Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, OMC/OMC, Original Male Character/Original Male Character

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, J. J. Boiziau, Gilbert Comeau, Patrice Drapeau, Rodion Tsetsov (OC), Yannic Paquet (OC), Various additional OCs on Voyageurs

Additional Tags:

Pre-Foundation, Shane not out yet, Cat and Mouse, Sexy Russians, Scientific Method, gotcha, Set just before announcement of Foundation, Ilya jealous, Ilya the Gay Sherpa, Shane not as clever as he thinks he is, Beta Read, POV Outsider, Shane Hollander Speaks Russian, Protective Ilya Rozanov, Possessive Ilya Rozanov, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Book 2: Heated Rivalry (Game Changers), Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Complete, No Smut, Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, POV Original Character, Homophobic Language, Homophobic slur in chapter 1, No AI Used

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Say Hello, Random Groove (The Rodion and Yannic Series)

Stats:

Published: 2025-09-16 Completed: 2025-10-09 Words: 17,128 Chapters: 7/7

Lingua Russia

Summary

“That’s wild, man. That is just weird.” Yannic paused. “You really think someone speaks Russian but is hiding it from you and just using it to do nice things for you?”

“Well, that is the question. Why would anyone do that? Why not just say they speak Russian?” Rodion had been wondering this all morning.

… … … …

A side story wherein Shane accidentally reveals that he speaks Russian while still playing for Montreal, which results in a cat and mouse game with a minor leaguer.

OC Rodion Tsetsov - Laval Arrows minor league center called up to replace a player.

Notes

This is set just before and just after Ilya and Shane announce the Irina Foundation in 2018.

All Russian is internet search quality, not native speaker quality, and improved by treasured readers who gave me advice. All mistakes are mine. I made a decision to put the Russian words into Latin alphabet. There are many ways to do this, but I chose this one. Maybe one day I'll edit in the Cyrillic.

I do make liberal use of nicknames from Rodion–so get used to that! He calls Yannic Yan, Yanya, Vanya, Vanyechka, Vanyusha and Yanyushka. And Yannic has grown used to these and calls Rodion Rodi, Rodya and Rodyushka. Mostly Rodi, but he enjoys the Russian habit of nicknames - and so do I. And of course the locker rooms use nicknames too.

I do not give permission for this work to be fed into AI. AI steals. And I do not use AI (it’s so energy intensive that it’s bad for the environment) all m-dashes are my own, made by hitting the hyphen twice, and you cannot pry them from my warm, live, human fingers.

Chapter 1: Run Data

Chapter Summary

Rodion Tsetsov gets called up from the Laval Arrows AHL team to the Montreal Voyageurs NHL team. His boyfriend Yannic Pequot cheers him on. Mysteries present themselves.

Chapter Notes

Content Warning: use of homophobic slur

It had only been an hour since Rodion Tsetsov had gotten the call in his Laval apartment that he needed to catch a team flight in two hours.  He was to fill a spot on the Montreal Voyageurs roster during an away game in Nashville.

“Pack for a while, Roadie.” His coach told him. “This isn’t a quick one. They have a three game road trip and they expect you on the ice tonight. You’re almost certain to be there for the entire road trip, and maybe more. I’m going to miss you here a lot. But this is a great opportunity, and you’re ready. Go get ‘em.”

Rodion was elated to be called up. At 21, he had been in the minors for almost three years now and was the starting center for the Arrows. He pulled good stats in points, plus/minus, and Power Play. Every minor leaguer waited for this call. It was true that it could be for only a day or two. Rodion knew that. But even a single day was a chance to demonstrate his skills. This could be his shot. 

Someone on the team must have gotten hurt in the morning practice for him to be called midday—and so early in the season. The Montreal Voyageurs were only four games into their regular schedule. Rodion guessed he would find out more when he met up with the team, since the league standard was to be as vague as possible about injuries. He knew he wouldn’t find details in the news.

The Arrows minor league and the Voyageurs major league teams were both centered around Montreal, so it wouldn’t even require a hotel room, if he played for longer than this road trip and even that would mercifully, delightfully, be conducted via jet instead of bus. Rodion could not wipe the grin from his face as he called his boyfriend.

“Hey.” Yannic answered on the second ring.

“Yanya. Hey. I am not going to be home tonight for dinner. I got the call! I got…” he squeaked in his excitement, “Called up!” 

Rodion’s Russian accent was thick, despite his extensive English vocabulary and comprehension. He was proud of his language skill, but knew it would take time to diminish his accent. Still, communication was not guaranteed, because he played on a bilingual team, and neither language was his native Russian. His English was the far better of the two, and he was learning Québécois French from Yannic. But since Yannic Paquet had a Québécois accent when he did speak English, as did several of his teammates, Rodion didn’t hear English without a foreign accent very often as a model. It made trying to reduce his Russian accent harder, but he kept working on it. Too slowly. But from their time together, Yannic understood him very well either way.

“Rodion! c’est incroyable! You’re playing tonight?”

“Yes, it is a road trip. Nashville. They said I would probably play the whole trip, so it is at least three games. Yanya, this is going to be my first NHL game. I am…” he blew out a huge breath that had been building up as he spoke excitedly. It came out as an incoherent shout. “I am leaving for the airport in a couple of hours. So, I will be gone before you come home.”

“You’re so excited! I’m so excited for you! You’ve got this, babe. Kick ass. I’ll check online how to watch. And don’t worry, I’ll stop up at your apartment and check on things for you.”

Being gay in the hockey minor leagues was not a prudent thing to be. But if you were gay in the minor leagues, having an apartment one floor above your boyfriend made things very easy to hide. Yannic was a computer programmer in the specialized field of data science, so he made more money than Rodion’s minor league salary, but chose to live in the low-cost apartment building so they could be close to each other. 

They practically lived together. Rodion spent most nights at Yannic’s place, but kept up the pretense of his own apartment and was able to have teammates over at any time without raising questions. They had been together almost three years, and their relationship was solid, having found they were a matched pair in so many ways, and complementary in others. Yannic was three years older than Rodion; they had met just after he graduated college and had started his new job in Laval, right after Rodion signed with the Arrows. It was comfortable, loving, and, three years on, still as exciting as their first months of dating. 

Rodion packed his gear, put on his suit, and plugged the address into his Uber app that the Voyageurs team manager’s office had sent him for the corporate jet hangar where he would join the team for their road trip.

….

Rodion arrived at the corporate hangar with plenty of time to spare. He was the only one carrying his own gear, as the rest of the team had had theirs transferred from the practice rink by the equipment manager. A man came up and held out a hand for his bag, and Rodion handed it over to be loaded along with his suitcase, hanging on to a small backpack for use in the cabin. The team captain, Shane Hollander, came over to him with a smile and held out his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Shane. You’re Rodion?”

“They call me Roadie,” he said in his heavy, Québécois-laced Russian accent, trying to enunciate carefully so Hollander would be able to get his name right. Not that he cared much; Shane Hollander could call him anything he wanted and Rodion would be thrilled. “I am so happy to meet you!” He thought that sentence probably all came out as a single word. 

Rodion played center, just like Hollander, and he had watched the star player’s career for years. He was a little taller than the Voyageur’s captain, but still on the shorter end for a hockey player. And he was fast—something most of the shorter players had in common. 

Rodion’s light brown hair was cut with the intent to lie flat, but it had about a half a curl at this length, and ended up looking fluffy most of the time. Yannic thought it was funny, and Rodion didn’t care at all, so he didn’t bother to try for a better style. At twenty-one, he knew he still looked like a teenager. Yannic called him handsome, but Rodion knew he was average, except for his dark grey eyes, which people—including Hollander in this moment—seemed to look at twice, trying to figure out if they were blue. They were not.

“Well, welcome. Glad to have you on the ice tonight. I think they’re ready for us to board.” And he put his hand on Rodion’s shoulder to guide him out the glass doors past a man with a clipboard checking off names.

The first game was as thrilling as Rodion knew it would be. He was playing on the 4th line, and only clocked about five minutes compared to his usual eighteen-plus on the first line at home, but that didn’t dim his enthusiasm a bit. It was an NHL game, and he was on the ice. The Voyageurs beat Nashville 2-1, playing a technical game on both sides without much hitting, and no fights or even shoving to speak of.

The next game was in Detroit, and Rodion was doing his best to follow the habits of the team as they moved from bus to plane to arena to hotel. He didn’t know the names of any of the support staff, which bothered him, because he had made great efforts to get to know the Laval staff so he could ask the right people questions when he had them. He hated to ask his teammates for help. They had enough to do, and most spoke in small groups, making it hard for Rodion to break in. So he kept his head down and tried to always be on time, grinning with his delight at playing NHL games at last. 

They lost to Detroit 4-2. The bus back to the hotel was busy with conversation about what to work on.

“Riley, what was the deal with that pass you missed? You need me up there sooner, or…?” Olivier Gagnon, the curly-haired second line right winger, asked his liney.

“Naw, pass was good, that was me rushing the line. You stay with the play and I’ll correct.” Tall and wiry left winger Riley Henault replied.

“Roadie, you good with that cross play?” his left winger, the German Ekke Lindner, asked, his dark eyes peering around the seat almost obscured by a thick flop of dark hair.

Rodion turned in his seat to face Ekke in the row behind him. ”I will be further out next time. I’ll be there for it.” he replied, but Ekke looked at him with that I’m trying hard to understand you look that Rodion was used to.

His right winger, Braden, slapped Rodion’s shoulder, his long narrow face friendly with laughter. “I swear to god, I can’t tell if you’re speaking Russian, French, or English, Roadie.” Several others laughed as well, in a good-natured way.

Drapeau’s deep voice called out, “It’s not French!”

“Veux-tu du Francais?” Rodion called back.

“That’s French!” Drapeau announced.

Rodion laughed, and Ekke put a hand over the seat onto his shoulder. “I got you pal, I heard you. It just took a sec. Don’t mind these assholes.”

“It is, of course, okay,” Rodion said.

“Yes, it was a good play, you got that right, Roadie.” Braden replied.

Rodion shook his head and smiled.

Hayden Pike helped him out sometimes, when people needed to wait and listen to Rodion speak, by shushing and saying “hear him out.” Still, people tended to underestimate his grasp of English due to his conversation-limiting accent, unaware that he could understand them very well indeed. Which meant when the teammates were talking about the player he was replacing, they did not try to be discreet in front of him. 

It wasn’t an injury—it was rehab. And based on their conversations, it seemed like the player was in inpatient care with an extended treatment. Someone mentioned sixty days. Someone else mentioned how unnerving it had been to find him nearly incoherent in the showers. He couldn’t help but speculate that this might mean a lengthy time with the Voyageurs for him, but he didn’t count on it because the possibility of being replaced by a different minor leaguer was very real. So he resolved to play his ass off and earn his spot.

