Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike & Ilya Rozanov, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais & Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike, Ottawa Centaurs Team Ensemble & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Hayden Pike, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Ilya Rozanov, Wyatt Hayes, Zane Boodram, Troy Barrett, Harris Drover

Additional Tags:

Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, POV Shane Hollander, Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Good Friend Hayden Pike, POV Hayden Pike, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike Friendship, Protective Hayden Pike, Hayden Pike Knows About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Good Friend Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, POV Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais & Shane Hollander Friendship, Supportive Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Airplane Crashes, Happy Ending, POV Wyatt Hayes, POV Ilya Rozanov, Supportive Hayden Pike, Hayden Pike Bashing, Ottawa Centaurs Player Ilya Rozanov, Ottawa Centaurs as Family (Game Changers), Ottawa Centaurs Find Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Bashing (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Collections:

how dare you make me feel emotions (/pos)

Stats:

Published: 2026-06-06 Completed: 2026-06-25 Words: 25,508 Chapters: 5/5

The Ballad of the Voyageurs

Summary

J.J.’s eyes settled across the parking lot, where Shane had hung up the phone but was still crouched, his silhouette dark, head down, hands at the back of his neck. Fatigued, trying to make himself smaller, hide how exposed he clearly felt. Because he and Roz were a thing. Not a one way thing but an actual… thing. Shit.
J.J. hated Florida. The humidity fucked up his skin, and they had those giant snakes that weren’t even supposed to be there but some idiot Florida men had set them free and the swamps there were so fucked that they thrived. J.J. set his jaw, determined, before he responded. “Tell Jackie to get three tickets.” He reached into his bag and confirmed his passport was there. “It will be harder for Coach to punish all of his captains. I’m going with you.”
He nodded his head definitively.
Hayden nodded back.

Or

After the Centaurs' plane almost crashes, Shane, Hayden, and J.J. go on an increasingly ridiculous road trip across Florida to get to Ilya and his increasingly suspicious but always lovable teammates.

Notes

This combines book and show canon, with any show changes from book canon generally being kept. Except for JJ's last name and the team names. Montreal Voyageurs sounds so much better than Montreal Metros. And, you know, I kind of need it for my title :)

Italics in dialogue usually mean someone has switched into another language.

Typos and grammatical errors or omissions in texts are intentional. In another life I was an editor, and I feel compelled to say this.

Chapter 1: The Voyagers

Chapter Notes

It was good, ultimately, that they were together when they found out. 

True, it made things more awkward at first. All three of them knew that Shane was in love with Ilya Rozanov, but only two of them knew that Rozanov loved him back. And only one of them knew that, the last time they’d seen one another, they’d fought so badly that Shane was fairly sure, even after reassurances, that Ilya might break up with him. Which all complicated things.

But it was good that the three were together, silently poking at their phones and sitting in the back few rows of the bus en route to the hotel, as they usually did, when J.J. saw the news flash. He was so caught off guard that he didn’t even think how the information would impact his friend across the aisle and exclaimed bluntly, “Holy shit, the Centaurs’ plane had to make an emergency landing!”

“What?” Shane’s voice was soft, his expression wide as he looked to J.J., and Hayden spoke at the same time, “What the fuck did you just say?”

J.J. spoke more carefully now, realizing as he glanced at his friends that Shane would hear and receive this all very differently than anyone else. He hadn’t told anyone, but J.J. had seen his friend with the Centaurs’ captain at their summer camp last season, watched them in press conferences for the charity they had started together, and he’d seen what he was sure no one else had.

Shane was in love with his very platonic business partner and friend, and J.J. had just callously mentioned that this friend had maybe been in a little plane crash.

“It says that everyone is fine, but there was some kind of mechanical issue, and they had to make an emergency landing. But everyone is ok.”

Shane’s face had gone very pale, his mouth slightly agape, his breathing slow but ragged. “…emergency landing?”

“Yes,” J.J. spoke quickly. “But everyone is fine.” 

The rest of the bus had heard as well and burst into a flurry of conversation as people started checking Twitter and news sites for more information, for lurid details or firsthand accounts of the drama.

