Chapter Text
Ilya had just finished a PT session for some lingering shoulder tightness after practice, and he was practically vibrating with nervous excitement. Tomorrow, Shane Hollander would be coming over to his house for the first time, and Ilya needed to prepare. Hollander had been to his penthouse apartment a few times over the years, but he hadn’t been in Boston since Ilya had bought his new house, and Ilya couldn’t wait for him to see it. The house itself was , but he secretly hoped Hollander would like it. Real estate was one of his only other interests Ilya knew about besides hockey and athletic, phenomenal sex. Ilya wanted to show him that he was mature, that he could be boring and practical too. He couldn’t even let himself think about how much he truly craved that.
Ilya was distracted from his thoughts of all things Hollander when he saw Cliff Marleau sitting on the curb outside of the front door to the practice facility, scrolling on his phone with a dejected expression. Practice had ended over an hour ago and Marly didn’t have any meetings with PT, medical, or anything front office related as far as Ilya knew. This was definitely unusual.
“Marly! Why are you waiting on the curb like a school child? Did your mom forget to pick you up?” Ilya asked casually, trying to hide his concern behind their usual language of gentle barbs.
“Hey Roz. Just waiting for an Uber. Sabrina was supposed to pick me up but she cancelled on me,” he explained, his voice stuck in an awful monotone. He had very sad eyes, which were emphasized when he tried to smile but the expression looked incredibly out of place. One of the many things Ilya appreciated about Marly was that he wasn’t capable of hiding his true feelings, he was always honest and straightforward about everything.
“Ah,” Ilya replied, letting the silence settle. He knew his friend would share whatever was going on without any other prompting if he waited long enough.
“She also broke up with me. I think,” Marly admitted, trying to shrug casually but the action felt stilted.
“You aren’t sure?” Ilya replied, his eyebrows furrowing. He knew Marly was not the most perceptive person in the world, but he was usually decent at picking up the obvious things.
“It was a long message. I only read a couple of lines before I started feeling too much shit, you know? Didn’t want to break down in the parking lot,” he explained with a sad smile. Ilya felt his heart clench for his friend, he knew that Marly had really been into this woman, constantly talking about her as if he had known her for years and not a few weeks. No wonder he looked so devastated. Ilya also felt a rush of anger that anyone would be such a coward and end things like this over text - Marly deserved so much better than that.
“Give me your phone. I will handle it,” Ilya demanded, holding out his hand for the phone.
“Thanks man,” Marly agreed quietly, passing it over gratefully. Ilya quickly scrolled to his messages and found the thread with Sabrina at the top. He hadn’t been exaggerating, this was truly a novel and a half of a text. Ilya skimmed through the wall of words, looking for anything that might be useful. Unfortunately, it was just a bunch of empty platitudes and explanations that did not actually say anything. It was basically a stream of consciousness word salad. The only thing he could really gleam is that she wanted a guy that would be home more, but there was nothing useful to actually help his friend. Ilya quickly hit the block button and deleted Sabrina’s contact. He did not need his friend to try to get back together with this awful, avoidant woman.
“Okay, so she did break up with you, the words are very cowardly and not important. I blocked her, we will find you someone so much better,” Ilya explained as he handed the phone back.
“I don’t know Roz. She was way out of my league. I’m not surprised she finally figured that out,” Marly admitted, shaking his head in frustration. Ilya frowned, he did not like that train of thought at all. Mainly because it was a filthy lie.
“Marly, I do not like this wallowing like a kicked puppy. You are a catch, much better than this Sabrina, and there will be a woman that sees that someday. How about you come over and we play Grand Theft Auto? Whoever beats up the most cops gets to pick the takeout restaurant for dinner,” Ilya offered, knowing it was the best way to cheer up his friend. In Ilya’s first season with the Bears, he and Marly had spent many, many hours doing this together, bonding over loud explosions, fast cars, and general debauchery. When his brain was fried from so much new English, it was a great way to unwind. The language of pulling off heists and stealing expensive vehicles was universal, apparently.
“Okay, that sounds chill,” Marly agreed with a small smile as he stood up to follow Ilya to his car. It was a small improvement in his mood, but Ilya would take it.
“Great. I have to stop at the store on the way home, but I’ll buy the gross beer you like if you don’t complain about it,” Ilya said. He would normally just put the shopping trip off until later, but he didn’t really have time with Shane getting there tomorrow. Marly would just have to tag along.
“No problem man,” he agreed with a shrug. After thinking about it for a bit longer, he asked, “Wait, since when do you do your own grocery shopping? I thought you had that delivery service set up.”
“I forgot to order a few things,” Ilya replied. That was definitely not the full truth, but he didn’t want to get into it, knowing it would only lead to many more questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. Instead as a distraction, Ilya gave Marly control over the Aux, and he tried to focus on the road and not the boring elder dad rock that blasted through his speakers. Ilya didn’t know a ton about North American music, but he was pretty sure Marly was the only person under the age of fifty that listened to The Eagles. But he didn’t chip him about it at this moment because he was an incredible friend, and also because it wasn’t a good look to have a grown man crying in the passenger seat of his top of the line Porsche.
True to his word, Marly didn’t complain once as Ilya drove twenty minutes to their destination. Ilya had opted to go to the pretentious health foods co-op he had learned about through Svetlana’s vegan ex-girlfriend. The relationship may have been short lived, but Ilya had learned a lot of information about grocery stores and restaurants he had filed away, just in case he needed it for later. They all seemed like places Hollander would prefer. If Ilya was going to cook for him (which was still TBD), he was only going to use the highest quality ingredients.
“You shop here?” Marly asked incredulously, unable to hide his surprise after they walked in and went down the first aisle. Given that Ilya had a diet not unlike a raccoon living on a university campus, it was a fair judgement. But he couldn’t tell the real reason why he was shopping here, so he had to come up with something.
