Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jake Merrell loved playing in a PPD unit. It wasn't a good position for his team, he knew, but hockey was never more fun than when he was playing at a handicap. Since he was currently doing drills with his team, he got all the fun with almost no stress.

He partner for this unit was Jamie Wagner. Quicksilver and beautifully trained Jaime, who boasted the speed and stamina of a fresh nineteen year old with the lifetime of training that came with being a Wagner. They were doing a difficult drill--the opposing unit had Hollander, Pike, and Xie, with Mitty and J.J. at the D-line--but they had the puck. They kept passing it between them, trying to stick close to Babikov and Passey, one of their new rookies.

With Jamie keeping up, they managed to advanced on Hollander's line and on the next pass, Jamie scored on Drapeau.

Drapeau startled, as though he'd been a little spaced out, but still. It was a goal from a penalty position. Jake grinned, skated over to Jamie, and threw an arm around his shoulder for a quick, celebratory hug.

And Jamie flinched. Like he'd been electrocuted.

Jake slid away from him, noting how wide the boy's hazel eyes got, as Hollander skated closer to them.

"Good job," said Hollander.

"Thanks," said Jake, still watching Jamie. "Can I get a couple of minutes? I need to readjust my skates."

Hollander nodded and signaled to the coaches. Two fingers up, for exactly two minutes of break time.

"Can I get ten?" asked Jake.

"A 'couple' is two," said Hollander.

Jake paused for a careful breath. "Yes, Shane, that's true. On second thought, I think I could use ten minutes, if possible."

For a moment, it looked like Hollander wanted to argue. His dark eyes flitted between them before he nodded to Jake and skated over to the coaches. The instant one of them signaled a ten minute break, Jamie made a break for it and skated over to one of the benches. The empty one.

What was that about?

Jake went over to where the other guys were sitting to go through the motions of adjusting his skates. He saw Hollander begin a set of stretches with a few of the guys. Nikki skated over to Jamie's bench and sat a couple of feet away from him without a word. No one paid any attention to them. A few moments later, Coach Wiebe went over to chat with them.

Maybe there was nothing to pay attention to. The rookies got along. Everyone more or less got along this season. Two months in, and the Voyageurs had zero scandals. Their rookies were playing well and their recruited free agents were taking to their roles without complaints or drama. They were winning too; a whopping seventy-five percent of their games so far. The talking heads were swearing that, at minimum, the Voyageurs would make it to the quarterfinals. The gambling websites, always more bullish, had insane bets that they would keep the Cup in Montreal.

It was too early to be so confident, like Hollander kept reminding them. It was possible to defend the Cup, of course, but far from a guarantee. Jake would like to push back at him for killing the vibe, but he wasn't wrong. Two months was nothing. Their first two months last season had been really good. The entire season had been good, play wise. They'd just made the fucking playoffs when--

Not that something like that would happen again. Jake needed to pull himself together and stop looking for phantoms.

The rest of training passed without further incident.

"Guys, let's all rest properly tonight," Hollander told them in the locker room. "We send the Panthers back to Vegas with their tail between their legs tomorrow and start our next roadie with one last victory on home ice."

"Yes, Captain," chorused the team.

"Uh, if anyone's interested, I'll be watching the tapes of their last two games tonight," said Hollander. "I have room for five people at my place. First come basis."

Jake would not be joining them. The day before home games, he made an effort to spend time with his family. Maybe Xiaoyan would want to go to a nice restaurant, or show, or something else out in the city. Or she might want to stay home sipping tea and catching up during one of the few on-season nights when Jake got home with energy to spare. He shot her a text that he would be picking Lina up at school and she would handle the rest.

Their daughter was still young enough that she thought Jake was a superhero and, from he'd heard from guys with older kids, that wouldn't last. Soon enough, Lina would decide that he was the lamest being on Earth, or at least act like it, and then it would be too late to intervene if she started going down a bad path.

"Hayden, can I talk to you for a sec?" Jake asked, when they were on the way to the parking lot.

