Chapter Text
Luca was a good kid. Shy, quiet, polite. He was a good player too, focused and determined if a little inexperienced. Meanness was not inherit to him, insults did not fall naturally from his tongue. As a result, he chirped about as well as Shane did. That was something Ilya was sure would improve with practice. He had told Luca as much when the younger boy had stuttered his way through the worlds tamest chirp during training once, only to blush and apologise after. Ilya just didn’t appreciate that Luca seemed determined to practice on his teammates.
He had been in a mood since he had arrived at practice that morning. Not obviously so, but Ilya was perceptive. His shoulders had been slumped, he had set his bag down heavier than usual, his left shoe had been untied and he’d seemed thoroughly annoyed about it despite making no move to fix it. He had not joined in with Young and LaPointe’s teasing of Holmbergs terrible acid wash jeans. He had shrugged off Bood when he had clapped him on the shoulder in greeting, his smile too tight to be genuine.
Shane had noticed too, quietly observing as he pulled his gear on beside Ilya. “He needs to drop.”
“You think so?” Ilya asked, despite the fact he had the same suspicion. Luca dressed slowly, clumsily. He stared at his skates for a while as though he could will them to tie themselves and save him the trouble. Shane shrugged at Ilya.
“Probably.” He said. “He doesn’t like going to centres I don’t think. I heard him talking about it with Young a few weeks ago. He’s been putting it off.”
The reign of terror had not started in earnest until they had gotten on the ice. Ilya had not noticed at first of course, because he was busy focusing on his own play. Luca and the other rookies were running their own drills, practicing in their own lines. He caught bits and pieces though, when they would skate closer to Ilya’s line. By their first water break, Young seemed thoroughly disgruntled as Luca drifted off to sit and sulk by himself.
“What crawled up his ass and died?” He complained to Holmberg, who only shrugged.
“I don’t know.” He said, squirting his water over his face. “I can’t believe he said that about your mom. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Haasy chirp like that.”
“That wasn’t a chirp.” Young said, pouting. Ilya noticed that his face was flushed and his eyes were shiny. Young was a little too, but he managed it well. Went to centres whenever he needed to drop, took good care of himself. It was rare for him to get emotional during games or practice, especially where everyone could see. “It was just mean.”
“Hey Nicky, it’s okay.” Holmberg comforted, reaching out to pat Young on the shoulder comfortingly. “Luca didn’t mean it like that, he’s just having a bad day or something.”
Ilya furrowed his brow, sharing a look with Shane. Chirping was one thing, pushing another teammate onto the brink of a drop was another. When they returned to training, Ilya shifted the lines so that Young and Holmberg were with Shane and more importantly, away from Luca. Youngs demeanour improved quickly. Luca’s decidedly did not.
It was rage aimed at anyone and everything. Curses thrown at Bood when he stole the puck away from Luca, his stick bashed into the ice when Hayes blocked his shot, insults thrown out under his breath. Troy had looked like he had not known whether to laugh or be offended when Luca had childishly told him that his face was stupid and his hair ugly. It stemmed, rather obviously as far as Ilya was concerned, from frustration. His face was twisted up in an uncharacteristic scowl, but there was sadness beneath the anger.
Ilya suspected his head hurt. If Shane were right and Luca had been putting off dropping because he did not want to go to a centre, it would not surprise Ilya. Migraines, insomnia, muscle pain. There was a long list of physical symptoms that cropped up when you ignored your headspace for too long. Made it difficult to function as a normal person, let alone trying to push through a professional athletes training program. Luca was cranky, and tired, and in pain. He was taking it out on everybody else because that was what cranky, tired toddlers did when they were in pain.
Unfortunately for Luca, Ilya was not in the habit of letting cranky, tired toddlers stay on the ice. Even ignoring the fact Luca had almost made Young cry and was on the brink of throwing a tantrum every time a play did not go his way, it was dangerous. Luca was only going to hurt himself and then where would they be? Down a player and with a hurt little on their hands. That was not something Ilya was going to let happen. So, when lunch rolled around he had made a decision. Wiebe had only nodded when Ilya said he was going to take Luca home. There was no need to question why when the man had functioning eyes. Shane had not looked very surprised either.
“I’ll meet you back at home.” He said, pressing a brief kiss to Ilya’s cheek. Ilya returned it by capturing his lips for a moment, chaste as Ilya was capable of being with his husband. Shane pulled away first, eyes sliding to where Luca was fumbling with his skates at his cubby, the laces too tight for him to unknot. “Take care of him.”
“Always, moya lyubov.” He promised, before making his way over to where Luca sat. He did not ask before he knelt down, gently batting away Luca’s clumsy fingers to unknot his laces for him. They had not been tied properly, knotted six times each to make up for it.