“Yes. It is all about balance, Marly. For every morning I eat a pile of greasy McGriddles, I follow it by eating breakfast with eggs from chickens that have names and frolic in long grass to their heart’s content every day,” Ilya explained as he gestured dramatically towards the shelves of eggs in question. Ilya didn’t know if it was too unrealistic to think Hollander might have breakfast with him the day after next, but he wanted to be prepared just in case. He didn’t know what Hollander ate in the mornings, but he figured eggs were a safe bet.
“Woah, you weren’t kidding. They even have bios!” Marly exclaimed excitedly, as he stopped in front of one of the signs to read. He chuckled as he added, “You’ve gotta go for Sue Ellen, Roz. She sounds like a firecracker.”
“No, look at Dolly. She’s clearly the healthiest girl in the lot,” Ilya disagreed, pointing to a picture of a chicken that looked clearly bigger and stronger than the rest.
“Those are some slick ass feathers,” Marly agreed with a nod, watching in approval as Ilya put a carton into his cart. Then he got that sad look in his eyes again and asked, “Should I start raising chickens in the offseason? I didn’t know they have personalities!”
Ilya held back a sigh at his friend’s question. Whenever Marly was feeling lonely, he convinced himself that it was time to get a pet. But with how often they traveled and Marly’s propensity to spend the night out at homes other than his own even when they were in town, Ilya didn’t think it was a very good idea.
“Hmm…maybe we start with a plant and make sure you can keep that alive first,” Ilya suggested gently before changing the subject, “Do you want to pick out a couple bags of chips?”
They carried on, getting little things until they finally got to the sections that Ilya really came here for. He had planned to get the ingredients to make tuna melts, in case Hollander agreed to stay. Ilya didn’t do a lot of cooking (next to none, really), but this was one of the only North American meals he knew how to make, mainly thanks to Connors. He thought it seemed much more casual and comfortable than making Hollander Pelmeni or Shchi.
“Marly, what kind of cheese do Canadians like?” Ilya asked as he stared at the rows of different deli slices, contemplating the pros and cons of each variety with the intensity he usually only reserved for choosing a new car. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to bring Marly along after all, he knew what was normal in Canada in ways that Ilya never really would.
“All of it? I’m personally a fan of a pungent bleu myself. The creamier stuff gives me the bubble guts,” he replied honestly, and Ilya rolled his eyes. Marly had always been the kind of guy that shared way too much information about his dumps, and his farts had the power to clear out buildings they were so strong. Ilya had never connected it to his dairy consumption though, the dummy was probably lactose intolerant and hadn’t realized. He made a note to buy him some lactaid. That change definitely couldn’t hurt in helping him keep a girlfriend.
“So helpful,” he muttered sarcastically. He decided to grab the most expensive mild cheddar available, figuring it was the safest option.
Unfortunately for Ilya, the choices only got harder. Even after all these years, the large amount of options in American stores still overwhelmed him. As he stared at the variety of tuna available, he realized he had no idea how he should differentiate. He had briefly considered the tuna steaks he saw in the fish aisle, but he had never made those before and thought it might be above his capabilities. If he gave Hollander food poisoning, he would definitely never see the man again. So he stared at all of the different cans in frustration, wishing one would just jump out as him as the right choice.
“Roz, bro, it’s just canned fish. Pick one already, this isn’t a Sophie’s Choice situation,” Marly unhelpfully pointed out, clearly bored as he scrolled on his phone.
“One more word and I will leave you here,” Ilya threatened, shooting Marly his signature glare.
“Woah! Sorry man. I didn’t realize it was so serious. Take your time,” he replied, holding his hands up in surrender, “What are you making with this stuff, anyways?”
“Tuna melts,” Ilya answered shortly.
“Huh,” Marly grunted before turning back to his phone, leaving Ilya to mentally torment himself. Eventually, Ilya just grabbed the most expensive one that made lots of promises about vitamins and protein. That had to mean something good, right?
Ilya had finally made the diciest decisions, only needing to pick up some Ginger Ale and Marly’s gross IPAs before they could pay and leave. He grabbed a twelve pack of Canada Dry (the exact brand he knew Shane preferred) and continued down the aisle towards the beer when Marly asked, “You feeling okay?”
“I am fine, why?” Ilya replied, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. He had not coughed or sneezed or anything.
“I only have Ginger Ale when my stomach is upset. Thought that might be why you’re getting it,” Marly explained with a shrug.
“Oh. No. That is not why,” Ilya answered vaguely.
“Right,” Marly replied, realizing that Roz wasn’t going to give him any more details. Ilya needed this shopping trip to be over.
“Holy shit, Roz! Your place looks incredible,” Marly complimented, looking around in clear awe as they carried the groceries from the garage into the kitchen. Ilya had hosted a housewarming party right after he bought the house, but he hadn’t had any of the guys over since, and the place had come a long way since then. He may have spent way too much time searching for artwork and rugs and lamps and whatever to make the place feel put together. He maybe even had a subscription to Architectural Digest. Who was to say. (He definitely didn’t hire an interior designer. He had learned from Hollander that he could do much better, he did not need to pay thousands of dollars for someone to buy him a million pillows.)
“Thank you,” Ilya replied, focusing on the task at hand instead of acknowledging how unusual this was for him. Ilya had always kept his home relatively clean (or at least the people he hired did), but he could admit his home was on another level right now. He had spent lots of money to ensure it would look perfect, not one piece of clutter out of place.
“When did you start organizing your fridge?” Marly asked in shock, holding out one of the organization bins in front of him as if it was debris from an alien space ship or something.