“Karma, man. That’s what they get for signing fucking Barrett,” J.J. heard Comeau joke near the front of the bus and cringed, hoping Shane was too far away or too in his own head to have heard the glee and laughter that had bubbled up in response.

Hayden, meanwhile, leaned over to his best friend, who had begun to curl in on himself by the window, staring at his phone, waves of realization and horror washing visibly over his face. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered so softly that even J.J. could barely hear him. “He’s ok.” Hayden glanced subtly around to make sure no one was looking before he reached over and grabbed Shane’s knee, squeezing it once. “He’s ok, alright?”

J.J. watched as Shane nodded numbly and, hands shaking, started texting frantically for a few minutes before leaning his forehead against the cool window, closing his eyes.

Hayden’s hands were on his own phone, thumbs flying. J.J. squinted as he leaned over, not even trying to hide that he was attempting to read Hayden’s messages but could only see that he was texting with his wife, which, fair, lots of the guys were probably texting their WAGs after the news; it was the kind of thing that either set everyone on edge or kicked in their appetite for gossip. 

But that exchange with Shane was… weird. Like maybe J.J. wasn’t the only one who had noticed after all. Hayden glanced over to J.J., and they exchanged tense, silent nods. Yes, we protect the captain. Obviously.

When the bus arrived at their hotel ten minutes later, the team rolled out of the vehicle as though nothing had happened, tone a little surly, but that was typical after a lost like the one to Washington. If anything, the distraction of the Centaurs’ near tragedy had lightened the general mood a bit. J.J. scoffed at them. Assholes.

Shane, Hayden, and J.J. eventually rose, the last ones off, Hayden grabbing Shane’s bag for him and motioning for Shane to go ahead of him, murmuring, “Go call him, man, I’ve got this.” Shane moved mechanically down the few steps and across the parking lot, where he crouched on a small grass island, phone to his ear and hand pulling through his hair with his back to them. It was dark, but J.J. could see a few moments later when he pulled the phone away from his ear, the light from a FaceTime call creating the glow of a halo around his head in the distance.

J.J. and Hayden stood near the end of the bus, keeping one watchful eye on their friend and another on the door to the hotel that the team had just entered, as Hayden hopped onto a call of his own and began digging through Shane’s bag. 

“Hey, babe. Yeah, I’m looking for it now.” He continued rooting through the duffel, eventually pulling out Shane’s passport. “Ok, yeah, I’ve got it, let me know if you need the number. And yeah, get me one too. I don’t think he should fly alone.”

J.J. realized in dawning horror what was happening and grabbed Hayden’s arm. “What the fuck are you doing?” He knew his hiss sounded angrier than it needed to be but seriously, what the actual fuck was Hayden doing.

Hayden froze, like he hadn’t realized J.J. was standing next to him the entire time. “Um…” His eyes were wide, and J.J. could watch his brain attempting to navigate complicated algorithms and cover stories.

J.J.’s eyes narrowed as he leaned in. “Do you know something?”

Hayden hesitated. “Do you know something?”

“Yeah I know something.”

“Well I know something too.”

A voice, words indistinguishable, continued through Hayden’s phone. “Yeah, babe, it’s just J.J.” Pause. “Yeah, he says he knows.” Another pause and a resigned sigh. “I’m taking him down there, man. You know he’s going to be a mess until he sees that he’s ok with his own eyes.” It was a lot of he’s being thrown around, but no one needed to specify who they were referencing.

“You really think that’s a good idea? Encouraging that?” J.J. gestured wildly across the parking lot. 

Hayden frowned. “The horse is kind of out of the barn, man, whether we encourage it or not.”

