Archive of Our Own

Today is one of those days. A good day by default: energy high at practice, all cheery faces and clasps on the back. It doesn’t matter that Wiebe had them doing suicides at the end of practice- it barely faded the general buzz in the air, although it did garner some of them laying out on the ice afterward, huffing and puffing. 

“Jesus,” LaPointe grumbles. He shoots a glare at Wiebe, though it lacks heat. “Are you trying to kill us, Coach?” Wiebe raises an eyebrow. LaPointe sighs, tacks on, “Just wondering ‘cause I really loved it, Coach. No problem with running suicides whatsoever. Like at all. None.”  

Laying on the ice beside him, Holmberg snorts. 

Luca rolls his eyes as he pumps some water into his mouth from his plastic water bottle, his own hair damp with sweat, skin flushed with exertion. LaPointe’s right. Wiebe is trying to kill them. 

He startles when there’s an arm around his shoulder. He knows it’s Shane without needing to look up; Shane’s body is all strong lines, definitive movements compared to Ilya. Ilya’s more flashy with it. He’d probably smack a kiss to his temple, grinning with his teeth- the curve of that smile, the press of those teeth lingering far too long against Luca’s skin. 

Luca steers his thoughts away from that. God. 

“Tired, Haasy?” Shane murmurs, voice low and near his ear. 

Luca shoots him a smile, a flush trailing up his cheeks at Shane’s proximity, the pressure of his arm across Luca’s shoulder. It’s like… a weighted blanket. Shane always has that effect- warm and heavy, comforting in a way that leaves Luca feeling grounded, anchored. Jesus, fuck. He hopes the suicides are enough cover up for his heating cheeks. 

Ilya skates up towards the two of them. He ruffles Luca’s hair and then kisses his husband, loud and sloppy and more like a smack, smiling as he does. 

Like clockwork, Young groans, “Get a room.” 

Ilya flips him the bird. He winks at Luca. “Coming out tonight, Haasy?” 

Luca nods, hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strangled as it feels sitting in his throat. “Yup.” 

Shane smiles. With one squeeze to his shoulder, he steers off with Ilya, presumably towards the locker rooms. 

Luca watches them go. When he looks down at his teammates laying on the ice, seemingly making no indication of getting up, he’s met with shit eating grins. 

“You’re fuckin’ blushin’, dude,” Holmberg snorts. 

Young nods. “C’mon, man, you’ve gotta get laid. Like, stat. This crush is getting out of hand.” 

“Luca and Shane and Ilya sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g-”

“I hate you,” Luca hisses. “I do not have a crush on them. I do not want to kiss them.”

By the looks of it, arguing against them on the topic seems futile. It always is. It’s a little embarrassing, really, Luca’s pining. They all know it. Get a fucking grip, Luca Haas. 

LaPointe wags his eyebrow knowingly. “I never said you wanted to.” 

“I hate you,” Luca repeats, shooting them a stink-eye as he pushes off towards the locker room. 

˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔

Feeling a little frazzled, Luca heads straight to the showers, stands under the scalding water until he feels marginally more put together. When he checks his phone after his post-practice shower, adorned in a pair of cozy black sweatpants and a Centaurs t-shirt, he blinks in surprise. 

Well. A good day, indeed?

Luca chooses to believe that the swooping sensation in his gut is from anticipation- butterflies, even. He hasn’t heard from Romeo in, fuck, has to be almost a year by now.

It had been hard- of course it had- it always is when the line between friends and lovers blur. Romeo had been his friend for many years before they gave dating a try. They hadn’t ended on bad terms, per say. No, the worst that came from their break up didn’t happen until after, when Luca hadn’t been expecting it. He’d lost more than one friend in the fall out.

Shaking himself free of those thoughts- nothing good would come of them, after all- Luca focuses on the swirling in his stomach. Anticipation, yes- excitement- and certainly not dread. Not the anxious, sinking feeling that had accompanied Romeo’s messages towards the end of their relationship.

When Romeo had reached out about being in town, Luca wasn’t sure how he felt initially. Disbelief and surprise, of course- it had been so long. Nerves, a lurch in his gut that Luca couldn’t give a name to, but then… excitement. A chance to reconnect, mend the bridge, catch up with an old friend. And based on Romeo’s most recent reply, maybe a chance for, well, more.

This could be a new, fresh start for them. 

A welcome distraction from his other, far more futile, infatuations. Just like the ones rapidly approaching where he sits in his stall, smiling privately over finally hearing back from Romeo.

Luca instinctively pockets his phone as Ilya plops down next to him and nudges his shoulder playfully. 

“What has you blushing so pretty, Haasy?” Ilya asks him with fond, crinkled eyes and a small smile. Shane smirks, gaze sharp and assessing as it sweeps across Luca’s face.

Huffing out a laugh, Luca is embarrassed to feel his cheeks grow even hotter under the attention. “I’m, ah, I’m just texting a friend.”

Ilya and Shane swap quick, pointed looks.

“A friend?” Ilya asks innocently. “Must be very good friend to deserve such pink cheeks.” 

Luca giggles- actually, humiliatingly giggles- as Ilya pokes at the apples of Luca’s cheeks. Luca bats his hand away and ducks his head to hide his embarrassingly lovesick smile. He hopes both Shane and Ilya mistake the source of the lovesickness, of course. “We actually haven’t spoken in a while,” he admits. “But, uh… he’s in town, I guess. I invited him out to the bar with us, if that’s okay.”

After a moment with no response, Luca glances up to see Ilya and Shane sharing another weighted look, the kind only couples with years of history can exchange. A novel’s worth of meaning in a simple glance.

Finally breaking eye contact with his husband, Shane looks to Luca and smiles. “Which friend is it? Anyone you’ve told us about?”

“Not really,” Luca says, sounding a lot like he means: well, yes. “Just a friend from back home- back in Switzerland, I mean.” 

“Yes, obviously.” Ilya raises an eyebrow, the uptick of his lips resembling something vaguely amused. “A friend, Haasy? You know, Shanya and I were friends at one point.” 

Shane rolls his eyes. “We were never friends.” 

Ilya shoots him a dramatic glare, his arms thrown up in betrayal. “Anyways.” His attention flits back towards Luca. “This friend is in town, hm?” 

“Yeah,” Luca replies. He shifts on his feet, looking back and forth between them. “He said he’s able to make it work to meet up at Monk’s, actually, tonight.” He smiles, earnest as his eyes widen hopefully. “You’ll get to meet him, then?” 

Ilya reaches out and ruffles his hair, wringing an arm around his shoulder. His eyes glint. “Sure, Haasy.” 