Rodion Tsetsov was nothing if not eager, so the last game of the road trip at Buffalo saw him putting everything he learned so far into practice to make sure he didn’t miss cues or plays. He was able to maintain pressure in the offensive zone, and contribute on the backcheck to keep the defensive end clear. He ended up with eight minutes of ice time and a smile that wouldn’t quit. 

“That faggot needs to stay in the closet and get off the ice.” Reece Boudreau’s locker room comment after the game about one of the Buffalo players completely erased Rodion’s good mood.

“Cut the shit, Boudreau,” Hollander said, and Rodion was impressed that he would speak up. Boudreau did not look like he intended to cut the shit, though.

“I said what I said,” he growled, putting down his shoulder pads and leaning forward like he was about to get up.

Hollander stood up, further impressing Rodion, but worrying him, too, given Boudreau’s size and Hollander’s lack of it, until J.J. Boiziau’s six-and-a-half-foot frame rose from his stall. Boudreau sat back and ground out under his breath, “I said what I said.”

The threat of violence abated, but not the tension Rodion felt. Hollander and Boiziau sat back down and the sound of post-game conversation resumed.

“Maybe the bigots should stay in the closet,” he muttered in Russian while leaning down over his skate.

Suddenly Hayden Pike was in front of Rodion, “Do we have a problem?”

Rodion looked up at Pike, trying to keep his face neutral. “My skate lace is knotted,” he said, in careful English. He hoped Hayden wouldn’t look too closely. He saw Shane looking at him and was mortified that Shane might think he was a bigot. But he didn’t know how to reverse course on his Russian comment. Maybe he could say something later. Shit, the last thing he needed was to harm his ability to fit in with the team.

On the plane ride back to Montreal the coach called him to the back of the plane and Rodion feared he would be taken to task for what appeared to be participating in the slur. Fortunately, Coach Thierault eased his fear of being disciplined by quickly getting to a point that was unrelated to the locker room incident; that he needed to report to the Voyageurs rink in the morning for practice and tape review. That he’d be staying with the team for several weeks at least.

“You played well, Rodion. We’re going to need you for several weeks while Kuhn’s out. Come in ready for practice with the team tomorrow. You know the practice rink location?” Rodion did, and he confirmed that he’d be there on time.

Even better, it seemed, was Hayden Pike stopping him on the way back to his seat and saying, “Hey. Sorry I snapped at you in the locker room. I shouldn’t have assumed. You okay?”

Rodion, surprised, nodded too vigorously and said, “Yes. I am, uh, thank you. Uh.” And moved up back to his seat.

When they landed, Rodion texted Yannic with his arrival time home. Yannic had a second dinner waiting for him when he arrived. It was late, but Rodion couldn’t help but regale his boyfriend with all the events from his first NHL games and road trip, the game, the chatting on the bus. The relative luxury of the team jet, compared to a twelve-hour bus ride. His locker room blunder, and Pike’s apology. It pleased him to be out of the dog house, because he had not expected that at all. He honestly had no idea what had changed Pike’s mind about his muttered comment.

“You said it in Russian?”

“Yes. He probably thought I was agreeing with Boudreau. I feel like shit about that. It just fell out of my mouth; I was not thinking how it would sound. Pike did not say why he changed his mind, or why he ‘shouldn’t have assumed.’”

“Maybe he was just deciding he shouldn’t assume?”

“I do not know. I will look for an opportunity to correct that. Because it looks like I will be with the team for sixty days.”

Yannic looked at him with a wrinkled brow. “That is strangely specific.”

“It seems that Kuhn is in rehab. In-patient, for sixty days. So, there will not be any early recovery from physical therapy or anything. They found him after practice before the flight to Nashville, and that is why I got the call in the middle of the day.”

“Oh. That sucks. I hope they can help him. Was it pain-related? Or recreational?”

“I do not know,” Rodion shook his head, slowly. “I just overheard them talking about how it was going to be sixty days of rehab. No one was really talking about it much, just that. I hope they can help him, too.  But if it is sixty days, I hope I will get a chance to play a lot.”

Yannic cleared the dishes to the dishwasher. “It’s late. Do you want to be alone tonight to pass out, or do you want company? I could stay here, instead of us going downstairs, since you’ll still need to unpack.”

Rodion smiled and reached out to touch Yannic’s arm. “Stay. I will unpack in the morning. I am going to fall asleep fast, but I am glad you are here.”

“You’ve got it, babe. Let’s get you to bed.”

Yannic was taller than Rodion by a few inches, but weighed almost forty pounds less. He could not have been a more exact specimen of a Hollywood computer nerd, except for his graceful and confident way of walking that came from years of dance, both as a student and now as an instructor in his spare time. Rodion knew Yannic loved the nerd look he presented to the world; messy straight hair, rectangular plastic glasses and short-sleeved button-down shirts—like it was a cosplay prank he played on the universe. 

Rodion had always been charmed by his boyfriend’s look, especially when paired with Yannic’s mischievous smile and the way his whiskey eyes always seemed to have an inside joke. And that smile and those whiskey eyes were hustling a very tired Rodion Tsetsov to his bed, where he only had time to pull Yannic onto his chest before he fell asleep. Tomorrow, they would say hello properly.

__________

Rodion continued to keep his head down and his energy in the game for the next two weeks of games and practices. He started feeling more in tune with his lineys, and had a strong road series keeping his plus/minus up. 

When the lineup against the Carolina Thunder was announced and Rodion was named as third line center, he practically shouted out loud. Liam would be sitting in the press box for a day due to a heavy bruise in his knee that needed rest so the swelling could go down. The coach pulled Rodion up to fill the third line center position between the repulsive Reece Boudreau and the quiet Swede, Hannes Falk. The presence of Boudreau was a damper on the excitement of the upgrade to third line, but the press, the fans, and the potential scouts would not know that from Rodion if he could help it.

In the second period, only seconds into their shift, Boudreau broke the puck free from a three-player pile-up on the boards, and Rodion was there for the pick-up, bringing it past one defenseman and passing to Falk, who deked the other defenseman and clanged it against the back post. The red light lit, and Rodion raised his arms while Falk made a small arm pump with his knee raised. 

Falk skated past him and patted Rodion’s helmet. “Nice assist,” he smiled as Boudreau roared behind him in a tackle. 

“First NHL point, Roadie! Fucking yes!” Boudreau shouted while the home crowd celebrated the score. Rodion would take it, the only non-growly thing he’d ever heard from Boudreau. 

Falk retrieved the puck from the ref and handed it to Rodion. “You must keep this. Your first major league assist and point. Give it to equipment manager. He will have it for you later. Nice pass.”

Rodion handed the puck to the equipment manager as they high-fived at the bench then headed back to center ice for the face-off. He was buzzing. He won the face-off.

He supposed it was a good lesson to learn to play with a man he felt no respect for, and still do his job. He wished his first point was not off the stick of Reece Boudreau, but he consoled himself that it was Falk who scored, and he had done his job getting it there.

Yannic had come to the game and got to see him get the assist and more than twelve minutes of ice time—Rodion’s best so far in the NHL, and a strong signal that he was playing NHL-level hockey. A hopeful sign for Rodion’s future prospects. 

He hadn’t broken his habit of muttering in Russian, though, talking to himself because he wasn’t very good at talking to others. He soaked up the conversations around him, but no one really tried to start a conversation with him, even when he went out with some of the team after a game. But Rodion was fine with that. He was working on it. He was enjoying his time with the Voyageurs so much and skating seemed like a better focus than speaking. 

So no one knew what he was saying when he talked to his gear in Russian, “Ah, bad tape. Do it again,” or “Better get sharpened.” Or when he told himself to “Hurry for the shower” or “No media for me again! Poor Captain, having to explain that loss.”

The guys even chirped him a bit for it, and Rodion laughed along with them because they usually said it with fun, not meanness.

He got up to get a hydration drink and was disappointed to find that again it was only the orange flavor in the bin. He really missed the lime that the Arrows had.

“Still no lime,” he muttered in Russian, “Orange every day. They are killing me!”

“Roadie, you talking to the other Russian in the room?” Farrell asked.

“Da. He is a good listener.” Rodion joked back, while Ekke Lindner repeated it in better English and everyone laughed. Which felt good. He chugged his drink before grabbing a second.

When he finished showering, he changed into club clothes to go out dancing with Yannic. The few guys left in the room stared at him.

“Roadie, holy shit, you look sharp, what the hell. You’ve been holding out on us!” J.J. looked appreciatively at Rodion’s outfit: snug black pants and a deep purple button front silk shirt. He planned to remove the black jacket and tie when he got to the club—those were just to comply with the “must wear a suit” dress code after games.

“Do you think the jacket makes it okay to leave the rink this way?” Rodion asked carefully, not sure if he was violating the dress code with his silk shirt and slim fit pants.

“Yeah, you’re good.” J.J. replied, “Hot damn, bring that outfit on the next road trip. You going on a date tonight?”

“I am going dancing with friends.”

“Roadie!” Liam Twomey, the third line center, spun around at him, his tattoos peeking out from his shirtsleeves. “You like to dance? You haven’t come out yet! Next roadie, you’re coming out to dance.”

Rodion heroically held back his look of shock at the phrase come out, and took two breaths before answering. “Next road trip, I will go out dancing with the team. I like to dance.”

“You said you’re coming out next time?” Liam verified, clearly unsure of what he’d heard.

“Yes,” Rodion smiled and nodded. Dancing. Not out of the closet. Exhale.

“Sweeet!” Liam danced out the door.

…

The next day was a practice, and Liam and J.J. asked him about his night out. He kept his answer short to avoid the twin difficulties of being hard to understand and hiding who he went out with. But it seemed to work out. He warmed at the camaraderie of being asked, too.

After skate, as he was changing for the video session, he was surprised to hear Liam shout at the drinks table as the caterer was refilling the bins.

“Lime! When did we start getting lime? I’ve never seen lime here. Thanks, Bud!” He patted the worker on the shoulder.

“Don’t thank me,” said the man whose name patch read Barry. “I didn’t bring any lime. Didn’t think anyone liked it. Someone else musta brought that in.”

“Wait, seriously?” 

Barry shrugged and started rolling his hand truck with the empty cartons toward the door.

Liam looked around the room. “Who brought lime?” There were only blank stares around the room. Liam shrugged back at Barry and drank one of the six bottles of lime that were swimming in the ice water, unconcerned about solving the mystery.

“You want lime next time?” Barry asked from the door.

“Yeah, that’d be great, yes.” 

Rodion was not so blasé. He had just yesterday wished aloud for lime. And here it was. Except he had wished aloud in Russian. Was this just a coincidence? That was weird. He did get up quickly to snag two bottles for himself, though. 

“Daryonamu kanyu v zuby nye smotryat.” He said, as he grabbed them. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth, amusing himself with the knowledge that it was the same idiom as in English.

…

“That’s weird. Buy a lottery ticket, eh? With that kind of luck!” Yannic was amused by the lime drink mystery.