“Yeah, but… like making him think this is normal? How’s it going to look when you get down there?” Shane was clearly hysterical, freaking out, over an infatuation that would go nowhere. And that really sucked, and J.J. wished he’d brought it up earlier to Shane directly, so he could help his friend through his funk more openly, rather than just repeatedly offering up various personal trainers and part-time models and beefy bartenders as sexy tributes. But what Hayden was doing, not just knowing about Shane’s infatuation but actively making him think this was totally normal friend behavior, to completely break down over a buddy, like Rozanov wouldn’t think it was weird as fuck when they showed up? That was not ok. At best, Hayden was setting Shane up for heartbreak and at worst, he was setting him up for humiliation so severe he couldn’t come back from it. 

“I know, man, I get it. And we’ll figure that out. But like if this happened to Jackie, I’d want to be there. I’d be a fucking mess until I could see her again.” More inaudible talking, higher pitched this time, reached J.J.’s ears. “I love you too, babe.” 

“Yeah, but Rozanov, man… he’s gonna think it’s weird as hell. How the fuck is that helping the captain?”

“Nah, he was texting Jackie earlier, she thinks he needs this too.”

J.J. froze. “Wait, when was Shane texting Jackie?”

“Not Shane, Roz. He and Jackie are friends. It’s fucking weird - YES, babe, it’s weird - but as much as I hate to admit it, he doesn’t actually totally suck all the time, and she thinks he needs to see Shane, too, so-” Hayden froze, gaze narrowing on J.J. who appeared to have short-circuited, his own eyes widening in the opposite of his friend’s. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” J.J. hissed.

“Shane and Roz, man. What we’ve been talking about. What do you think we’re talking about?”

“Shane being in love with Roz.”

“Yes. And…?”

“No ‘and.’ It sucks for Shane, but you’re not helping by making him think it’s normal to react like this when your friend isn’t even actually hurt, and if you think Roz isn’t going to think it’s weird when you-”

“‘Friend,’ what are you-” Hayden interrupted before Jackie’s voice carried through just a little bit again, and Hayden’s eyes became very, very panicked, as his voice became very, very quiet. “You told me you knew!”

J.J. leaned in and matched his voice to Hayden’s, like this was the part that required secrecy and not the conversation they’d just been having about their captain being in love with Ilya Goddamn Rozanov. That was fine, apparently. “Yes, I know that Shane’s in love with Rozanov, but… are you saying you know something different?” 

“Fuuuuucccckkkk!” Hayden dragged the word over several seconds. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR THE SWEAR JAR, BABE!” Hayden took a deep breath. “They’re going to fucking kill me.” He rolled his neck one full rotation before speaking again. “Yes, Shane’s got a thing for Rozanov, but Rozanov also has a thing for Shane. Shane and Roz… are a thing. Like a serious thing, which I get it, it’s fucking weird. And I thought you knew, but apparently you didn’t, and that will need to be a conversation, but for right now, you need to know that Jackie is getting tickets for me and Shane to fly to Florida in an hour and then we’ll meet everyone in Nashville tomorrow afternoon. Can you let Coach know? Say it’s a family thing or something?”

J.J.’s eyes settled across the parking lot, where Shane had hung up the phone but was still crouched, his silhouette dark, head down, hands at the back of his neck. Fatigued, trying to make himself smaller, hide how exposed he clearly felt. Because he and Roz were a thing. Not a one way thing but an actual… thing. Shit.

J.J. hated Florida. The humidity fucked up his skin, and they had those giant snakes that weren’t even supposed to be there but some idiot Florida men had set them free and the swamps there were so fucked that they thrived. J.J. set his jaw, determined, before he responded. “Tell Jackie to get three tickets.” He reached into his bag and confirmed his passport was there. “It will be harder for Coach to punish all of his captains. I’m going with you.” 

He nodded his head definitively. 

Hayden nodded back.

**********

When they reached Shane, J.J. had already called an Uber and Jackie had sent Hayden their ticket confirmations.

Hayden crouched down in front of Shane. “Hey, buddy.” 

Shane looked up at him, eyes red and hollow, Hayden’s presence barely registering. “He’s ok.” His voice was barely audible as Hayden reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, bud. He’s ok.” Hayden smiled gently, like he would with one of the kids after a bad dream. “Want to go see him?”

Shane’s gaze became more focused, confusion across his face. “Huh?”