“What’re you doing?” Luca asked, glaring down at Ilya. Though with his big, glassy eyes and pout, it was not very intimidating. Mostly he just looked in desperate need of a nap.
“Helping.” Ilya replied simply. “We are going home.”
“What?” Luca asked, blinking at Ilya like he was speaking Spanish.
“You are cranky, is not good for training.” Ilya explained, slow and simple as he tugged Luca’s skate off his foot and replaced it with his sneakers. “You need lunch and nap and to drop, so I am taking you home.”
“I don’t need to drop! I’m fine.” Luca argued. Ilya levelled him with a disbelieving look.
“You are being mean to your friends and throwing tantrums on ice.”
“I didn’t throw a tantrum!” Luca said. Ilya snorted.
“So what do you call breaking stick because Hayes stopped your goal then?”
“I was annoyed.” Luca huffed, folding his arms over his chest grumpily. “You break sticks all the time.”
“Not in practice.” Ilya said. “And what about being mean? You made Young sad.”
“It was just a chirp.” Luca mumbled, looking down. There was a flash of guilt in his eyes, but stubbornness was winning out.
“Chirping does not make teammates cry.” Ilya scolded lightly, standing. “Now up, time to go home.”
Luca looked mortally offended as he stared up at Ilya, mouth open in shock. “I don’t want too.”
“Was not a suggestion.” Ilya repeated. “Are you walking or am I carrying you?”
“You can’t make me go home!” Luca whined. Ilya nodded. Carrying it was. Luca squawked with indignation when he was promptly hoisted up onto Ilya’s hip, flailing for a moment before his arms settled around Ilya’s neck. His face was mottled red from embarrassment.
“Say bye-bye.” Ilya instructed patiently as he gathered up Luca’s things alongside his own and made his way out of the locker room. The few people that were still lingering in the locker room gave Luca some sympathetic waves and goodbyes, though none of them were returned.
“No!” Luca cried, squirming in Ilya’s arms. Not enough to be dropped, certainly not with the way he was clinging to Ilya’s neck, but enough to let his displeasure be known. He kicked his legs a bit in frustration, eyes watery. “This is stupid!”
“Shh, is okay Haasy.” Ilya promised as he made his way to the parking garage. He was glad that he and Shane had driven in separately that morning. It was a rare occurrence, but Shane had a meeting before practice that Ilya had decided rather quickly he would not be wasting his morning attending when he wasn’t even needed. “We will have lunch and take nap and then you will feel much better.”
“No! I wanna stay!” Luca said, voice breaking as his breath hitched. The tears that had been building up in his eyes since he had first arrived with an untied shoe spilled down his cheeks as he sobbed, overtired and raw. He buried his face in the crook of Ilya’s neck. “Don’t wanna go.”
“I know, is okay.” Ilya shushed, patting Luca’s back gently. “We will be back tomorrow though, when you are not quite so small.”
Luca only hiccuped into Ilya’s shoulder, the spot he was nuzzling into growing damp. Ilya did not mind, continuing his shushing and patting until they arrived at the car. Luca whined when Ilya set him down in the backseat, trying to cling like a barnacle as Ilya manoeuvred him into the seat and buckled the seatbelt around him. His stubbornness had faded fast, giving way to a bleary eyed little boy.
Ilya reached for the centre console, pulling out the little stash of wet wipes that Shane always kept in any car he spent a significant amount of time in. Ilya had mocked him for it plenty of times before, the secret stash of hygiene products that appeared wherever Shane seemed to go, but it was useful in the moment as he cleaned Luca’s face. Not that Luca seemed particularly appreciative, squirming away from Ilya with an annoyed little noise.
“Yes I know malyshka, I am so mean.” Ilya cooed. “Cleaning your face and taking you home for yummy lunch.”
“Mean.” Luca agreed when Ilya was done cleaning him up. Ilya bopped him on the nose gently, which made the baby go cross eyed with concentration as he followed Ilya’s finger. He was very cute. “Don’t wanna go home ‘lya. Can still play.”
“I know you don’t.” Ilya said, scratching a hand through Luca’s curls gently. “But is not good for you to play when your head is funny. You should have dropped before it got to this point Luca.”
That made Luca’s eyes fill with tears once more, his lip wobbling at the light scolding. If he were ever to figure out how to harness his puppy eyes for evil, Ilya was sure the world did not stand a chance. For now though he only mumbled a watery. “M’sorry.”
“Shane says you do not like centres so you do not drop.” Ilya said. “Why?”
Luca shrugged, his fingers drifting up to his mouth so that he could suck anxiously on his index finger. He was lucky it was Ilya and not Shane talking to him, or he would no doubt be getting a lecture on all the germs their hands had on them. “S’scary. Don’t like strangers.”