“But who brought it in? I do not think anyone has done that before. And no one answered when Liam asked. So who brought it in and why today? And why did they not say so when asked?” Rodion had been puzzling about this all day.

“The Lime Drink Marauder,” Yannic joked. “There’s a secret drink-bringer ghost in the building. But seriously, I’m sure someone will say something and it will be all obvious. Meanwhile, it is definitely your turn.”

Rodion lost this game, as he did most of the games he played with Yannic. They had tonight off together, which they did not always get. Since Yannic’s dance classes were on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, it often got bungled up with Rodion’s schedule. Usually they went out on these free nights, but tonight they felt like relaxing instead. After their pre-dinner dance that they did every time they could, and eating, they sat down to play a board game. He loved playing games with Yannic, it was their unplugged time, with their attention on each other, and laughing about the fierce competition that so often ended with the W in Yannic’s column.

It was almost a week later that it happened again.

They were on the team plane on the way to LA, and two groups of players were playing cards at the table seats. Rodion was not asked to join the card games, which he understood as it took communication to play. But he looked over his shoulder and saw that one table was playing Rich Man Poor Man, which was a game Rodion particularly enjoyed and didn’t take much talking. He had learned it from a Japanese friend as Dai fugo-Dai hinmin, but it was the same game. “Maybe I ask to play. I like that game,” he mused aloud and in Russian as his habit. Then decided “next time,” and went back to his book.

Ten minutes later he heard Hayden call out, “Roadie! We need you, man! Ekke’s out and we need a fourth! Come play Rich Man Poor Man. You know this game?”

Rodion blinked. He had just said that he wanted to play. In Russian. He tried to think of who he saw going back to the game table after he had spoken. He knew it was one or two people, but he couldn’t think who.

He shook his head to clear the weird feeling and stood up. “Yes, I would like to play,” he answered, and made his way back to the table area.

The other three players were already in a raucous mood when Rodion joined them: laughing Hayden, loud and funny Liam, and Olivier Gagnon, the second line right winger who was always up to hijinks with Liam. They’d been shushed a few times by other team members in nearby seats, and they tried to stay quiet, but they were clearly feeling good. 

Rodion took a seat and was dealt his hand; several high pairs and three twos. He kept his face straight but smiled inside. This was going to be an upset entry.

“You know the rules?” Olivier leaned over like he was ready to explain and help.

“I think I do. Two is high, three is low. Play after pass?” Rodion was careful to speak slowly.

“Yah, we play after a pass. Wait, what monsters are you playing against that don’t?” Liam was aghast.

“Computer programmers,” Rodion replied, smiling.

“Commuters? Fuck, that’s hardcore. And wrong. They’re wrong. Tell them I said so.” Liam declared. Rodion laughed at his certainty and his error.

“Roadie’s laughing! Roadie, when did you get a sense of humor?” Olivier teased

“Hey be nice to the new guy,” Hayden broke in.

“I ordered it on Amazon. Next day delivery.” Rodion deadpanned.

“What?” Liam squinted at Rodion.

“He said he ordered it on Amazon, his sense of humor.” Olivier crowed, slapping Rodion on the shoulder. “You’re all right, kid.”

Rodion won the first hand with his surprise twos, and became the Very Rich Man, to a round of despairing cries from the others. He held the position for four more games until he lost in a revolution, and the game went on in playful hushed tones as the long flight continued.

“Nice game, Roadie,” Hayden said as they picked up for landing. “You should have told us you were a ringer.”

“What is a ringer?” Rodion asked, making a guess but wanting to learn the new term correctly. He might use it on Yannic one day.

“It means you’re secretly good enough to win the game without trouble and take everyone’s money because they aren’t expecting it.” Olivier leaned in, glaring at Rodion accusingly. His curly hair a complete mess from a staggering run of losses and the fingers he’d been running through it.

“Ah.” Rodion said. He would not be using this term with Yannic any time soon. Or in this lifetime. Applied to himself, anyway. “But if I tell you in advance, can I still be a ringer? Would that not harm the secret?”

“Well it wasn’t a secret after the first game anyway. So there’s that.” Olivier lamented.

Rodion was delighted with his time on the plane. Playing cards with the others had made him feel welcomed, and he was grinning as they disembarked and headed for the hotel. As much as he was elated with his chance to play in the NHL, he had missed the camaraderie that came from knowing his teammates well. Today felt great.

The game against LA was a win, with two pretty goals by Hollander, and one each from Hayden Pike and Olivier Gagnon versus two from the LA team. They’d taken the lead late in the first after two fast ones from LA’s first line, and kept it till the final buzzer. The team was riding high. Despite the long day there was a push from Liam and Olivier to go out dancing, and they made sure Rodion came along in his club outfit.

“Wait, that’s not even the same outfit, Roadie!” Olivier was scanning his look from top to bottom. Slim-fit charcoal pants with jazz style sneakers and thin, dark emerald tee shirt. “You have multiple threads? What are you all doing over there in Laval? How do we not know this?”

“My friends.” Rodion shrugged. “We like to go out.”

“Holy shit, and I thought the NHL was pick-up central. I’m thinking you don’t go home alone very much!”

Rodion wasn’t sure exactly how to answer that. Liam must have thought his pause meant he didn’t understand because he repeated, “He thinks you pick up a lot.” Pointing at Olivier. “Because you look good. So you don’t go home alone.” 

He settled on, “Only when I want to,” with a grin and a wink.

“Well, you are rocking the look, Roadie. The rest of us are going to have to work harder.”

Rodion, of course, had no intention of picking anyone up, so Olivier and Liam were not going to be competing with his outfit. Not to mention they were a lot better looking than him. But he smiled anyway.

The club they chose was near the hotel and full but not crowded, so there was room to dance and Rodion had a lot of fun. He had learned a lot about dancing from Yannic in the three years they’d been together and their nightly dance before dinner, and subsequently had no trouble having partners to dance with all night. 

“Holy shit, you know how to dance, Roadie,” Liam was buying him another drink. His tall frame for once not supporting a woman on his arm. “I’m fucking impressed. I need to get over to Laval and party with you guys.”

I don’t think you’ll find my crowd, we’re in a very different part of town than you go to, Rodion thought to himself, laughing. Liam took Rodion’s laughter as an answer to his comment, and nodded like they had a date.

“You’ve got moves to teach me,” he continued. “New goals. You’ve danced with, like, every woman here.”

Rodion laughed again, his grey eyes sparkling in the club lights, hair tousled and slightly damp from exertion. That was true, there seemed to be a lot of interest in his dancing tonight.

They ended up staying out pretty late after the rest of the team had already headed back. Finally, both Liam and Olivier left with women, saying goodnight to Rodion and asking if he was okay getting back to the hotel. Rodion waved goodnight as he stood talking to his last dance partner. Liam and Olivier bumped hands and winked unsubtly at him before turning to go. After they were gone, Rodion bid her goodnight, bowing regretfully when she asked if he wanted to go to her place. “I must get up early tomorrow,” he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He walked back to the hotel in a terrific mood.

…

When he called Yannic the next morning (he knew better than to call at one a.m. Pacific Time), he was bubbling over with excitement about his bonding with the team and the win they got in LA. “It was great, Yan. I will miss this when I go back to the Arrows. I will especially miss how much faster I get home on a plane than on a bus!”

“I’m so happy for you, though, Rodi. The game was great, I saw you got a lot of play again!”

“Yes, that was excellent. I will tell you, playing with these guys is amazing. They are so much tighter than us. Just, every play, you know? We have a lot to learn—the Arrows, I mean.” He sighed and then got excited again. “And Hollander—playing on a team with him is like a dream. I was on the ice at the same time as him tonight during a changeover!”

“Oh, but on the plane,” Rodion kicked back to a thought he’d been wrestling with all day. “Vanya, it happened again. I am seriously thinking someone on this team speaks Russian.”

“What? What do you mean it happened again?” Yannic was switching to the new topic trying to follow Rodion’s train of thought.

“So I am sitting there in my seat on the plane, and I say, ‘I would like to join the card game’ because they’re playing Dai Hinmin…”

“Sweet, I didn’t know that was something they liked”

“Yes, and also they say your friends who do not allow playing the rest of the round after a pass are monsters.”

“There are only two who insist on that.”

“And they are officially monsters. I have witnesses. Well, I said it in Russian, just speaking to myself. And five minutes later, maybe it was ten, but right away, really, they call me over to play. I mean, for the very first time since I got here. I really think someone heard me and told them to ask me. Or maybe one of them is the Russian speaker. But this is too many coincidences.”

“That’s wild, man. That is just weird.” Yannic paused. “You really think someone speaks Russian but is hiding it from you and just using it to do nice things for you?”

“Well, that is the question. Why would anyone do that? Why not just say they speak Russian?” Rodion had been wondering this all morning. 

“I don’t know. Maybe it is just coincidences.”

“Vanyusha. Moy Luchik. It is not like you to turn away from a mystery. It could be coincidences, but what if it is not?”

“Oh, dude. You’re right. What am I thinking. Who even am I? We need an experiment plan. We need to test this hypothesis.”

“That is my Vanyusha.”

Chapter End Notes

This is Rodion’s accent. https://accent.gmu.edu/browse_language.php?function=detail&speakerid=2632

This is Yannic’s accent
https://accent.gmu.edu/browse_language.php?function=detail&speakerid=185

c’est incroyable!- That’s amazing

Next Chapter - What Shane thought...

Chapter 2: Just helping. And a little teasing.

Chapter Summary

“You know his eye color?”
“I keep thinking it’s going to be blue, but it’s completely grey, I think.”
“Tell me why we are talking about Tsetsov’s eyes, Shane.”
...
Shane will not squander a chance to do something nice, and also tease Ilya

Chapter Notes

Thank you so much to everyone for embracing my two guys! They feel so loved!
I love your comments about this story! I treasure them all!

“Who is this ‘Tsetsov’ on your team now?” Ilya demanded on video chat. “You did not tell me you were seeing other Russians! Do I need to tell this person to leave you alone? I know you are weak for Russians!”

“I knew that would poke you.” Shane laughed. “He’s pretty good. Hard worker. He’s got a weird accent, though. I can’t place it.”

“Not Russian?” Ilya looked deeply surprised.

“No, he’s Russian. It’s just his accent has this little weirdness to it. It’s strange.”

“He’s not tall and handsome like me, though.” He preened, impishly.

“So territorial! And I see you have been checking him out.” Shane was smirking, loving this moment of Ilya being the one riled up. He remembered how Ilya had teased him (inaccurately, Shane felt) about being attracted to Hayden and wanting him in a threesome. Payback. “But I’ve already learned he’s one of the good ones.”

“One of the good whats?” Eyes narrowed with suspicion locked onto Shane.

“One of the good humans. Boudreau made one of his… so wait, so the new guy, Roadie, is always talking out loud to himself in Russian. It’s kind of cute.” Shane bit his lip as Ilya’s face showed that this deliberate taunt for jealousy predictably hit the mark. 