Most early days, Jake rushed out of the rink in a futile attempt to beat Montreal's afternoon traffic. Today, though, there was something eating at him.

"Yeah, what's up?" said Hayden.

If something was going on, then Hayden Pike--jokingly referred to as Shane's work wife because he always seemed available to help his teammates, almost like he was the actual captain--would know about it. Perhaps more importantly, Wagner was playing as Hayden's left wing on the second line, meaning that Hayden had spent way more time with him than Jake.

"Bro?" said Hayden.

Jake looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear them. Several yards away from them, Hollander was walking out with Drapeau, J. J., and Comeau. The new rookies, Cole Passey and Mykola Koval, trailed behind them like eager puppies. Passey was a limber boy from Chicago who had taken the fourth line center position now that Carmichael was playing right wing for Comeau. Koval was a bulky Ukrainian partnering with Miitka on the D-lines. When they turned the corner, Jake looked back to Hayden.

"I wanted to ask about Wagner. What are your thoughts on him?"

"He's quiet, I guess," said Hayden, after thinking for a couple of seconds. He shrugged. "But I haven't noticed any serious issues. He plays as well as everyone expected him to, gets along with the other rooks, seems like a team player. Why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure yet," admitted Jake, wondering if he was making a mountain out of a molehill. "It's just. . ." He sighed. "Babikov is quiet. Koval is quiet."

"Koval knows enough English to order food at a restaurant," said Hayden.

"Right," hummed Jake. He wasn't quiet in the same way that Wagner was quiet.

Koval was expressive; he pointed at things, followed Babikov around asking for random translations, tried to join in when the team went to bars. When his forwards scored, at games or during practice, he hugged them and bumped fists with them. He was often roughhousing with Jeremy and Passey.

Wagner, by contrast, hung around the other rookies staring at his feet.

Okay, that was probably an exaggeration.

"Jake, did you notice something?" asked Hayden.

"No," Jake said. Too quickly.

Hayden stared at him.

"I don't want to blow something out of proportion," said Jake. "Who's he rooming with?"

"Mitty," said Hayden, reaching for his phone. "Let me see if he's still around."

Soren Miitka, the veteran defenseman who had been assigned to room with Wagner for the season, was still at the weights section of their gym, putting in a few sets before leaving for the night. Hayden offered Jake a questioning look. If they went back in, then they could expect to hit peak rush hour. Jake sighed and sent Xiaoyan another message.

Sorry, could you please send the sitter to pick up Lina? Something came up on my end.

A few minutes later, Miitka seemed a little annoyed to be interrupted, then confused by Jake's line of questioning. "What do you mean what do I think of Wagner?" he asked, wiping at his sweaty forehead with his towel.

"Like, do you see anything off about him?" said Jake.

The way Miitka narrowed his eyes made Jake wonder if he wasn't giving the wrong impression. He searched for a way to clarify things only to realize that he didn't actually know what the fuck he was talking about. The more time passed, the stupider he felt for going on a quest over what might have been an imagined uncomfortable moment with a teammate.

"Mitty, we're just wondering how the rooks are settling, is all," said Hayden. "Since you're rooming with Jamie, we figured you might have something to add."

"Yeah, exactly," said Jake.

Miitka still looked at little hesitant, but he seemed to give the question some thought. "He's not what I expected," he said, stroking his chin. "Ops people tell me I'm rooming with Prince Wagner, who's just been traded, and I get ready for a little rooster with a chip on his shoulder."

Jake and Hayden glanced at each other. Had either of them ever heard Wagner so much as raise his voice?

"But he's fine," Miitka went on, with a little shrug. "Clean, organized, quiet, polite, never complains if I ask him to clear our room for me and a bunny--"

"--bro, what about your fiance?" asked Hayden.

"I can't take her with me on the road," said Miitka, rolling his eyes when both Jake and Hayden made faces at him. "Don't give me any American prudishness, please. Cajsa and I have an arrangement."

"Dude, we're both Canadian," said Hayden.