“I hired that organizer the WAGs kept talking about. I wanted my place to look nice,” Ilya admitted, definitely not blushing. Russians did not do this, after all.
“Well you nailed it, my man. It definitely puts my bachelor pad to shame. Looks like you could be featured on one of those home design shows Carmy is always watching,” he replied, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief.
“Thanks,” Ilya said shortly.
“Did you do it all for yourself, or is there someone you’re trying to impress?” Marly asked lightly, finally getting to the question he had probably been wanting to ask all afternoon. Ilya didn’t want to lie to his friend, but he didn’t know if he should tell him any part of the truth. So, instead, he deflected.
“If you are going to have chips, put them in a bowl. I don’t want greasy crumbs everywhere,” Ilya said instead as he tossed the bag at Marly’s face. He just laughed as he caught the chips easily.
“Alright, alright. We don’t have to talk about it. I’ll leave it alone,” Marly replied as he went to grab a bowl before changing the subject to much safer topics.
Several hours, way too much Chinese food, and a handful of beers later, Ilya was feeling relaxed in a way he hadn’t in too long. He had just listened to Marly share all of his feelings about his breakup and his fears about being alone forever, and suddenly Ilya had this intense urge to share what he was going through as well. He craved that connection so intensely he was struggling to hold the feeling. So he impulsively decided to let someone in, just a little.
“Marly?” Ilya asked as they were in the middle of their latest GTA round, both staring intently at the screen.
“Yeah man?” He asked, a little distracted as he was trying to break into a Maserati.
“Jane is visiting tomorrow. When you asked earlier, that is why my house looks like this,” Ilya admitted, eyes pointedly not leaving the screen under any circumstances even as he felt the softness of his friend’s gaze shift to him.
“Woah! That’s amazing, Roz. You two finally dating now?” Marly asked, trying to sound chill through his excitement at Roz finally opening up.
“No, is not like that. We are still…casual. It will be her first time here,” Ilya explained. He didn’t really know if they were casual, exactly, but it was the only way he could think to describe it. They couldn’t be anything else, so it would just have to do.
“Oh. Well she’s gonna be so impressed, bro. The tuna melt and Ginger Ale stuff was for her?” Marly replied. Ilya secretly hoped that was true.
“Yes. It is her favorite drink,” he confirmed, once again definitely not blushing.
“Right on, brother. No way she doesn’t want to be your girlfriend after all that,” Marly said with a wide smile, clapping Ilya on the shoulder.
“Maybe. It is still complicated,” Ilya said with a shrug, trying to project that that fact didn’t bother him at all. Maybe if he pretended enough times, he’d start believing it.
“Because it’s long distance?” He asked sympathetically.
“Yes,” Ilya confirmed. There were also approximately a million other reasons, but he couldn’t get into any of them without telling Marly everything. This would have to be enough for now. Maybe someday.
“Roz, you’re the smartest hockey player I know. You guys will figure it out if that’s what you both want. Not that I can really give any advice, I can’t make a relationship work to save my life,” Marly said confidently. Ilya didn’t point out that calling him the smartest hockey player was like calling him the fastest 90 year old or the sexiest man in Buffalo. It was an incredibly low bar.
“You will when the right woman comes along. You’re a great guy, Marly. Any woman would be lucky to be your girlfriend,” Ilya reminded his friend, ready to stop talking about his own dating (or pointedly not-dating?) life.
“Aw, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I love you too, brother,” he replied with a cheesy smile, throwing his arm around Roz. Ilya rolled his eyes at the overt display.
“What, do you want me to criticize your edge work while you are so sad? I am not a monster,” Ilya deflected before reluctantly admitting, “But yes, I am glad that we are friends I guess.”
“Fuck! Where did that prostitute with a bazooka come from?” Marly shouted, their full attention turning back towards the game as they were thrown into chaos. Ilya wouldn’t have had it any other way.
While Ilya and Cliff were bonding over gratuitous violence, the Voyageurs were towards the end of a grueling road trip, and Shane was a live wire. They had gone from Detroit to Colorado to San Jose to New York City, where they had just faced the Admirals earlier that day. Tomorrow they would be flying to Boston for their last stop on the trip, with the game the following day. Shane had been channeling all of his nervous energy of seeing Rozanov in person again after whatever had happened between them the last few weeks into the games, throwing himself into hockey in a way he usually only reserved for playoffs. Even if he was emotionally stunting himself, at least the team was reaping the benefits.
Thankfully, Shane had a pretty good distraction from his anxiety tonight. Their game today was apart of a NHL/PWHL double header that the New York Admirals and Sirens hosted every season to foster support and community amongst the two teams and their fanbases. This year Montreal was chosen as opponents, and now that the games were over, the Sirens had set up an unofficial after party at a sports bar in Greenwich Village called the Kingfisher. It was apparently their favorite local haunt - Rose had been several times and had vouched that Shane probably wouldn’t hate it. She had promised it was low-key, which Shane didn’t even know was a possibility. He had admittedly never been to a gay bar or club (not that he had been to that many straight bars and clubs either), but he had always pictured a dark, sweaty, much too crowded dance floor with flashing lights, party drug use, and Lady Gaga blaring so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. He didn’t know there could be, like, nuance to these kinds of spaces. Fuck, he was so bad at being gay.
Granted, only a portion of Shane’s team was attending tonight - JJ, Hayden, Taylor, and Miitka, plus the rookies Stedlund and Berkes. Once the rest of the Voyageurs found out this was happening at a chill gay sports bar, they had made alternate plans expeditiously. The rest of them were going to some gaudy nightclub that a lot of reality TV stars, influencers, and other D-list celebrities frequented. Shane was secretly thankful they decided to do their own thing for a million reasons, but mainly because he was certain being in a gay bar for the first time with the likes of Comeau and Drapeau would have sent him into a fierce panic attack. He was going to be uptight as it was, but at least there would be less scrutiny this way.