“Jackie got us tickets. We leave for Orlando in an hour, and then it’s like an hour and a half drive. You can see your guy, he can see you, and then we’ll meet up with the team tomorrow for the game. Easy peasy.”

“We’re going to go see him?” Shane’s voice was so small that Hayden felt like he really could be talking to Arthur or Amber in that moment.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go see him. Jay’s got a car on the way, he’ll text Coach once we’re headed to the airport, let him know you’ve got a family emergency or something, and we’re going with.” 

Shane’s eyes got wider as he finally registered that J.J. was standing to his left, arms crossed, legs in a wide stance. He turned his face up to his friend, trying to find words. “Jay, I, um…”

J.J. stopped him with a palm held out. “Not now. We’ll talk later. Right now, we get to the airport, we get on the plane, that’s it.” He nodded firmly. 

Shane nodded back, barely, his voice a whisper. “Ok.”

“You wanna let Roz know?” Hayden asked gently, pulling Shane’s attention back to his reassuring smile, Dad Mode fully activated.

Shane held his phone up numbly. “My phone’s dead.” He shook his head, next steps completely lost on him.

“I’ll text him then, ok? And we can get you charged up again on the plane. Jackie got us business class, so I’m sure they’ll have those little charging ports.”

Shane nodded once, twice. He didn’t have energy for much except following instructions just then.

**********

The trip to the airport passed in silence. If their Uber driver was surprised or concerned to be picking up three tense, incredibly large men in high end suits at 10:00 at night, he didn’t let on. Probably he’d had weirder trips as a driver in D.C., and Hayden said a silent prayer of thanks that he didn’t recognize them or, if he did, he didn’t seem to care.

As was the plan, J.J. texted Coach. A family emergency wasn’t entirely inaccurate, J.J. knew now, but also felt risky, if their actual destination got found out. So he had told a slightly vaguer story - Coach. Pike, Hollander, and me will meet the team in Nashville tomorrow. Small emergency but can explain more later.

J.J.’s phone rang almost instantly. Of course. Theriault was going to demand more information, but J.J. had kind of planned it that way and was glad it was a call. He was better in person than in writing.

He answered quickly in French. He didn’t know if the driver could speak French or not, but it felt slightly more covert, and he was more comfortable in French anyway.

“Hey, Coach.”

“You three ok? Anyone hurt?”

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. We just… need to go to Florida.”

“Everyone is fine but you need to go to Florida.” Theriault’s tone could turn men to stone. “Are you fucking with me right now, Boiziau?”

J.J. sighed. “No.”

“What the fuck are you three doing that you are just going to ‘go to Florida’ and ‘meet the team in Nashville’ and think that’s fine?”

Hayden’s French was shit, but he would know enough to know J.J. was talking to Coach and could probably hear the angry tone through the phone, even if he couldn’t make out the words. Shane’s eyes were closed, leaning against the window on the other side of Hayden, and J.J. hoped he was lost enough in his own thoughts to not be catching any of the conversation. 

J.J. tried to turn on his most charming tone, hoping the smile he was forcing would carry through the call. “You know we worked with some of the Cens from those camps Hollzy runs. So we figure we will go see them, show our support.” He paused. He knew it would seem like an empty reason to their Coach personally, but he also knew there was one aspect of Shane’s recent charitable work that their coach couldn’t deny. “It seemed like a good gesture, you know? Good PR for the charity, good PR for the team…” Montreal didn’t have trouble filling seats, because Montreal was good at winning. But their reputation otherwise was… less great. 

There were maybe five or six guys the PR team liked to send out to public appearances, and three of them were in the same car right now. The rest of the team was a risk, as likely to hit on a female reporter or swear aggressively around the young fans who asked for photos. The Irina Foundation had been a gift placed in the laps of the Voyageurs’ marketing crew. Shane had said that their social media manager, Madeleine, literally cried when she found out, and she didn’t seem to give a shit about the actual work the charity was doing; probably she was just happy to have more pictures of smiling kids with actual players and not just their mascot, Vincent Le Voyageur, in his oversized foam admiral’s bicorn hat. 