Shane seems slightly less interested in meeting Luca’s friend, or at least, that’s what it looks like to Luca when Shane gives him a pinched, reluctant smile. 

“Can’t wait,” Shane says through a mildly clenched jaw. Luca isn’t quite sure why that makes Ilya chuckle. 

He also isn’t quite sure why unease begins to prick at his skin as he visualizes it- Romeo standing shoulder to shoulder with his captains and Luca in the middle of it all, trying to bridge these two worlds of his together. The image in his mind can’t seem to populate correctly, almost like the distance between those parts of Luca’s life is too vast to reconcile. 

Well, Luca thinks as he slings his practice bag over his shoulder and makes to follow Shane and Ilya out of the locker room, won’t have to visualize it for much longer.

Soon- very soon- it’ll be right there in front of him. 

˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔

Monk’s is busy but not packed, familiar in a way that soothes Luca’s lingering nerves as he stands on the sidewalk out front, rocking back and forth on his heels. It isn’t cold cold yet, but there’s certainly a chill in the air and a persistent breeze that has Luca hugging both arms around his midsection. 

His teammates are jovial while they filter into the bar, their voices and laughter growing fainter as the door swings shut, muffling the sound.

A hand clasps Luca’s shoulder, shaking him playfully before withdrawing. Luca turns his head to catch LaPointe walking backwards into the bar, eyebrow arched as he jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“You coming, Haasy?”

“I’ll be inside in a minute,” Luca murmurs, sending him a friendly smile. 

Luca huddles under the miniscule of warmth his thin shirt provides, nose wrinkling as the chill of the evening sets in. His mind drifts to earlier; Ilya’s arm around his shoulder, the piercing of Shane’s gaze. They look so good together. 

There’s the clearing of the throat. Luca startles. “Oh, Rom, hey.” 

Romeo looks just as he did, only now his hair is a little longer and dyed a shade darker. He’s wearing his favorite black jacket, his hands shoved into the pockets, and some dark wash jeans. There’s the same narrowed look in his eyes, a perpetual tick of disdain sprinkled into his expression. 

“Luca,” Romeo answers, voice as it always was, lilted into half-boredom. He tips his head. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” Luca smiles. “You came.” 

Romeo huffs out a breathy laugh. “I said I would, didn’t I?” 

“I guess so.” 

Luca fidgets as Romeo’s eyes sweep over him, almost calculating in their perusal. Luca knows he’s filled out, bulked up, since the last time Romeo has seen him. The rigorous training schedule of a professional hockey player tends to do that. He hopes that it’s a positive response he sees flashing in Romeo’s eyes, that the smirk curling at Romeo’s lips is from appreciation, when his old friend completes his inspection. 

Romeo jerks his head towards the club. “So,” he says, his teeth flashing as he grins at Luca. “Can I buy you a drink, Julie?”

Luca laughs. “Yeah, you can.” 

They’re shoulder to shoulder as they weave through the crowd, the thrumming bass echoing into their bodies. The lights flash around them: an entwine of reds, blues, purples.

As they reach the bar, thankfully far quieter than the bustling dancefloor, Romeo knocks against Luca’s shoulder teasingly. “Still a lightweight?”

Luca rolls his eyes. “You know that I’m not, Rom.”

Romeo chuckles, shaking his head as he flags down the bartender with a flippant wave of two fingers. Once she’s given Romeo a nod in acknowledgment, he looks back at Luca. “Are you sure?” Romeo asks him. He runs a finger down Luca’s arm. “It used to be so easy to get you drunk, Julie. Was fun, back then.”

A tinge of discomfort sticks in Luca’s chest, but he dismisses it and gives Romeo a playful shove. “We’re not teenagers anymore,” Luca says with a chuckle. “It takes more than two gin and tonics to loosen me up, these days.”

Romeo smirks and brings a hand to the nape of Luca’s neck, kneading the skin intentionally. “Noted,” he purrs. Luca shakes off another dredge of uneasiness. 

The bartender flits over with a wide smile and a breathless apology for their wait. Romeo orders for both of them and Luca puts down his card to start a tab. Just as the bartender slides their drinks across the bar for them, Luca spots Shane and Ilya across the room. 

“Hey,” Luca says, nerves suddenly bouncing in his stomach and skittering across his skin. He smiles shakily when Romeo arches a brow at him in question. Luca tugs lightly at the sleeve of Romeo’s jacket, and nods his head towards his Captains. “There’s some people I want you to meet.”

Romeo’s eyes slide lazily across the room towards where Luca had nodded. With a bored sigh and a barely disguised roll of his eyes, Romeo shrugs but allows Luca to lead him towards Shane and Ilya.

Luca’s nerves continue to build the closer they get. The moment his Captains glance up to see him approaching, they both give him a friendly wave. Luca doesn’t understand why he feels so dizzy all of the sudden.

“Hi,” Luca greets them as soon as he’s close enough to be heard over the loud music.

“Luca,” Ilya nods at him with a soft, easy smile. Shane’s eyes are already locked on Romeo, the corner of his mouth pinching almost imperceptibly. 

Luca fidgets anxiously. His mouth opens and closes a few times as he fights down his nerves and tries to find his voice. 

Ilya’s voice is gentle, knowing, when he asks, “Who is your friend, Haasy?”

Luca gives him a grateful smile, and starts, “This is Ro-”

“I don’t know if ‘friend’ is the term I’d use,” Romeo interrupts him, stepping in closer to Luca’s side as he looks between Shane and Ilya.

“Rom,” Luca admonishes. “We met as friends, didn’t we?” 

Romeo rolls his eyes. 

Luca notices Ilya’s jaw tick before his Captain is giving Romeo a scrutinizing once over. When Ilya’s eyes settle back onto Romeo’s face, he says, “Okay.” He and Shane exchange a quick, sidelong glance. “So, you are...?”

The man’s smile is feline. “Romeo.” 

Ilya snorts, openly. “Romeo?” 

Romeo nods, bored as he flickers his gaze between Shane and Ilya. “And you are?”

Luca chuckles nervously, the corner of his eyes pinched as his gaze darts from Romeo to Shane and Ilya and back. “Don’t be silly,” he says to Romeo. “These are my captains, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander. You know who they are.”

“Ah,” Romeo shrugs. “Right. I don’t really partake in the whole,” he waves a hand dismissively, “hockey thing. I’ve never watched, so.” Romeo smiles, but Luca thinks it looks closer to a sneer. “I didn’t recognize you.”

Luca looks at Romeo with a soft furrow in his brow, hopes the hurt pricking in his chest isn’t showing on his face as he asks, “You haven’t watched any of my games?”