And so Shane stood in the lobby of the team hotel, waiting with their group of guys for their car service to arrive. He was trying to seem casual, even though he felt anything but.
“Do I look too straight? I wore my girliest shirt,” Taylor asked out of no where, holding out his arms and spinning as if his mom demanded it or something. Shane had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, mainly because no one would ever think Taylor was queer while wearing that. He was wearing a patterned button-up with palm leaves and flowers that featured touches of pinks and purples. It was basically the uniform shirt that every straight man wore on tropical vacations, and that wasn’t even accounting for the khaki chinos that looked way too cargo parts adjacent to be anything other than heterosexual.
“Huh? What does that even mean?” Hayden asked in confusion. JJ also glanced down at his own outfit, clearly evaluating whether this was something he needed to worry about with his own look.
“I don’t know! I’ve never been to a gay bar before! I’ve just seen enough tweets to know I don’t want to look like a finance bro or some shit,” Taylor explained with a shrug. In Shane’s mind, he was letting out a long suffering, overly dramatic sigh. He had never really imagined what his first experience at a gay bar would be like, but if he had, it definitely would not have ever featured whatever this was.
“No one is ever going to mistake you for a business man, Tayls. I think you’re safe,” Miitka chirped, making the rest of the group laugh. Taylor flipped him off as he laughed along too.
“You guys really haven’t been to a gay bar before?” Stedlund asked seriously.
“No,” everyone answered in some form of negative, besides Miitka.
“This surprises me,” Stedlund commented, eyebrows furrowed. Having only moved to Canada a few months ago from Sweden, Stedlund was often confused by different North American customs and social dynamics. The kid loved to go out, regularly finding obscure concerts, performances, and dance parties that all sounded like Shane’s worst nightmare. Stedlund was definitely the only guy on their team that actually took advantage of the artistic culture that Montreal had to offer, which Shane appreciated. That open-mindedness made Shane a little hopeful that the younger guys might actually be able to help make their sport more accepting, even slightly.
“For real, you’ve been missing out! They pour drinks like twice as heavy as other bars do. And getting hit on by dudes is kind of a nice confidence boost,” Miitka agreed enthusiastically. Shane hadn’t expected this answer, but he found it weirdly comforting that two of them had been to a gay bar before. Tonight wasn’t weird, it was totally cool and normal to be there. This was just something straight guys did sometimes. No one was going to jump out and accuse him of being a raging homosexual the second he stepped into the building or anything. Everything was fine.
“I don’t think Taylor is gonna have to worry about that one,” Hayden joked.
“Hey!” Taylor yelled, grappling Hayden and pulling him into a half-hearted headlock. Hayden flailed as he tried to break free of the surprise attack, both of them just generally making a scene in an otherwise very upscale, sophisticated lobby.
“Cap! You’re friends with the Victoire players, right?” Berkes asked out of the blue. Shane once again internally sighed, it was as if they were bringing up conversation topics to purposely drive him specifically insane. This conversation change led Taylor to let go of Hayden, both too interested in Shane’s answer to care about wrestling anymore.
“Yeah some of them,” Shane agreed shortly. Hayden and JJ were both staring at him, clearly incredibly curious but trying to hide it. Unfortunately for all of them, none of the Voyageurs would know subtlety even if it hit them in the face.
“Are any of them single?” Berkes asked nervously. JJ choked out a cough in surprise, all eyes were definitely on Shane now.
“Oh. Um. Probably? The ones I know…aren’t available. But I’m sure some of them are?” Shane replied hesitantly. This wasn’t strictly true - Morgan and Naomi were definitely single. But Morgan was a lesbian and although Naomi was pan she wouldn’t date a nineteen year old in a million years, so it was easier to answer it this way.
“Damn,” Berkes said with disappointment. Hayden clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly the way men did when they didn’t know what else to do.
“You just want to follow in Hollzy’s footsteps to see if you can copy his stats boost this season too,” Stedlund teased.
“Fuck off. It’s not just that, they’re also very hot. I’m not a total dick,” Berkes defended himself, his entire face flushing bright red in embarrassment.
“What are you talking about?” JJ asked in confusion, the rest of the older guys sporting similar expressions.
“Oh! You didn’t know? Cap is having, like, the most GOATed season possible stats wise. No one has been this far ahead in the points race at this point in the season in decades. He’s been on fire ever since he became friends with the Victoire,” Berkes explained, as if it were obvious these two things were clearly connected. The bad thing about so many of them barely listening in high school and skipping university all together was that they missed some fundamental concepts that they probably should have picked up. Shane briefly wondered if it would be worth it to explain correlation vs causation. He quickly realized it would be much more effort than it was worth.
“Hate to break it to you kid, but I think that has a lot more to do with my new offseason training regimen than who I’m hanging out with. I can help you out after practice to work on some stuff if you want,” Shane offered instead. And really, he didn’t want his success to be chalked up to anything about his personal life. The support had definitely helped, but he had also put in thousands of hours of arduous training, pushing his body and mental reserves to the limit. He thought those efforts deserved all the credit, even if it was a much less interesting story.
“Really? You’d do that? I wouldn’t want to waste your time or anything,” Berkes said quickly, clearly flustered. No matter how old Shane got, he hoped he never got tired of this kind of respect from the younger guys. It was truly the greatest compliment to have his hockey skills so revered.
“No worries, it’s literally my job. We’ll set it up once this roadie is over,” Shane replied. Being captain came with so many added responsibilities, but this was probably his favorite. He loved helping guys that genuinely wanted to improve, all of the extra effort so satisfying once they started seeing results.
“Thanks bro. That’s gonna be so lit,” Berkes replied enthusiastically right as Shane got a notification on his phone.
