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1. Dog sleeping in the bed (Z)
“She has a dog—“ Z is saying.
Ilya has no idea what Z is talking about, wasn’t paying attention until he heard the word dog, but now he is invested. “What kind? Is big? Little? Fluffy?”
“Uh, about yea big?” Z holds his hands apart. “It’s not fluffy. Has a smooshy face.”
"We're not getting another dog," Shane says under his breath, warning.
Ilya ignores him. "So what is the problem? Girlfriend comes with adorable dog, this is a point for her, yes?"
Z flushes, shifts on his feet. "He stares at me? Like, you know," makes an unmistakable hand gesture, hisses, "during."
"You can't like, just close the door?" Young asks.
Z sighs. "He whines. Loudly. Have you ever tried to fuck while a dog sounds like they're being abandoned on the side of the road from the other side of the door?"
Shane swallows a laugh badly, and Ilya grins at him when he snorts out loud.
"He stares at me. With his giant eyes. And I can't--" Z stops, like he's rethinking sharing this particular thought. "I can't do it, guys. And I think she might break up with me!"
"Because you don't like her dog?" Young has stopped getting into his gear to address this with the incredulous note in his voice of a man who has apparently never owned a pet.
"I mean..." Barrett says, and Ilya nods in agreement.
Z seems to suddenly remember that there are other dog owners in the room. "What do you do?"
Hilariously, Barrett blushes. Ilya eyes him, there is a story there. Maybe Harris will tell him.
"Anya is very well behaved," he says primly.
Shane snorts. "Anya knows that her dad will pick her over me every day of the week. I know my place."
"So you just let her watch you," Z waves his hand again, "you know."
"If you aren't old enough to say it," Ilya says seriously, "you are not old enough to be doing it."
"Fuck off Roz," Z says cheerfully. "Seriously though, what?"
"Wait," Ilya says suddenly, "you only have sex in bed?"
"What?" Z says.
"You said, her dog whines when you close the bedroom door. What about when you have sex on the couch, what does the dog do then?"
Z looks at Shane for help, but Shane just nods, because yes, this is a reasonable question.
“Or in kitchen?” he adds. “Does she also follow you into bathroom?”
"Ilya..." Shane hisses, red blooming across his cheeks and the back of his neck.
The room is quiet and Ilya eyes the not-rookies as they all look at each other, clearly not wanting to be the one to ask… whatever it is they want to ask. Finally, Young kicks Z, saying under his breath, “you started this…”
"Where have you-- uh, no, what is...safe?" Z gets up the courage to ask.
"Safe?"
"Where you haven't..." he trails off and makes a weird hand gesture.
"Clapped hands?"
Z rolls his eyes, "Yes, clapped hands, definitely what I meant."
Ilya snorts. Z is settled in enough to get sassy. It's a good thing.
Bood looks at Shane with a raised eyebrow, because apparently he thinks Shane will be the weak link. Shane's cheeks are red, but he shrugs. "We have cleaners."
They also flip the cushions upside down on the couch a lot. And buy new ones when... whatever. They are wealthy. It’s worth it.
"Have better sex," is Ilya's final considered opinion on the topic, and to distract from Shane’s increasingly red cheeks. "Her dog will get over it, find it boring." Which is what Anya does. Just eyes them with resignation and curls up on her own bed with her nose firmly tucked into her paws. Sometimes she chews her bone loudly, pointedly, but he ignores her, because she does not get an opinion on this.
It's definitely never stopped them. Z needs to man up and get down.
2. Anniversary (Holmberg)
Holmberg throws his bag down on the bench so hard it slides off the other side and his, “FUCK,” echoes. Starts stripping off his clothes to get ready for practice with short jerky motions. Kicks his shoes off hard enough that one of them bounces off the edge of his locker and lands in LaPointe’s lap. LaPointe picks it up by the lace and theatrically holds his nose while he transports it back to Holmberg’s side of the locker room. Holmberg does not look amused. Ilya catches the not-rookies surreptitiously playing rock paper scissors for who has to ask.
Z loses, and makes an exaggerated face at the rest of them, but bites the bullet like a good little soldier. “Uh, everything okay Bergy?"
“Everything is fine,” Holmberg says from between his teeth.
