. Do you hate all gay people or only the boring ones?'

Hayden choked with an empty mouth, staring at Rozanov. What the fuck was wrong with him, what was he playing at? Was he fucking trying to make Shane out himself?

Fuck, was this some weird elaborate prank, seducing Shane so that Raiders could out him? Distract the competition with a scandal maybe? Hayden would kill them all. He was going to fucking kill Rozanov. Right fucking now, before he could say anything—

'Fuck you, Rozanov,' Shane beat him to it. His voice was unbelievably calm. He sounded almost bored, like he was unimpressed and done with Rozanov's theatrics. Like this was something Rozanov would just say. Completely normal. Played out, even.

'I don't hate anyone,' Shane added with a sigh. Like, duh, why do I even need to say it?

'Not even Rozanov?' JJ chipped in from Shane's other side. 'I mean, because he's Rozanov, not because I think he's gay,' he clarified quickly, as if it wasn't pretty clear how he meant it.

Hayden chuckled. But he would not pass up an opportunity to join in digging into Rozanov. Knowing that was not what JJ meant, he asked anyway, 'You think the biggest whore of MLH is gay?' Then he quickly remembered to add, 'Not that there is anything wrong with it, of course!'

It felt good to call Rozanov a whore where he could hear him. He didn't even care in that moment what Shane would think. It wasn't like he wasn't aware of who he was dating.

'Nothing wrong with what, Pike? Being gay or being MLH's biggest whore?' Rozanov turned to him. He was smiling. His face was uncomfortably close. Hayden wondered if this look was the last thing mice usually saw before a cat pounced.

'Buddy, as long as you don't become a fucking Typhoid Mary of STDs, I don't care either way?' Hayden held his gaze, barely, as he replied. It seemed to amuse Rozanov.

'Buddy? We are buddies now, Pike?'

'What the fuck would you call this?' Hayden gestured between them, sharing a table, drinks… Rozanov laughed.

'Buddy? Fuck, you're more boring than Hollander.'

'Hey—' Shane's voice echoed in a quiet warning. Enough to make Rozanov shut up. And make Hayden, just for a second, think that he sounded almost jealous.

Which could not be right, because that would sound too much like he'd accidentally flirted with Rozanov — or Rozanov with him — and that was not something he would be able to live with.

Before he could linger on it, Shane said something else. Something in Russian. Something that made Rozanov snap back and raise his hand halfway to his face before he returned it to the table in a slow, controlled motion. Very, very controlled, like he was trying to take back his original, startled reaction.

'We're definitely being pranked. There's no way—' Smith began complaining to eager nodding from his teammates.

'I don't know what they're putting into these drinks, man, but I think I might need like ten more —'

Hayden didn't hear the rest. Not when he caught Shane's voice going again. Not loud. Barely noticeable over the full table of people fighting over the next round.

Hayden wouldn't have probably registered it either, if the words weren't unmistakably still not English. Shane had grossly played down his Russian.

Hayden allowed himself a quick peak at him, but his eyes were drawn to Rozanov instead.

Because Rozanov looked like he was fighting for his dear life. Lips pressed so hard they might have as well been glued shut, his eyes wide, blush rushing into his cheeks.

Hayden looked around the table. He did not want to know what Shane was saying, and he really hoped no one else could understand either. The only eyes that met his were Marleau's, whose cheeks were stretched in a face-splitting grin, waiting for Hayden to find him. Like a co-conspirator.

Which they probably were at this point.

In a choreography of raised eyebrows, they communicated what Hayden hoped meant I know and I know that you know to each other. Even if it was hard to keep his attention on Marleau as Shane's Russian — he still couldn't believe Shane was speaking Russian — kept prodding at the edge of his attention.

Then Marleau winked and Hayden knew he was going to do something stupid. Maybe if he said something first, stealing attention from him —

'You'd think Hollander is propositioning you with how red you're turning, Roz. What happened to Russians don't blush?' Marleau did not wait and did not mince his words as he turned to Rozanov. Hayden choked on his drink. That was precisely what he assumed — and really hoped he was wrong — Shane was saying.

'Those must be some juicy things you have to say about his mother,' JJ laughed, noting the blushing Rozanov and amused Shane. The pair was hard to miss, with Marleau pointing them out like that. Making everyone look. Again.

At least they didn't look too obvious, Hayden didn't think. Just friendly (or not) teasing.

'I would never!' Shane sounded offended at JJ's remark. Seriously, personally offended. Fuck. They've been together so long, Shane would probably know Rozanov's mother at this point? She must be some lady for Shane to get that offended on her behalf.

