Archive of Our Own

The Centaurs had a rare weekend off coming up and Troy couldn’t wait to get out of the fucking arena, and not only because Dykstra had once again taken control of the aux cord and was playing what he had described as “EDM-Country fusion.” Troy loved hockey, but he was looking forward to laying on a couch and doing fuck all for a few days. No games, no practices, no meetings, no tape review, no nothing. Just time at home with Harris and Chiron. And maybe one other person.

“You doing anything during the break?” Troy asked Ilya as they changed. As always, he tried to keep his eyes to himself, but it was hard when Ilya seemed to take up so much space and was seemingly allergic to wearing shirts.

“Yes,” Ilya said. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Will see friend, probably.”

Troy tried to keep his face from showing any surprise. It was more information than Ilya usually offered. He decided to press his luck.

“Jane?” he asked, trying to sound casual. Ilya smiled in that infuriating way he had and began pulling on his pants. Troy soldiered on. “Because I was talking to Harris, and we were thinking, if you weren’t busy, you could like, come over for a bit, if you wanted. Chiron would be stoked to see you. And you could bring your… friend.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow at Troy. “I have just told you I am busy. You are so desperate to spend time with me?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Troy grumbled, pulling on his shirt. “I was just seeing if you wanted to hang out.”

Ilya flashed him a crooked grin. “I did not know you were so obsessed with me, Barrett,” he said. “Do I need to tell your boyfriend?”

Troy rolled his eyes. “You are such a dick,” he said. “Sorry for trying to be a good friend.”

Ilya put a hand on his shoulder. “Is okay. Harris is also a little bit obsessed with me, I think.”

“He is not!” Troy squawked, but Ilya had already moved back to his stall to (finally!) pull a shirt over his head. Troy watched out of the corner of his eye as the ugly bear tattoo on Ilya’s broad chest disappeared. (He loved Harris but he wasn’t a fucking nun, okay?) Now dressed, Ilya gave his still-damp curls a shake, shot Troy a quick nod and headed out of the locker room door. Troy watched his back until he disappeared.

“He’s a weird guy, isn’t he?” Bood said, sliding into the spot Ilya had just vacated. 

Troy gave one last glance at the empty space that had just been filled by broad Russian shoulders. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Like he says we’re friends but I feel like I barely know the guy.”

“Same,” Bood said. “We’ve been playing together for a year and I feel like all I know about him is that he’s bisexual and likes fast cars.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “And beating sick kids at Mario Kart.”

Troy glanced around. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like any of their teammates were listening. “I worry about him, you know?” he said quietly. “Sometimes he just seems… I don’t know. Like lonely.”

“You talking about Roz?” Nick asked as he swooped in like some sort of ginormous French-Canadian bat. 

“Oh, he’s definitely lonely,” Evan added, scooting in next to Bood.

“Yes, I agree,” Luca said, popping up behind Evan.

“What the fuck, were you all listening?” Troy complained to his gathered teammates. “This was supposed to be a private conversation.”

Nick shrugged his broad shoulders. “He is our captain. We care about him. And he does seem lonely.”

“How can you be lonely when you’re fucking so many beautiful women?” Tanner asked as he also joined the little group crowding around Troy’s stall.

“And men,” Troy added automatically.

“Yeah, sorry. Ally and all that,” Tanner said, and put his hand over his heart and gave Troy a solemn little nod.

“You can be lonely while sleeping around,” Nick pointed out. “When its just two people using each other for a brief moment of connection, without any depth or meaning.” The team stared at him and Nick cleared his throat. “Or uh. You know. Whatever.”

“Is he though?” Wyatt broke in. The cluster of teammates turned to stare at him. 

“Is he what? A certified playboy? A womanizer extraordinaire?” Tanner asked. Troy raised an eyebrow and Tanner amended. “A womanizer and a mananizer?”

“Mananizer,” Luca mouthed.

“That’s not a word, don’t try to learn it,” Nick warned.  

Troy ignored them. “What’d you mean, Hazy?”

Wyatt shrugged. “I know Roz doesn’t go out with us super often, but when he does, do you see him pick up? Like, ever?”

The team was quiet as they thought. Slowly, they all began shaking their heads. 

“I can’t believe I never noticed,” Bood said. He sounded a bit shocked. 

“Goalie eyes,” said Wyatt smugly. “We see everything.”

“How long has this been going on for?” Troy demanded. 

“I’ve seen him flirt and be flirted with, but I’ve never seen him leave with anyone.” Wyatt shrugged. “Could just be that things with Jane are getting serious.”

“I don’t know about Jane,” Troy said doubtfully. “It seems sporadic, as far as I can tell. I think he can do better.”