“oh malyshka.” Ilya sighed. It was a valid fear Ilya was sure. It was vulnerable being little. It would be scary trusting someone you did not know to take care of you like that, certified carer or not. “Well will figure something else out for you then, da?”
“Promise?” Luca asked around his fingers, eyes big and round and hopeful. It was such a simple thing. Ilya wished Luca had only thought to come to them sooner.
“Promise.” Ilya assured. “But no more pushing it off. Is dangerous, you can get very sick.”
Luca nodded. “Okay ‘lya.”
“Good.” Ilya nodded, satisfied with the conversation for the time being. There would need to be another one when Luca was more clear headed, but he was satisfied for the moment that the little boy at least understood why he was being taken out of practice. “We go home now.”
Home of course being Ilya and Shane’s house. Luca did not seem to mind, toddling close behind Ilya with a hand gripping the hem of Ilya’s hoodie and the other in his mouth as he peered around like it was his first time ever being there.
“Lunch and then nap.” Ilya said, gently guiding Luca to the kitchen and sitting him down on one of the barstools. Luca watched Ilya with rapt attention as he moved around the kitchen, gathering what he needed to make a lunch suitable for a toddler who also happened to be a professional athlete. He did not talk much, which did not surprise Ilya. He was quiet out of headspace too. He did happily accept the plate of cut up fruit and crackers that Ilya handed him to keep him occupied while he cooked with a very polite little “thank you.” though.
He already seemed more relaxed from a little under an hour of properly being in headspace, his shoulder loose and face lax. It was clear to Ilya that Luca was still in some amount of pain, fisting at his eyes and temples every now and then as he chewed on his carrot sticks like he was trying to chase the pressure away. It would fade the longer Luca stayed in headspace of course, but sleep would certainly speed up the process. He did not finish his lunch, though he ate a decent amount of it before he began to listlessly push his greens around on his plate, blinking heavy and swaying on the spot.
“Time to lay down I think.” Ilya hummed, taking the plate from Luca and putting the leftovers away in the fridge. Luca made an agreeable sort of noise, half hum and half whine. He made no move to stand, instead holding his arms out to Ilya expectantly. Ilya laughed softly though he complied, scooping Luca up to settle him on his hip. Luca preened, snuggling happily into the crook of Ilya’s neck.
It was a far cry from the squirmy little monster he had been back at the rink, melting into Ilya’s hold like he was trying to plaster himself to Ilya’s skin. He dozed on Ilya’s shoulder as Ilya got him ready for bed, pulling off his socks and his hoodie so that he could be tucked under the covers of the bed in the guest room.
“’lya stay?” Luca asked quietly when he was finally laid down, blinking up at Ilya with pleading eyes as he added a sweet little. “Please.”
“I will stay.” Ilya agreed easily. It was not like he had much else to attend too, considering he was also supposed to be at practice. There was a load of laundry that could be done, which would likely earn him points with his husband, but it could wait until Luca was soundly asleep. It was not exactly a burden, rocking a sweet little boy to sleep. Especially not when said sweet little boy was out like a light within five minutes of Ilya beginning to pat his back in a steady rhythm.
When Shane returned from practice, it was to Ilya folding laundry in the living room and Luca scribbling away on construction paper at the coffee table with crayons that they usually kept around for the Pike kids.
“Hey.” He greeted softly, making his way into the room. Luca looked much better, smiling toothily when he saw Shane and waving clumsily. Ilya gave Shane a matching grin, pouting at him in demand for a kiss which Shane happily complied too. With greeting his husband out of the way, he turned his attention onto Luca. “How do you feel buddy?”
“Better.” Luca reported. “’lya made lunch and I took a nap and now m’drawing Nicky a picture to say sorry for being mean.”
“Sounds like a pretty good afternoon. I’m sure Nicky will appreciate it.” Shane said seriously. Luca nodded in agreement, turning his attention back to his picture. Shane turned back to Ilya, settling beside him on the couch. “How was he?”
“He was Luca.” Ilya shrugged. “Very polite, very sweet. Had cuddle with Anya when he woke up and then asked to draw picture so he could say sorry to Nicky. Easiest baby in the world.”
“We’re going to have to talk to him when he’s back up.” Shane hummed. “He can’t put dropping off to this point if he wants to keep playing professionally.”
“Da, I already talked to him a bit.” Ilya agreed. “He does not like dropping with strangers. Is why he does not go to centres.”
“I don’t blame him.” Shane said. “But that doesn’t mean he can just not drop.”
“We will think of something. He will be okay.” Ilya replied, kissing the top of Shane’s head.