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Game night starts normally.
That's the main point of it, Wyatt thinks by the time everyone is settled in around his living room, the sprawling map of America and bundles of plastic trains spread out across his coffee table.
They're set up in his den, his giant flat-screen playing some low-fi beat video that LP put on, the setting sun sending golden light across the custom red dragon rug that Wyatt bought after his trade to Ottawa in 2018. He's on the floor, pressed close to Zane, a bowl of Selena's homemade chex mix nearly half-gone already, despite it having just been set out.
The windows are cracked, the smell of late summer spilling in through the screens, and the faint murmur of the tiny stream that runs through his backyard underscores the dreamy feeling of having almost all of the team settled in around him.
Half of the team is “just watching” by which they're critiquing everyone's moves as if they understand the game despite talking over Wyatt's explanation—and more importantly, they're ignoring the fact that the game hasn't even started yet. The other half is semi-focused on the set up with Harris, Shane, and Wyatt taking it the most seriously; though, he suspects Ilya will lock the fuck in once shit starts getting real competitive.
Everyone's having a relatively good time—even the rooks, who seem endlessly confused as to how Ticket to Ride works.
And like, Wyatt's not a snob about board games—he isn't! It's just sort of like, how the fuck does someone get confused about matching the track colors to their cards and about fulfilling their tickets, to say nothing about how Young immediately claimed Luca as his ‘teammate’ which, of course, set Roz off because if anyone is partnering up, he's just gotta have Shane.
And then, well—everyone had to pair up. Wyatt wasn't going to let anyone have an unfair advantage. No fucking way. He wants to kick their asses fair and square.
So, you know, it starts normally. Sort of.
Their hearts are there, and Wyatt knows just what that gleam in Shane's eyes means; the man's fiending to fucking win. Roz, of course, is no fucking help as he flops around his husband, murmuring things in Russian that Wyatt is glad he can't understand, because the only thing Ilya likes more than dominating in all aspects he can is watching Shane dominate—and Wyatt is unfortunately well versed in how intimately he means that.
And really, he can't blame him, because Shane Hollander was put on this earth to be intimidatingly gorgeous and unfairly good at hockey and blisteringly kind when he's not being an asshole, and fuck, who isn't a little bit in love with him? They're all in the group chat, that's really just a nonstop gas up of Shane—Wyatt is well aware of just how flexible some of his “totally straight” friends are. Nick and Evan are not that subtle.
But that's not the point—the point is, Wyatt has high hopes.
And look, Wyatt loves a board game. He's watched some fun cosplay and game walk through videos from Pax Unplugged and Gen Con, regularly listens to some of the podcasts that do game reviews, and maybe runs a not-so-secret Instagram account about all his thoughts. Hell, he's even made the trek to Origins when the Cens haven't been in the Stanley Cup finals—which, up until about two years ago—was fairly par for the course.
And yeah, maybe he gets hyper competitive about Ark Nova, and Seti, and Tzolk’in, and yes, okay, maybe he's thrown a fit about terrible engine mechanics. Some games are just fucking bad at their base design, and it's not their fault (except for all the ways it is).
Lisa is just as bad, he swears. It's—as Cassie likes to fondly say—a true nerdgasm between them.
But he's trying! He is! He's pretty fucking pleased at the tickets he pulled, and he's well aware of how he's going to fuck up Connor and Luca, given the way their tickets are face up as they none too quietly argue about how many trains they should use, despite Wyatt having listed out the exact amount five minutes ago.
On their other side, Troy is clearly besotted, as he leans into Harris and listens to his boyfriend mutter about strategy, while across from him LP and Bergie blatantly point at various cities—though at this point, Wyatt's pretty sure they're just discovering the names of American cities through the board. Otherwise, he feels for them; none of their tracks seem to be anywhere close together.
“We've got this,” Zane mutters from beside him, leaning close to plant a kiss against his temple. He smells comfortingly of baby powder and pine, his arm warm from where it's sprawled across the back of the couch's seat, and god, they should arrange another night with him and Cassie.
He's pretty sure Ilya would be fucking delighted to babysit Milo, regardless, never mind the fact that he's doing it to get railed by Bood.
Which, shit. He never came out to him, did he?