Tanner got a thoughtful look on his face. Or painful. Troy couldn’t quite tell. “Do you…” Tanner started, then trailed off. “Do you think he’s like, sick or something? The big K?”

Troy frowned. The big K? He looked at his teammates. They looked just as confused as he felt.

Tanner stared back at them as if they were all idiots. “You know? Cancer?”

There was a moment of silence before Evan took a deep breath. “Man, we have got to get you into some sort of night school because–”

“What if he’s like… depressed?” Troy asked. They would deal with Tanner’s issues later. Probably. Maybe.

There was another pause as the team considered this.

“He doesn’t seem depressed,” Bood said slowly.

“Well you can’t always tell,” Troy argued. “And isn’t losing interest in something you love doing a sign of depression?”

There were a few hesitant nods around the circle. 

“So we need to try to convince Roz to start going to therapy,” Bood said.

They all looked at each other as they envisioned being the one to tell their captain he needed professional help. A collective shudder ran through the group. 

Troy snapped his fingers. “Or!” he exclaimed, “we get him back out there. Dating again.”

“Dating,” Bood scoffed. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“But doesn’t that just bring us back to where we started? Where he’s just sleeping his way through half of Ottawa again?” Nick asked doubtfully. 

“More than half, probably,” Tanner said. “Considering he bats for both teams.”

“Is saying two teams limiting?” Wyatt mused. “We know gender is a spectrum…”

“Okay,” Troy broke in. “So maybe not dating–” Bood rolled his eyes and Troy ignored him. “–but at least with someone consistent.”

“Like a partner?” Evan asked. 

“Who isn't Jane?” Wyatt added. 

“Yeah,” Troy said. “I felt way better after I was able to be public with Harris. It’s good to know someone is in your corner, you know? Roz deserves that as well. Someone who's willing to actually show up to events and stuff with him.”

“But who could even attempt to lock down Roz” Tanner asked, the wonder evident in his voice. “The man is the ultimate playboy. It would have to be someone fucking…” he trailed off, apparently at a loss for words for what a person would have to be like to get Ilya Rozanov to come to heel. “Someone pretty fucking spectacular,” he finally finished.

“I didn't know you knew words with that many syllables, Dilly,” Nick said as he gave Tanner’s shoulder a nudge. 

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Luca asked. 

Evan grinned. “What's wrong, Luca? Don't want your crush hooking up with someone else?”

Luca frowned and gave Evan the finger, but the effect was undercut by the blush that was quickly enveloping his cheeks.

“It’s a great idea,” Troy said, the enthusiasm rising in his voice. “I mean, with Harris–”

The team groaned. “We know,” Bood cut him off. “Your life became rainbows and butterflies.”

“So that’s what we’ll do,” Troy said, speaking over them. “We’ll find Roz a serious partner. Someone special.”

There was another beat of silence.

“What does Roz even like?” Evan asked. 

“I’m… I’m actually not sure,” Troy said.

“There is an easy way to find out,” Nick said, eyes glinting. “The same way he gets under everyone else's skin.”

“By chirping?” 

“By chirping.”

At Bood’s place, most of the team had gathered on the deck. The patio heaters were helping fight the chill that still lingered in the air, but Troy found his hands always got cold no matter how many layers he wore. 

Bood was standing in front of his giant grill, clicking his tongs in between placing marinated chicken breasts over the low flames. The smell was already making Troy’s stomach growl, so he pulled out his phone to distract himself.

“So we have an idea of what Roz wants,” Troy announced, scrolling through the messages again. “What’s the next step?” 

“I didn’t think he’d be so specific,” Nick mused. His breath fogged slightly in the cold air. “I thought he’d say hot and breathing and leave it at that.”

“Do we know anybody who fits all this?” Troy asked. “Someone who’s beautiful and funny and could put up with Roz’s bullshit?”

They all pondered for a moment. Bood clicked his tongs several more times as he thought. “Cassie has a friend that runs a yoga studio,” he finally said. “Mikela. She might fit the bill.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and navigated to Instagram. “Check her out.”

Luca took the phone and gave it a quick glance. “She is pretty, yes,” he said, passing it along.

Nick gave a low whistle as he peered over Luca’s shoulder. “Ignore him, he’s just being jealous again. She’s a total smokeshow, damn!” 

Troy waited impatiently until the phone made it to him. When he finally had it in his cold fingers, he had to agree with Nick. The woman on the screen was stunning.

“Roz is always going on about yoga,” he mused. 

“Yeah, but only to chirp on Hollander,” Nick pointed out.

“Whatcha looking at?” 

Troy startled so badly he nearly dropped the phone. Harris had somehow materialized at his shoulder without him noticing. 

“We’re trying to find Roz a partner to settle down with,” Tanner said. 