“Our rides are here. Let’s roll out,” Shane announced, ushering the group towards the waiting cars. Shane took a deep breath, trying to settle himself for whatever the night was about to have in store for him.
When Shane walked into the Kingfisher, his body tensed as if he was going into battle. But he relaxed slightly once he took in his surroundings and saw that it was, in fact, not an elaborate trap to expose his closeted ass. It really was just like any other sports bar he had ever been in, with sticky floors and a couple of pool tables. New York sports memorabilia and TVs showing ESPN filling nearly every square inch of the wall space. The only difference was the various pride flags, queer art, and pictures/signed gear from LGBTQ athletes mixed in. That gave him a little bit of a complex - would he ever be able to be open enough about himself to be one of them? Fuck, he couldn’t go down that path right now.
Given it was a Wednesday night, the bar wasn’t that crowded. There were a handful of normal people who seemed like they couldn’t care less about the hockey players invading their space, which was the ideal scenario. Shane followed their small group as they made their way over to the table of Admirals players, where Shane was quickly pulled into a conversation about the disaster class Tampa had been putting on this season with Eric Bennett and Carter Vaughn. It was like any other hockey event he had been to, maybe even better because all of the major assholes had self-selected out of making an appearance.
About half an hour later, the PWHL players started filing in. They were coming straight from the arena, given they played second and had to finish their post-game routines and press. Shane felt his last cluster of nerves start to fade away when he saw his group of friends finally walk through the door.
As all the groups of hockey players started intermingling and greeting each other, Rose quickly found Shane, a tall, stunning woman in tow. They were pressed together like they were surgically attached, which Shane found endearing. He thought it would be nice to have that with someone someday.
“Hey Shane! This is my girlfriend, Elena,” Rose introduced them excitedly. Shane knew who Elena was, of course. On top of being one of the best players in the PWHL, Rose also talked about her a lot. Not that he would ever tell her that.
“Hey, it’s great to meet you,” Shane greeted kindly, holding out his hand to shake.
“You too. I can’t believe I finally get to meet my girlfriend’s boyfriend,” Elena joked with a mischievous smile. At least, Shane hoped it was a joke. He couldn’t totally read what her expression was conveying.
“I’m so sorry about all of that. The internet is crazy,” Shane apologized to be safe.
“It’s really okay! I’m glad she has you as a friend, seriously. Even if people refuse to understand it,” Elena quickly replied, which eased Shane’s fears that he had already messed this up.
“I’m glad to have her as a friend too,” he said sincerely.
“Awww, please talk more about how amazing I am,” Rose gloated, beaming at the two of them. Shane lovingly rolled his eyes.
“Maybe we would if you hadn’t missed that wide open shot in the second!” Morgan chirped as she and Naomi approached their little group.
“I was tripped! It’s not my fault the refs were clueless,” Rose defended herself, dramatically throwing her hands up in the air to emphasize her point.
“Of course you were, babe,” Elena said placatingly, planting a kiss to the top of Rose’s head.
Elena was clearly about to say something else when Naomi cut her off, “Don’t you dare start that competitive bickering thing! I refuse to listen to it all night again.”
“We aren’t that bad!” Rose exclaimed, but it looked like she didn’t even believe what she was saying. Shane was guessing they were in fact that bad. He could kind of understand though, he and Rozanov were also competitive. What else did anyone expect from two professional athletes?
“Girl, be so for real,” Naomi deadpanned, rolling her eyes. This was clearly a well worn fight.
“Shut up. I’m going to get drinks. Anyone need anything?” Rose offered.
“I’ll go with you,” Shane said quickly, needing a break from the larger group. They made their way to the bar once they had taken all requests, where Shane was happy to have a bit of breathing room.
“Baby’s first gay bar. How are you feeling?” Rose asked, eyeing him curiously. She was really good at getting to the heart of something and just asking about it directly, not bothering to try to hint at it. Shane really appreciated that.
“Kind of dumb for building it into a thing, honestly. It’s so much like every other sports bar I’ve been to, just more flags,” Shane admitted sheepishly.
“Yeah, that’s kind of the best part. And the people, but you’re not really getting to experience that tonight with the hockey of it all,” Rose said, gesturing at all their teammates and opponents around them.
“Maybe someday,” Shane replied with a shrug. The idea both terrified and intrigued him a little. He couldn’t even imagine being out, much less what kinds of activities he would and wouldn’t want to participate in once he had the freedom to do them.
“Ugh I can’t wait until I can drag you somewhere like Man Handle or T-Bag,” Rose said mischievously. Shane groaned on reflex.
“No way those are real places,” he disagreed, shaking his head. Who in their right mind would name their business something like that? No way a city would sign off on a license for T-Bag.
“Oh just you wait,” Rose answered with a laugh.
“Elena seems great. Will you guys get to spend much time together before you have to leave?” Shane changed the subject, secretly very excited to get a little bit of gossip. He knew Elena and Rose had been in a weird place before this trip, and he just wanted the best for her.
“We get an entire day together tomorrow before we play each other again on Friday. I don’t plan on leaving her apartment until I’m contractually obligated to,” Rose answered, making Shane laugh. He figured he would be exactly the same if he was ever in a long distance relationship.
A few hours later, Shane was standing alone at the bar to get another drink. Rose and Elena had left a while ago, and he had spent most of his time since playing pool with JJ and Hayden plus anyone else that wanted to rotate in. He really had been enjoying himself to the point where he was surprised he wasn’t dying to go back to the hotel yet.
“I think our rookies are going to fuck,” Naomi announced, startling him half to death as she truly came out of no where.
“Jesus Naomi,” Shane exclaimed dramatically.