'Why the fuck would I? That would be so fucking low. Are there not enough things to mock about Rozanov personally?'

JJ took a moment to collect his thoughts. When he did, he looked like he was having hard time closing his mouth. He was fucking beaming.

'Fuck, cap! You tell us not to quip and you're a fucking savage? Learning fucking Russian just to be a dick? Fuck, the shit you must get away with if the referees can't understand!'

Shane grumbled, 'I didn't tell you not to chirp. I said it looks fucking pathetic when you can't live up to your fucking mouths. Have I not been living up to my words?'

Where Metros were left staring with their mouths gaping like fish, the Raiders were howling with laughter. Only Hayden — and probably Rozanov — could see that Shane was definitely more drunk than he was letting on. Not that the confidence was the result of the alcohol. Oh no, he definitely thought the same when sober. He was just quite a bit more subtle about it.

But where Hayden was beginning to worry, Rozanov couldn't smile wide enough.

'You really didn't know?" he asked, all laughing and giddy. His r's were getting longer and somehow more fluid as the alcohol chipped at his English. 'That your captain is a fucking savage? Hollander, this is crime! Crime! You are a fucking animal and your boring team doesn't even know!'

'And that's just when it comes to hockey!' someone hollered. Hayden wasn't sure which side it came from. But Rozanov laughed, happy with the addition. Shane, on the other hand, turned red for once and Rozanov, who wasn't even pretending to move his eyes off him anymore, of course noticed. He acknowledged the blush with a quick dance of his eyebrows.

'Oh is definitely true,' Rozanov confirmed. Hayden kicked him under the table. And earned a trademark Rozanov scowl.

'Must be true if Hollander is this red,' he amended.

Hayden left out breath. Counted his drinks up to this point and negotiated one more with himself before reaching for a shot. They just kept appearing on the table anyway.

He watched his teammates follow his lead, chuckling nervously among themselves before swallowing their drinks.

'Next time you'll tell us you don't think your captain fucks either,' Marleau kept going, encouraged by the Metros' reaction. Clearly he wasn't done giving Hayden heart attacks.

'The fuck you know about Hollander fucking, Marley?'

And not just him. The table separating him and Rozanov was probably the only reason Marleau was still alive.

Honestly, if Hayden received a look like that from his captain, he might be reaching out to his agent about his options on other teams, just in case. But Marleau only smirked and held Rozanov's gaze.

'We shared a room in the Olympic village,' he shrugged his shoulders non-nonchalantly. 'I haven't been kicked out of my room that many time during my years boarding on road with you Roz!'

The laughing that followed drowned what sounded like you offered from Shane and that's because I don't mind sharing — which, fucking gross — from Rozanov, and it was one fucking time in his own head, before he could even voice it.

'I mean, we know about Hollander's not-a-girlfriend in Boston,' Miitka offered ever so helpfully. Like an eager fucking idiot, raising his hand to be the teacher's favourite, trading more of Shane's sex life back. I know, I know, captain fucks someone in Boston! I am so smart! Hayden added him onto the list of people he was going to kill tonight.

Honestly, he might just have to set the whole city on fire at the rate the list was growing. That would at least change the topic of the conversation. They were long fucking overdue for a new one.

'That's fucking golden! Boston do it better, baby! Even Hollander agrees! Best hockey team, hottest chicks—' St. Simon found his opening and somehow, miraculously steered the conversation back to hockey — because that quip could not be left unanswered — before Hayden's heart could jump out of his chest. Fucking hell. He was not going to survive the night the way it was going.

Fuck. Hayden left out a breath. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Fuck. They were talking hockey now. This he could handle. A safe topic. A—.

'Enjoy New York.' Shane was pointedly looking at Rozanov. 'After Tampa, you must be glad to be playing against someone your own speed this time.'

Rozanov scoffed. 'Are you saying I am slow like Hunter?'

'Not saying. Just implying.'

Rozanov elbowed Shane as he said it, but he was laughing. Which looked a little too much like flirting for Hayden's poor nerves, but he didn't think anyone else would notice. He hoped. He could feel Marleau's eyes burning a hole into his head, but he refused to turn towards him. It would be too close to acknowledging that there was something worth noticing happening. Which there wasn't. Just a little drunk chirping, nothing he should attract anyone else's attention to.