“Anyway, so Boudreau made one of his usual nasty fucking remarks, calling a player a faggot. Saying he should ‘stay in the closet,’ and our guy Tsetsov says under his breath in Russian, ‘Maybe the bigots should stay in the closet.’ Took everything I had not to cheer him, right then and there. Unfortunately, Hayden thought he was boosting Boudreau, so he kind of got in his face and Tsetsov had to pretend he said something else. I mean, he’s just a kid, so he’s not about to actually say that out loud. But still. He’s clearly a good sort of guy.”

“You let Pike do that to him?” Ilya looked mutinous. Apparently, the Russian was a rival regarding Shane, but an ally regarding Pike. Shane laughed at the about-face.

“No, of course not. I got Hayden to apologize by telling him Roadie looked like he was unhappy with Boudreau. Besides, I thought you were going to make sure the new Russian stayed in his lane?”

“I will do that. I do not need Hayden Pike to do it.”

Shane just laughed. “Well if anything goes south, I’ll know it first. He seems confident that no one can understand him when he talks to himself. He does it all the time. I guess he figured he would have found out after his comment to Boudreau, because if anyone understood, I think they would have said something. Except me, of course, for obvious reasons.”

__________

A few days later, Shane decided to poke at Ilya again while they were video chatting. Having a Russian on his team was turning out to be an outstanding opportunity for chirping, and Shane was not going to squander it.

“Our boy Roadie is going to give you a run for your money, sweetheart. He was all dressed up for a night out with his friends. Pretty club-ready. I dunno, Ilya.”

Ilya frowned and glared, but refused to comment. Shane briefly worried that Ilya might show up in Montreal to give Tsetsov a talk. Then he seemed to let it go, and they moved on to other topics. Still, Shane couldn’t help but share his fun at knowing what Roadie was saying.

“I admit I’ve been playing with him a little bit.”

“Tsetsov? Why? Why are you playing with him? Are you unable to stay away from sexy Russians? I do need to come there!”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Other than his weird color eyes and weird accent, he’s pretty ordinary, Ilya. You don’t have to worry. I mean, you never have to worry, because he’s not you. Also he’s, like, twenty one.”

“You know his eye color?”

“I keep thinking it’s going to be blue, but it’s completely grey, I think.”

“Tell me why we are talking about Tsetsov’s eyes, Shane.”

“You asked! He’s kind of sweet, actually. He said something about feeling bad for me when I had to take media questions after our loss.” 

Ilya huffed. “Russians are not sweet.”

“You are.” Shane gave a fake coquettish smile. Ilya actually blushed at that. “Anyway, I was telling you that I was playing some games. He made some comment in Russian about wanting the lime hydration drink, but us always having only orange.”

“Of course he did. Lime is the best. Voyageurs don’t have it? What is wrong with your team, Hollander?”

“That’s not the point, Ilya. No, we don’t. Anyway, he was talking to himself about how much he liked it, so today I brought some in and added it to the ice. He said ‘Daryonamu kanyu v zuby nye smotryat.’ Is that really literally the same as in English, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Yes, it is exact. We have a saying, whenever you discover an idiom that is identical to English, Daryonamu kanyu v zuby nye smotryat.” He smirked. 

Shane rolled his eyes. 

“You realize that means he’s onto you.” Ilya said.

“What? No.” Shane looked alarmed, but not convinced. “He was just surprised to get it.”

“Whatever you want to tell yourself, Shane. Do you want me to start teaching you idioms, now?”

“That would be kind of fun, actually. What’s another one?”

“Here is one you will never use.” Ilya grinned and winked. “Because it means that you don’t need to worry; everything will work out, just hope for the best. Zhyvy budem ni pamryom. We will be alive, we won’t die.”

“Oh my god, that’s dark.”

“Is Russian.”

“Zhyvy budem ni pamryom.” Shane repeated. 

Ilya smiled and nodded. “But you will never need that. You will never not worry.”

“Give me another one.”

“V chuzhoy manastyr’ sa svayim ustavam ni hodyat. Don’t go to someone else’s monastery with your own rulebook.”

“What?”

“Like, ‘When in Rome, do as Romans do’.”

“I kind of like that one. I mean, it’s pretty on-point for a kid getting called up from the minors to integrate into a team, you know? V chuzhoy manastyr’ sa svayim ustavam ni hodyat.” Shane bent down out of the screen frame.

“Are you writing these down?” Ilya squinted into the phone.

Shane felt called out. “Of course. How else will I learn them?”

Ilya laughed. “Moya gubka.”

“Your sponge?”

“Da.”

__________

Shane was on the plane to LA and just coming back to his seat when he passed Roadie saying to himself that he wished he could play the card game. He felt badly for him, not having many opportunities to bond with his temporary teammates, so he looked back to see who was at the table. Hayden was playing, so when he got back in his seat, Shane texted him. Hey if anyone wants to leave the game, invite Roadie to play. He looks interested.

In only a few minutes, Ekke was tapping out. Hayden had obviously gotten Shane’s text, because he called Roadie over. From the sounds of them for the rest of the flight, they were all enjoying themselves. Shane smiled, glad Roadie was getting a chance to bond.

Chapter End Notes

Special thanks to Nesteshka for Russian advice!

Chapter 3: Experimental Plan

Chapter Summary

"So we need to set some little traps.” Yannic was all business. “Nothing obvious.”

Chapter Notes

Yannic is tenacious, smiling the whole time.

“Okay. Okay. So we need to set some little traps.” Yannic was all business. “Nothing obvious, because if no one secretly speaks Russian, it will look weird, and if there is someone, then we don’t want to be too obvious that we are on to them. Whatever is making them keep it secret will cause them to hide it.” 

Rodion smiled at Yannic entering science mode. He was always good at looking at a problem and figuring out how to make something happen to prove he was right or wrong. Well, it was pretty much what he did for a living, after all, except his living was manufacturing performance. As Yannic described it, he interrogated the data until it was forced to confess what went wrong on the production line. He never had to claim being right, because he could quickly come up with a test that would say the answer for him. Rodion loved this about Yannic. And now he just needed to sit back and wait for his boyfriend to think it through.

“Okay, then. What’s something that you need? Better yet, something that you need in order to be good for the team, that if this person knew they’d want to get for you? So far you have the drink flavor you wanted, you have bonding with the team. What else?”

“The time Pike went from mad at me to apologizing.” Rodion replied. “That was unexplained. But it was my first game, so maybe he wanted me to not worry about him being mad? Or whoever did and told Pike?”

“We want to create a fresh situation that we can control and monitor.  What do you need that someone could respond to? Equipment trouble? More drink requests?”

“Well, I do not know if this one would meet the plan, but I am really frustrated by not knowing the names of the trainers and staff. I never know who to ask for things.”

“So maybe,” Yannic was thinking.  Rodion watched the gears grind in Yannic’s brain as he paused, nodded several times, looked off into the air, shrugged, nodded some more, and then spoke again. “Maybe you’d miss getting something fixed because you couldn’t get the right person?”

“Maybe?” Rodion wasn’t sure this one would work. It seemed like a big ask.

“How about this. We want to test our hypothesis that someone speaks Russian. Later we can test for who it is. But right now, we are just trying to see if these are coincidences or not, right? So. Say something like, ‘I wish I had a list of the staff. What if I can’t find someone in time before a game? I need to figure this out.’ So it sounds like you’re just talking to yourself, you know? Then we see what happens. It’s even better that you’re on the road right now, because you don’t have the regular people who are all still at the home rink, and that reduces the number of people involved, because you think whoever it is was on the plane with you. This is perfect. It’s critical, it’s immediate, you have a limited sample size because of reduced staff, and it’s kind of binary—either you get a list or you don’t.”

Rodion smiled. He loved how Yannic’s brain worked.

“I will. That is perfect. I will say that.”

“Report back, mon chum, science needs to know. I’m due back from lunch, I have to go. See you in a couple of days!”

Things go wrong often enough getting ready for a game that Rodion had an opportunity to launch Yannic’s experiment only hours later. As he was taping his stick, he noticed a separation between the lamination layers in the heel that would necessitate a new one to avoid breaking during play. So he spoke out loud to his stick. In Russian, of course.

“Damn. Broken stick. I don’t even know who to ask for this. I wish they gave me a list of staff members. What if I can’t find who to ask in time. I need to figure this out fast.”

“You talk to yourself more than my Opa, Roadie.” Ekke said from next to him. “What’s up?”

“I need a new stick.” Rodion followed the script and only said the minimum in English.

“Oh, go ask Kurt. He’s got you.”

“Which one is he?” Rodion looked around.

“By the cart. Mustache.”

“Thank you.” And Rodion went over to ask—slowly, clearly—for a new stick. But his plan was in motion. He’d tried to say it loudly enough that many people could have heard and understood—if they spoke Russian. Most of the team didn’t look up when he talked to himself. But he hoped the listener, if there was one, had heard him.

That night’s game against San Jose was a nail-biter, and Rodion was relieved that he had noticed his stick early because every minute of play that night was a challenge. They ended up losing in overtime 1-2 after giving it everything they had.

The team changed and showered in exhausted silence, no one talked about going out that night as they readied for their long flight to Vancouver. As Rodion reached for his shoes, he saw a piece of white stick tape stuck to the inside, hanging out. He looked closer and saw a website written on it. www.nhlvoyageurs.com/en/staff-list/. 

He took out his phone and typed it in, and sure enough it came up on a sign-in page for the internal team site, and asked him to enter his phone number and the employee number they’d given him on the first day. No one was chatting and hanging out, so he didn’t want to delay his arrival at the bus. He would deal with it at the hotel. He looked around and saw Kurt by the cart, and got up to see if it was from him.

“Hello, Kurt, thank you for your help earlier. Did you leave this link for me?” He held up the tape so Kurt would understand what he meant.

“Yeah, Hollander said you needed it—definitely important for a roadie. Let me know if you need help setting up your log-in. Sorry about the tape. I couldn’t find a paper and I wanted you to have it right away.”

“Thank you. I appreciate this.” Rodion was elated to have his spy data. Hollander! He saw that he was just finishing up so he went over immediately.

“Hollander, thank you for staff information. This is really helpful.”

“Sure, no problem.” He smiled. “Someone said you didn’t have it, so I asked Kurt to help you. You got what you need now? Seriously, let me know if there is anything you need. Anything—that’s why we have a captain, to help with these things. Don’t be shy.”

“Thank you.” Rodion’s heart sank. He had been sure he had his man! But in the end it wouldn’t have made sense to be Hollander, so it was just as well. And he didn’t feel right asking his captain who it was who had told him that Rodion needed the list. He couldn’t wait to get on the phone with Yannic in the morning, though.