"Back to Wagner," said Jake, before the conversation could devolve into how advanced Europeans were. "You were saying."

"Maybe it's nothing," said Miitka, "but the kid is. . . too polite. He will ask if I need anything before he goes to sleep. Or if he can use the shower, even if I already showered first."

Without being present, it was hard to say how off that was. Wagner might just be really conscientious to roommates and Miitka was only talking about it because Jake came in to fish for info.

"When the other rooks call him to go and watch cartoons or whatever," Miitka went on, "he'll ask me if he can go. Or maybe he just tells me? In case I'll wonder where he is or something? Why would I care if he crashes with the other rooks?"

"Why haven't you said anything?" asked Jake.

"The boy's not a problem, Merrell," said Miitka. "I didn't want to go and make a stink over nothing. Besides, I told him he doesn't need to ask me, and now he goes 'Miitka, I'll be going over to so-and-so's room tonight'. So, it's fine. I don't want to rag on him too much."

"That's a good point," said Jake. "Can I ask that we keep this little talk between us?"

"Not sure what we're even talking about," said Miitka, laying back on the chest press bench.

Out by the parking lot, Hayden paused and looked around nervously as a chilly, wet breeze batted at them. "I get what you mean, okay?" he said, after a few moments. "The kid seems spooked. But that might just be pressure from being a Wagner--you know how intense these hockey families can be. Who knows what the trade was about, or if anyone back home is saying it was his fault, or if something completely unrelated is going on."

"Or if anything is going on at all," added Jake. "Some nineteen-year-olds are quiet and awkward. It doesn't have to be a big deal."

"Right," nodded Hayden. "Anyway, I'm keeping an eye out and I think the rough edges will smooth out on their on. Jamie gets along with Jeremy and the other rooks, he's playing well. . ."

"I know, I know," said Jake, squeezing his eyes shut. "Hayden, I'm not complaining about the kid, just. . . I need to relax, I guess. Just seeing things. Nothing bad--I don't think Wagner is gonna do anything."

Fuck, what would he even do?

They paid each other hesitant, uncomfortable goodbyes and Jake retreated to his car to do the breathing exercises he learned a few months ago from the therapist Xiaoyan had cajoled him into seeing post-Thompson incident. He hadn't thought he needed it and stopped going after the third session, when the lady looked at him and asked point-blank if any part of him blamed himself for what had happened.

Jake didn't blame anyone but Thompson, and the fucker was dead already. The only thing left to do was move on. He didn't need a freaking therapist to realize that. The breathing exercises were okay, though. Grounding and all the other shit the meditation gurus insisted on.

He would do them while stuck in fucking traffic if only he didn't need to sort of pay attention to the road. Which might as well have turned into a fucking parking lot. Sighing, Jake checked on the group chat.

Voyageurs

Cole Passey
is anyone seeing the rumors about the Panthers?
one of their D-men? Wilkes
his girlfriend is saying he raped her

Patrice Drapeau
seeing it now on ESPN
looks like the police was called to their home earlier today for a domestic disturbance
there are unpleasant pics of the girl looking beat up

Hayden Pike
oh damn

Shane Hollander
@James_Wagner this is your brother's team
do you have any info

James Wagner
no
sorry

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
league put out a statement that they're putting Wilkes on reserve until "further communications with law enforcement"

Dylan Xie
at least they're not immediately defending him

Gilbert Comeau
we don't know what this chick did

Nikolai Babikov
look at the pictures of them
she's like half his size

Greg Cornick
my girl met this chick at some WAG meet up thing
says she seemed nice

Shane Hollander
we don't need to get into an argument about this
Wilkes is one player and not even a top tier Panther so we have to focus

Gilbert Comeau
I'm not fighting anyone
just saying we don't know the full story

Jeremy McAllister
that's not what you said

Shane Hollander
guys we will not let a domestic dispute in another team cause problems for us
it's true we don't know what's going on and also true that men shouldn't be assaulting their WAGs
drop it

Hayden Pike
yes that's for the best
let's just focus on the game tomorrow
we're going on the road after for like three weeks so let's enjoy home ice while we can

About half an hour later, after being parked behind the same traffic light for five minutes, Jake indulged his morbid curiosity and looked up news on the Panthers. The unpleasant pictures Drapeau mentioned were plastered all over the internet, in multiple 'news' sites and random blog posts from MLH fans of varying levels of repute. Jake was hardly an expert in bruising patterns, but some looked fresher than others.