“Sorry. Am I wrong though?” She replied, not sounding very sorry at all as she gestured over to the rookies in question. Berkes was standing very close to to a very strong blonde woman that was an inch or two taller than him. Their arms kept brushing each other, and they were staring at each other as if they were the only two people in the room.
“I’m usually bad at reading people, but yeah they’re all over each other,” Shane agreed with her assessment.
“Maybe our social media teams will finally get the Voyageurs/Victoire couple of their wet dreams,” Naomi replied with a wry smile.
“You sure you don’t want it to be you? Taylor is single,” Shane deadpanned. They looked over at the winger who was talking to a few of the third and fourth line Admirals, trying to do what appeared to be a very stupid TikTok dance and failing at it spectacularly. What he lacked in talent he made up with in dedication, truly throwing his whole body into the moves. It was a spectacle.
“I’d rather join the nunnery,” Naomi retorted, which made Shane snort.
“Fair,” he said, “Did Morgan leave already? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Yeah, she went home with that gorgeous firefighter she was talking to all night to ‘meet her cats’,” Naomi answered, using air quotes on the last phrase.
“Is that a euphemism?” Shane asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had learned a lot of lesbian slang over the last several weeks, but he hadn’t heard that one yet.
“It might as well have been,” Naomi laughed.
Hayden had spent the better part of his evening at the Kingfisher trying and mostly failing to talk to Shane about his relationship status. As soon as he started driving the conversation towards that direction, a PWHL player would appear out of no where and interrupt his plans. So instead he was mostly just observing Shane’s behavior, seeing if he could figure anything out that way. While he hadn’t seen anything explicit, he had been having a lot of solo conversations. He realized he needed a second opinion from his other best friend.
“They’ve been talking a lot tonight,” Hayden said to JJ, gesturing to where Naomi and Shane were in what looked like a deep one-on-one conversation at the bar.
“Yeah. She’s even making him laugh. I’ve never seen him look so relaxed in a bar,” JJ replied, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the sight. Which was fair actually, given Shane had never stayed out this late willingly mid-season before.
“So maybe he really is dating someone, we all just got it wrong with Rose? It’s actually Naomi?” Hayden suggested. That would explain a lot, actually.
“Looks like it. Why would he keep that from us though? She’s a smoke show, talented, and chill as hell,” JJ asked, sounding a little hurt. That was the million dollar question that Hayden had spent weeks trying to find the answer to.
“No idea. You know how weird Shane is about his personal life though,” Hayden pointed out. Surely it wasn’t anything they had done wrong. Surely it was just Shane being Shane.
“What do you know about Matti Jalo?” Naomi asked out of the blue.
Shane raised his eyebrows but rolled with the question, confidently answering, “Great defenseman. Monster on the ice, probably has the best physicality in the league. Incredible transition passing with solid vision on top of that, he’s so much more than his size and strength. He’s always named one of the best for a very good reason.”
“Thank you, but I’ve seen him play. I meant as a person,” Naomi replied.
“Oh. Right. He’s nice, I guess? I’ve only hung out with him at a few All-Stars, I don’t know him that well,” Shane answered. He didn’t know why Naomi would care about his non-hockey opinion on the guy, but then again most people didn’t like to talk about hockey in the way he did.
“Please give me more than that,” she groaned playfully. Shane’s eyebrows furrowed, he really had no idea where this conversation was going.
“I don’t know. He will talk to anyone like they’re his best friend, even the new guys. He loves to tell stories about all of the different kinds of fish he’s caught, especially if it involves, like, a fjord or something? Every time we’ve spoken longer than two minutes, he’s asked me if I want to see pictures of all his worst injuries. They’re really fucking graphic,” Shane said everything he could possibly think of, hoping it was what she wanted.
“Okay, won’t be asking about that. Any red flags you can think of?” Naomi continued to question.
“Why? Isn’t that his girlfriend?” Shane asked back, gesturing to where Matti had his arms wrapped around Sirens player Maria Villanueva, whispering something in her ear. If that wasn’t a clear sign, Shane didn’t know what was.
“Yes. The three of us are vibing. I’m trying to make sure he’s threesome worthy and not a secret asshole like most men in your league first,” Naomi explained, and Shane’s eyes widened in understanding. He knew people had threesomes and open relationships and stuff, but he rarely actually saw it in public, so he often forgot that was even an option. He felt a little embarrassed for being so dense.
“Oh! Well, I’ve never seen or heard anything bad about him. He’s way hotter than that one guy you showed us a few weeks ago,” Shane offered. Granted Shane could grab ten guys off the street outside this bar and at least six would be hotter, but he was going to keep that thought to himself.
“Yeah I mean obviously. And have you seen Maria’s grip strength?” Naomi replied, waggling her eyebrows dramatically. That wasn’t a metric Shane had ever associated with sex, but he had learned over the weeks that vagina havers were doing things he had never even dreamed of. It really was further proof that he was, like, so gay.
“No?” He answered, not sure if he actually wanted to know.
“Trust me, it’s more important than you think,” she said with a smirk.
“I believe you,” Shane said emphatically.
“Hey! Can I get you two anything?” Kip, the bartender, asked as he approached them. Shane had never been more thankful for an interruption in his life.
“Hello Kip! Can I get a Red Bull and a water?” Naomi asked brightly. She saw Shane’s look and added, “What? Hydration is important.”
“I know that! But a Red Bull at midnight? Do you want to completely ruin your sleep schedule?” Shane asked judgmentally.
“It’ll be so worth it,” Naomi said with a shrug, absolutely not sorry at all for the choices she was about to make. Kip just stared at them in amusement, clearly enjoying the back and forth.
“Anything for you, handsome?” He asked Shane, touching his arm gently.
“A Ginger Ale please,” Shane replied.