__________

“Okay, so two things.” Yannic said. “One, someone likely knows Russian. You asked for the list in Russian and all you said to Ekke was that you needed a stick, right? But you got a link to a list.” Yannic sounded like he had a spreadsheet open to enter data. Rodion could hear the keyboard in the background. It made him smile. Of course Yan had a spreadsheet. 

“So while it’s not proof, it’s strongly indicative.” Yannic concluded.

“You are sexy when you make experiment plans. You know that, right?” Rodion teased. “Say strongly indicative again for me.” He emphasized the dick part of the word, glad as always that Yannic had no trouble understanding him.

“I will strongly dick you when you get home, mon chou. But first we need to work on our list of suspects. So, Thing Two, who do we put on the list?”

Rodion paused and thought through his mental list of suspects. “There are twenty players and many staff. But the staff are not always in the room, and they were not nearby on the plane. So we should look at the players first.”

“Okay, give me your list and how likely you think they are. And why.”

Rodion thought about the roster. “Starting with the captain. Shane Hollander. Not likely, I think, because he has always been in Montreal and they do not have any Russian speakers. Maybe several years ago? Maybe? Plus, his biggest rival is Russian, so he would not be seeking out the language. And as captain, he would just help. Like he did today. Why would he keep that secret? 

“Then, Hayden Pike. I do not think so. He is not a subtle man. Whoever this is is subtle. I cannot see Pike keeping a second language secret.

“Then there is J.J. Boiziau. It could be him. Or Gilbert Comeau. They are top line players and have been around for a while. But neither of them are really subtle, either.  Patrice Drapeau, he does not seem like the type. But he is a goalie, and one never knows what they are thinking, really. Or what they see or hear.

“Olivier Gagnon and Liam Twomey seem too unserious to keep up a secret like this. They are jokers. 

“Boudreau, Reece Boudreau, he is an awful person, so I cannot believe he is secretly helping me, or anyone, ever. Falk is on the third line opposite Boudreau. He’s Swedish and very quiet. It could be him. 

“My wingers are Ekke Lindner and Braden Farrell and I think they would just help. They are fourth liners so they would be always worried about getting sent down. So if they were helping someone, they want to be open about that. Show they are team players, yes?

“That is the list, but I really cannot imagine why any one of them would keep this a secret. No one has said that they understand my Russian, but all of them have heard me talking to myself. I do not understand it.”

Yannic had been typing throughout this recitation. Rodion could picture the tidy columns and color-coded probabilities filling in under Yan’s flying fingers.

“Okay. We will devise another test to try to get our helper out of hiding. But first, let’s answer another question. Or, anyway, propose some hypotheses…”

“Oh! Moy Sakharok! Light me on fire with your talk of hypotheses!”

“You tease me too much and I’ll stop being a science geek for you! ‘Sugar Piece’ or not!” Yannic threatened.

“No, do not stop. I love you like this. Continue. Hypotheses about what.”

“Let’s get some ideas about why anyone would keep this secret. It might help figure out who it is. How about, they spent time in Russian leagues or they had a good friend on their team who was Russian? Or, they have a parent or relative who is Russian? Like, Hollander’s mother is Japanese, right? Or, a wife.”

“But why would they keep that secret? Everyone on the team would know, and they would have said that to me. I mean maybe the former teammate part, but again, why keep that secret?” Rodie shook his head as he thought. “How about a girlfriend that they are keeping secret?”

“...Or a boyfriend.” Yannic said quietly.  Suggestively.

“Oh. Oh.” 

Rodion paused for a long time. Thinking of his own relationship and how no one on the team would know why he had some Québécois in his accent. 

“Vanyechka, that is probably the most likely idea yet. Tabernak. Let me think about who is single, who might have a boyfriend.”

“It doesn’t have to be a single person, Rodi, if they’re keeping the relationship secret. Also, laughing at you using Québécois swears. But hey, lunch is over in this time zone. So, go have fun traveling to Vancouver today. And good luck in your game. I’ll think more about our next experiment and text you some ideas for a run plan. Love you.”

“Love you too, Yanya. Talk to you tomorrow.”

By the time the plane had touched down in Vancouver, Yannic had already texted several ideas, including wishing for fish in the catered meal or looking for a specific color tape, but Rodion dismissed them as difficult to carry out.

He went into the night’s game with no better ideas, but it was just as well. It was a high-powered game where Vancouver kept forcing them into awkward line changes. Rodion needed his mind on the game. In the third period, another awkward change left him on the ice in a scrum against the boards with the other team, trying to protect the puck from them while looking for his own teammates, when Hollander’s line came out. Coach left Gilbert Comeau on the bench until Rodion could switch, and Hollander skated toward the scrum and called out to Rodion that he was there.

Rodion got the puck free and it flipped toward Hollander, hoping he’d be able to get to it. Rodion saw him collect it and he planned to head to the bench, but Vancouver had changed their line as well, and the fresh players converged on Hollander as he crossed the neutral zone. Without any time to think or translate, Rodion called, not too loudly, “Szady sleva!” Behind at left! Hollander took one more stride and blind drop-passed the puck, right where Rodion was chasing him. 

Somehow, it all clicked. He was uncovered (Fourth line center versus Hollander? Of course they would all cover the much better skater.) and he carried the puck into the offensive zone, seeing Hollander break free of his crowd of attackers as they realized the puck was gone, and they turned to get back in position against the new, easier threat that wasn’t Shane Hollander. Rodion sauced it over the blade of the one winger who came to cover him, back to Hollander, who carried it neatly around the remaining defenseman and scored just under the goalie’s glove hand. 

The light went red, the buzzer blared, and Rodion, completely out of gas from skating anywhere near Shane Hollander, just let momentum carry him crashing into the boards—he didn’t even have the energy to stop.

It wasn’t until Hollander came around the back of the goal and grabbed him that he realized he had just given an assist to his idol.

All the cellies he had ever given as a first line center scoring in the minors felt like kindergarten next to this. He had assisted Shane Hollander’s goal! 

They headed back to the bench to collect high-fives and for Rodion to complete the shift change with Comeau. He was wrung out from his extended shift, but emotional elation overrode the exhaustion, and he was bouncing his knees as he sat through the first and second line playing, receiving more high-fives and atta boys from his teammates for his assist.

His high lasted all the way through the end of the game to a 3-2 win, all the way on the bus ride to the hotel, all the way through drinks and dancing with the team members who went out. Which included Hollander, who bought him a drink. And all the way to bed.

In the morning, he only had time to text Yannic about his big contribution before the team got back on the plane to head home.

They arrived home at around 4 p.m. local time, and by the time he got home, unpacked, and downstairs, Yan was home from work. Rodion sat at Yan’s kitchen counter cutting beef while his whiskey-eyed boyfriend prepared stroganoff.

“It was so awesome.” Rodion’s high was still firmly in place. “It just clicked. I called out that I was open, he drop-passed to me like he just totally trusted I would be there, and I had open ice in front of me so I could push in and get it back to him. So smooth! It felt like magic.”

“I’m surprised you managed to call out in English,” Yannic mused. “That was quick thinking!”

There was silence. When it dragged out, Yannic looked up at Rodion. “What.”

“I didn’t.” Rodion looked stunned.

“You didn’t what?”

“I didn’t call for being open in English. I said szady sleva.” He blinked several times. “How could I have not noticed that until this moment?”

“Because you’re still buzzing over an assist for Shane Hollander?” Yannic went back to chopping.

“Vanya.” Rodion paused until Yannic stopped chopping mushrooms and looked up again. “I said that in Russian. ‘I am open to your left.’ I asked for a drop-pass to the left in Russian. And he reacted instantly with a drop pass to his left.”

Dead silence. Yannic just stared at him. Finally, his surprised voice broke the silence.

“It’s Hollander.” Yannic put down his knife. “We caught the Lime Drink Marauder.”

They stared at each other for a very long rend in the space-time continuum. Reality broke. 

“Why, though? Why does he know Russian and why is he hiding it? Why?” Rodion paused. His dark grey eyes watching a replay in the air of all the things Hollander had done. “I guess I understand why he does nice things. He is Shane Hollander. He is the nicest person on the team. But why does he hide that he knows Russian?”

The sudden certainty that Hollander was the mysterious Russian speaker was unnerving, because it still didn’t make any sense. Obviously, no one else knew, because in Rodion’s entire time on the team—nearly forty days into his expected sixty—not once had anyone asked Shane to help with understanding Rodion. No one had ever called on Shane to translate. 

Rodion went to practice the next day still unsettled by the revelation, determined to maintain the secret, whatever its reason was, until he could figure out more.

Chapter End Notes

Moy Sakharok - my sugar piece, or my little sugar - Diminutive form of sakhar, meaning sugar
Mon chum - teasing, especially to a boyfriend “my buddy”
Mon Chou - my cabbage, a common endearment
Tabarnak - Tabernacle; basically means ‘oh fuck’. French Canadian swears/oaths are typically church-related

Next up: Does Shane know he's being played? No, he does not.

Chapter 4: Picking up the dropped ball, and distractions

Chapter Summary

“Shane, you are spending a lot of time thinking about this Russian. Every day you tell me about him. I think you are trying to tell me something.”

Chapter Notes

Shane can’t stop himself and Ilya can’t stop feeling a certain way about that.

Shane heard a voice raise in frustration from Roadie’s stall as the youngster taped his stick. Shane almost stood up when Roadie worried aloud about not finding the right staff person in time. Luckily, his liney Ekke figured out his need from his adjacent stall. But Shane felt badly that Roadie obviously hadn’t been helped to find the staff list on the team intranet.

After the rookie got his new stick and went out to warm up, Shane walked over to Kurt and spoke softly. 

“Hey, Kurt, someone told me Roadie didn’t have the URL for the team site, so they came to captain.” He pointed at himself. “Do you have any cards or anything with the address for him to log in?”

“Oh, yeah, I got it Shane. Thanks for letting me know, I’ll get that to him right away. Sorry about that!”

“No worries, I’m glad they told me, too. Good to find out now when it’s not an emergency. Thanks.”

Shane reminded himself that he couldn’t rely on being there to help Roadie all the time.  He needed to be sure he operated as captain for all the members of the team, and that included the temporary players called up to cover injuries getting information before they needed it, not after they already had problems.  Since he had never been in the minors, never been the called-up player, he had forgotten to think about their needs.  He put a reminder on his phone to ask when they got back for someone on the office staff to make sure Roadie had all the rookie welcome information.

__________

“I feel bad about forgetting him.  I think the office usually got this when we had call-ups before, but I have never checked up on them to be sure.  Ung.  And here’s Roadie not even knowing the language.” Shane shared his concern on his next call with Ilya.  It helped to just say it out loud to his boyfriend and also another captain.

“Shane, you are spending a lot of time thinking about this Russian. Every day you tell me about him.  I think you are trying to tell me something.”

“No,” Shane said, rolling his eyes. “No, Ilya, stop teasing me.  I just want to make sure he’s not frustrated!”