Harris took the phone from Troy and zoomed in on the photograph. “And this is who you’ve picked?” he asked.

“What's wrong with her?” Troy asked, suddenly feeling defensive.

Bood clicked his tongs. Again. Troy had a brief but startlingly realistic vision of ripping them from his hands and throwing them over the fence while the team cheered. “I could ask Cassie to bring her to Dilly’s birthday party next week,” Bood said with another click. “Roz never misses birthdays.”

Harris was still zooming in on the photo. “She is very pretty,” he said finally.

“Y’all are planning a birthday party for me?” Tanner asked. He looked surprised. 

Nick shook his head. “Dude, we confirmed the date with you last month. I sent you the calendar invite–”

Troy turned to Harris. “Do you think he’ll be into her?” 

“Maybe,” he said as he gave a little shrug. It was very cute, especially with how he was all bundled up in his parka. “But I have a feeling Mikela isn’t what Roz is looking for.” 

He passed the phone back to Bood and took Troy’s cold hands in his own. Troy sighed contentedly. Harris always had warm hands. Another reason they were perfect for each other. “I guess we’ll find out.”

They’d rented out the back room at Sky Lounge for Tanner’s birthday because going to Monks’ seemed a bit too predictable and Tanner liked the fancy cocktails.

Troy hadn’t expected Ilya to show up on time, and was surprised to see him join their private space only a few minutes after the majority of the team had. He was wearing a satin shirt that flickered and winked in the strobe lights and what looked like leather slides lined with fur and bejeweled with clips on the front. 

“You look like you’re about to seduce my grandma,” Evan said with a laugh as Ilya joined them.

Troy turned into Harris's shoulder so Ilya wouldn't see him laugh. “He looks like the definition of a Slavic fuckboy,” he muttered to his boyfriend.

“He pulls it off though,” Harris noted. 

Troy took another look, purely to gather arsenal to combat Harris’ blatant falsehood with. Ilya had somehow situated himself under a beam of light that shone on him, accentuating his jaw and cupid’s bow lips. Even his eyes looked extra sparkly as he flipped Evan off with both hands.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” Troy admitted grudgingly.

“You would not know fashion if it punched you in the mouth,” Ilya informed Evan as he dropped into the empty spot next to Troy.

The team settled into comfortable conversation; chirping, laughing and even occasionally remembering they were here to celebrate Tanner, who was already three cocktails deep and beginning to look a little cross-eyed.

“Cassie!” Bood boomed a short while later as his wife arrived. He stood and gave her a hug that lifted her off the ground before turning to the rest of the team. “This is Mikela,” he said, introducing the gorgeous woman standing slightly behind them. 

Bood worked his way around the circle, rattling off names. When he got to Ilya, Mikela's gaze lingered for a moment longer than it had on anyone else, Troy was pleased to notice. Definitely a good sign for the evening.

Bood ushered Cassie to where he had been sitting, leaving Mikela looking slightly awkward as she stared around the crowded room. Troy sprung into action.

“Move over Roz!” he said, pushing himself against Harris. “Make some room for Mikela.”

“I thought we weren’t going to do anything weird, Barrett,” Nick said. Troy flipped him off.

Ilya raised an eyebrow at Troy but didn't argue as he shifted over, allowing Mikela to slide in next to him.

“Sorry about them,” Ilya said, gesturing vaguely at the team. “They have no manners.”

“Neither do I,” Mikela replied with an easy smile. “We'll get along fine.”

Troy pretended not to watch as the two fell into conversation, then turned to Harris.

“I think it’s working,” he whispered.

Harris shook his head. “I don’t know buddy,” he said doubtfully. 

Troy shook his head right back. “You just wait and see.”

Troy watched as Ilya signed one of his own hockey cards with a flourish.

“There you go, Kamal,” Ilya said, handing the brightly smiling child the card. “Now you have Rozanov original. Worth millions.”

Kamal's smile grew even wider as he took the card. “Thanks Mr. Ilya! My mom says you're the best player on the team.”

Ilya smiled. “Your mom is very smart woman.”

Troy snorted and Ilya gave him the finger. 

“Hey,” Troy squawked. “You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Kamal won't tell, will you?” Ilya asked, and the small boy shook his head as he grinned up at them.

As Ilya and Kamal chatted, Troy glanced around the room, his eyes skirting over Bood, who was miming something out to a laughing girl, to Wyatt, who was reading a comic book to a little boy, to Luca, who had a small crowd of children gathered around him as he sketched something in a notebook he had brought. There was no familiar head of blonde hair or overly-loud laugh to be found.

“Your boyfriend is gone for ten minutes and you already look lost,” Ilya teased.

“I am not,” Troy grumbled. “And it's been like fifteen minutes.” So fucking sue him if he didn’t want Harris to be alone with the apparently gorgeous, talented, champion dick-sucking Silas for all that long.