Romeo shoots him an exasperated glance, scoffs as if Luca’s question is childish. “I watch the clips our friends send in the group chat. Is that good enough? Fuck.”

“Ah,” Ilya says, lightly, eyeing the two of them. He and Shane exchange a glance. “Yes, you have seen us, though, da, on the posters on Haasy’s wall?” 

“I don’t think so,” Romeo maintains, tone lilted with boredom. He lifts an eyebrow, elbowing Luca. “Julie was scared, you know, of his parents finding out. Which is to say, no, I have not seen these posters. We only ever fucked in my bed, mm?”

This time, hurt does flicker openly across Luca’s expression. 

“Right,” Shane replies, flatly. And, well. He doesn’t know a lot, neither of them do- nobody does. But what they do know, glaringly, is that Luca rarely ever talks about his family back home beyond a mention here and there, beyond a phone call every blue moon. When they had overheard a phone call- once when Luca was over at their place for dinner- the conversation had been cordial, brief. Transactional.

“So,” Romeo continues, ignoring him. “Does Mama Haas finally know that her son-?”

“Romeo,” Luca warns, heart pounding at the thought. His expression shutters, eyes wide. “C’mon. Don’t say that.”

Romeo grins, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim lighting. “I take that as a no.” 

Ilya’s eyes harden as he looks back and forth between the two of them. “So, Remi,” he says. “What brings you to Ottawa?” 

“It’s Romeo.” 

“Yes, is what I said, da?” 

Romeo narrows his eyes for a split second before he smiles, sharp teeth and all. He wrings an arm around Luca’s shoulder, pulling him in abruptly. Luca nearly stumbles at the force. “I go to school in New York City. My friends wanted to take a trip up. I nearly laughed when they proposed Ottawa, but, well, Julie’s here, so might as well.”

Luca did not know he was here with his friends. Curiously, he asks, “Who are you here with?” 

“Nobody,” Romeo dismisses. He pauses, and then snorts like what he’s about to say is funny. “Well, actually, yeah, you do know one. Jesse.” 

“Oh.” Luca’s ears pitch into a distant sort of ringing; he swallows, looks down. 

Yes, he knows Jesse. Of course, he knows Jesse. Luca’s best fucking friend. Or, well. He was his best fucking friend. Now, he’s just Romeo’s college roommate.  And, apparently, Romeo’s friend more than Luca’s, these days.

“Who’s Jesse?” Shane asks, politely, though the undercurrent in his voice screams terse. 

“A mutual friend,” Romeo replies easily, his lips lilted into a shit-eating grin. He wiggles an eyebrow at Luca. “I’ll tell him you say hi, Julie.” 

Luca flushes, his face growing hot as the ringing in his ears grows to a fever pitch. He almost misses the twitch of Shane’s jaw and the way his eyes pinch tensely as he stares at Romeo. 

“You keep saying ‘Julie’,” Shane comments, one of his forced, plastic PR smiles plastered onto his face. “Why?”

Romeo chuckles, and Shane and Ilya share a quick, pointed look. “Just a nickname everyone back home started calling Luca when he and I first started dating.” Shane and Ilya glance at each other sharply. Romeo grins at Luca. “Pretty little Juliet, hm? My girl,” he teases- no, mocks, is more like it- and watches in delight at how it makes Luca wince. 

“Ro-” Luca mumbles, embarrassed, but is saved from saying anything further when Shane steps in. 

“So, as in Romeo and Juliet?” Shane asks. 

Luca nods. Cheesy as it sounds, he has fond memories of the play. It was one of his favorites to read in school, one of the few scripts he actually ended up excited to read. He opens his mouth, ready to say, one of my favorites, when he’s cut off by: 

“Yes.” Romeo arches a brow, eyes sliding condescendingly between Shane and Ilya. “I assume even hockey players have heard of it.”

“Da,” Ilya chimes in good-naturedly, but his smile is sharp and dangerous. “Is Shakespeare play, yes?”

“The one where they both die in the end,” Shane adds dryly, with a roll of his eyes so subtle Luca barely catches it. 

“Hmm,” Ilya hums, shooting Luca a sly wink before looking back at Romeo. “How romantic.”

Romeo’s eyes narrow, darting between Luca and the two men rapidly. “Well,” he says, the arm slung around Luca’s shoulder tightening until the pressure nears pain. “Romantic, sure. The name sure used to get our boy here all hot and bothered, hm?” Luca twists his head to the side to gape, disbelieving, at him. Romeo just smirks, head tilting closer to Luca as he murmurs, “Isn’t that right, Julie.”

Skin suddenly crawling, Luca shrugs out of Romeo’s hold and takes a step back from the group. His gaze skirts over Shane and Ilya, stomach sinking at the tense, uncomfortable looks on their faces. 

“I, um,” Luca mumbles, head bowed low. “I’m going to run to the bathroom, I’ll… I’ll be back.”

˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔ 

The bathroom has a weirdly fluorescent bulb and no other lighting. Luca stares at it through the mirror, the ugly white glow piercing as it illuminates. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

He kind of feels like an idiot. Or, scratch that. He does feel like a big fucking idiot. Here he was, thinking things could be different. Like old times, maybe. 

But, that’s the thing- isn’t it? It was never Romeo and Luca. Always Romeo and Juliet. 

Romeo, because that was his name. Juliet, because Romeo decided that that was Luca’s. And that is what it was, wasn’t it? Romeo’s decision. Romeo’s name for him. A nickname. And Luca was only ever playing her. Romeo’s Juliet. Juliet, Juliet, Juliet. 

But Luca is not Juliet. He’s fucking Luca Haas, the first draft pick of his year. Luca Haas, a professional fucking hockey player. Luca Haas, who scored a hat trick three games ago.

He has fans. Fans! 

And… 

And Romeo is not one of them. This, he’s known clear as day, from the moment they first started entertaining something between them. He was naive to ignore it, to think otherwise. Some small part of him always hoped- oh, he doesn’t need my jersey to care, right? That’s superficial, Luca. Oh, he doesn’t need to come to my games to care, right? That’s shallow, Luca. 

Oh, he doesn’t care? About anything that’s important to you? It’s okay, Luca. He does, on the inside. 

God, what was he thinking? 

What is he thinking? 

Luca scrubs a hand over his face. Fuck. It’s still early in the night. It would look stupid- cowardly- if he leaves now, and some small part of him doesn’t want to, not yet.  

He’ll go back to Romeo, to Shane and Ilya, and-

To Shane and Ilya. The thought lodges somewhere in his throat, behind his ears. It rings. 