“Is not your job to soothe any other frustrated Russians, Hollander.  You could be thinking about how frustrated I am this week with you on west coast!  What are you going to do about my frustration right now? Stop thinking about Tsetsov!”

“First of all, fuck you.  I’m just trying to be a good captain.” Shane said, but with a smile creeping into his face. “And second of all,” he walked over and put his phone on the console at the end of the hotel bed, and climbed back on the bed, with his full body now visible in the camera, showing that he was already undressed.  He smirked. “Second of all, what are you waiting for, Rozanov?”

Chapter End Notes

Next up. But, WHY?? Why matters!

Chapter 5: Analysis of Results

Chapter Summary

When they got back in the car, Rodion started giggling.
“What?” Yannic asked, confused at the change in mood.
“Can I have deep dark knowledge that I will never tell, for $1000, Alex?” Then he dissolved into laughter.

Chapter Notes

“The devil lives in the still waters,” indeed

Rodion was watching Shane talk to some others, but looked away before he turned. Rodion tried to reconcile this calm and helpful person to the secrecy he was now aware of, and couldn’t. “V teeham omutye chyertee vodyatsya,” he muttered to himself. The devil lives in the still waters, as his mother used to say. A calm surface can hide a lot of deep turmoil.

He continued to puzzle over this as they entered a six-day home stretch, and he and Yannic could not imagine a scenario that made sense. But he also continued to play well, and revel in his waning time on the Voyageurs team. And he was glad for the help Hollander had provided. 

Rodion laughed to himself now, every time he said something out loud in Russian, though he made sure to hide it on his face.  Knowing that Hollander could understand him made him feel like he had a bit of an audience for his comments. Since he was no longer trying to discover the identity of his secret benefactor, his little traps became opportunities to bring a smile to Hollander, instead of seeking help.  It was a little thank you to his hardworking idol.

Practice day early in the week was brutal, with some extra reps being requested by the coach after a sloppy game and the trainer agreeing to push them all.  A hot and tired crew headed for the showers before lunch and then video time.

“I am hungry enough to eat a whole damn elephant!” Liam Twomey’s complaint rang out over the room.

“We’re not serving elephants, Twomey. Still.” Boiziau’s reply and the room’s laughter made it clear that Twomey asked for this a lot.

“I’ll buy everyone curry poutine!” Gagnon declared, to a chorus of groans.

“Chto my vam sdelali?” Rodion asked, toward Gagnon, but for Hollander’s enjoyment. What did we ever do to you?

“What’s that?” Ekke asked him.

”I am just wondering about curry poutine.” Rodion shrugged it off.

”All you need to know is to avoid it.” Ekke warned.  Rodion laughed along with the others, happy that Hollander was laughing louder yet.  Gotcha, he smiled to himself. 

 __________

Yannic was entertained by Rodion’s comedy show for an audience of one, and the review he got each evening. He loved Rodion’s sense of humor and constant jokes, even though some were quite dark.  Rodion said this was common in Russia and he wasn’t giving it up because Canadian winters were also long and deserved jokes about suffering.

Some days the nightly update included jokes told in English that the rest of the team got to hear.  Rodion loved feeling like part of the team as they laughed at his occasional jokes.  But more often it was just in Russian for Hollander.  Yannic got a huge kick out of that.  They still hadn’t figured out why Hollander knew Russian, but Yannic didn’t see a way to find out without being rudely invasive.  So they just enjoyed the jokes instead.

“I was a troublemaker tonight,” Rodion said when he got home.

“Uh oh.  What are you up to, Rodyusha?” He winked as Rodion basked in the Russianized nickname.

“Hayden Pike was complaining that his son had left a stuffed alligator in the car.  Apparently this is a repeated problem.  And it requires Pike to return home with the toy or his son is very sad.  So I said, ‘vovochka plachet vmeste s toboy’ which means Vovochka weeps with you. Hollander was right next to Pike, and I saw that he looked a little confused.  Now he will have to ask his Russian contact about this, to learn that Vovochka is the naughty boy in every Russian schoolboy joke.  I wonder whether this will cause trouble or not.  It is hard to imagine who he will ask!”

Yannic laughed. “Look at you, dropping little eggs and not caring who steps on them.”

 __________

The last game in the home stretch was Wednesday night’s game against Dallas. It was brutal, with the Nova playing a rough, physical game.  Checking involved players no longer controlling the puck, high elbows and running starts.  Montreal won 5-4 despite the lack of nuance, and coach Theriault was crowing about the Voyageurs’ enforcer’s performance.  Boudreau had decided this meant he was a hero. He was still in his gear, holding an ice pack to his face, bloodstains on the front of his jersey.  He was smiling and recounting the fight he’d started to pay back the Nova’s defenseman for checking Hayden.

“I’m giving my blood for the team drop by drop” Boudreau announced his sacrifice loudly.

“Zachem zhdat? Otday yeyo vsyu seychas.” Rodion said, while taking off his shin pads.  Why wait?  Give it all now.

He was looking down so he didn’t see Hollander’s initial reaction, but he looked up when he heard the water spray out of his mouth and he started coughing loudly on the liquid that went down the wrong pipe.  Pike leaned over to help him, but it took a while to recover.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he sputtered, still coughing.  It sounded almost like a laugh.  

Rodion hid his smile by looking down at his shin pads again.  Gotcha.

“Holy shit, Shane, are you all right?  I’d offer you a drink of water, but I don’t want you to spray it ten fucking meters again.  Seriously, you okay?” J.J. Boiziau said from across the room to a round of laughter.

“Wrong pipe.” Hollander sputtered.

”Drink the water.  Breathe the air.” Ekke Lindner helpfully advised.

Rodion was having the time of his life.

__________

A five-day roadie followed by a home stretch brought Rodion to what he expected to be his final two weeks with the Voyageurs.  Rodion and Yannic were on the couch Sunday morning after a home game the night before against the Centaurs as the end of November approached. 

They had just turned on the TV to check for what channel would show Rodion’s game in Chicago that evening. But instead of the schedule, the Sports Canada channel had a banner that the Hollander-Rozanov press conference was about to start.

“What?!” Yannic said at the same time Rodion shouted “Stop!” before he could click away.

They both stared at the screen, both put their coffees down on the table. Yannic turned up the volume as Hollander and Rozanov stepped up to a podium in front of a scrum of reporters. Shane Hollander started speaking.

“Ilya and I have been competing against each other for over eight seasons. A lot has been said, and written, about our rivalry. About what makes us different as players, and as people. But I don’t say enough how much I respect Ilya, not only as one of the best players in the NHL, but as a person. He is a great leader, a fierce competitor, and an amazing goal scorer. But over the years I have also gotten to know him off the ice, and I consider him a friend.”

“Kakogo cherta,” murmured Rodion. What the hell. 

“Câlice,” Yannic breathed. (Holy) Chalice. 

Shane repeated his statement in French, then continued again in English.

“When Ilya signed with Ottawa, we began talking about creating a charity together. Today that dream is a reality. The Irina Foundation will raise money and awareness for organizations that provide support, counseling, and assistance for people who are suffering from depression and other mental illnesses that can lead to suicide. It’s a cause that is important to both of us, and I am very happy and proud to be working with Ilya to create something that can hopefully help a lot of people.”

“That’s why he knows Russian.” Yannic said, quietly.

They watched as Rozanov spoke about his mother and her battle with depression. They watched as Shane reached out a hand and placed it on Ilya’s forearm. They watched as Ilya paused while talking, clearly emotional about his mother’s memory. And they watched Shane’s face as he watched Ilya.

“And that is why he has hidden it.” Rodion said, in a whisper. 

He paused, unable to look away. “I am so glad that I did not say anything in public.”

“Yeah,” Yannic agreed.

They leaned into each other on the couch, forgetting about the announcement of the charity, and thinking instead about what those two men had kept hidden, and how much it must cost their hearts. Rodion felt awed. He could see Yanya was affected, too. The press conference ended and he turned off the TV, uninterested in the commentator’s opinions.

“Want to go for a walk?”

“Yeah, Rodi, I so much do. Want to go to Mont Royal?”

Rodion smiled. They had started their first date there. “That is a wonderful idea.”

They got their coats and drove the twenty minutes to Montreal center, parked and walked hand in hand in the sunshine of the cool November morning. 

“I cannot stop thinking about Hollander. And Rozanov.” Rodion said. “How hard it must be for them to hide their relationship. I mean, I cannot even imagine. After seeing the way they were at that press conference. How awful is it that it is not only long distance, but also secret? We get to go home to each other, with no one in our business. We get to build our relationship in person, and go out together, even, and still be private.” 

“I wonder if this foundation is a way for them to start doing that,” Yannic suggested “To be together in public after so long.”

“‘So long’? How do you know that?”

“Well, I don’t know it, of course, but I conjecture. You don’t start learning Russian when you’ve only just started seeing someone. And you don’t reach conversational level very fast without complete immersion.  The things he’s understood you saying aren’t Duolingo fundamentals, you know?”

Rodion nodded, thinking of his own journey in learning English. 

“And,” Yannic continued, “you sure don’t get quickly to thinking in-language to the point you understand reflexively in the middle of a hockey play. So my working hypothesis is years of interaction.  The time it takes to decide to invest in learning, then learning, then practicing. And all long-distance and in secret, and still getting to reflexive response level.  I could be wrong, but that’s my thinking. He’s been learning Russian for a long time. He’s been keeping his connection to Rozanov a secret for a long time before that. Rozanov keeping the secret too, of course, for the same amount of time.”

Rodion understood Yannic’s analysis, even though he would never have put all that together himself. But it made sense. He sighed in empathy for the two men that he considered his heroes. Amazing once in a generation players. On top of being an incredible player, Hollander had been so kind and supportive. And now this knowledge of the burden they were carrying. 

He looked around at the park where he and Yannic had discovered their mutual interest three years ago. He was overwhelmed by his boyfriend. He tightened his grip on Yannic’s hand. 

“I am so glad I met you, Yannic Paquet. Since I first got here to Canada, and you bought me a coffee at Les Enfants Terribles, and we spent the whole day here, because we were talking about everything and we never realized how many hours had gone by.”

Yannic returned his smile. He bumped Rodion’s shoulder and gave him a loving look. 

“And then we finally figured out that we both had jobs in Laval,” Yannic said, “and when it was time to head home, we were both going the same way and it morphed into dinner as well.” His smile was huge, and very flirty.

“I do not think I have thanked you enough,” Rodion stopped and turned toward him. “For making this so easy. For being so open and so you. For making falling for you so effortless. And for your willingness to deal with the bigotry of my profession. For making being with you so uncomplicated; moving into my building, keeping my secrets. I…” he blew out a breath from his rapid monologue. “Thank you for keeping me.”

Yannic pulled him into his arms. “I love you, Rodi. I’m keeping you. The science is in on that.” 