Thankfully, Harris appeared a moment later with a man who could only be Silas a few steps behind him, his guitar slung over his back.

“What is this?” Ilya asked.

“Harris thought a little live music might be fun for the kids,” Troy said. “So he invited his friend to come play for them.”

“Will be nice to be able to listen to music for once,” Ilya mused as he watched Silas set himself up by the window. 

Troy stared at him. “Why can’t you listen to music?”

Ilya hesitated before replying. “Sometimes when training. Sh… certain people complain it can be… distraction.”

Certain people. Something about the way Ilya said it, all soft and gooey, had Troy turning to look at him more closely. 

“Wait, who–” Troy began, but Kamal was asking excited questions about the new visitor and Ilya had already turned back to him.

The locker room was full of its usual noise as the team got ready. Everyone was buzzing with energy. Coach Wiebe had been working them hard for the past few weeks, but to few complaints. They all wanted to beat Montreal.

Ilya stood and made his way to the centre of the room. He had been in a better mood this past week, Troy had noted. And had been especially chipper when he came in for their game this evening, entering the locker room with the type of swagger Troy had grown to expect from him on Montreal game days. Playing against Hollander always seemed to get him especially riled up.

“Alright,” Bood muttered to Troy. “Here we go.”

“Montreal,” Ilya said, his voice filled with contempt. “They think they're better than us. They think their coach is better. They think their players are better.” He paused. “Hollander thinks he's better. He thinks he is faster, when he is not. He is fast, yes. Excellent puck handler, yes. Pretty and talented, yes, but not better.”

Troy caught Bood’s eyes at that last one and they exchanged confused glances. That had just been… pretty complimentary of Hollander. And it was a well-known fact that Hollander was considered the most attractive player in the league, but for Roz to say something about it was... weird to say the least. 

It tickled something in the back of Troy's brain; the collection of odd moments that had built up over the past few weeks. There was a picture forming, almost becoming clear. It was right there, on the edge of his thoughts, almost close enough to touch–

“Tonight, we remind them that they are not!” Ilya shouted, pulling Troy out of his thoughts. “Tonight, we make them hate coming into our building. We make them wish they stayed in Montreal!” He pointed a finger at Wyatt. “You. Stop everything.”

“Yes, captain,” Wyatt said with a mock salute. 

Ilya turned to the defensive lines. “You, keep them away from Wyatt.” They nodded, and Ilya turned to the forwards. “And you will all score tonight, yes? We need to show Montreal how pathetic they are.”

Troy and Bood caught each other’s eyes again. Apparently the rivalry really hadn’t died down, no matter how pretty Roz thought Shane Hollander was.

Ilya turned to the room one last time. “Sixty minutes. Leave nothing behind. When it's over, I want them to remember this game for the rest of their season. I want them to feel us in their sleep.” He pulled his helmet on. “Let's go destroy them.”

The room echoed with their cheers and they headed towards the ice. 

The game was even more brutal than Troy expected it to be. 

Montreal wasn’t giving an inch. Hollander was everywhere, skating through checks, finding passing lanes, making the kind of plays that made Troy understand why Ilya spent hours obsessing over him. He was beautiful to watch if you weren't the one trying to stop him.

But Ottawa gave even less.

Ilya scored first with a shot to the top corner. Montreal answered in the second. Hollander, of course. A breakaway where he made Wyatt look human for just a moment, sliding the puck in before raising his arms to celebrate as his teammates piled on in congratulations.

During the third period, Wyatt robbed Hollander on a beautiful shot that really should have been a goal. Then, with two minutes left, Troy found a rebound and hammed it home, making the building erupt into cheers. 

From then on, all Ottawa worked on was killing the clock. Montreal pulled their goalie. Wyatt made two more saves that seemed to defy physics, and when the final horn sounded, the bench emptied onto the ice. Troy found Ilya as the team celebrated. He was roaring as he pulled Haas into a hug. 

“Good game!” Troy shouted over the noise.

Ilya nodded back, still grinning. “Great game.”

The party continued in the locker room, where even Dykstra’s terrible music couldn’t bring down the mood. 

“Monks!” Bood announced. “Now. Everyone. Non-negotiable.”

A chorus of agreement went up. But, Troy noted, Ilya didn’t join in. He slid over. “You coming out tonight?” he asked. 

“Am busy,” Ilya said. 

“Come on man, we just won against Montreal! We’ve been talking about this for weeks. You gotta come have a beer at least.”

Ilya looked like he was about to answer when his phone vibrated in his hand. Troy couldn’t help but look down. A text from Jane flashed across the screen. We’re going out for a drink, it read. Monks. See you there?