“Coming right up,” Kip said with a wink, turning to grab their drinks. Shane felt a blush crawl up his cheeks, he had never had a man flirt with him like that in public. He didn’t want to examine the feeling it gave him in his chest.
Shane turned back towards Naomi to ask her something, when he saw Scott Hunter at the other end of the bar, glaring at him with an intensity he had never seen from the man before. He didn’t even think Hunter was capable of that kind of fierceness on the ice, much less off of it. He decided to check with Naomi to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, “Is it just me, or is Scott Hunter giving me a strange look?”
“Nah, you’re right. That’s like a level ten glare. What did you do to him?” She asked after looking unsubtly in Hunter’s direction to see for herself.
“I have no idea! I didn’t even really chirp him tonight. And all of my checks were clean, right?” Shane replied, racking his brain for what he possible could have done.
“As far as I saw. Weird,” she replied with a shrug.
Kip returned with their drinks, and the three of them continued to make a little bit of small talk. Elena had introduced them all to Kip at the beginning of the night since they were best friends. Shane thought he seemed like a good guy, he was happy that if nothing else, Rose was surrounded by genuine people when she was with Elena in New York.
“Alright, wish me luck. I’m going in,” Naomi announced after finishing her Red Bull, setting the empty can down on the bar as she eyed Matti and Maria like they were a puck she was about to win.
“You don’t need luck. They’d be stupid not to want you,” Shane said, hoping the sentiment was encouraging.
“I have no idea who we’re talking about, but I agree! Get it, girl,” Kip added enthusiastically.
“Thank you, love you! Don’t wait up,” Naomi joked.
“Obviously. Be safe,” Shane said.
“Always,” she agreed with a final wave before making her way into the crowd and towards her targets. Shane watched her go with awe and a dash of jealousy, he envied that kind of confidence so much.
“It seems like you two are close,” Kip pointed out.
“Yeah, I think so,” Shane agreed, “How long have you known Elena?”
“Pretty much our whole lives. Our parents are best friends, so we basically grew up as siblings. Never tell her this, but I was thrilled when she was drafted to New York, even if she was only fifth. I would have been a mess if she had to move,” Kip admitted warmly.
“It’s good you have each other. Your secret’s safe with me,” Shane replied with a small smile.
“Hollander! How are you, Rook?” Scott Hunter greeted Shane over-enthusiastically, pulling him in for a bro hug. Shane was startled once again on several accounts - Hunter had seemingly appeared out of thin air, he had never once done the bro hug thing, and he hadn’t called Shane Rook since 2011 or maybe 2012 at the latest.
“Hey Man. Good to see you,” Shane replied, trying to hide his surprise. Then he added, “Have you met Kip? He’s Elena Rygg’s best friend.”
“I haven’t. Nice to meet you, I’m Scott,” he said, holding his hand out for Kip to shake.
“Pleasure. Can I get you another beer?” Kip asked, gesturing to his nearly empty bottle.
“No thanks. I try not to drink too much during the season. I’m much more of a smoothie or protein shake kind of guy,” Scott explained, grinning from ear to ear at Kip for some reason.
“You’ll have to come by for brunch sometime. We have a mean smoothie selection,” Kip offered.
“He’s being modest! He’s a prodigy behind a blender,” Kyle, the other bartender, yelled as he passed behind Kip as he grabbed a beer for another customer.
“Fuck off Kyle,” Kip immediately retorted. He explained, “I’m really not. I’m just competent at ratios.”
“I’d love to try your smoothie sometime,” Scott said dreamily. Shane tried not to physically cringe at how strange that sounded.
“Cool. I’m working brunch on Sunday this week,” Kip replied, a blush spreading up from his neck across both cheeks.
“Cool. I’ll have to stop by,” Hunter said, absolutely beaming at the bartender, “Random question, do you like serial killer podcasts? I was just listening to this great one on my way here.”
Shane actually couldn’t stop himself from cringing that time. Had Hunter always been so awkward? How had he never noticed that before? He made an excuse to get far away from this conversation, “I’m going to go to the bathroom. See you guys around.”
“Goodbye Hon,” Kip said.
“See ya, Rook,” Hunter added with a weird two-finger wave.
Shane did in fact go to the bathroom, needing to process whatever that was he just witnessed. He decided to reach out to the only other person he knew who could have possibly seen such an angry Scott Hunter, hoping he’d be able to help him make sense of it.
Jane -> Lily
Jane:
I think I did something to piss Hunter off
But I have no idea what
I didn’t even call him old one time tonight!
Does he ever glare at you at awards and stuff?
Lily:
Hmmm no. He is too stuffy for grudges
Or so I thought
Did something happen at the bar?
Jane:
I don’t know! I was talking to the bartender and I turned and he was looking at me like I had murdered his whole family
Then he came over to talk to us but he didn’t seem mad at me?
He just kept staring and smiling at that guy
But then he started talking about serial killers so I left
Lily:
Ah. Was the bartender attractive?
Jane:
I guess?
He was really built for a non athlete
He kept smiling and touching everyone’s arms, but that’s his job
Lily:
Sounds like Hunter was jealous of you
Jane:
Why though? It’s not like that guy can only have one friend
Lily:
Probably only one boyfriend though…
Jane:
No way! Hunter???
Lily:
I could see it 🤷♂️
Jane:
Maybe
Holy shit
I can’t believe I witnessed Hunter flirting
Mainly because he was so bad at it 😬
Lily:
That I believe 100% 😂😂😂
Jane:
At a hockey after party is ballsy as hell though
Lily:
He has to take advantage of any chance he gets now that he doesn’t have much time left
It’s like senior citizens gone wild 🕺
Jane:
😂
Do you think there are others?