“I love you, too, Yanyechka. You want to go to Ottavio’s again for lunch before my plane?” It was where they had finished their first date.

Yannic kissed him and nodded. They held hands as they walked back to their car.

When they got back in the car, Rodion started giggling.

“What?” Yannic asked, confused at the change in mood.

“Can I have deep dark knowledge that I will never tell, for $1000, Alex?” Then he dissolved into laughter.

Yan started laughing, too. Finally, he managed to sputter,“What is Shane Hollander’s Secret Russian Boyfriend?”

“You are supposed to say the answer, then the question! What kind of Canadian are you?”

“Oh, sorry,” Yannic laughed. “Um, ‘Reasons Canadians learn Russian and hide it’?”

“When I got called up, I was thinking how amazing it would be to play even one day on the same team as Shane Hollander.” Rodion’s eyes were wide with admiration. 

“That is a dream!  Then I got to be actually on the ice together with him. Then I got an assist on a Shane Hollander goal! But I absolutely did not expect ‘Shane Hollander’s secret Russian boyfriend’ to be my takeaway from my time in the NHL.” He shook his head, his delighted grin fading to serious. “But we will keep this secret with our lives.”

Yannic looked at him, sad that it was necessary at all, but he said, “Yes. Yes, we will.”

__________

Rodion had two weeks left of the expected sixty days. Coach had not updated him about his continued timing, but Rodion was making himself ready to go back to the Arrows.

He said nothing to Hollander about discovering his secret, and set no more traps. In fact, he had a feeling that Hollander had never noticed that his call out on the ice that day in Vancouver had been in Russian. 

He paid attention to hockey, to practice, to video reviews, and enjoyed all of the games.

As November came to a close, Rodion came back from a two-day break to his last game. The coach called him into his office and told him that Lucas Kuhn was going to come and skate with the team at practices the following week, to determine his readiness. Rodion would continue to suit up for games. If Kuhn was ready at the end of the week, Rodion would head back to the Arrows.

“Thank you for the notice. I will enjoy this final week. Please let me know if there is anything I need to do.” He said, glad for the extra few games, and glad for his time in the NHL.

“You bet, Tsetsov. You’ve done a great job here. You have a lot to be proud of.”

“Thank you. I am.” And Coach Theriault waved him out with a smile.

When Kuhn came back, he looked like he had been working out hard in the weeks coming up to his return. He looked ready, and Rodion knew he would be on the ice by the Saturday game. 

So on Friday at practice when Coach called him to the office again and said he would report back to Laval the next day, Rodion was mentally prepared, and really thankful for this opportunity to demonstrate his ability on the biggest stage. He was confident that it would lead to more. But he had one important goodbye to make. In Russian.

He went to find Hollander before he collected his gear, and found him outside the trainer’s room.

“Hollander, could I… could I speak to you alone?” He pointed to the empty trainer’s room.

Shane looked around before saying, “Sure,” and walked inside, holding the door.

Rodion stepped in and Shane closed the door behind them.

“What’s up?” Shane looked concerned.

“Spasibo.” Rodion started. Shane’s eyes went wide. Rodion switched to English. “I just want to thank you for everything you did for me when I came to the team not knowing very much. You helped in a lot of little ways to make it better, so I could focus on hockey. Even when I did not realize I was asking for help. Like the lime drinks, and the card games, and the staff list. Thank you for that. You made a difference.” He smiled gratefully as Hollander’s face showed shocked surprise and a little fear. 

Then he paused. And switched to Russian. “I will gladly keep your secret, you know.” Shane’s face lost all color. Rodion quickly went on, in hopes of reassuring him, pointing to his own chest. “As a gay player in the closet, I have my own secrets as well. I wish you the best with your foundation.”

“Roadie. I…” Shane halted. Opened his mouth, closed it again. Rodion could see the wheels churning as he realized what Rodion was implying by speaking in Russian—and talking about the Foundation. The color rushed back to Shane’s face with a vengeance. He looked like he wanted to run. He took a deep breath, obviously using some routine to calm himself. Rodion waited while Shane’s face went through two or three different possible responses. Finally, he said, “You’ve played well with us. And you’ve really fit in. I’m sorry we’re losing you. We’ll be adjusting on this end, too. I hope it’s not too hard going back.”

Rodion smiled. “Zhyvy budem ni pamryom.” We will be alive, we won’t die.

Shane barked out a loud laugh like a dam bursting. He looked surprised at his own outburst, but also relieved somehow. He clapped Rodion on both shoulders. He answered in Russian. “No, we won’t, Roadie. No, we won’t. I’m going to miss you. I hope to see you again.”

“I hope you will. Maybe on this ice, maybe on some other ice. Spasibo.” And he opened the door and stepped out to go to the locker room to gather up his gear to take back to Laval. 

As he headed down the hall, he heard Shane quietly say: “No, thank you.”

Chapter End Notes

Câlice - a vulgar expression of surprise in Québécois French

Stay tuned for Shane's POV

Chapter 6: You can Trust Him

Chapter Summary

“All right, then it is nothing. Either he knows and he respects your silence, or he doesn’t know. Both of those are okay.”

Chapter Notes

I am overwhelmed by the love you all have for Rodion and Yannic. Thank you for being such good friends to the new kids on the playground!

“I think Roadie is feeling much more comfortable now.” Shane said.

“Not Tsetsov again!” Ilya rolled his eyes. “Now you are concerned for his happiness?  What is next, you will buy him flowers and take him to dinner?”

“Ha ha.  No. I just noticed he doesn’t worry so much anymore, when he’s talking in Russian.”

“Oh, no!  Is Captain Nice not able to do special favors for his Russian boyfriend anymore?  Oh, wait.  I am your Russian boyfriend, Shane!”

“No, Captain Asshole, I just noticed it’s more that he’s not worrying about missing things, or doing things wrong. And he’s telling jokes to himself now, so he must be following the conversation pretty accurately.  I think he knows a lot more English than I suspected, because he’s even saying some jokes in English, and that takes more vocabulary.”

“Hmmf” Ilya clearly did not want to talk about Roadie any more.  But given his reaction, now Shane definitely did.  He smiled.

“Like, Gags threatened us all with curry poutine, and Roadie’s all—this was a Russian one—‘what did we ever do to you?’”

Ilya raised an eyebrow, not willing to smile.

“And there was, oh what is this one.  Hayden was talking about Chompy getting left in the car again, and Roadie says, ‘Vovochka plachet vmeste s toboy.’ Who is Vovochka and why is he weeping with Hayden?”

Ilya did smile at that one.  Fondly.  “Ha, he is not weeping with Hayden.  He is weeping with Arthur.  Vovochka is the little boy who is always getting into trouble or doing things wrong. He says things that embarrass others.  That is funny, I would love for Hayden to have a Vovochka. Tsetsov is perceptive.  I think I will start telling Vovochka stories to Arthur.  When are we babysitting next?”

Shane rolled his eyes.  But then snorted with laughter.

“Wait, wait, then there was this one.  I lost it. Boudreau got a bloody nose in the Dallas game,” Shane started.

“Boudreau is an asshole who deserves a bloody nose, or worse.” Ilya snarled.

“Well apparently Roadie agrees with you on the ‘or worse’ part.”

“Maybe he is not so bad, then.”

“Of course Theriault was praising Boudreau on his fight.  And when Boudreau gets into the locker room, he’s telling everyone, ‘I’m giving my blood for the team drop by drop.’ I thought there were going to be multiple detached retinas in the room, everyone was rolling their eyes so hard. But here comes Roadie with ‘Zachem zhdat? Pozhaluysta, otdayte vse eto seychas.’”  Why wait?  Please give it all now. “Right when I’d taken a drink.  I think I hit J.J. clear across the room, spitting it out. I had to pretend I drank it wrong—I covered that up okay though.  Holy shit, that was funny. Evil hex, Russian style.”

Ilya did laugh at that.  Loudly.  “Maybe I like this kid.” It took them both a while to recover.

“Boudreau is such a dick.” Shane shook his head at how much of a dick he was.

“I am glad he is not on my team.  But he wouldn’t be, Harris would chase him away. I am sure of it.” Ilya paused. “He would use rainbow stickers to ward him off like garlic and sunlight.”

Shane laughed.  He couldn’t wait to meet Harris.

…

Their press conference announcing the Irina foundation took up more space in Shane’s head than he expected, with managing news and media questions. His mom, as director of the foundation, heroically bore the brunt of it through the following weeks of November. He was grateful for her energy and her expertise in managing this. 

As captain, Shane talked with the coaches about getting ready for Lucas Kuhn’s return and the plan to check out his playing fitness during practices in the next week when he was first back. Theriault told him that Tsetsov would keep playing in that overlap week, in case Kuhn had not been able to maintain physicality in the rehab gym.

Since Kuhn’s clearance for practice was public knowledge, he was able to talk with Ilya about it when they had their video call.

“Yeah, Kuhn is just attending practice.” Shane confirmed. “Roadie is still dressing for games this week. I bet he’s sad about the end of his time in the NHL for now. But he’s done well. He’ll be back, or someone will pick him up, I expect, after this.”

“Oh yes!” Ilya said “I forgot about your Russian boy with all the action around our announcement. He is doing well. That assist he gave you in Vancouver was pretty. He was obviously so tired, left on the ice at the end of a shift. I assumed he’d leave you there alone and head for the bench. I was impressed he was even able to talk, let alone talk in English to tell you he was there for a drop pass. And then when you passed to him, he moved the puck up and got it back to you for the goal. It was sweet. Maybe he is okay after all. A funny Russian who can play hockey well. Not sexy like me, but he could have two of three.”

Shane knew Ilya was waiting for a reply. None came out. He was frozen in shocked realization of what had happened back in Vancouver.

“Shane?”

Shane saw Ilya on the video call, looking hard at his screen, concerned. He couldn’t find his voice.

“Shane?” Ilya repeated.

“He didn’t.” Shane could only produce a monotone. He was barely able to hold his phone up.

“He didn’t what.” Ilya prompted.

“He didn’t say it in English. Oh my god. How could I not have noticed that. I just remembered. He said it in Russian. He knew I’d understand somehow. He’s known this whole time.”

“Shane.” Ilya’s voice was suddenly soothing, and somehow holding him. Somehow recognizing his panic through the phone. “It does not mean he knows. He could have assumed you would just target his voice. He could have been too tired to think at all.”

“What if he knows? What if he has known this whole time?”

“If he knows, and if he was going to say something, he would have. He has not.”

“What if…”

“Shane. Zhyvy budem ni pamryom.” We will be alive, we won’t die. “He has said nothing. Did he act like anything was wrong that night? You all went out after the game, yes? You said you bought him a beer?”

“No, he didn’t act weird at all. Yes, we went out.  He acted normal.”

“All right, then it is nothing. Either he knows and he respects your silence, or he doesn’t know. Both of those are okay.”

“Do I say something to him?”