Ilya pulled his phone screen out of Troy’s view as he began typing. When he was done, he looked up at Troy. It was almost like he had forgotten he was there. 

“You’re seeing Jane tonight?” Troy asked. 

Ilya eyed him. “Maybe.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Troy pressed.

“I do not have a girlfriend,” Ilya said with a familiar crooked smile. “But I will come out for a drink after all.”

Troy wanted to push further, but the team was getting ready around them, and he needed to shower and find Harris and do a hundred other little things before he would be ready to go. “Keep your secrets then,” Troy said, “But great that you’re coming out. We’re calling cars soon.”

Monks’ was packed, the way it always was after a big win. The team claimed their usual corner, a collection of booths near the back, and drinks started appearing. Troy wedged himself next to Harris and let the last of the adrenaline slowly drain out of him.

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Bood called suddenly. Troy turned. A few Montreal players had just stepped in – Hayden Pike and JJ Boiziau, as well as a few others he recognized but couldn’t name. Troy supposed it made sense that they would be here. They were staying in town tonight, and Monks was the closest decent spot. 

Then a player moved and Shane Hollander came into view. 

He looked fucking gorgeous. Like, unfairly gorgeous, considering he had played close to thirty-five minutes of hockey tonight. His long dark hair was swept back from his face in a messy bun. He was wearing a silk shirt that was practically see through under the bar lighting. He was smiling at something one of his teammates had said. 

Troy felt a presence at his elbow and turned to see that Ilya was also watching Hollander. 

Hollander must have felt the stare, because he looked up. Across the bar, across the pool tables, across the sea of patrons, his eyes met Ilya's.

Troy watched as the two stared at each other. Then Hollander looked away, saying something to one of his teammates before heading to one of the booths. Troy glanced at Ilya again. He was still watching Hollander. 

The realization that had been hovering just out of reach slammed into Troy like a truck. It was Shane fucking Hollander. Ilya was crushing on Shane fucking Hollander. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before. It was so obvious! So glaring once you knew what to look for! How could he have missed this? How had any of them missed it? Twisting away from Ilya, he grabbed his phone.

“...What is everyone doing?” Ilya asked. He was standing in front of their table with two pitchers of beer.

“Uh,” said Troy stupidly, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “Nothing.”

“Nothing,” said Ilya in a voice that said he knew he was lying and would not be allowing them to get away with it.

He eyed the group as he sat down. Predictably, Luca broke first. “The team has been attempting to, ah, set you up,” he said meekly.

“Set me up,” Ilya repeated slowly. 

Luca looked around the table for support and found none. “You have appeared a bit… sad, lately,” he continued gamely. “And we thought it might cheer you up if you had a girlfriend. Or boyfriend.”

Ilya continued to stare at them. Tanner cracked next. “So we were thinking you should go talk to Shane Hollander.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “Cause, you know.”

“I know what?” Ilya asked.

Tanner looked suddenly nervous. He lowered his voice even more. “He’s like, gay right?”

“Yes, Hollander is gay.” Ilya said. An amused expression was starting to make its way across his face.

“And Troy thinks you’re into him,” Evan added.

Troy glared at him. “Way to throw me under the bus, man.”

“Does he now?” Ilya was looking very amused now. He settled into his seat more comfortably. “So let me understand this. You would be okay with me hooking up with Shane Hollander.”

Troy cast one last glance around at the team and then nodded. “I mean, yeah. As long as you’re not like, telling team secrets.”

“We just want you to be happy,” Bood said. “But also kick his ass on the ice.”

“Yeah, you still have to hate him when we're playing,” Evan added. “Like, full rivalry mode. No pulling up on hits because you're worried about bruising his pretty face.”

Ilya's expression shifted. The amusement was still there, but something softer flickered beneath. “I have never hated Hollander, or gone easy on him,” he said. His gaze drifted back across the bar. “And Hollander has never gone easy on me.”

“Hold on,” Nick said holding up a hand. “You've never hated him?”

Ilya gave a small shrug. “Me and Hollander... we have been sort of friends for a long time. Since before our rookie season, really. But only recently publicly, with charity and all.”

Evan shot Ilya a suspicious look. “It feels like there's a lot you're not telling us here.”

“There is a lot I don't tell you,” Ilya said smoothly. “Is part of my charm.”

“Well, I’m surprised someone hasn’t snatched him up already,” Harris said. He gestured around the room. “I mean like, look at how many people are staring at him.” Troy looked around. Harris was right. At least half the bar seemed to be staring at Hollander. “He’s such a catch,” Harris continued. He raised a hand and began ticking off his fingers. “First, he's beautiful. Like insanely gorgeous. Face card unreal. Next, his body unrivaled. Beyond perfection. Third, he's crazy talented. A generational talent. Fourth, he's humble. He could have anyone. Literally anyone. People are probably throwing themselves at his feet and he never says anything about it–” For some reason Ilya’s eyes were narrowing so Harris quickly concluded his speech, “–and fifth, he’s probably like, a kind person?”