Jared Wilkes' wife alleges years of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse; Leaked pictures show her leaving hotel room with AHL player!

Jake closed the window and glared at the traffic light a few yards ahead of him. The light turned green, but the car in front of him remained stubbornly still. Some vehicle behind him honked, as if making noise would somehow force traffic to move along. Jake took a deep breath, trying not to curse himself for not rushing out of the rink when he had the chance.

He would tell himself that, whatever else was going on, at least he didn't have to worry about one of his teammates pulling a Wilkes. But he didn't really know that, did he? Last season, he would never have imagined that Thompson would do what he did. Jake hadn't been close with the man, but he'd assessed the veteran defenseman as a mature adult who was perhaps holding out a few more seasons in the MLH to pad out his savings.

Even after he'd stopped the man from choking out one of their rookies in a sudden fit of rage, Jake told himself that the guy had anger issues. Maybe homophobia issues. Obviously, there had to be consequences for his outburst, if only to ensure the younger guys in the team didn't get it in their heads that it was okay to start actual physical fights at work. Jake was simply too old to be concerned that his coworkers might start breaking each other's noses before games, thank you very much.

Theriault had agreed with him and suspended Thompson for. . . Jake didn't remember how long the suspension would have been. He'd never seen Thompson again after that day. No one had. Because Thompson drove home, killed his wife and son, and then set their house on fire with himself still inside.

Obviously, it had been an extreme reaction. One that no one could have predicted or prevented. The team hadn't even taken a day off work because, why would they? The people affected were all dead, after all. Thompson had been a low-tier D-man so even their strategy for the season hadn't been affected to any significant degree. By now, even the seedy true crime genre of deranged content creators had moved on to greener pastures.

Jake was stuck in traffic for almost hour, long enough that he promised himself once again that he would start taking the light rail out of the city. He knew he was bullshitting himself--since the Voyageurs had brought the Stanley Cup back to Montreal, the team had been practically deified. Jake, as a first line forward and Eastern conference MVP, would be recognized too often. He might enlist a driver from Player Services, but then he would be in the backseat doomscrolling or further frying his brain in group chats.

The game against the Panthers was shaping up to be a slog. It was the middle of the second period and neither team had scored, though both had certainly tried. Both coaches kept cycling their first and second lines, which meant that half of the teams were growing fatigued while the other halves grew restless. The crowd was getting rowdy too, perhaps annoyed at the lack of action. So far, there hadn't been any penalties.

Above them, the gambler screens kept updating bets about when exactly the first goal of the game would be accomplished. Jake blinked at the numbers, wondering if he shouldn't have his vision checked. Who the fuck was betting twenty thousand cold dollars that he specifically would score first, and just five minutes into third period? How did they know he'd be playing during the first part of third period, anyway? Did someone have psychic connection to Theriault?

"Guess they're not bothered by this domestic scandal," huffed Comeau, while they waited for second period to start. He gestured at the other bench, where the Panthers looked pretty relaxed.

"Told you we should expect as much," said Hollander.

One of the Panthers leaned at the edge of their bench. "Hey, Jamie! You can join our celebration after we beat your new team's ass!"

Wagner peered out from behind Miitka and made a noncommittal noise at the Panther--Wagner-36. One of the brothers, then. Jack, probably, since he was built like a D-man. He had a broader face than Jamie and sported a thick, light brown beard with scattered blond highlights, but his eyes were the same bright hazel shade.

"We'll send him over to help lick your wounds," said J.J.