“Why would you want to do that, Shane? So that you can bring it back up if he hasn’t thought of it? No, there is no need now. We have made our announcement that we are friends. It will no longer be strange for you to know some words in Russian.”

Shane was not reassured. He knew he would be thinking of this every time he looked at Roadie. Wondering if he knew.  If he was going to say something.

…

Roadie’s last day came and Ilya had a late travel return. He drove up to Montreal in the morning to spend the day with Shane before his home game that night. Shane was in the kitchen when he arrived.

“He knew.” Shane said, as soon as Ilya walked through the door.

“Who knew? And what did he know?”

“Roadie. Tsetsov. He knew the whole time.” He handed Ilya a cup of coffee.

“Shane. What happened?”

Shane laughed, stunned. Ilya’s eyebrows raised and he looked completely ready to smile, awaiting confirmation that it was a smiling sort of update.

“Yesterday was his last day. He stopped me outside the trainer’s room and asked to speak in private. He thanked me for the lime drinks, and the staff list, and the card games. Probably every one of those jokes was for me. All of it. The whole time.” Shane shook his head and looked even more bewildered. 

“Then he started speaking in Russian and told me he was gay and knew how to keep secrets and he’d keep mine. Ours!  He knows about us!  He said he would keep my secret and good luck with the foundation. He knows about you. He acted like it was obvious that he’d keep the secret. And then he thanked me again and left to go back to Laval.  Just like that.”

Shane sat down hard on the counter stool. His face was completely slack like he no longer controlled it.

“He said, Zhyvy budem ni pamryom.” Now Shane smiled weakly as he shook his head. “Now I feel like I know what that really means. Holy shit. Like a promise, you know? We will be alive, we won’t die from this.”

Ilya laughed until Shane hit him.

“But what does he mean by it?  What’s he going to do with this?  He knows about us, Ilya.”

“It means you don’t have to worry, Shane. If he is gay, and he is Russian, he will never talk.

“And also, I told you a month ago that he was onto you.” Ilya’s smile was a study in smug satisfaction. “I told you this, and you did not believe me.”

Shane hit him again.

“Are you sure he won’t say anything?”

“Yes, Shane, I am very sure.” Ilya was serious now. “He has too much to lose. You can trust him on this. He has told you that you can trust him, and that he trusts you, by revealing to you that he is gay. You are likely the only one who knows. He knows that you know how important his secret is.”

Ilya pulled Shane into his arms and kissed him. “Zhyvy budem ni pamryom, Moya Podushka.”

“Twoja lyubimaya podushka”

“Da.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to be jealous of the Russian on my team any more.”

“I think we will see him again.” Ilya’s smile looked oddly indulgent.  Shane wasn’t sure what to make of that.  He dropped his head onto Ilya’s shoulder. It had knocked the feet out from under him when Rodion had made it clear that he knew Shane spoke Russian—and then brought up the Foundation, connecting him with Ilya.

“He knew the whole time.” Shane shook his head against Ilya’s shoulder. “How did he know?”

“I told you he was perceptive.”  Ilya’s mouth turned up in a crooked grin.

Chapter End Notes

Moya Pudishka - my pillow
Twoja lyubimaya podushka - your favorite pillow

Many many grateful thank-yous to the Russian speaking readers who helped correct my language errors! 🥰
Next up - epilogue

Chapter 7: Epilogue

Chapter Summary

“Should I be scared?” Rodion had no clue in the world why he’d be here. Was he angry?

Chapter Notes

Five weeks later...

Rodion Tsetsov had had a taste of the NHL, and he wanted more. Since his return to the Arrows, he had put in even more practice time. He had asked his coaches for extra focus. He had put in the hours with the video coach, learning how to review tape. He reviewed tape of his games, and also tape of other centers, looking for ways to improve.

He was excited and motivated, and it felt great. He was the first one on the ice and the last one off. His stats were up. He was always thinking about the game. And maybe that was why, leaving last after practice, he didn’t notice the man leaning against his car until he was right at it.

He startled, and realized he was looking directly at Ilya Rozanov.

The Ilya Rozanov. Star player.  Legend. Shane Hollander’s secret Russian boyfriend. Here. At Place Bell, the Arrows’ practice rink. In Laval, just north of Montreal. Not Ottawa. Leaning on Rodion’s car.

“Rozanov?” Rodion’s voice not really in his control. He tried not to let his face show how much Rozanov looked like a hit man right now.

“Tsetsov.” Rozanov’s voice was flat, without inflection, and his face gave away nothing about the nature of this visit.

“Hi?”

“Walk with me?” Ilya asked, in English, standing up from his casual lean against the car.

“Should I be scared?” Rozanov was tall. And he did get in fights on the ice. And Rodion had no clue in the world why he’d be here. Was it about Hollander? Was he angry?

Rozanov laughed. It was a friendly laugh. It relaxed Rodion somewhat.

“No, you should not be scared. That is the last thing I would want.”

“Sounds like the start of a Vovochka joke.”

Rozanov laughed again, he directed a scrutinizing look at Rodion and gave a crooked smile. “He is right. You are funny.”, Rozanov kept looking at him, then looked a little surprised. “And your eyes do look like they should be blue.”

“They are not.”

“And your accent in English does have something in it.” Rozanov peered at him, as if this was something one could see.

“Nobody is expecting the French.” Rodion was still completely off balance, not expecting these questions, waiting for the hammer to fall. 

“Ah. I did not learn French.”

Rozanov started walking toward the boulevard. There was a footpath across the street. Rodion followed him.  What else was there to do? He wondered if he was walking to his own doom. But he couldn’t resist following Ilya Rozanov. 

“You are not out to your team.” This time in Russian. Apparently Rozanov was not one to let small pleasantries stretch out.

“Nyet.” Rodion switched to Russian, too.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Rodion did not immediately answer. His habit, every time he was asked about his dating situation was to say no, even though it was usually assumed to be about women.

“You don’t have to answer. You are working very hard now, yes? To get back to the NHL?”

“Yes.” Rodion said. “I will earn a place. Maybe not on the Voyageurs, but somewhere. I am making myself ready. I feel very good about my training.”

“That is good. You played well when you were on the Voyageurs. You even had an assist for Hollander.”

Rodion smiled broadly at the memory. “That was an amazing moment.” He looked at Rozanov. “There will be more.”

Rozanov smiled crookedly. It looked like he was picturing his own more. A player like Rozanov certainly had a lot more moments to remember.

They walked without talking for a while. Rodion trying to figure out what Rozanov wanted. He finally decided to be the one to bring up the obvious subject. He was glad they were speaking in Russian now. This would have been hard in English.

“Rozanov. I want you to know that I understand the need for privacy. I need it for myself as well. Maybe someday we’ll all be safe to be open. But for now, I’m following the ‘protect ourselves’ assumption for any secrets I stumble upon. And I hope others will follow that for me. As a Russian, the consequences are much more dire. Well, you know that.”

“Yes.”

Rozanov was silent for a moment, like he was deciding what to say. He took in a breath. Then let it out without speaking.  Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.

“How did you figure it out?”

“I… Well.” Rodion was at a loss to describe it—the whole situation. “I was confused. The coincidences. It seemed like there might be someone who understood my comments in Russian and was acting on them secretly. I couldn’t decide if it was real or just my imagination. But my boyfriend is a—” he paused as he saw Rozanov smile at the disclosure. Rodion shrugged in acknowledgement and continued. 

“He’s a data scientist. He, you know, analyzes experiments for a living. At a manufacturing plant. And he has never met a piece of mysterious data he didn’t want to chase to a root cause, as he calls it. He’s really good at it.” Rodion smiled fondly, unable to hide how impressed he was by his boyfriend.  “So we, well, he designed some experiments to see if it really was someone knowing Russian and to catch whoever it was.”

“You were doing an experiment in the middle of a game for that drop pass?” Rozanov looked impressed.

“No,” Rodion laughed, shaking his head. “That one was an accident. I was too tired to think. I didn’t even realize it had happened until the next day.”

“Neither did Shane.” Rozanov grinned. No TV network that Rodion watched had ever captured that particular expression on Rozanov’s face. The playful, fond grin made him suddenly incredibly attractive. Rodion was mesmerized, and then startled from staring when Rozanov started speaking again. “Two weeks later, actually. He was… alarmed.” His grin faded as he stared at Rodion for a long moment. “But then you kept quiet.” The statement was a question.

“All we knew was that Hollander understood Russian.” Rodion said, soberly. “We had a hypothesis about why, after you announced your foundation.” 

Rozanov raised his eyebrows. 

“The question of why someone would know Russian, and also hide that fact.” Rodion answered the unspoken query before he continued.

“The press conference kind of suggested an answer to that. Yannic was the one who figured that out, too. When we saw your charity plans, and how you treated each other. But it was still just a guess. Excuse me, an hypothesis.” He ducked his head like he was being corrected by Yannic right there. “And we knew it would be damaging if our guess was right and it got out. Really damaging, for you.” Rodion looked him in the eye. “Because it would be the same for me. I think about that risk often. You could not go home to Russia again.”

He continued, his voice gaining strength and conviction. “So whatever it is, that I’m not even sure I know, I will not be talking about. If that’s why you’re here.”

He hoped that was what Rozanov was looking to hear. He felt so young and uncertain next to the older man’s confident walk.  He saw him smile, like that was a funny thing to say. 

“I know.”

Rodion watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Rodion.

“This is the phone number for the foundation. If you ever want to volunteer for charity work around our hockey camps, you should call. Yuna Hollander will help you. You can tell her I gave you this number.”

Rodion took the paper, stunned, and studied it for a moment before he looked back up at Rozanov. 

“It was nice to meet you, Tsetsov. I hope to see you in the NHL again. Maybe meet your remarkable Yannic one day.” He nodded to Rodion, turned and started walking back the way they had come.

Rodion watched him walk away, back toward the cars. He stood there for a long time, thinking about what had just happened. He fully intended to make a call to the foundation and become a part of that effort. 

And he fully intended to meet Ilya Rozanov—and Shane Hollander—again in the NHL.

He looked at his watch. Yannic would be home soon. They could finally close the file on the Lime Drink Marauder. But a whole new file was now open. The one with Rodion’s future in it. He started walking back to his car, Rozanov already out of sight up ahead.

He looked at the paper in his hand and smiled at how bright the future looked. Brighter, knowing the efforts of these two men that he admired so much. He couldn’t wait to tell Yannic about the camps. Rodion imagined himself helping with equipment or corralling kids while these legends coached them. Yannic could help, too, with off ice training in balance and stability from his dancing classes. 

And he would absolutely succeed in getting noticed by an NHL team. He could feel it. 

He grinned all the way back to his car.

Chapter End Notes

In which Ilya reprises his role of Sherpa for Gay Hockey Players all over the league.

** I don’t think I’m done with Rodion and Yannic. So subscribe to this series if you want to catch notifications of new fics on them

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