“Roz,” Wyatt says, meeting his eyes with a lazy grin. Ilya arches a brow at him, his hand still tangled in Shane's hair from where he was tilting his head to whisper in his ear. “I'm bi, by the way.”
“Dude,” Connor says immediately, grinning at him, Luca smiling widely at his side as Harris cheers. “Most nonchalant coming out ever? NSYNC ref, too?”
“Can it be a NSYNC reference if there's only two byes in the sentence?” Evan asks, lounging across the couch. He crunches a chip loudly and then makes a noise of realization as Wyatt eyes him. “Or wait—dude, you're the third bi. Hazy! You fuckin’ crack me up.”
Wyatt snorts, glancing over to find Ilya beaming at him, before he sits up on his knees and leans over, planting a wet kiss on his forehead.
“We are the queerest team in the NHL,” he says happily, sighing with delight, and paying no mind as Shane shoves at him from where he's trapped under his angled body. “I love you, my most beautiful goalie.”
“Glad to hear it, Wyatt,” Shane says, throwing a little bit more of his strength behind his swats and knocking Ilya back down onto his ass. He smiles—a genuine, full-fledged grin—and Wyatt swears he can hear angels singing. He knows he isn't imagining the quiet sigh of lust that Evan lets out, or the way Zane sways into him, all of the Cens hopelessly entangled in Shane's orbit.
“If everyone is queer—”
“I'm straight,” Evan says, before pausing. “I think.” He shrugs. “I think I'd need to kiss a guy to be sure though.”
“Okay, I don't want to label it, but dude, that's a little gay,” Oliver says from his seat across the table. “Like no one can no homo a bro kiss.” He offers a hand out to Ryan, who high-fives it. “We would fuckin’ know.”
Wyatt pauses in his thoughts, turning to blink at Bergie. “What?”
Oliver wrinkles his nose. "What what?"
"Are you kissing each other?" Harris asks, setting his cards down with the air of a man who is both incredibly done and also fondly amused. "Because that's—" He pauses, and shakes his head. "You know what? Never mind. I'm all for safe experimentation. God knows hockey needs to be queerer."
Ilya points at Harris, before turning his stern eye over the rest of the group. "You have heard Harris, yes? You must all experiment with desire now. Do you want to disappoint him? Chiron's father?"
"That's not what I meant," Harris says, but he sounds far too pleased for it to be convincing in any sort of way. Fuck, Wyatt loves this goddamn team; they do fucking run on good cheer and rainbows. Everyone else in the NHL should be fucking jealous. "But, I mean, if it gets a bunch of objectively attractive men exploring their own wants, who am I to argue?"
Ilya nods, grinning at all of them, curling an arm around Shane, and smacking a kiss to the top of his head. "As your Captain, you must kiss a man, with your wife's permission, before the season end, yes? And I know that I will be the top choice—"
"If I'm kissing anyone on the team, it's Hollzy," Nick interrupts easily, seemingly unconcerned with how that sounds as he sprawls across the couch, his head in Evan's lap. "He's kinda the IT boy of hockey, Roz."
"Kind of?" Evan echoes, rolling his eyes. His mouth is curled into a half-smile, clearly telling the truth and also getting a kick out of annoying Ilya. "Fuck that noise, he is the IT boy of hockey."
"If you kiss Shane, you will have to become a little gay," Ilya says, his eyes sparkling. Wyatt drops his gaze to Shane's pink cheeks, the unamused stare that he's nailing his husband with, and holds back a longing sigh at the thought. Oh, to become a little bit gay from kissing Shane Hollander. It's too bad he already knows he's bi—otherwise he'd have to plead for a chance.
"It's not always gay to kiss your friends," Shane mutters, sniffing pointedly. "Some people do it all the time."
The room stills, before everyone's attention swivels to Shane who freezes under their stares. He arches an unimpressed brow at them all, pointedly avoiding Ilya's gaze, before he goes back to placidly studying the board, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Who are you not gay kissing?" Ilya demands. "Rose doesn't count."
"Obviously, Rose doesn't count," Shane says, rolling his eyes. "Wouldn't that be straight?"