Troy stared at his boyfriend. “Harris, what the fuck?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” Harris said, waving a dismissive hand. “We all know about your crush on him at this point.”

Ilya’s glare swung to Troy, but Luca spoke before he could say anything. “I don’t know about this,” he said doubtfully. “It is well known that Hollander does not–” His face began to turn red before he said his next word. “–hookup. At least publicly.”

“Haasy is right," Evan said, shaking his head. "There's no way. Hollander's never seen with anyone. It's a lost cause.”

“I don't know, Hollander is so competitive, I bet you could just tell him you want to compare shot stats and he’d follow you out the door,” Bood said with a laugh.

Ilya leaned forward. “I will bet you all right now that I will go home with Hollander,” he said, a crooked grin taking over his face. “A thousand bucks from each of you if I win. A thousand for each of you if I lose.”

Eyes caught across the table, and one by one each of the teammates nodded.

“It’s a bet,” Nick said. “Tonight? The famously prudish Hollander? There’s no way. Easiest thousand I’ve ever made.”

Ilya’s grin grew even wider. “Watch me,” he said.

Ilya could feel his teammates' eyes on him as he made his way to where Shane was still standing near the bar, chatting with Hayden, who was, unfortunately, the first to spot him.

“Oh, look who's crawling over,” Hayden said as Ilya joined them. 

“What?” Ilya asked. “Can I not come say hello to my fellow players?”

Hayden made a show of looking around the bar. “Pretty sure your fellow players are over there,” he said, tipping his head towards where the Centaurs were clustered. 

“Come on Hayds,” Shane said quietly, bumping his shoulder. “You know we don’t get that much time together.”

Hayden bumped him back. “I know. And that's why I’m going to go tell JJ and the boys that you guys are talking about Foundation stuff, so they’ll leave you alone.”

Shane’s cheeks went a little pink. Ilya wanted to bite them.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing Hayden a grateful smile. And Ilya knew it was stupid to be jealous of Hayden Pike of all people, but for a moment he couldn’t stop the flare of annoyance that shot through him. He wanted Shane to be smiling at him like that.

Thankfully, the feeling fled when Hayden opened his mouth again. 

“My thanks will be getting the room to myself tonight,” Hayden said with a suggestive tilt of his eyebrows.

“Ugh, don’t be weird,” Shane muttered, but Hayden was already making his way over to the pool tables, where JJ had already started a game. 

Shane watched Hayden leave, then turned his eyes back to Ilya. Ilya could feel his heart beating in his chest with excitement. They didn’t get many opportunities to be out together in public like this. To just exist outside of their apartments like a normal couple. And he was sure a not insubstantial part of Shane was panicking right now, and possibly looking for a way to get out of this situation, which wouldn’t do at all. Firstly, because he wanted to spend time with Shane, and secondly because his team would never let him hear the end of it.

“Come here often?” Ilya asked before Shane could bolt. “I do not think I’ve seen you here before.”

Shane’s eyes, which had begun flickering around the crowd – surely looking to see if anyone was watching them – flew back to Ilya. 

“Is that the best pickup line you’ve got?” Shane asked. He was trying to keep a straight face but Ilya could see the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Ilya gave a casual half-shrug as he grinned down at the man before him. “For you? I do not need anything better,” he teased.

Shane bit his lip as he tried to hide his smile. “Wow. You're actually kind of a dick.”

“You like that,” Ilya said, then lowered his voice. “My dick, that is.”

“Oh you think so?” Shane asked, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t even know me.”

Ilya's already pounding heart did a stupid little flip in his chest. Shane rarely got like this, relaxed and playful and casual, and especially not in public.

“Da. Yes,” Ilya said. “Why else would you be here, looking so slutty?”

Shane spluttered for a moment before gathering himself. “I don’t look slutty,” he insisted. 

Ilya risked trailing a quick finger down the sleeve of Shane’s see-through shirt. He could feel the muscles of Shane’s arm tense as he did it. “Your tits are out,” he said. “Is very slutty. Who are you trying to impress?”

Shane glared at him and took a moment before replying. Ilya knew he was deciding on what to say, thinking about the various outcomes of each reply. He couldn’t hold back a small smile as Shane forced himself to relax, leaning against the bar behind him. He was such a competitive little shit. Ilya loved him so much.

“Well,” Shane said. “I heard there was a hockey game tonight and that the players liked to hang out here after.”

“Oh yes?” Ilya asked, letting his grin go wide and genuine. “I did not take you for a puckbunny. Is there one in particular you wanted to meet?”