That’s the worst part of all of this, isn’t it? This was happening in front of his Captains. Shane and Ilya. The two people who meant the world to him, whether they knew it or not. 

He’s just Luca, around them. And not just in the sense that there’s nothing else, nothing more, to him. But just in the way that… well, in the way that makes Luca feel like he can be just that.

He can be Luca. 

Not Julie, Juliet, not even Luca Haas, Draft Pick 1, professional hockey player. Well. The latter part, sure, of course, but, Luca.

The little parts of him that enjoy the beautiful parts of the world, pieces of art and stories and meanings. The little parts of him that are obsessed with the ice, with the sport he fell in love with as a toddler, with the rush of a cold rink’s air against his cheeks. 

There are quiet nights he has with them, moments sprinkled with the warmth of a long couch, one of their bodies pressed next to his. Luca cannot let himself dwell on it: how those evenings are his favorites. Sitting next to them, with them. Hockey playing on the TV, sometimes, because it’s their entire lives.

They understand. 

(They have Haas jerseys, one each. He’s seen them before. He had asked why. Ilya had replied, with smiles and all, well, Haasy, you are good player, no?) 

It’s Luca. 

It’s just Luca, sitting there. With them. 

And beyond that, it’s just Shane and Ilya, and the way they look at each other. There’s something bone-deep between them, in the way that they love each other. Their love is spilling out all over the place, uncontained. Watching them together- even just the way they move around one another- is like watching a choreographed dance. Lithe and elegant and beautiful. One will say, I love you. The other will reply, and I love you. Sometimes, it is not even spoken- their eyes, god. So eternally softened, warm, fond. So outright in their affection. 

Luca doesn’t think Romeo’s ever looked at him like that. 

And maybe, well. 

Maybe he’s never looked at Romeo like that, either, deep down. 

But it was good, wasn’t it, for a while- it had to have been. Romeo had those soft bits too, warm smiles and a wrinkled nose. He’s known Romeo forever. It’s Romeo, for fuck’s sake. There are memories he has, with him. Good ones. It was Romeo who knew first, knew just how scared Luca was to tell his parents, scared to be himself, authentically, proudly. And, yeah, maybe Luca had struggled with the ‘proud’ of it all. But Romeo had been there, had listened. They would go out in Zurich, under the nighttime lights, roaming the streets together. Sit on curbs, smoke cigarettes together, one of their shoulders brushing against the other’s. Kiss under the stars, like people would do in the movies. 

(He had been exhausted. He had said no at first: I have practice early, tomorrow. I had a whole day of practice today. I’m tired, Rom. 

And Romeo had said: C’mon, Julie, live a little.)

Luca’s an idiot. Hoping for something good, hoping that things would change. Waiting and waiting and waiting, taking what little morsel of affection he could get. Scavenging for it. Tucking himself small to fit into Romeo’s palm, as Juliet. 

Compromise, he’d thought. You have to compromise. There isn’t a world where you don’t have to. 

Another thought festers up, thick as it swarms between him and the still empty bathroom. He’s never had to compromise with Shane and Ilya. And they’ve never compromised with each other, not really, like that. There is no contingency on their affection, their love for each other. One does not bend for the other, the other does not bend for the one. Never once have they folded themselves down into an archetype, bowing and creasing and changing to better fit the other. They love each other, as is- always. So plainly. Shane, Ilya. They are each other’s. 

And Luca. 

Luca, who is not theirs. Not even remotely. 

What is he thinking? 

“Fuck,” Luca whispers again, this time more wetly. He closes his eyes. “Okay, okay, it’s fine.” 

And it is fine. It has to be. It’s childish, and stupid, his crush on them. For fuck’s sake, they’re Shane and Ilya. Married. A joint unit, always and forever. 

He’s their friend. That’s why they’re so kind to him: sure, their love is unconditional, sure, they care about him. As a friend. 

Regardless, it’s… it’s the best thing he has here, really. His friendship with them. The evenings he spends at their place, small moments over dinner or a wine glass, well, they’re his favorite moments in Ottawa. Anya curled up on his lap, the low hum of their TV in the background. That one time he was mildly concussed after a game, taken home by them, Ilya’s arms wrapped steadily around the small of his back, Shane’s eyes gentle. Easy, they’d whispered. We’ve got you. Let’s get you home. 

Home. God, who is he kidding? Their home. Theirs. Not his. 

Because he is not theirs.  

Stupid Luca and his stupid posters- it’s embarrassing, really. Luca winces. Get yourself together. C’mon, it’s not that hard. They’re waiting for you.

All of them. Shane and Ilya and… and Romeo, too. Jesus, fuck.

Luca straightens at the sink, hand reaching out to start the tap. A thin dribble of cool water trickles out; he splashes it over his face, combing back his hair. 

He inhales deeply, exhales. Okay. Okay, it’s fine. It’s, what, a couple more hours? He can do this. He’ll force a smile, steady his hands. He’ll laugh along and fake it like Romeo’s quips aren’t cutting him deep, like watching as his Captains’ respect for him bleeds slowly from their eyes. How bad can it be? 

He’s Luca Haas. Luca fucking Haas. 

He can get through the evening. He can pretend, force a smile. 

And so he will. (Try, at least.) 

 ˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔

Despite staring at himself in the mirror for another long couple minutes, Luca manages to gather himself enough to actually leave the little sanctuary, safe haven, though his nerves aren’t quite entirely calmed as he swings the door open.

The bar is uncaring of him, a bubble of noise, movement. His gaze flickers across the room, sweep over to where Romeo, Shane, and Ilya stand together. They’re all stiff and posturing as they eye each other warily- Luca’s pulse skyrockets, nerves climbing back. 

At the exact same time, Ilya’s attention flickers over to him, his stare somehow finding Luca’s easily across the crowded room. 

“Fuck,” Luca mutters weakly. Before he really takes a moment to think about it, Luca makes a hard right turn and beelines to the bar. 

The bartender, an intimidating but kind woman with messily tied-up black hair, gives him a nod. “Refill, sweetheart?” She asks him around a well-chewed piece of gum. 

Luca’s fingers curl anxiously around the curved edge of the bar. On one end, he could absolutely use a drink. On the other, he’s tired of Romeo’s lightweight jokes. He can already imagine Romeo’s face as he shows up with another one, the sly Julie crawling out of his mouth. Luca winces. It’s not worth it. “N-no, actually, I don’t-”

“Da, Anna.” Luca jumps, a short, choked off yelp catching in his throat as he spins and finds Ilya hovering right behind him. “We will both take one more. My tab, okay?”

Luca’s words fail as Ilya squeezes in next to him, the man’s chest pressing firmly against Luca’s side. 