'Yeah, I'd be fucking worried if I couldn't outrun Hunter,' Hansen, the youngest Raider in attendance, chipped in and Hayden was glad. Yes, just a regular hockey chirping, nothing to see here, everyone welcome to join. Let's all bash Hunter. Safe topic. Although, sorry Scott.

'Yes, rookie, if thousand years old player is faster than you, probably not much future in hockey for you,' Rozanov teased him. Hayden wanted to point out it was definitely not his first year with Boston. But Rozanov obviously knew that.

'Yeah, right, that too,' Hansen replied, turning a little red.

Hayden wasn't sure if it was because of his captain's teasing or because he meant to point out something different with his remark. He hoped it was the former. He hoped he was not going to give Rozanov an opportunity to—

'What else could you mean, rookie?' Rozanov pinned him with his gaze. 'Surely you can't be worried about Hunter rushing after your ugly mug, when me and Marley are right there?'

Jesus Christ. Fucking Rozanov. And, did he just wink at the kid? Was Marleau wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively? Making kissy faces? Fucking Boston, man.

But this was good. Rozanov flirting with everyone, not just Shane. This way it'd be less suspicious when they are flirting together.

'Right back at you, brother.' Marleau winked at Rozanov when his staring contest with Hansen was broken by the definitely-not-a-rookie, hiding his face in his hands. 'I'm sure there must be gay players all over league just thirsting after you.'

The Raiders groaned. Metros gagged. There were some additional sound effects Hayden didn't have words for.

Why the fuck would he even say that? He would fucking kill him.

The only reason Marleau was still breathing was JJ, snorting so loud with laughter, beer coming out of his nose, that no one could look anywhere but at him. A perfect distraction.

'You good, Boiziau? What, you don't think we're pretty?' Marleau teased him, fluttering his eyelashes this time in a mocking flirt.

JJ had to cough a couple of times before his voice came back to him.

'Not really my type, sorry. But, uh, I'm sure there's someone out there who's into overrated hockey players with too much hair product.'

Hayden laughed. He tried to add something, keep the bickering going, but Rozanov noticed, shutting him down right as he opened his mouth.

'Ew, Pike.' He dismissively waved his arm, 'Unlike your wife, Marley has standards.'

Hayden could only call him an asshole in response. An expected reaction that earned him an expected laugh back.

'No, I am very nice actually, I just don't like you,' Rozanov corrected him. 'Or most Montreal players.'

'You're very nice,' Hayden repeated, sceptical. He did not bring attention to the admission behind the word most.

'Yes. Very,' Rozanov nodded, all serious. 'Philanthropic sometimes.'

'Really?' Hayden didn't bother to hide his disbelief. Neither did most of the guys, laughing with him. Rozanov looked around, but not even his own team could meet his eyes without a chuckle on their lips.

He scanned the whole party anyway, finally landing on Shane and Hayden could swear there was a whole conversation in their eyes in the second they faced each other. Concluded by the tiniest nod from Shane. Like this was something they had… planned?

'You don't think I can be philanthropic. Maybe I start charity to show you,' Rozanov announced to a laughter of the room. 'You do not believe this?'

'Not that you wouldn't, Roz,' Marleau conceded, 'just uh, sounds like a lot of work. Paperwork. Finances. And you are so not good with money, bro.'

'No good? Then how come I always have money?'

'Roz, how many cars do you have? And how long since you bought the last one?' St. Simon took Marleau's side.

'Is investment,' protested Rozanov, to another round of laughter.

'Cars are terrible investment, Rozanov,' Shane offered his advice, rolling his eyes. Rozanov replied by repeating the gesture back at him.

'Ooh, Mr Finance, Mr I-know-everything, why don't you then tell me how to run a charity?'

'Maybe I will,' Shane shook his shoulders. 'If you ask nicely.'

'I won't. Maybe you should anyway. We'll see if you really are so smart. Or if is just pretty talk,' Rozanov replied. Hayden could not shake the feeling that he was not supposed to be seeing this. Maybe none of them were, it felt too personal.

'Maybe more people send money if Hollander supports me,' Rozanov turned to the rest of the table, gesturing widely. 'He will do photos in wet shirt like for commercial? But for charity? Then people race to send money.'

Shane did not dignify it with more than his middle finger. It was still too much. The smile, the fucking eye contact — something most of the team had not received from Shane like, ever — Hayden wasn't sure if they were so damn obvious to everyone or just those who knew.

'I think it would be a little tacky,' Shane continued with a sigh, as if he was really considering the idea. 'Besides, you should really get someone who does PR for your charity, to decide that for you.'

Rozanov pretended to yawn at the idea.