Shane scowled, and seemed ready to shoot back a snarky remark before he took a breath. “I’ve heard good things about Wyatt Hayes,” he finally said.

Ilya gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “Wyatt Hayes? The goalie?”

“Yeah. He’s handsome.”

“Not that handsome,” Ilya said, waving a dismissive hand. “There are other options. Far better looking.”

Shane wasn’t even trying to hold back his smile anymore. “Oh yeah? Who might that be?”

Ilya let the question hang, watching as Shane watched him, his dark eyes expectant.

“Shane Hollander, of course,” Ilya said finally, as if it were obvious. “He is the most beautiful. But I am a very close second. Practically tied.”

Shane's face went deep pink and his smile widened. “Pretty sure you were listed as the third most attractive member of the NHL this year by Cosmopolitan. Behind Scott Hunter.”

“Their head office is in New York. Makes them very biased.” Ilya grumbled. 

“Did you look that up?” Shane asked, and his grin was so wide that it took all of Ilya’s restraint not to kiss him right there. “Are you really that jealous of being listed third?”

“Not jealous,” Ilya said. “Not when I get to have most attractive man in the NHL ready to get on his knees for me.”

Shane’s blush was travelling down his throat now. Ilya wondered if it had reached his chest. He felt like he could almost see it through the gauzy material of Shane’s shirt.

“You’re really hung up on this Shane Hollander guy, huh?” Shane said. 

Ilya laughed, he couldn’t help himself. “I am,” he said. “He has a very pretty mouth, you know. And these freckles. I am, how you say? Obsessed with them.”

“Ilya,” Shane whispered. His eyes, always so intent, always so gorgeous, were shining under the dim bar lighting. Ilya found he was suddenly done with this game.

“You played beautifully tonight,” he said instead of teasing further.

A frown took over Shane’s face. “But you won.”

“Yes,” Ilya agreed, and oh, he loved this serious, literal man. “But you know I love watching you on the ice.”

“Same,” Shane said. “I mean. Watching you. On the ice.”

They stood there for a moment, and despite the noise of the bar rushing around them, Ilya felt like they were the only two people in the room. He wanted to reach out and touch Shane's face. He wanted to kiss the blush off his cheeks. He wanted to drag Shane out the back door and into his house and never let him leave again.

But then Shane shifted, glancing over his shoulder toward where the Voyageurs were playing pool, and the spell broke.

“I should go back to my team,” Shane said.

Ilya could hear the regret in his voice. “Stay,” he said. “No one cares.”

Shane turned back to him, eyebrows raised. “What?”

Ilya took a gamble. “My team is trying to hook us up,” he said.

Shane stared at him. His mouth fell open. “What?” he asked again. 

“They told me just now. They think I am sad,” Ilya said. “And that having you suck my cock will make me feel better.”

Shane's head whipped around toward the Centaurs' table. And sure enough, almost every single one of them was staring. They turned their heads quickly when they realized they had been caught.

Shane's face, which had already been a delicious pink colour, immediately went even darker, until even the tips of his ears were red. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “They’re all fucking staring at me.”

“At us,” Ilya corrected helpfully. 

“And they’re watching because they think you’re going to pick me up?”

“They want their captain to be happy,” Ilya said with a playful shrug. 

Shane closed his eyes, and for a moment Ilya thought he had pushed too far, and that Shane would bolt. But when he opened them again, there was a look Ilya hadn’t expected on his face. Something that looked a lot like relief. 

“They don’t care?” Shane asked. “If we..?”

“They don’t care,” Ilya said. Hope was rising in his chest, too fast for him to even push back down. 

“This is so embarrassing,” Shane said. 

“What should embarrass you is the suggestions they gave for how to pick you up,” Ilya said. “Bood told me to ask you to compare shot stats.”

Shane snorted. “As if that would have worked.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Shane,” he said dryly.

“It wouldn’t!” Shane insisted. Then, reluctantly, “Well, maybe it would have.” 

Ilya laughed again. He couldn’t help it. He truly did love Shane more than anything.

“Shut up,” Shane said, but he couldn’t keep the affection out of his voice. 

Ilya stepped closer. Just a bit. Just enough that the space between them felt a little warm. A little charged. “So if I asked you to come home with me,” he said slowly, “would you?”

Shane looked up at him through his lashes, and Ilya forgot how to breathe for a second. “I'd say,” Shane said quietly, “that you haven't asked me yet.”

Ilya's heart slammed against his ribs. “Shane,” he warned, looking down at the other man. He couldn’t take this type of teasing. Not if it wasn’t true. 

Shane held his gaze. “Ask me, Ilya.”

Ilya reached out and let his fingers brush against Shane's wrist, just for a second. “Come home with me?”