“Your friend is..” Ilya starts, trailing off as he arches a brow critically. 

Luca grimaces. “Yeah, I… I don’t know,” he admits with a sigh. “I don’t know why he’s being like this.” Luca takes a moment to consider, then amends with a wince, “Or maybe I just hoped he wouldn’t be like this.”

“Was it always like this?” 

Luca blinks. “No,” he replies, and then hesitates. “Yes. I don’t know. It’s just… it’s just complicated.” 

Ilya regards him carefully, eyes sharp and intense and all-knowing in that very specific way only Ilya can manage. Luca finds himself watching Ilya watch him- practically hypnotized by the focus and devout attention reflecting in his captain’s eyes. 

“Do you trust us, zvezdochka?” Ilya asks him suddenly. 

Luca blinks. He’s mildly distracted by the unexpected Russian endearment, but considers Ilya’s question. “Do I- like, you mean- you and Shane?” Luca stutters, brow furrowing in earnest. “Of course, I do.”

Ilya nods pleased. “You know that we will do what is best to protect you,” Ilya adds. “To keep you safe.”

“Of course, captain.” Luca repeats, flushing slightly as the honorific slips from his lips. 

Ilya’s eyes darken, intense with something Luca cannot name as he fights back a shiver. 

“Is good, Luca,” Ilya says softly, accepting two fresh glasses from the bartender with a nod before pressing one into Luca’s palm. “You will order Shanya a water, da? And then join us?”

Luca nods, too stunned to react when Ilya presses a chaste kiss against his temple before walking back towards Shane and Romeo. Still somewhat in a trance, Luca turns back to the bartender and barely recognizes his own voice as he calls out for a glass of water. 

Maybe, Luca thinks fleetingly, maybe when he turns back around, there will be an entire room’s worth of distance between his ex and his crushes, and he won’t feel so insane. He glances over his shoulder, humoring this blind delusion for a moment.

Right. 

Romeo is still there with Shane and Ilya, now-of fucking course he is- the three of them standing in a triangular huddle of sorts, the latter two side by side as the three of them conversate. Luca accepts the glass of water from the bartender with a wan smile, before casting one last hopeless glance towards the group. Miserably, he trudges his way back to them through the sea of bodies. 

He’s a step away from slotting himself into Romeo’s side when a hand slings itself around his waist, draws him in. Luca blinks up at Shane, and then back down at Shane’s arm around his hip, and then back up and Shane. He’s met with a predatory smile. 

“Thanks baby,” Shane says smoothly as he plucks the glass of water from Luca’s hand. 

“I, um… yeah,” Luca stammers out, lips suddenly feeling numb as he blinks up at Shane. 

“Ah,” Ilya is saying. Luca is slightly delayed as he turns his attention to Ilya, still so mesmerized by how beautiful Shane’s freckles look up close. Ilya flips his screen. “And this is when my Luca got so wasted, he could barely walk. Luckily, my Shanya is very strong.” 

Romeo stares at the photo, disbelief etched into the lines around his mouth. When Ilya turns the phone back, Luca’s expression must mirror Romeo’s- it’s him, in the photo. Him and Shane. Him slung across Shane’s fucking shoulder. 

When the fuck was his photo taken? 

Ilya’s fingers reach out, and then they’re in Luca’s hair. He combs back a stray lock, his fingers lingering for a moment before slipping away. Shane’s arm tightens around him; Luca’s pulled in impossibly closer, nearly tucked into the man’s side. 

Shane’s fingers slip below his t-shirt, his palm now splayed warm against the skin at Luca’s hip, lingering right above the waistband of his dark wash jeans. “Everything good, baby?” 

Luca must be losing his fucking mind. “Good,” he echoes.

Romeo sends him a nasty look. What the fuck? is the gist of it. 

What the fuck indeed, Romeo, Luca thinks distantly. 

Ilya hums as he swipes through the photos again. “Hmm, ah,” Ilya stops on another image, twisting his wrist to show the others. 

Luca’s brow furrows as he finds himself staring at a selfie… of himself. He doesn’t remember specifically when he took it- had to have been several months ago by now. The Luca in the picture looks at the camera, nose wrinkled as he makes a silly face, cheeks pink from the cold and the embarrassment of taking a selfie. But Ilya and Shane had asked him for it, Luca recalls, feeling as surprised now as he remembers feeling at the time. 

They had wanted to see him. Reacted with heart eyes and smiley emojis afterward. Luca, like an idiot, had smiled at his phone, stared at their text thread for longer than was necessary. 

“I did not take this one, but-” he flutters his lashes at Luca, catching his eyes and smiling softly, “he sent in group message to us after his last haircut. Isn’t nash zvezdochka so handsome, Shanya?” 

Shane’s thumb brushes against the jut of Luca’s hipbone, and Luca feels the curve of Shane’s smile as it’s pressed into his temple. “Always,” he murmurs. 

Nearly speechless, Luca gapes at Ilya, wide eyes blinking up at him in awe. “You… you saved it to your phone?” he asks breathlessly.

Ilya’s eyes are warm when they meet Luca’s gaze. “Da, Luca. Of course.”

Romeo’s scoff breaks Luca from whatever trance Ilya’s attention had him under. Romeo’s face is neutral, the hard line of his mouth bordering on disinterest, but Luca notices the angry red flush working its way up the man’s throat. 

“Anyone can save a selfie,” Romeo mutters as he shoots Luca a withering look. 

Ilya smiles, with his teeth. He scrolls again, flipping his phone a second time. “Mm. This one is my favorite.” 

“Riiight,” Romeo says, eyeing the photo. 

This one is him and Ilya. Rather: it’s the peek of Luca’s curls on Ilya’s lap, the latter’s legs covered by a blanket and elongated atop a coffee table. 

Luca remembers this. He’d been exhausted that day, but he’d accepted an invite to the Hollander-Rozanov residence for dinner anyways. (Seriously. Who was he to say no to that?) He’d fallen asleep before the title track of the movie. 

What Luca remembers is: warmth. A deft hand weaving through his curls, making circles at his scalp. Another splayed out on his ankle, another on his back. 

“Luca’s anal about his sleep,” Romeo says, disbelief riddled in his tone. “If anyone ever so much as breathes too loudly next to him, he wakes up.”

Shane raises an eyebrow. “Maybe, he just feels very safe with us, hm?” he ponders aloud, expression crooked into a picture of perfect innocence.  

Ilya locks his phone. He raises an eyebrow at the screen, faux surprise flickering onto his expression. He shoves the screen at Romeo, “Is late!” He glances at Shane and Luca, voice lowering into a purr. “We have plans tonight, mm?” 