Like there probably are
But I never thought about it really besides us
Lily:
I think we’ll never know until someone decides to be open about it first
Jane:
Yeah
Fuck
Lily:
Back to Hunter flirting. Can you get a video? I need new chirp material
Jane:
No way in hell
You’re such a menace 🙄
Lily:
Yes you will see this in detail tomorrow 😈
Jane:
Fuck
I can’t wait
Lily:
Ah no. It’s fuck me please
Fuck me harder is also acceptable
Jane:
How about shut the fuck up if you want to get anywhere near me? 🖕
Lily:
🤐
Goodnight Hollander
Jane:
Goodnight Rozanov
With that, Shane realized his social battery was pretty far depleted. It was time to head out and hopefully get some sleep before seeing Rozanov tomorrow. He said all of his goodbyes and then headed outside to wait for his car. It just so happened that Naomi was leaving at the same exact time with Matti and Maria to head back to their apartment, so they all waited on the miraculously mostly empty New York sidewalk together.
“JJ! Are you seeing this shit?!” Hayden practically yelled, gesturing wildly towards the window he was standing in front of. The two of them were waiting for their turn to rotate in on another game of pool, just shooting the shit until it was time to face off against Carter Vaughn and Greg Huff.
“No! Criss! What?” JJ replied, walking over to see what the hell his friend was freaking out about.
“Shane! Is! Leaving! With! Naomi!” Hayden answered dramatically. JJ looked out the window, and sure enough Shane was standing next to the woman in question, talking to her from a respectable distance.
“Ay, Captaine! What a beautician,” JJ exclaimed, clearly proud of his friend for a truly incredible pull.
“Wait, what is she doing?” Hayden asked in confusion as Naomi moved over to talk to another couple out there as well.
“Is that Matti Jalo?” JJ asked, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to piece together what was going on.
“Yeah, I think that’s his girlfriend. She’s on the Sirens,” Hayden answered, sharing the only information he had, “Maybe they’re sharing a car?”
“Tabernak! That’s so much tongue!” JJ exclaimed. Hayden had never been lost for words before, but there was truly a first time for everything. They both watched in utter shock as Naomi and Maria made out. On the sidewalk in front of the bar. In front of their (presumed) boyfriends and God and everyone.
“Holy fuck. Are they….?” Hayden asked, trailing off with no hopes of finding a way to finish that sentence.
“I never knew our captaine was so freaky,” JJ muttered in awe. Hayden wondered if they had both somehow sustained a head injury in the game and were having a shared hallucination. Was that possible? He’d have to ask Jackie later.
“Maybe that’s why he’s never told us anything? He’s in a polygamist relationship?” Hayden asked, the words feeling wrong and terrible even leaving his mouth.
“Like the sister wives?” JJ asked in confusion.
“I don’t know man! One of Jackie’s friends went on a Swinger’s cruise last year and hearing about it made me want to throw up. I don’t knowing anything about this shit,” Hayden admitted, suddenly feeling faint.
“I think we need to learn for our friend,” JJ pointed out.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Fuck,” Hayden agreed in the cadence of a man realizing he needed a root canal, or worse, a prostate exam.
While the Victoire celebrated their win in New York at the Kingfisher, Leah Campbell was stuck at home trying not to lose her mind. She was stuck on IR for several weeks after a flare up of her reoccurring shoulder injury, and she was going stir crazy. In addition to being unable to play hockey, she couldn’t knit, garden, or quilt. All of her hobbies out the window, she was left with doing her PT exercises and staring at the wall basically. Even her cats were getting tired of her trying to play with them. So she decided to quit complaining and started spending all this newfound free time getting ready for her unofficial meeting with her contact in Voyageur ownership next week.
“Leah, light of my life, you know I love you so much no matter what. But why in the world are you writing a dossier on the NHL players?” Max asked as he walked into the office, peeking over her shoulder at her laptop screen with her working document open.
“It’s just some light research,” Leah explained with a shrug, pretending that what she was doing was normal and not certifiably overkill.
“Light? That word doc is over 150 pages,” Max pointed out gently, his eyes drifting down to the page and word counts in the bottom corner.
“Pictures take up a lot of space,” she retorted.
“You’re definitely going to be prepared for your conversation with Anna,” Max said, shaking his head in amazement. There was truly no one in the world like his wife.
“That’s the goal. Like I told the girls, we need a strategy. We can’t just go in with only good intentions. We need concrete steps,” Leah explained. Was she taking it too far? Probably. Had over-preparation failed her yet? Definitely not.
“You know this isn’t all on you, right? It’s okay to ask for help,” Max said, getting to the crux of his concern. No one, not even his perfect, incredibly stubborn wife, was going to be able to fix the culture of an NHL team in an afternoon. He wasn’t even sure if anyone could fix it in decades, but he didn’t want to voice that fear.
“I know. I just feel useless while injured,” Leah admitted. She had really enjoyed this work, just glad to finally have something to do.
“You’re not useless. Your job is literally healing your body,” Max pointed out for the umpteenth time. Leah knew that was objectively true, but it was really hard to actually accept that fact.
“Ugh, get out of here with that logic,” she groaned.
“Want to send me some of the names you haven’t gotten to yet? I’ll go grab my laptop and we can work on it together,” Max offered with a small smile. Leah couldn’t love her husband more if she tried. He was always willing to support her wholeheartedly, throwing himself into any task it took to get over obstacles and achieve anything they set out to do. Lucky didn’t even begin to describe it.
“I would love that. How about you take the LA teams? And not just the players, okay? I want coaches, PTs, trainers, equipment managers, everyone you can find,” she directed, glowing at the idea of getting to share this with him.
“Consider it done,” Max agreed, giving her a quick kiss before going to get the laptop in question. Injury recovery might have really sucked, but with Max by her side, she felt like she could do anything.