Shane looked down at where Ilya's hand had been, then back up at his face. He looked scared, but determined. “Yes,” he said.

Ilya knew his grin was taking over his whole face, but he didn't care. “I just need to say something to my team,” he said. “I will be back in one minute, okay? Do not get scared and run away.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Shane muttered. “I’ll meet you at the door.”

Ilya nodded back and quickly made his way across the room to where the Centaurs were watching. “We are leaving,” he announced when he reached the table. His grin turned sharp at their shocked faces. “And you all owe me a thousand bucks.”

The Centaurs all watched as Ilya found Shane at the door and ushered him outside. Then they turned to face each other.

“Are they going to…” Evan started.

“That's sure what it seems like,” Harris confirmed.

“Holy shit.”

Troy reached for his beer, realized it was empty, and grabbed Tanner's instead. He needed to be cut off anyways. Leaning back in his seat, he allowed a slow grin spreading across his face. “Looks like Operation Get Roz a SAP is officially a success.”

“We don't know that yet,” Nick pointed out. “Roz could be lying. They could get separate cars.”

“After leaving together?” Troy said. “After all that flirting?”

Nick considered this. “Okay, fair.”

Bood raised his beer. “To Troy. Who somehow made the most insane idea any of us have ever had actually work.”

“Hear hear.”

Glasses clinked. Troy took a drink, still grinning.

Harris pressed a kiss to his temple. “You did good, babe.”

“I really did.”

“Don't let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“What if it doesn't work out?”

“Then we'll figure it out. But for tonight?” Troy looked toward the door Ilya and Shane had walked through. “For tonight, I think we did enough.”

The team settled back into their usual chaos – chirping, drinking, celebrating the win. But every now and then, Troy couldn’t help but glance toward the door and smile.

Operation Get Roz a SAP was officially in the hands of Shane Hollander now.

It was still wild to Troy to see Shane Hollander in the Centaurs locker room. In Centaurs colours. 

“You know,” he said quietly to Bood. “I feel like in a way, we’re kind of responsible for Hollander being here.”

“How so?” Bood asked. 

“Well remember? We got them to hook up that first time. During Operation Get Roz a SAP.”

Ilya turned to them. He was, Troy couldn’t help but notice, wearing everything but his shirt. Some things truly never changed. “Operation get Roz a… SAP? What is this?” he asked.

“SAP for Spouse and Partner, instead of WAG,” Nick said. 

“It's inclusive,” Tanner added proudly. 

Troy sighed. There was truly no privacy in the locker room.

Ilya let out a laugh. “You think you got us together?”

Shane, Troy noticed, had gone very still and turned very pink.

“We literally set the whole thing up,” Troy said, but he could hear the doubt in his own voice. “At the bar, when we told you to go talk to Shane.”

“Did you not understand that night?” Ilya interrupted, still grinning, “We have been together since we were eighteen.”

The locker room went quiet.

“Eighteen,” Evan repeated in a shocked voice.

Troy felt the words from so long ago echo in his head. “So when you said you were friends since before your rookie season…”

Ilya’s grin got impossibly wider. “Yes.”

“So wait,” Wyatt held up a hand. “Let me get this right. You're telling me that when we were all patting ourselves on the back for getting you two together... you'd already been together for like... forever?”

“Not forever,” Ilya said. “Only thirteen years.”

“Only thirteen years?”

“We weren’t together that whole time,” Shane argued, his cheeks flushing darkly. 

Evan shook his head. “Fucking hell Roz. Way to make us feel dumb.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tanner said. “We matched two people who were already together. That’s talent.”

“That's like… the opposite of talent,” Nick said. “It’s idiotic.”

“A little bit of both, maybe,” Shane offered.

Ilya slung an arm around Shane's shoulders, pulling him close. Shane leaned into it automatically, like he'd done it a thousand times before. Which, Troy now realized, he probably had.

“For what it is worth,” Ilya said, looking far too pleased with himself, “the effort was appreciated.”

“You are unbelievable,” Bood muttered. 

“Is not my fault you could not see how obvious it was that Hollander was in love with me,” Ilya said with a shrug, and then pressed a quick kiss to Shane's temple before his husband could push him away.

Troy shook his head. “And I just remember being so glad that Jane didn’t show up to ruin our plans,” he said.

“Ah,” Ilya said, his grin growing impossibly wider. “But she did.”

“No way, you were with Shane all night,” Troy said. His eyes flew to the rest of his teammates. They looked equally confused.

Shane cleared his throat. “Troy. My name is Shane.”

“I know?”

“And what was the girl's name?”

“...Jane?”

“Right. Jane. And my name?”

“Shane.” Troy paused, then turned to Ilya. “You fucking dick!”