They do not. But Luca confirms mm anyways, the noise bordering a squeak, a blush coloring up his cheeks. 

Romeo’s lips are pulled into a snarl. “Jesus,” he mutters, in Swiss-German. 

As Ilya pockets his phone, he hums. Luca catches a glimpse of the time, now curious- it’s only 10:04pm, but-. 

But that’s his fucking face is splayed there, on the lock screen. Another photo of him and Shane, though this time they’re both on the ice, in their Centaurs gear, grinning at the camera.

Luca is so shell shocked by the lock screen, eyes glued to where the now dark phone is cradled in Ilya’s palm, that he doesn’t notice as Romeo leans towards him, something mean and sharp sparking in his gaze.

“I knew you were a whore,” Romeo laughs, his eyes wide. He doesn’t bother schooling the scorn dripping off of his voice, his face. Luca feels Shane tense beside him, sees Ilya’s head whip towards Romeo at the venom in his words. “Honestly- I cannot believe Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov would care so much about you. They obviously don’t know you like I do, hm?” 

Shane’s fingers tighten, pulling gently almost like he’s trying to nudge Luca behind him, and Ilya shuffles a half-step forward, eyes hard as he stares at Romeo. Luca bristles and holds his ground. “Shut the hell up, Rom. I think you’ve said enough for one night.” 

Both Shane and Ilya shoot Luca a surprised look at his outburst. They may not understand the words, but as Luca watches them exchange proud glances, he thinks they can recognize the firm, unyielding tenor of Luca’s voice.

Romeo scoffs. “C’mon, Julie. You can’t be serious.” 

Shane’s arm around his waist tightens. He regards Romeo curtly. “He is.”

“No, he’s fucking not,” Romeo replies, a hysterical lilt outlining his tone. He laughs incredulously as shoves his hand, finger pointed, out at Luca’s chest. “I don’t believe you for one bit- you think Hollander and Rozanov would spare you a glance?” 

Romeo’s eyes are wide. The veins on his forehead are starting to appear, and, well. He does believe them, is the thing. Luca knows him enough to know that. 

“I thought you didn’t watch hockey,” Luca spits, at the same time Ilya drawls, haughtily, “I think is more like he spares us a glance, you know.” 

Luca’s back is set rigid, tense. As if feeling it, Shane’s thumb makes another circle at Luca’s hip. Romeo’s eyes trail down towards where Shane’s hand is resting, his eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious, Julie. Seriously. You can’t- can’t fuck them!” 

“Why the fuck not,” Luca snaps, leaning up. “When did you decide to get all high and mighty about this kind of shit? I mean,” Luca laughs humorlessly, “you fucked my best friend.”

Romeo throws his hand up. “We were broken up!” 

“We’re still broken up,” Luca replies. 

“C’mon, Julie, think about it. Jesse misses you too, you know. I mean, maybe the three of us…” 

Luca stares at him, blind fury taking root. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, c’mon,” stepping closer, Romeo gestures between himself and Luca, pointedly ignoring Ilya and Shane as if they aren’t there. “Seems like threesomes are sort of your thing now huh? You invited me out for a reason, obviously. I thought-”

“That’s the problem, you didn’t think!” Luca shouts, surprising himself with the outburst. He scoffs. “Or, fuck, maybe you should have thought before showing up and acting like a dick all night.” 

“A dick,” Romeo laughs, like the notion is absurd. “A dick? Seriously? You’re the one crawling back to me. You invited me.”

“Forgive me for thinking you could act decent,” Luca snaps. He glances over at Shane and Ilya. “Which means- fuck off, Romeo. Just- please.” 

“What the fuck?”

Luca makes a noise, bitter, lingering. “Tell Jesse I say hi, will you, Rom? And, also? Fuck no. I decline your goddamn threesome.” 

Romeo’s mouth resembles a gaping fish. “Julie.”

“I’m serious.” 

Romeo’s gaze flits back and forth between the three of them. After a beat, his expression settles, lazy again as his beady eyes drift between the three of them. A sardonic smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Serious,” he mocks, in Swiss-German, before switching back to English. “And I’m supposed to believe this. Just from some words and your fucking camera roll.” He laughs, the sharp sound of it loud, even amongst the crowd’s buzzing chatter, and far too bitter to pass as unaffected. He arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Prove it.”

Well, Luca thinks miserably to himself, this is where the game ends. This is where they have to come clean about their deception, explain why Luca is so pathetic that his captains’ felt the need to pretend for him. Explain why on earth that they thought this would be a funny trick to play- Luca will have to apologize, he realizes with horror, he’ll have to seek forgiveness from this person- someone he thought he knew, who says such horrible things about him and who fucked his best friend the minute they’d broken up, and-

Fingers- firm but not rough- pinch Luca’s chin between them and insistently pull his head to the side. Luca allows this with a sharp exhale, a thin vocalization that lilts just a bit up towards the tail-end, resulting in something of a whine as Ilya’s lips descend upon his. 

Ilya’s lips.

Luca short-circuits, his eyes frozen wide as he gasps, creating precious space for Ilya to slide his tongue into Luca’s mouth, a steady hand rising to cradle Luca’s jaw and tilt his head for better access. There’s a maddening warmth, a tantalizing pressure against Luca’s side as Shane presses in close against him.

Oh, fuck. Oh, god. What? What? Maybe Luca got hit on the head on his way out of the bathroom. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe this is all a dream. Should he pinch himself? Romeo’s here. Maybe it’s a nightmare. Oh, god, oh fuck, oh- 

“Relax for us, baby,” Shane breathes into Luca’s ear, and then Luca feels the reverent press of Shane’s hands against his waist.

What the fuck. 

He cannot help it. With a moan- the sound so agonizingly needy and wanton that Luca doesn’t immediately recognize it as having originated from him- his eyelids flutter shut and he leans helplessly into Ilya’s embrace. Arms- too many of them, more than Luca can account for in his current state- wind around him, bracketing Luca in a warmth that scorches as much as it soothes. The sensation is something Luca doesn’t think he’s ever felt before, isn’t sure he could describe if he was given a lifetime.

Ilya, humming against Luca’s lips for a moment, suddenly leans back, their mouths making a wet sound as they separate. Ilya’s clear, sharp eyes meet Luca’s just before the hands at his waist tighten and pull, twisting his torso. Luca lets himself be manhandled, turns willingly until his back is pressed close against Ilya’s chest and Shane is right there- so close, barely inches in front of him- and staring at him with heady, half-lidded brown eyes.