Ilya raises his eyebrows at Bood, wondering if there’s something important he’s missed. Bergy is usually pretty low key, and it takes a lot to flap him. Unless they’re playing Tampa. He has a grudge against the second line left wing in Tampa that nobody understands, and all he’ll say about it is ‘for the honor of my people’. As far as Ilya knows his people are a nice family from Minnesota who send him home from Christmas with cardamom scented cookies that he shares with the room. The second line left wing from Tampa is from Chicago, he thinks. Makes a note to ask Vaughn next time they play the Admirals, because there is no MHL gossip worth knowing that Vaughn doesn’t somehow know. Dismisses the thought for now, because Bergy has apparently been needled into confessing the actual reason for his bad mood.
“Sarah's pissed at me because I forgot the anniversary of our first kiss." Rolls his eyes, but puts his pads on with less aggression. “It's not even our actual anniversary. I remembered that. I have a note in my calendar and everything." Points at the room. "But like, first kiss? Is that even a thing?"
"July 17, 2010," Ilya says absently.
"9:01pm," Shane adds without looking up from taping his stick.
The entire room goes silent and turns to stare at them.
“What?” Ilya says. “Was memorable.”
Hayes recovers first. "Okay, spiders Georg over there are not normal and should not be counted.”
Bergy sighs. “She’s still pissed though, so like what do I do now?" Looks around the room at the various married men. Fixes on Shane for some reason. “What do you do when Roz is pissed at you?.”
Ilya raises an eyebrow at Shane, curious to see what he says. Because historically the answer is, drive two hours with a plug in his ass, or propose with a house full of tea lights. Okay. There had been extenuating circumstances for that last one.
Shane looks up from tying his laces and smirks at Ilya like he knows what he’s thinking. But just says mildly, "I got Ilya a watch last year when I had to miss our anniversary." He’d been on a photoshoot, and unable or unwilling to explain to Yuna why he was annoyed about the scheduling.
Bood frowns. “Wait, you gave him that watch in November. I remember because Roz was flashing it around at that team dinner we had after we beat Montreal in a shutout." Narrows his eyes. “Your anniversary is in June. I was at your wedding." Ilya smirks and Bood very obviously thinks better of pursuing that line of inquiry. “Nope, you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know." Points at Shane, ”You got him a $100,000 watch for an anniversary I am definitely not asking about. Maybe we start Holmberg in at the beginner level, like maybe something that doesn't come with its own body guard."
3. Moving In (LaPointe)
“She’s going to think I’m an idiot,” LaPointe is saying.
“She’s been dating you for like a year dude,” Young says, “I think that ship sailed.”
Hayes coughs to cover a laugh and adds more kindly, “She still wants to live with you, I think she’s okay with whatever idiocy you have going on.”
“Long distance,” LaPointe says into his hands. “I could fake it.”
Ilya looks at Young for explanation. “Alicia graduated, got a job with the uh, one of the museums?”
“Museum of Aviation and Space,” LaPointe says, sounds proud, but it’s hard to tell from where his face is buried in his hands.
Young nods. “Yeah, that. Pointy got,” pauses and looks at the other not-rookies, “what are we calling it? Impulsive or stupid?”
“Stupid,” LaPointe says.
“Impulsive,” Bergy says.
“Sweet, but also a little stupid,” Haas decides.
Young snorts. “Told her they should live together. She uh, said yes, and now,” he waves a hand at LaPointe.
“She asked me if we wanted to keep her dishes or mine?” LaPointe mutters, still into his hands.
Ilya looks at him with mild concern. “Is he having panic attack?”
“What fucking dishes?” Bergy asks. “You own like four plates, and only because we made you go buy enough plates for all of us to eat off of when we have movie nights.”
LaPointe flings a hand out. “This is what I’m saying. She’s going to think I’m an idiot.”
“Wasn’t she just a starving college student?” Choiunard asks. “Why does she have dishes?”
“They were her grandmother’s,” Laporte says gloomily.
Chouinard looks at him with the pity of a man who has been married for nearly a decade. “Mon frère, you were keeping her dishes even if you had your own.”
“Shane brought pillows into the marriage,” he offers.
Which derails LaPointe’s despair for long enough for him to look curious. “Just pillows?”
