Chapter Text
The firm bleacher seat feels cold beneath Shane’s butt. His thighs are pressed up against the two people beside him, sandwiching him here on the metal. He holds back a groan, already uncomfortable enough sitting on this bench without his pads on. Although, he knows the space issue would actually be worse if they were all suited up, fully ready to jump out on the ice and play. These benches are not meant for an entire team of hockey players to be squeezed onto them all at once. He almost wishes they did have a game slated right now. After all, they are here in the arena with the rink right in front of them. But there would be no hockey played today.
Instead, Shane and all his teammates were dragged out on a Saturday for the start of season pep rally.
Shane never understood the purpose of these things. The season hasn’t started yet, so what is all the hype about? Why go to the rink without being able to watch (or play) a game? And Jesus did everyone in the entire school come to these things? That last thought hit him as he looks around the arena for the first time since he sat down. Yup, pretty much every seat in here is full.
The brassy band sitting on one of the endcaps starts playing the college theme song, and Shane watches as the whole crowd stands and starts screaming the words together. He hears the cymbals clash and the drums pound, but Shane feels absolutely no desire to join in.
Sure, he likes his school. Centaur University always has two or three draftees go into the pros every year, and it isn’t too bad of a place to be for academic purposes. But Shane never felt a real connection to the place besides when he is here at the rink. So school spirit, or whatever it is called, never prompted him to buy red and white overalls or a branded hat. His hockey jersey with his last name on the back of it is about the only piece of University clothing he owns.
Still, the tension radiating around him from his teammates is palpable. The Centaur’s first game is next week against the Dragons, one of their rivals. The two schools find themselves together quite frequently in the Tetra Tundra, the most important tournament of the season. Last year did not go so well for the Centaurs, but now that Shane is captain, things are going to be different. Better. Let’s just say that getting revenge on the Dragons is top of mind for every one of the players on this bench.
Which is why Shane is aching to be in the weight room, on the ice running drills, fucking anything except wasting his precious Saturday watching a clown show. How long is this thing supposed to last anyway? He would have pulled out his phone to check if not for the fact it is currently trapped in his pocket between his thigh and Hayden Pike’s.
Whatever. It’s not like checking the time would make this go any faster. He would just have to be patient, sit here like a good captain, and maybe run a few attacking plays in his mind until it’s over. It’s at least something to keep his brain occupied.
The band stops playing eventually, and Miles, student announcer for every home game, glides onto the ice wearing bright red skates and a full Centaur U outfit. His red pants say ‘Centaurs’ down one leg, and his crisp white shirt has the school’s logo plastered right at the front of it. He wears a massive grin, clearly enjoying being the center of attention while standing at center ice.
“Welcome, Centaur University!” His voice booms around the arena, eliciting cheers from every student in the audience. Miles turns in a clean circle, lifting his arms up and down to encourage the crowd. “Welcome to a new season of hockey, a new team to cheer for, and hopefully a new trophy to lift!”
The smile does not leave Miles’ mouth for one second, and Shane briefly wonders how he does it. How is he so happy to be in front of everyone like this? When Shane is out there, he’s not the only one. And alright, maybe he’s the star of the show most of the time, but still. It’s different.
“Tonight, we have something very special for you.” Some claps and hollers echo from the crowd. “While our main purpose is to celebrate the start of our very talented hockey team’s 2017-2018 season...,” Miles pauses as the crowd screams, predictably, “This year, they will be joined by Centaur University’s inaugural class of ICE DANCERS!!”
Shane had heard about this briefly from their coach during the pre-season. Apparently, their hockey team had received enough interest to create a whole cheer team just for them. It is different than football or basketball cheerleading. To do that, all you have to do is dance. But here, you have to skate.
On their cue, twelve scantily dressed women skate in a straight line onto the ice, traveling the full perimeter before circling up in the middle. Shane feels the two players next to him straighten up and lean forward slightly towards the dancers. Shane just glares ahead, willing the routine to end quickly so they can get out of here.
Here’s another thing he never understood. Why do women have to wear such little clothing when they dance? Especially, when they dance on ice? It’s ice for fuck’s sake. It’s cold.
Shane shakes his head slowly, and in lieu of watching the routine, slides his eyes to the right to watch his teammates. Each of them, the entire row, have their eyes fixated on the dancers. Even Hayden, the teammate directly next to him, has his hands on the rim of the rink, his eyebrows almost high enough to shoot off his face.
“Pant any louder and people are going to think you’re a dog,” Shane says, under his breath. Hayden doesn’t take his eyes off the show as he tilts his head slightly to the left to respond.
“They can call me whatever they want, dude.” Hayden pauses and smirks. “As long as they ask nicely for my bone.” The horrible line draws a chuckle from a few nearby teammates, but Shane just rolls his eyes and looks back down at his feet, unwilling to give any more attention to his drooling teammates.
A wild cheer, louder than the cheer when Miles entered the rink, erupts from the crowd. What now, Shane thinks. And what now, indeed.
The ice dancers are bordering the tunnel, standing in two rows of six. Between them, barreling out of the tunnel and high-fiving each of them on its way past, comes the Centaur’s mascot.