Yeah, Luca definitely hit his head and died. 

“So pretty,” Ilya coos in his ear. Luca’s breath hitches, and he barely catches Shane’s smirk before his alternate captain leans forward, catching Luca’s swollen, spit-slicked lips in a kiss.

The noise that breaks itself free from Luca’s throat is cracked- surprised and helpless. Luca’s hands fly to Shane’s shoulders, his chest- one curling fingers into the hair at the nape of Shane’s neck while the other fists itself into the curl of Shane’s collar.

Shane’s mouth is insistent, relentless, as it moves against Luca’s. Luca can’t tell who the sharp, breathy gasps are coming from- fuck, Luca thinks fleetingly, he has to be honest, everyone knows they’re coming from Luca- as he grips tightly onto Shane and attempts to hold on.

Shane leans his hips into Luca’s, startling Luca’s pleasure-loosened limbs into stumbling back into Ilya’s chest, resting the full weight of his body against Ilya.

Luca has never felt so steady, not while on such tremulous footing, anyway, as he stands slotted between the two warm bodies surrounding him. He fights to be present in too many places at once- he parts his lips and slides his tongue along Shane’s, whining sharply into Shane’s mouth, he arches his back against the hard press of Ilya’s torso, delights in the unexpected pressure of Ilya’s hips rolling forward against Luca’s ass- fuck, but it’s all too much, all at once, in a way Luca never expected to experience. 

Blood rushes through his ears and the only sounds he can make out are the pounding of his own heart and the deep, rough noises punching out of Shane’s chest as they kiss. It feels like it could have been hours, and somehow also maybe only seconds, by the time Ilya squeezes Luca’s hip and Luca feels the damp, warm rasp of Ilya’s voice in his ear, “He is gone, zvezdochka.” 

Luca wrenches his mouth from Shane’s with a gasp and twists his head to the side, eyes unfocused as they dart around the room.

Ilya is right; Romeo is nowhere to be seen.

Reality washes over Luca like a bucket of cold water, like that first wave of brisk, frigid air when he steps out onto the ice. 

They’re in public.

Luca’s eyes dart frantically around the room, his gaze sliding over the backs of his teammate’s heads and catching glimpses of them at the bar or huddled on the dancefloor. It doesn’t look like anyone they know caught the display- thank God- but, fuck, what if someone had? He’s so grateful to Shane and Ilya for having his back, for protecting him against Romeo’s casual cruelty- but there’s no way it’s worth them getting caught with one of their younger teammates. Luca saw first-hand what the two went through during their previous relationship scandal; he refuses to be a catalyst for another one.

Shame and embarrassment swirl in his gut, braiding themselves together and overwhelming Luca with sudden nausea. He feels heat claw its way up his neck as he looks between Shane and Ilya. They’re quiet, patient as they watch him, but Luca can see the edge of concern creep into their eyes the longer Luca is unable to find his words. 

This is exactly what he doesn’t want. Concern. Their concern. It’s embarrassing, really, to need to the two of them to swoop in, to save him, to put themselves at risk to do so-

“I, uh,” Luca stammers and takes a sidestep to escape the distracting heat from their bodies. He gives them one last, anxious look before he mumbles, “I-I need some air.” Again. Jesus. Turning on his heels, Luca makes a beeline for the front door, his vision tunneling. He can’t tell if the voices he hears behind him are Shane and Ilya calling out for him, or simply the cacophony of sounds that come hand-in-hand with a crowded bar. Either way, Luca hurries outside. 

˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔ 

Luca hadn’t realized how hot and humid the air inside was until he steps through the doors and the crisp Ottawa October air washes over him. The sidewalk in front of the bar isn’t crowded, by any means, but even the handful of curious looks Luca’s rapid departure of the bar earned are enough for him to beeline for the alleyway off to the side of the building. 

The alley is empty and blessedly quiet as Luca leans against the cool brick. He exhales sharply and scrubs both hands over his face, memories of the night coming back to him in flashes. 

How could he have been so naive, inviting Romeo out to meet the team like that? 

Even at his best, Romeo has always been the a little too mean to Luca’s a little too sensitive. Luca used to think that distinction was good for him- what made Romeo and him work. Romeo forced him to buck up, grow a thicker skin- plus, he would always apologize in private, suddenly so sweet and attentive to Luca’s softer, more vulnerable side. Time and distance, it seems, had lulled Luca into the comfort of his fondest memories, leaving him unprepared and defenseless against Romeo’s ire. 

But, somehow, Shane and Ilya had not been unprepared. Somehow- even quicker than Luca had realized what was happening- the two were already stepping up, already there to defend Luca against something he hadn’t realized he needed protection from. He was grateful, he was indebted, he was… humiliated.

Witnessing his heroes come to his aid, feeling the facade of their touch- an act, a performance- forces Luca to admit the real reason he had been so desperate to reconnect with Romeo. The truth about why he’d been so hoping to feel that breathless, tingly swoop in his stomach when he saw his former lover. Luca had been counting on that, the return of those old feelings, to distract from his pathetic reality. 

Luca is hopelessly gone for Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. 

And he’s so tired of pretending that he’s not. 

With a groan, Luca sinks to the ground, the rough brick scraping against the back of his shirt. He buries his face in his hands, bracing both elbows against his bent knees as he wallows in the misery of the evening.

Lost in his thoughts, Luca doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they stop right in front of him. 

Luca nearly jumps out of his skin when he opens his eyes to Ilya kneeling next to him. Ilya’s eyes widen, his hands jerking out to steady Luca- or stop him maybe, like he’s afraid Luca might try and bolt. Luca’s head whips to the side where Shane is frozen a half a step away, watching Luca carefully as if he were a skittish animal. 

“Sorry, zvezdochka,” Ilya says gently. “We did not mean to scare you.”

“We were just worried,” Shane adds as he shuffles closer. Luca sees him glance to Ilya, and after receiving a quick nod from his husband, Shane sits next to Luca against the brick, legs folding up under themselves gracefully. “We wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Luca sniffs, suddenly too overwhelmed to even look at either of them, so he stares resolutely at the curve of his knee as he says, “It’s fine, you guys don’t have to.”

From his peripheral vision, Luca can’t help but notice as they exchange a quick glance. 

“We do not have to… what, Luca?”

“I’m fine,” Luca insists. “You don’t have to check on me.” He forces himself to look up, pastes a smile on his face as he looks between them both. “Thank you both for sticking up for me. I’m sure it was… ah, anyway.” Luca takes a deep, unsteady breath in. “Sorry that you had to do all of that. I, um… I owe you guys one.”