Ilya nods. “Shane is a big fan of pillows. Pillow connoisseur."
“You’re such a dick,” Shane says, and sounds both fond and exasperated.
Bood proves why he has the A and asks the question the entire room is visibly wondering, “Do we dare ask?”
Shane shakes his head firmly. “No, because Ilya’s not explaining anyway.”
Ilya waggles his eyebrows at Bood suggestively. Bood makes a warding sign with his fingers at him and tells LaPointe, “You’ll figure it out, I’ve got faith in you, rook.”
“Not a rookie,” LaPointe complains, but looks reassured.
4. Communication (Haas)
They’re out at Joe’s after a home game, a couple of drinks in. Ilya’s enjoying the buzz of a good game, just hard enough to make the win feel earned, but not so hard that anyone is nursing injuries early in the season. Z is at the bar with LaPointe, who bought a pickleback and is trying to convince Z to drink the pickle juice. He thinks Z lost a bet.
He hopes Z lost a bet. He loves pickles as much as the next Russian, but that's not a reason to drink it.
He turns to catch Haas's eye, get him to wince with him, but Haas is staring down the bar at where one of the fourth line guys is trying to pick up a girl.
Astonishingly it seems to be working. Ilya cannot imagine why. Can't imagine why Haas is looking at them so fixedly either. Off the top of his head he couldn't say what Haas's type is, but he does not think it is puck bunny.
"Did he steal your girl?" he asks lightly.
Haas startles. "No." Shakes his head and turns his back on the pick-up drama happening down the bar. Focuses on his half-drunk beer. Admits quietly, "I’m a little jealous, maybe."
Ilya squints at the girl and tries to parse that. "I'm sure half the women here would go home with you if you smiled at them."
Haas makes a face at the thought. "No. Thanks."
"So, not jealous of the girl, jealous of what then?"
Haas shrugs. "He makes it look easy. I uh, never know what to say."
Ilya raises his eyebrows in polite disbelief. Haas is 22, blond, blue eyed, and has a hockey butt. Strictly speaking he probably doesn't actually have to say much of anything. He cocks his head, this feels less theoretical than it had a moment ago. “Is there uh,” considers and throws the net wide, “a someone you want to say something to?”
Haas flushes. So, that is a yes then.
“So, a someone. And what? They do not want to go out with you?”
Haas bites his lip and looks painfully young. “I don’t. They’re not." Takes a breath. “They are not a hockey player. It is not as easy as,” he waves at the 4th line guy. Looks at Ilya. “Can I ask?”
He is not following. “Can you ask what?”
Haas flushes deeper, but perseveres. “How did you meet Hollander? Shane?” He tilts his head. “What on earth did you say?”
“Why do you think it was not him?” Haas stares at him and yea, okay.
Ilya contemplates telling him the truth for a wild moment. I was horny (and a little lonely, and a little self-destructive, if he’s being honest), and he was pretty and I took a risk, and I got lucky. And then seven years later we realized it meant something. He does not think it would be helpful. Both because he does not think it is a thing Haas is likely to want to do, but also because he hopes it is a thing Haas doesn’t feel like he has to do. He hopes that if nothing else, he and Shane and Barrett and Hunter have made a world where Haas can pick a different path. Well, he can tell Haas part of it.
“I told him he was pretty.”
Haas looks somewhere between horrified and fascinated. “And that worked?”
He shrugs. “I still tell him he is pretty." Haas looks unconvinced, and Ilya bristles a little. "He is very pretty. You don't think he is pretty?"
Barrett appears out of nowhere to smack his shoulder. "Rozy, you cannot ask him that." Points at Haas. "Kid, do not answer that."
Haas shakes his head fervently. Barrett claps a hand over Ilya's mouth and talks over his muffled protests. "This, uh, person, they gonna like being called pretty? Like, I call Harris pretty and he's gonna laugh."
"Because he's not pretty?" Haas says hesitantly.
Barrett snaps his fingers. "Exactly. He's hot, and stacked, and a lot of other things I'm not going to say in the name of workplace professionalism." Ilya snorts, because what professionalism? Barrett glares at him, and finishes his thought. "But he's not pretty." Pauses. "Hollander," he concedes, "is pretty."