The crowd is on their feet once again, screaming and banging on the boards for the mascot in skates. Out of every stupid school tradition, Shane hates the mascot the most.
For one, it isn’t even a centaur. Who decided to have a bear be the mascot for the Centaurs instead of an actual centaur? For two, whoever is inside the mascot always loved messing around with players too much. Especially on game days when Shane tries so hard to stay in the zone, having a camera shoved in his face and a grizzly paw on his back is not ideal. And for three, it has the stupidest name Shane has ever heard. Boston the Bear. Fuck all the way off.
But there it is, or he is, in all his fur-covered glory, donning a fresh pair of skates on Shane’s ice.
The crowd is still screaming their heads off as Boston the Bear waves to them while doing the same loop that the ice dancers did. The arena quiets as the dancers join him on center ice, making a pyramid of skaters with Boston at the point, in line directly with Shane. In one more breath, the lights drop leaving the arena in pitch black.
A singular spotlight shines down from the ceiling, illuminating Boston’s dark brown fur. The light splits into multiple, sliding away from the group and beginning to circle around the ice. And then, the music starts.
I just want a Rollie, Rollie, Rollie, with a dab of ranch
I already got some designer to hold up my pants
Boston and the ice dancers begin a hip-hop routine, staying in their pyramid format, while the song plays. Shane finds himself entranced by it. Not by the song, because what even is a ‘rolly with a dab of ranch’, and not even by the ice dancers looking like actual MLH professionals.
Shane is staring directly at Boston in absolute shock that he is able to pull off some of these moves in that horrible costume. But good God, he is hitting every beat, and it is impressive as fuck.
Before Shane realizes it, the routine ends with each dancer completing a near front flip and landing perfectly on their skates, striking a final pose. All except for Boston, who has ended the routine in the splits, hands over his head in two shaking fists.
The goal horn is going off repeatedly, the band has started playing again, and Shane actually thinks the front row of the stands might bring the boards down. His entire team is clapping, some of them giving a standing ovation, and Shane can’t help but to join in for a few claps as well. Damn, they were actually good.
The rally ends shortly after, Miles previewing the Centaur’s season and Shane’s coach giving a quick interview. Soon enough Shane finds himself walking back towards his car in the parking lot. Most of the team left already, but Shane took the extra trip to the rink to make sure his locker was ready for their game next week. By now, there were only a few cars left in the lot.
He’s in a better mood than he was earlier in the day, but he’s still not pleased to have wasted a whole day sitting on a bench instead of being on the ice. Even though tomorrow is Sunday, Shane promises himself he is going to do a few extra reps at the gym and spend more time out on the ice to make up for it.
He’s already mentally adjusting his schedule when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. The brown fur is all too familiar, and Shane cannot believe that Boston the fucking Bear is trudging out into the parking lot as well. Without changing into normal clothes. At least he isn’t still wearing skates walking onto the concrete.
Shane’s jeep is parked right in front of him, and although he doesn’t want to be caught staring, he can’t help but wonder who is inside the costume.
Mascot identities, especially at Centaur U, are kept under lock and key. Lock and key and deadbolt and then another lock for good measure. Suffice to say, nobody ever knew who is under the head until they graduated and revealed themselves.
Still, Shane’s curiosity is getting the best of him. He pretends to dig through his bag to find his car key, all while knowing it is actually in his right pocket, and steals glances over to where Boston is still walking. Finally, Boston stops next to a white Toyota Camry and pops the trunk. Hmm, Shane thought, not the car he would have expected for the beloved mascot.
Boston puts whatever bag he was carrying into the trunk, taking his time to rifle through it just like Shane is still doing absentmindedly. And then, his furry arms come up to his head. Shane holds his breath as he watches Boston twist his head once, and then twice, before popping it completely off.
Even in the darkness, Shane can see enough. He watches Boston shake out his long reddish-blonde hair and put the head into the trunk. The paws come off next, joining the head. Shane swears he can see nails sparkling in the artificial trunk light. Boston shuts his trunk with a slam, and wraps around to get into the driver’s seat with the rest of the uniform still on.
Now with the head off, Shane sees his side profile. A slender straight nose, puffy lips, high cheekbones. Wait a fucking minute. Shane knows that side profile. And holy shit, Boston the Bear isn’t a he at all.
Rose fucking Landry slides into her driver’s seat, turns the car on, and peels out of the lot with a screech. Shane realizes he’s still standing outside of his locked Jeep once her headlights disappear down the road. He shakes his head a few times trying to convince himself what he saw was not real. But fuck it does make at least a little bit of sense.
Rose Landry, star cheerleader of the Centaur U football team, is practically the university’s sweetheart. She is president of her sorority, cheerleading captain, and now somehow Boston the Bear? Shane had no idea she even skated.
But whoever was under that bear head clearly has dance experience. Shane didn’t think there were too many overlapping games between football and hockey anyway, so she could possibly be doing both. Not that he kept up with the football team at all.
Either way, the evidence is undeniable. Rose Landry is the one under the head. Shane is intrigued to say the least, and now on the drive home, all Shane could think about is when he is going to see her again. Or Boston.