The two D-man postured at each other for a bit before returning their attentions to their teams. Wag--Jamie remained quiet throughout the interaction. He didn't look concerned or embarrassed. Or much of anything, really. Maybe he was just a quiet kid.

The third period of a game locked at zero-zero usually made the teams more aggressive, and this time was no different. It opened with a face off between the third lines, which Comeau won. The Voyageurs lost the puck less than a minute later, when a Panther D-man crashed into Carmichael and sent him to his knees. Before the refs had made a call, Bilash was on the guy, spurred by cheers from the home crowd. Cornick soon joined the fray. By the end of it, both teams had earned a minor penalty.

Theriault picked Wagner and Xie for the next play; they both played left wing, but Jamie was versatile enough to take right. Hollander huffed and glanced his way as J.J. and Nik followed them. Jake nodded at Hollander. They both knew what was happening. Theriault was having them rest in case the game went overtime.

The kids pushed for a little over two minutes and then Xie took one his now-infamous crazy shots.

"Yes!" hissed Hollander as the buzzer blared and the crowd burst into ecstatic cheers.

Jake watched as Xie fist-bumped Jamie and then pulled him into a loose hug. Up on the jumbotron, their flushed, grinning faces took up the screen.

There, thought Jake. Normal celebratory response. No need to start a forensic investigation.

Out on the ice, Jack Wagner caught up to the Voyageurs as they skated back to their box and lightly bumped the back of Jamie's helmet.

And then shit hit the fan.

Jamie pushed Xie--who had been skating next to him--so hard that Xie stumbled and fell to his knees. As Jamie shot away, Babikov tackled Jack Wagner, slamming him against the boards. Hollander shot to his feet. A full on brawl was well underway by the time he made it out to the ice.

It took Hollander and J.J. to hold Babikov back. And to defend him from irate Panthers shouting that he was a psycho. Jamie hovered by the bench, hunched in on himself as he watched medics examining his brother.

The referee hit Babikov with a five minute major despite Hollander's attempt to argue that Jack Wagner had been the one to start the whole thing by tapping his brother. The replay of the interaction made it very clear that Jamie's reaction had been surprising and Babikov's subsequent tackle a wild overreaction.

By the end of the penalty period, the Panthers had scored two goals. Not the worst outcome, all things considered, but then the Voyageurs failed to score. Not only did they not go into overtime, they also lost the game.

"What the fuck happened?" Theriault demanded next day, after replaying the few seconds prior to the fight.

The Voyageurs had been ordered to arrive at the rink early to review the tape before setting out for the airport. It looked like Theriault had decided that the brawl in the beginning of third period was to blame for their lost the previous day. And that Wagner was to blame for the brawl. When no one responded, he played the clip again.

In the quiet, calm atmosphere of one of the conference room, it sure looked like Jack Wagner had meant to tease his little brother, and then said little brother abruptly pushed his teammate and skated off. Babikov, slowly skating behind them without paying attention, had seen an opposing D-man near his forwards--one fallen on the ice and the other one fleeing--and decided to do some defending.

"Well?" said Theriault.

"S-sorry, sir," said Wagner, face flushed, gaze fixed on the screen. "I was startled."

"Presumably, you knew who was right next to you," said Theriault.

"Sir, it was the last period of a rough game," tried Jake.

Theriault shot him an angry look and signaled at him to shut up. "And Babikov," he hissed. "Why would you attack an opponent outside of play?"

"I thought he pushed Dylan," shrugged Babikov.

"And you just rush without thinking? Without orders?"

"Yeah," said Babikov.

Theriault's face went cherry red and Jake rubbed his eyes. The league had announced this morning that Jack Wagner had a cracked rib and would be on short term injury reserve for two weeks. Babikov might have been fined and suspended for at least as long, but Wagner himself had said in one of the Panthers' reels that he considered the whole thing a misunderstanding.

"Sorry, sir!" interjected Dylan. "I shouldn't have stumbled like that--Jamie didn't even push me that hard--but I wasn't expecting it."