"This is what I am saying," Ilya says triumphantly.
Shane, Ilya thinks, would die if he heard this conversation, and checks to make sure that he is still on the other side of the bar talking to Hayes. He is. Ilya squints and decides they are probably talking about Rose’s latest superhero movie.
Haas looks between them. "So, what do I say to h-" cuts himself off, "them?"
"Do..." Barrett pauses, but Haas does not fill in the blank, "they look good?"
He nods.
"Then tell them that?"
Ilya sniffs. "Is not hard, Haasy."
"Maybe not for you," Haas mutters.
"We will make bet," Ilya announces, and Barrett groans.
Haas snorts, "No. I have learned this lesson."
“Then how will we know it worked?”
Haas does not dignify that with an answer. But, they know because a few weeks later when Haas won’t look at anyone as he pulls off his shirt, but has a shy smile and a bite mark on his shoulder and Ilya punches him in the arm.
"Good work, rookie."
5. Abstinence (Young)
He needs to start getting to the locker room earlier, if only so he stops walking into conversations like this. He doesn’t want to blame Harris for anything, but Harris is the reason he got waylaid coming in, and wasn’t in time to head off whatever led to Young saying, “Like, Katie is so proud that we made it to the playoffs, but she's pissed that we won't have sex for another two months.”
He thinks about waiting to see if there is more context to make this less stupid, and then decides that nothing will make this less stupid. “What? Why are you not having sex?”
Young gives him a look like he’s not sure if he’s being pranked. “Uh, it's bad luck?”
“No, it's bad luck to shave. But have sex. You think we," he waves between Shane and himself, "stop having sex until June?"
Shane looks up from taping his stick, slightly alarmed. “Uh, wait, what? How am I part of this?”
He raises an eyebrow at Shane. “Who else am I having sex with?”
“You better not be having sex with anyone else,” Shane mutters.
Ilya rolls his eyes. “This is what I am saying.”
Shane goes back to concentrating on taping his stick, but Ilya thinks he’s more amused than embarrassed.
Normally he can control the room, particularly the rookies who tend to look at him with something that comes uncomfortably close to hero worship. But this time there is a low murmur of pushback. “No. It’s bad to have sex during a cup run.”
He rubs his forehead, already knowing he’s going to regret this. “Who said this? Is idiot. Why?”
“Uh,” Bergy steps up to save the Young from the spotlight. “Like, we need to lock in. Need to not, like, waste our, um, vital essence.”
He raises his eyebrows and looks around the room expecting to find sympathy from the veterans, but they’re all nodding. “You all believe this?”
Chouinard shrugs, “I mean Selina's not thrilled about it, but also if it means we win the cup?
"You think we need this to win cup?"
He looks to Shane for backup. Shane doesn’t look up from taping his stick. "I mean, I never have." Doesn’t clarify that it's because the person he was usually having sex with was Ilya and they weren't in the same city. Glances up and catches Ilya’s glare, and adds, "But, at least one of Hayden's kids was, uh, made? during our cup run." Pauses and then clarifies, "That we won."
Ilya waves a hand in vindication. "You see. If 15th worst Metro player can do it ...."
"14th worst," Shane murmurs, and he hears Hayes snort.
"Lock in. Yes. Preserve,” looks at Bergy, “vital essence?" Bergy nods. “Is bullshit. I play better when Shane and I have sex." Shane may want to murder him, for saying it so plainly but, what the fuck? He actually knows this for a fact, because when they'd been outed someone had run stats on their games, and statistically they had both played better when they had sex the night before. He wonders if anyone has run stats on their points since they've been married. Wonders if it's worth creating a fake twitter account to suggest it. Farah will kill him if she finds out, but Shane would probably think it's hot, so it evens out.
He looks around the room, which seems unimpressed by his logic. “Maybe for you,” Haas mutters. “But for the rest of us?”
“I mean, better safe than sorry, right?” Z adds.
“It’s dumb,” Shane says, and takes the room by surprise.
LaPointe squints. “You’re saying we should go get laid to help win the cup?”
Shane gives up on taping his stick and rests his hands loosely on top of it, balanced across his knees. “If you think your girlfriend will be swayed by, we have to have sex to win the cup, knock yourself out.”