Shane rolled his eyes, but he turned to the table, pointedly making eye contact with each of the Metros now. 'And you fuckers better send big fucking checks, or its bag skates for everyone!'

Rozanov just turned to Raiders with a lazy, 'What he said.'

Like this thing was actually happening.

______

Hayden couldn't remember the last time he was so excited as when the manager came to their table, letting them know it was time to place the last orders for the night. Oh, the idea of stretching on the massive bed in his hotel room. He sighed wistfully, not caring who would hear.

The last thing he wanted to hear was, 'Everyone coming back to my place?'

So they filled into cabs, Hayden squished next to JJ and Miitka, the seat not kind to their combined shoulder width. He'd already lost track of everyone else, how many cabs would it take to get them all there. Barely summoning enough brain power to repeat the address Marleau dictated.

And their hotel was just, right fucking there. They could have walked. Could be in bed already. Instead, here he was, plastered against a greasy cab window, JJ and his 250 pounds on top of him as the ride lulled him slowly to sleep. Yeah, let the fucking party continue or something. He'd be surprised if they didn't all just crush on Marleau's couch immediately.

In the chaos of the cabs arriving and leaving at Marleau's, it was not suspicious when Hayden couldn't see Shane anywhere. He didn't think twice about it, not when his phone vibrated with a tirade of texts.

Poor Jackie, he thought. Amber must be keeping her up all night. When another message pinged, Hayden just hit the call button.

'Hi baby,' he whispered into the receiver, sneaking off around the building to talk to her in peace. Another taxi stopped at the door, but once again neither of the guys getting out were Shane.

'Hey, how's the party?' Jackie asked in a weak voice, Amber's fussing unmistakable in the background. Oh how he wished to be there instead, watching late night TV with Amber sleeping on his chest, Jackie cuddling to his side. He could not remember what prompted him to get on a plane to a fucking Boston. Last year's concussion, maybe.

'Pretty boring, actually,' he brought himself to say when the silence stretched too long. 'Everyone insists on keeping it going, but we're all half-asleep at this point.'

Jackie just chuckled. 'Sounds just like home.' Amber cried in acknowledgement.

'I wished I stayed home with you, I miss you so much,' he admitted.

'Babe, no. One of us has to get out, so I can keep living vicariously through you,' she reminded him and Hayden knew she was fishing some for gossip.

'Jacks, I told you, the guys don't really talk about anything you'd find interesting. Mostly shop talk, really.'

Okay, so he was lying a little. Maybe a lot, if Shane dating Rozanov counted, but that was technically not today's gossip, so it probably didn't.

But if Jackie caught a whiff of something juicy, he would spend the rest of the night on this terrace, explaining every detail of his best friend's love life. Which, Shane gave him permission to do, but this was definitely not the time nor place.

So he asked about the kids. Described his hotel room, sighing as he resigned that he would not get to sleep in it. The restaurant they stopped for dinner and the burger he ordered. The one room he saw of Marleau's house before he escaped to talk to her. Hearing the regular breathing and soft baby cooing, he continued, describing the buildings he could see in the neighbourhood. Only when Jackie's breathing turned to soft wheezing, he silently clicked off.

When he returned to the living room, the party looked about as lively as expected. The couch was littered with discarded hockey players, dozing off in uncomfortably looking piles. Those still playing at being alive had moved on to the kitchen, sharing late night (or early morning) beers.

Their hotel had been right there. So quiet. So nice.

Hayden sighed, still thinking about that nice, big bed as he stretched out in an armchair.

When he came to again, the room was full of light. And buzzing with movement. Hayden stretched with a yawn, almost sliding out of the chair, his back cracking in protest. Fucking hell. His PT was going to kill him when they get back to Montreal.

'Fucking finally!' JJ's words assaulted him before his hand even landed on his shoulder.

'What do you want?' Hayden asked almost pleadingly. Asking, really, to go bother someone else.

'Have you see Hollander since the bar?' JJ asked. Hayden had to process each word individually. Hollander. Shane. His best friend. Black hair, plays hockey. Bar. In Boston. Long table. Fake plants. Drinks. Drinks. Drinks. Shane in the bar. Shane in front of the bar, waiting for taxis with the rest of them. Shane… nope. No more Shane.

He looked at JJ. 'Isn't he…?'

'I looked fucking everywhere,' JJ confirmed, throwing up his arms.

Fuck. That was bad.

From somewhere to his right, maybe the kitchen, he heard another exclamation.

'Has anyone seen Roz?'