Chapter Text
Centaurs Group Chat
9:50 pm
Bood: I’m adding the rookie
Bood: Don’t be dicks
Zane Boodram has added Luca Haas to the chat
Haas: Hi everyone. Thanks for adding me Mr. Bood
Bood: Its just Bood kid
Sorry
Chewy (Choinard): Welcome rook
Boyle: Welcome to the worst team
Bood: I said don’t be a dick
Boyle: I’m not wrong
Bood: At least give the kid hope
Hayes: Ignore them
Hayes: We have potential
Dykstra: We throw good parties to make up for sucking
Pointy(LaPointe): Yeah, BBQ attendance is mandatory
Good to know
I have hope we’ll be good this year
*Pointy, Bergy (Holmberg), Young and 4 others laughed at this message
Rozanov: Young and naive
Hayes: Who taught you naive?
Rozanov: classic movie musical
Rozanov: Sound of Music
Hayes: Lisa loves that movie
Hayes: Julie Andrews is a queen
Bood: Let the kid have hope Roz
Bood: You ARE the CAPTAIN
It's really okay
Rozanov: As CAPTAIN everyone should go to bed
Rozanov: Early practice tomorrow
Barely Adults Chat
10:08pm
Alexander LaPointe has added Luca Haas to the chat
Pointy: This is the cool people chat Luca
Haas: Thanks
I think
Bergy: We're not kids the adults can’t tell us shit
Bergy: Off ice
Young: Yeah
Can I ask a question?
Pointy: You just did but shoot
What’s Rozanov like
Bergy: Oh boy
Bergy: He’s cool when he does hang with us
Pointy: He kinda prefers to keep to himself
Pointy: But Bergy’s right, he’s cool when he does come to things
Young: He’s great on ice
Pointy: Obviously
Pointy: You’ll understand as the season starts
Okay
Time zones suck still, so I’m going to sleep
Night
Pointy: Oof forgot you moved here
Pointy: Goodnight to all I guess
Bergy: See ya tomorrow
Young: Night
Luca walked into the locker room the next morning, a full 45 minutes early. At first glance, it seemed like he was the first one there, but then he heard a slight murmur of a conversation coming from an adjacent office of some sort. A few minutes later, after putting his base layer on and sitting down to mess with his gear, Rozanov walked out of the “office” still on the phone.
“Ya lyublyu tebya, moy kotonok (I love you, my kitten). See you soon.”
Luca had to quickly school his features. Ilya was obviously used to no one else knowing Russian. And this was the first time Luca had heard him say anything more than a curse word or two. Should he say something? Get this out of the way now? But Ilya Rozanov just called someone a kitten and said that they loved them, and it was clear he genuinely meant it. Rozanov was in love, and he was also now looking at Luca.
“Morning, Haas. You’re early.”
“You’re also early.” He chickened out, chose the path of least resistance and awkwardness.
“True. You ready for the big leagues, rook?” Rozanov smirked and sat down at his locker, already in his base layer, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I guess we’ll find out.” He did his best to be honest but also joke through the blush that rose the longer he kept eye contact with Rozanov. He was met with a laugh from his captain and the door to the locker room opening.
“Damn, the rookie beat us and has Cap laughing,” Nathaniel Holmberg exclaimed as he, along with Alexander LaPointe and James Young, walked in. Rozanov just shook his head and started putting his gear on.
“What happened to ‘time zones suck,’ Haas? This was going to be the one time we got here early.” LaPointe yawned, clearly still half asleep, as he dropped his stuff in the locker next to Luca’s.
“Time zone changes do suck. Which is why I went to bed after we talked. You clearly stayed up longer.” LaPointe gasped and made a jester of fake offense at Luca’s comment, causing all to laugh, including Rozanov.
The door opened again, welcoming in Zane Boodram, Wyatt Hayes, and Nick Choinard. All three scanned the room as if it were a crime scene before saying anything.
“I’m seeing all four of them, right?” Bood asked.
“Take a picture so we have evidence.” Hayes chimed in. “This may never happen again.”
“The ‘rookies’ reporting for duty.” Young saluted toward all four of the senior players in the room, the rest of the “rookies” following suit.
Once again, laughter filled the room as everyone got ready, the rest of the players trickling in. As Luca taped his stick, the Centaurs' new coach, Brandon Wiebe, walked in, clipboard and iPad in hand.
“Listen up,” Wiebe called out, and everyone went silent. “First preseason game is in three days; roster deadline is in just over two weeks. Some of the development guys will be in practice and might play in the preseason. For today, we’ll start with a few drills and then a scrimmage.” There was a murmur of agreement before he added, “ Any words, Captain?”
Ilya’s head snapped in Coach’s direction, caught off guard by the query. All eyes were on him before he attempted to speak.
“We have potential, and we have me. There is hope for the season.” His tone was matter-of-fact, no bravado, just said as if he was in a press interview. Rozanov wasn’t entirely done- well done in English anyway.
“Nadezhda bespolezna bez masterstva. (Hope is useless without skill).” Ilya yelled as if it were a chant, and everyone cheered- everyone except Luca, who just smiled.
“If only we knew Russian,” LaPointe said next to him.
If only indeed.