There’s a stifled laugh and Ilya turns to see Wiebe in the door way. He winks at him, and sings softly "Do it for our country." Ilya raises an eyebrow in question. Wiebe just grins and shrugs, mouths, "Carry on," at him.
Good to know their coach approves, he supposes.
“Cassie would go for that,” Bood mumbles. Hayes gives a grunt of agreement.
"Do not strain muscle," he orders. No one wants to be the guy who gets benched for sex injury.
"So nice gentle missionary is what you're saying?" Hayes asks with an almost completely straight face.
He pins him with a look, and Hayes gives him a shit eating gin. He rolls his eyes. "Yes. This is exactly what I am saying. Nothing in showers.” Pauses. “Not that apparently any of you have sex in showers.”
"Are we supposed to be apologizing for that?" Z wonders out loud.
“Yes. Say sorry for being so boring."
Shane shifts a little and has the undivided attention of the team. “I mean, yes, no sex injuries. And, you know, hydrate and eat a balanced diet, but mostly. It’s a game.” Shane looks at him, smiles that small private smile that is only his. “Look, I’m not saying don’t try. I’m not saying don’t leave it all out in the ice. I’m just saying, it’s a game and it’s not worth making yourself or the people you love miserable about it.” Hand comes up to touch the wedding ring lying on his chest under his jersey almost absently. “At least not in my experience.”
There’s a low current of surprise, but Ilya feels like his heart is bursting. He looks around the room, making sure to catch everyone’s eye. Orders with his chin out, “Now, we go home and have not boring sex and win game tomorrow. Yes?”
“Yes, Cap,” the room choruses back obediently.
+ 1 (everyone)
This discussion started at the airport in Ottawa, and has continued through the flight, the drive to the hotel, and now has resurfaced again as they dress for Game 1 of the series. He supposes it is better than everyone being nervous, or thinking about whether they are allowed to have sex when they get home tomorrow after they win. But, still he has been listening to a debate about whether letting your girlfriend win at video games counts as lying for far too many hours now.
“Look, it’s not a big deal,” one of the actual rookies is saying, with emphatic hand gestures. “No harm no foul."
Big words from a 19-year-old.
“By letting her win at chel?" Bergy says skeptically. “She… knows who you are, right?”
He has opinions about this - mostly, if you are letting them win, what is the point? And also, yes, this counts as lying - but nobody has asked him, so he is keeping his mouth shut. Catches Shane's eye and raises an eyebrow. Shane buries his answering snort in his locker and his pretend search for his deodorant (it's sitting on the shelf where he always puts it).
The rookie shifts defensively. "But, it's not really lying. Or like, it's a white lie. It's just to, you know, keep the peace."
"Sure, make her feel like she's winning when she isn't." Bood says.
"Exactly," Then belatedly processes Bood’s expression, "Oh, wait, you weren't saying that like it was a good thing."
Bood taps his nose. "You want her to start thinking she can't trust the things you say?"
"Well, when you say it like that it doesn't sound as nice."
“I think the kids these days call that gaslighting,” Barrett says.
“The kids these days?" Hayes snorts, kicking Barrett’s heel. “You’re what? 25?”
“29,” Barrett objects. “But, I feel ancient.”
He snorts, and Bergy points at them. "You think Roz and Hollander ever let each other win?"
"Famously not," Hayes drawls, and looks entirely too amused.
"Why would they need to?" he hears someone whisper. He does like his team, good guys all of them, even when they are being idiots.
Shane turns around, leaning back against the edge of his locker. Meeting Ilya's eyes and his mouth quirks in a smile. "If you're letting her win, you're doing foreplay wrong."
There's a moment where the entire room can't decide if they heard that right, and then Ilya lets out a laugh, and smacks an obnoxiously loud kiss to Shane's cheek. "What he said."
Bergy holds up a finger. “Point of order." The entire room groans. Bergy keeps his finger up until Z gives in and waves a hand, ceding the floor. “I want it on the record, that I very much did not ask. Hollzy volunteered that information.”
"This explains so much," Haas says.
And Bood laughs, gives him a loose noogie. "Rookie, you only just figured this out?"
"Still not a rookie," Haas grumbles.