"Yes," Ilya says, impatiently. "And you are very gay, so who is it you are kissing that you have to specify it's not gay? Is is Pike? Boiziau?" He casts a wild glance around the room. "Please tell me it is not my precious Boody. He is handsome, yes, but it will break my heart if he did not kiss me to find out that he is a little gay."
"I don't need Hollzy's, or your, help, Roz," Zane says, and brushes a kiss against Wyatt's cheek, who grins, completely pleased, and lets himself tip deeper into his arm. "You're not the only one who enjoys a little teammate on teammate action."
For another beat, the room is frozen, before the team explodes into questions, swept up into the joyful rush of everyone's minds imploding.
"Since, uh, when?"
"—the Admiral can suck it—"
"Gotta kiss another guy, just to be sure—"
"—god's strongest soldiers for real—"
"—make me bi? Because I am willing to put in—"
"Congrats on the kissing, guys," Shane says easily, leaning in to be heard as Ilya grins wildly at them, over the loud cheers of the rookies.
Wyatt shakes his head as Evan loudly exclaims that everything makes so much more sense, given that he'd walked in on Cassie and Lisa kissing three weeks ago and had been bewildered about how everything works. (Wyatt's not entirely surprised that Evan hadn't put it together that it was an all of them thing; he still seems vaguely surprised by the notion that his own wife is into him, despite how much he fucking loves Caitlin.)
"So we do win at queerest in the league," Harris mutters, loud enough for Wyatt to hear as Troy shakes his head from beside him. "This is fucking wild."
"Wasn't even a question in my mind," Wyatt says, grinning when Harris narrows his eyes at him. "What?"
"Well, you were sitting on some critical information, weren't you, Hazy?" Troy says pointedly. His nose is wrinkled, a bitchy look on his face, and fuck, Wyatt's so goddamn happy that they're here, that they all get to be brave and happy and safe together. "Since, you know, this has apparently been a secret life you've been hiding under our noses this whole time?"
Wyatt shrugs. "I forgot, you know? That I wasn't out, I guess. Everything here is just—I don't know. It's just easier to be on this team more than—" He cuts himself off, and knows Troy can read between the lines, despite having once been one of those things that made it harder. "And, like, the WAGs all know, I think, or maybe they think it's just a Lisa and Cassie thing. I don't know."
"I'm pretty sure none of the WAGs know, or if they do, they've been keeping it under wraps," Harris says, tapping his fingers against the coffee table. "Are you—are you cool with other people knowing?"
"I mean, if I wasn't, I wouldn't have said anything and neither would Zane," Wyatt says easily, before grinning at the side-eyed Harris gives him. "Post away, Mr. Drover."
Harris flushes, the same pretty pink that always adorns his cheeks beneath his beard. "I wasn't thinking about going quite so public—yet."
Wyatt laughs, shrugging. "I figured you'd have a plan," he says, and winks, his smirk growing at the bitten off noise in Troy's throat. He's been sort of offhandedly wondering just how flexible some of the other relationships on the team are—god knows he loves a bend, don't break sort of line.
"There are more bisexuals on the team than gays," Ilya declares, loudly enough that Wyatt focuses back on him, though the rookie's cheerful ruckus is still going strong across the table as they argue among each other over who is the cutest queer rookie. "Though, Shane's very gay ass—"
"Regular gay," Shane says drolly—though, by now, everyone who's roomed on the other side is deeply aware of just how spectacularly gay he is. He eyes Zane who's eyeing him right back, in sync as always. Something else to think about later then, he's sure.
"—does tip the scales," Ilya finishes, smacking a loud kiss to Shane's cheek, and ignoring the elbow to his ribs Shane aims at him. He pulls himself up, obviously trying to take on some sort of stern affect, though it's hard to take any part of him seriously when he looks almost deliriously delighted. "As the head bisexual—"
"Dude, Captain Bisexual would be a sick superhero," Oliver mutters, wiggling in place when Wyatt glances at him. He's got a crown nestled in his hair that one of them pulled of his shelves, clearly having won some level of attractiveness as the argument between them fades out. "I don't know what he'd do, but I know I'd follow him."
"—that is the power of being bisexual," Ilya says loftily. "It's why you all follow me, no?"