Out the corner of his eye, Jake saw Jamie squirm.

"Not that it was his fault either!" added Dylan. "I should've been paying more attention too."

"Sir, I take responsibility too," said Hollander. "We clearly need to work on our discipline. And our PK units."

Nice sentiment, but it did not stop Theriault from shouting himself hoarse for the next few minutes, until he had to turn around to catch his breath. It was obvious that he was embarrassed by the fuck up, which meant one of them was about to be punished.

"To conclude," Theriault said, without turning back around to face them. "Such behavior cannot be tolerated. Babikov, you're benched for the next game."

Thank God the man wasn't looking at them because Nik had the gall to shrug. Hollander glared daggers at him and Dylan nudged him with his foot.

"Alright, sir," mumbled Babikov.

They were all a little subdued during the flight. Well, most of them were. Babikov settled between Xie and Koval with his Nintendo Switch, explaining things to Koval in Russian. Jamie was over a couple rows away, seated by himself. When Jeremy plopped down next to him, he put on some headphones. Jake sighed and headed to the back of the plane. The beginning of a flight was never the right time to start a difficult conversation.

He wasn't sure there was a conversation to start, anyway.

Social media was abuzz with speculation about the incident. To be expected, Jake supposed. On-ice drama was theoretically less depressing than the league's latest domestic abuse scandal.

From what Jake could gather perusing the tags, Jamie had emerged as the undisputed villain among hockey fans at large. Babikov wouldn't have assumed Jack was attacking Xie if Jamie hadn't freaked out, of course. The bros were not moved by arguments that if Babikov's head hadn't been up in the clouds, he'd have seen what happened.

There were the usual comments that Xie was once again the problem--that he had used mysterious wiles to drive the players around him insane. It was getting difficult to tell how much of that was incomprehensible shitposting.

The team group chat was hit with a flurry of activity.

Voyageurs

Patrice Drapeau
looks like Wilkes' girl is withdrawing all charges
league announced Wilkes if off reserve

Cole Passey
what about those pictures?

Patrice Drapeau
mysterious accident

Hayden Pike
that sucks

Gilbert Comeau
she withdrew the charges

Shane Hollander
guys drop it
we have our shit to deal with

Mykola Koval
internet says she is a beard
what does this mean?

Greg Cornick
that's when a gay guy gets a fake girlfriend so he doesn't look gay

Mykola Koval
what?
how does this help?
is beard face hair?

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
someone get Koval off the translation apps
Nikki get on it

Gilbert Comeau
if the girl is a beard than why would Wilkes have beat her up for cheating?
makes no sense

Cole Passey
you don't want your beard to make you look like a cuck
might as well touch your own balls

Hayden Pike
what?

Cole Passey
you know
you have a beard to not look gay
but touching your balls is gay

Soren Miitka
what

Jake Merrell
I need a new job

Dylan Xie
Passey wtf are you talking about

Cole Passey
come on guys don't act like you don't know
touching balls is obviously gay

Jeremy McAllister
what's happening?
is this a homophobic joke?
we don't do that in this team

Shane Hollander
if touching your own balls is gay then how do you jerk off?

Jake Merrell
People would think I autogenerated these texts

Cole Passey
I'm not homophobic
but what do you mean Shane?
you don't need to touch your own balls to jerk off

Soren Miitka
if touching your balls is gay
then touching your dick is even gayer

Shane Hollander
good point

Cole Passey
no because you *have* to touch your dick to jerk off
you don't have to touch your balls

Nikolai Babikov
also you have to touch your balls at least once a month to check for tumors
they said in health class

Patrice Drapeau
i didn't realize Americans had health class

Hayden Pike
you have to touch your balls daily to *wash* them

Cole Passey
that's different too!
ball touching for hygiene purposes is exempt

Greg Cornick
I can't believe I'm saying this but I am on the ball touching team

Jake Merrell
good God

Greg Cornick
it feels good when your girls does it and it also feels good when you do it yourself
don't be fucking lazy