A mental health charity probably made him roll his eyes, but their coach couldn’t deny that the Irina Foundation was good for the Voyageurs.

It was the right card to play. “Fine. Go, get your photos. I’ll let the PR team know.” J.J. sagged in relief into the seat of the car. “But if you pricks pull another move like this without telling me, there will be consequences next time. Big ones.”

“Yes, Coach. Of course.”

Theriault hung up without saying good bye.

Hayden looked to J.J., raising his eyebrows in question, clearly not wanting to speak and disturb Shane, or give anything away to their driver.

“We’re good,” was all J.J. said in response, and then turned to look out his window, the airport quickly coming into view ahead of them.

**********

They made it through security quickly, and Hayden was quietly grateful for the second time that night that Washington wasn’t much of a hockey town, as they slid through the line without as much as a raised eyebrow or smile in response to their names - ok, no response to Shane’s because it took a particularly die hard hockey fan to recognize J.J.’s legal name, or to recognize Hayden at all, anywhere besides Montreal.

They rushed to their gate, which of course was at the far end of the terminal. The boarding pass scanner pinged one, two, three times, and they continued moving, barely breaking stride as they made their way to their seats in the second row of the plane. Hayden waved Shane to the window seat and then sat down next to him, as J.J. took the seat across the aisle. Just as they’d been on the bus, as they always were, really. Shane and Hayden, and then also J.J.

Of course Hayden had known all along, J.J. couldn’t help but think a little bitterly. But now wasn’t a great time for anger, so he grabbed Shane’s and Hayden’s duffle bags, shoving them in the overhead bin above them, before storing his own and sitting down. 

The flight attendants had already begun the routines that J.J. knew meant they’d be closing the door in a few minutes, as a teenage boy and his mother literally ran in. The tall, stocky red-headed boy was rolling his eyes at something his smaller mother was saying, and J.J. and Hayden both clocked as his eyes landed and lit briefly on Shane, who was, fortunately, completely oblivious as he looked fruitlessly for a port to plug his charging cord into. The boy’s glance moved from Shane to Hayden to J.J., his eyebrows raising, even as he didn’t stop making his way past them. J.J. had just mentally registered the crossed hockey sticks encircled by the words Whitefish Bay Wolves on his shirt, when the back of the plane suddenly exploded into hollers and cheesy wolf howls and applause.

“Jonesy!”

“Cap’s here!”  

“Where the hell were you?”

“Bro, your mom’s so mad!”

J.J. and Hayden caught one another’s eyes. Shane was still in his own head, visibly frustrated that his phone would, in fact, not be charged on this flight, and had missed what J.J. and Hayden both just realized.

They may not have been spotted at the airport, but they had just been spotted on their plane.

They’d been spotted on their plane by the captain of a youth hockey team.

They’d been spotted on their plane by the captain of a youth hockey team, whose entire team was also on the plane.

Hayden grimaced as J.J. sighed. He got out his phone and texted Hayden so as to not alert Shane.

     J.J.: Good thing I spun this to coach as a PR move

     Hayden: should we warn him

     J.J.: No tell him to get some sleep and we can try to get off the plane fast when we land

Hayden nodded in agreement. A borderline catatonic Shane Hollander on the way to see his secret boyfriend who had almost died, surrounded by a group of teenage hockey fans. What could possibly go wrong?

Hayden waved to the flight attendant who had started walking past them doing final cabin checks. “Hi, excuse me… Emily,” he read off of her name tag, "I know this will make me sound like a real impatient asshole, but can I put in the order for a couple of black coffees now, for as soon as the drinks start up?”

Maybe it was Business Class treatment, or maybe Hayden’s perpetual Nice Cute Canadian Dad energy worked, because she smiled at him and winked. “Sure thing. Long night?”

“Yes, Emily. Yes it is.”

Interlude

Shane’s face disappeared abruptly from Ilya’s phone, and he exhaled, grateful that Shane had told him his battery was close to dying, or Ilya might have thought the universe was really against him and another awful thing had happened tonight, and Shane had been abducted by aliens or at least had such a severe panic attack that he’d dropped and broken his phone. 