"It can't be because you're the best in the league," Shane mutters, leaning into Ilya. "Because that's me."
"Oh, so he thinks he has chirps," Ilya murmurs, grinning with all his teeth. It would, maybe, seem intimidating if he wasn't so clearly delighted, joy stretching from his mouth all the way up to the corners of his eyes, his whole face alight with love. "Malysh, you should know better than to start this—"
"Oh-kay," Nick says, huffing. "If we let you two go on forever, we're never going to get anywhere, okay? You both are the best, most prettiest hockey princesses there ever were." He twists, meeting both of their gazes as Wyatt watches, an odd sincerity shining on his face. "And I fucking mean that, you assholes."
Shane sniffs, but he can't hide the pleased tilt of his mouth, that edge of dickishness that's always neatly hidden away from his public persona. "I guess that's fine," he says, and Wyatt just knows he's going to go back home and start arguing with Ilya about who's a better hockey princess. Though, really, forget getting home—they'll be lucky if they wait for the car to start bickering.
"Only the best for my princess," Ilya says, puckering his lips at Shane and laughing when he shoves him back, rolling his eyes. He pauses for a beat, the whole room falling into a quiet moment, before he pulls himself up and clears his throat. "I am—I am very glad you have shared this with us," Ilya murmurs, meeting Wyatt's gaze head on. He looks genuinely touched, and Wyatt's heart melts for the umpteenth time today. He fucking loves his team. "It is a big thing, even here, to have shared this with us." He drags his gaze away to settle on Zane, his mouth curling into a fond smile. "Both of you."
"It's nothing, Roz," Zane says easily, stealing the words right out of Wyatt's mouth. "You're the one who makes people feel comfortable to share, you know? It's not nearly as crazy of a thing when we've got trust in you, you know? Even if you weren't bisexual, we all know that you'd be happy for us to share it."
Ilya sniffs, his eyes glossy for a moment, before he pulls himself together, settling back down next to Shane, who sets his hand on his thigh and beams up at him, love flooding his face.
"Can I ask a question?" Connor asks, his brow furrowing as he glances up at Ilya. "Was kissing Shane actually on the table, or was that just some—"
"You cannot ask Roz if you can kiss his husband," Ryan says, burying his face in his hands as Ilya starts to grin, and Shane goes hot pink, his eyes wide. "That's like rule one."
"I thought rule one was no snacks in bed," Oliver says, frowning at them as Luca pinches the bridge of his nose and looks anywhere but at Ilya. Wyatt exchanges another knowing look with Zane, both of them well aware of just who Luca would ask to kiss, though, Wyatt's pretty sure Luca's not going to turn down a kiss from Shane Hollander. Who the fuck would? "Did someone change up the rules?"
"Not important," Connor blusters, despite his cherry-red cheeks. "I'm just curious. God! You can't blame a man for trying," he mutters, and grins at the vague murmurs of agreement that roll around the room, Wyatt included. "See?"
Ilya shrugs, the corner of his mouth kicking up. "If you manage to beat us at,"—he glances down at the map, the cards scattered across the table, fondness clear—"Ticket to Ride, then, well. We can talk about it."
"Ilya," Shane hisses, tension snapping through the room, before it dissipates as he continues in the same breath. "If you're going to barter kissing me, at least make it about hockey."
Ilya snorts, grinning broadly around the room. "You heard the man," he says, as Shane nods once beside him, his eyes dark and serious. "Play some good hockey, and we will revisit the kissing idea."
"This team is fucking insane," Wyatt breathes out, underneath the cheers from the rookies. "I fucking love you guys."
"We love you, too," Zane says, and reels him in for another tight squeeze of a side hug. "Now, come on, just because kissing Hollzy isn't at stake, it doesn't mean I want to lose."
Wyatt laughs, bright and thrilled. "Believe me," he says, as he tugs his cards in, listening to Harris try to corral the rookies back into some orderly fashion. But, hey, it's probably kinder to them that Shane switched the stakes around; at least with hockey, they know how to skate. Here, they're clearly about to crash and burn. "We're not going down without a fight."
Zane presses another kiss to his cheek and Wyatt sinks back into the warmth of him, everything he's ever wanted spilling out to the horizon, so much joy and love he can taste it.