Ilya’s face does something complicated that Luca can’t decipher at the same time Shane clears his throat pointedly. Luca turns his head to look at Shane whose eyes dance across Luca’s face for a moment before meeting Luca’s gaze with a furrowed brow. 

“You don’t need to thank us for anything,” Shane tells him. “And you definitely don’t need to apologize, baby.”

Luca squeezes his eyes shut against the rush of emotion, of longing, he feels hearing Shane’s soft, kind words. “Y-you don’t have to keep doing that,” Luca forces out a breathy laugh. The sound comes out bitter, false, even to his own ears. He gestures around to the empty alley. “There’s no one around to pretend for, so,” Luca shrugs. 

Silence stretches between the three of them, going on so long that Luca eventually glances back up. He catches the tail end of some telepathic conversation they must be having, eyes locked and serious before finally Ilya nods, and looks back to Luca with determination. 

“Da,” Ilya agrees. His voice is slow, deliberate, as he says, “Is no need to pretend. We are all in agreement, hm?”

As Ilya looks back and forth between Luca and Shane, the former glances at Shane, confused, only to find him nodding with a soft, knowing smile on his face. 

“Yeah,” Shane catches Luca’s eyes, the smile brightening a little. “No pretending here.”

They’re both just staring at him, the earnestness in their gaze making Luca squirm until he finally blurts out, “Yeah, of course. No more of that.” 

“Good,” Ilya replies happily, and then Luca feels fingers pressing against the cut of his jaw, turning his head until Ilya’s mouth suddenly, unexpectedly, seals over his. 

Luca makes a sound- okay fine, he squeaks- in surprise, and he feels as Ilya smiles against his lips. Shane’s hand slides behind Luca’s head, curling around the nape of his neck as he leans against Luca’s side. Luca feels Shane press a series of soft kisses against the line of his throat while Ilya works diligently to rob Luca of breath. 

A small, selfish part of Luca’s brain begs him to lean into this, to enjoy it, but he already feels too raw, too hurt over this whole night to let himself sink into any further pain. He presses a palm to Ilya’s chest and- the most difficult thing he’s ever done, if he’s being honest with himself- pushes his captain away. The movement has Luca pressing more firmly against Shane, but at least it also has Shane lifting his mouth from Luca’s skin, has him lifting his head to peer at Luca’s face curiously. 

Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, Luca shakes his head at Ilya. “W-we can’t,” Luca insists shakily. “You don’t really-” 

“We don’t really what, zvezdochka?” Ilya asks him, low and rough as he watches Luca from underneath half-lidded eyes. “We all agreed there is no more pretending, da? Do you think we are liars, Luca?”

Eyes widening, Luca shakes his head more vigorously. “No! Of course not, I just-” he huffs out a frustrated sigh. He feels as Shane hooks his chin over Luca’s shoulder and squeezes his bicep encouragingly. “I just mean… fuck, fine, okay- I know you guys were only kissing me so I could save face in front of my ex. You don’t need to, need to-” Luca feels sick with embarrassment as honest to God tears well in his eyes. “You don’t need to keep going just because you feel bad for me.”

The huff of Shane’s laughter, hardly more than a gust of warm breath against Luca’s neck, interrupts Luca’s spiral. Shane presses a gentle kiss to Luca’s skin, before curling long fingers around the jut of Luca’s chin and directing Luca to look over his shoulder until he meets Shane’s eyes. 

“Luca,” Shane stresses, a small, genuine smile on his face as he holds Luca’s gaze. “You come over for dinner every other week.” When all Luca does is blink in response, Shane sighs, and soldiers on. “You’re Anya’s emergency contact at daycare when we’re out of town!”

“You have a Netflix profile on our TV,” Ilya pipes in. 

Shane nods. “Luca,” he says more slowly now, eyes locked intensely onto Luca’s. “That picture has been Ilya’s background for months.”

Luca’s mind is reeling, frantically scouring through every interaction he’s had with them over the past several months. A small, traitorous spark of hope tries to ignite in his chest. Luca wouldn’t dare encourage such a foolish desire- it’s impossible, there was simply no way-

“It has?”

Ilya smiles, eyes twinkling. “It has.” 

Luca has half the mind to dwell how the fuck he never noticed it. Luca is too busy freaking out, just a little, to actually dwell on it. He stares at them. His mouth opens. When nothing comes out, he closes it. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Shane confirms. His eyes soften. “We like you, Luca.”

“Da,” Ilya adds. “Is true, zvezdochka.”

“Sure, I mean… you guys are my mentors.” Luca parrots every logical thing he’s heard regarding their relationship, “Y-you feel responsible for me; like you need to take me under your wings, or-”

Ilya chuckles, and Luca twists to look at him, eyes wide.

“Nyet, malysh,” Ilya tells him fondly. “Is not what we are saying.”

“What are you saying, then?” Luca asks, and he hates how raw, how vulnerable he sounds as he begs them both for clarity- for the truth. 

Ilya glances over Luca’s shoulder at his husband, a slow, affectionate smile spreading across his face, before he looks back at Luca. 

“We are saying,” Ilya starts softly, pressing a quick kiss to his temple, mouth lingering at the skin there. “That we like you, Luca.”

“We really,” Shane interjects from behind Luca, an arm curling around Luca’s waist and tugging him against Shane’s chest, “really like you, baby.”

Luca’s breath hitches, and he allows himself to relax back into Shane’s hold as he stares at Ilya with open, starry eyes. His heart rate spikes. “Not pretending?” 

Ilya hums and leans forward, lips sliding across Luca’s in a slow, decadent glide. Luca finally lets himself lean into it, mouth parting on a choked-off whimper, and Ilya rewards the sound with an answering groan. Shane becomes a hot blanket of weight against Luca’s back as the man begins to nuzzle insistently into Luca’s neck. 

“Ilya,” Shane complains, voice low and whiny against Luca’s skin. 

With a chuckle, Ilya breaks their kiss. Luca only chases after it a little, coming back to himself in waves of fizzy pleasure radiating through his body. 

“Terpeniye,” Ilya tells his husband with a smile. He looks back to Luca, raises a hand to brush his thumb along Luca’s bottom lip. “We have a question for you, zvezdochka.”

Luca nods slowly, feeling almost like he’s moving through water, like he’s drunk- the air around him thick and decadent. 

Oh, who is he kidding? Luca feels this way around Shane and Ilya more often than not, he’s just never let himself admit it.

“We would like to take you home tonight, zvezdochka,” Ilya tells him slowly, so sweetly, as Shane presses kiss after kiss against Luca’s neck. “Is something you want, da?”

And Luca- well, Luca…

Luca is tired of pretending.