The exhaustion in Ilya’s body was still heavy and all-encompassing, the waning adrenaline from the earlier near death experience being replaced by the horrible emptiness that he always felt when he and Shane hung up these days. It was the hollowness of missing Shane, of course, but after every call, he would find himself wishing he could just tell people he missed his boyfriend, wondering if that might make it easier. To be able to joke like Wyatt or Bood about stupid pictures they were taking, because they knew they would make their wives laugh. To be able to explain he wasn’t headed back to his hotel room because he was anti-social - even if he was a little anti-social these days, even if he didn’t want to think into that too much - but because he was going to call his boyfriend. Even, after the events of the past few weeks, to be able to say “Shane and I had a big fight, and it made me tired.” It seemed like that might lift some of the weight.

Especially today, when everyone had gotten off the plane and rushed to call their families, when the bus had been one giant cacophony of overlapping FaceTime calls, it just would be nice to be able to let people know he did actually have that, too. Even with Shane in his game, Ilya could have been talking openly to David or Yuna or Jackie Pike, instead of just texting them quietly as he had been, if he didn’t have to be worried about people wondering why those were the people he wanted to connect with after almost dying. If he just didn’t have to worry about people connecting dots that honestly should be pretty obvious to anyone paying enough attention.

At least now, when he went back inside, Ilya could be fairly sure that everyone was done with their calls and now were just in the bar getting drunk. And that felt like a social activity he could handle today.

His phone pinged with a note from Marley - shit man just got out of our game and saw the news, u ok?

Ilya lit another cigarette and let it hang from his mouth, soothingly, as he responded quickly - yes, we are ok, just tired now. Thanks for checking. I am going to turn off phone alerts so if I do not answer, it does not mean plane came back and hit me for real this time.

He turned off all alerts, as he’d said, leaving them on only for Shane, in case he wanted to text or call after he got into his hotel and his phone was working again. Then, he copied and pasted the message he had sent to Cliff and texted it to Svetlana, whose increasingly irritated messages he hadn’t responded to yet. And then, he typed and rapidly sent another message three times - I was able to talk to Shane and that helped, he is ok too. I am going to turn off phone alerts and go be with team so do not worry if I do not answer - to David, Yuna, and Jackie individually. And then one final text to Shane - you can call or text again when your phone is charged if you want, but is ok if you need to rest, I will be with the guys. I love you

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and finished his cigarette outside in peace, the fingers of one hand in his pocket, finding that small, familiar piece of chunky circular plastic that he slipped onto the end of his pinky, safely concealed, just until he was ready to go back inside. Then he headed in to rally and captain his team, and never got an alert of the series of texts that were sent to him.

    ☠️ Pike ☠️: hey man Shane is ok but also sort of not ok

    ☠️ Pike ☠️: Jackie got us tickets and JJ Shane and me are flying to Orlando then driving to Tampa

    ☠️ Pike ☠️: should get to you around 2:00 tonight

    ☠️ Pike ☠️: well see you then. guessing you are at the usual hotel there? 

    ☠️ Pike ☠️: Hope this doesnt make things weird for you with the Cens but I think he needs to see you

Chapter End Notes

Next time: what's going on in our sweet baby Shane's head, our boys get mobbed by hockey teens, and the Centaurs find out they're going to have visitors.

Chapter 2: The Ballad of Shane Hollander

Chapter Summary

“So… there’s a hockey team on this plane. Like, a high school team. And they recognized you. I mean, they recognized all of us, but especially you.” The implication clearly hadn’t clicked for Shane yet, so Hayden elaborated. “Once one saw you, they pretty much all came up to ‘use the bathroom,’ one at a time, but they wanted to see you, man. And we’ve been signing stuff and taking selfies with them and made sure they knew you were sleeping so they’d, like, move along, but…”

“We’re not you, Capitaine,” J.J. said gently. “We held them off for a while, but they may lose their minds once you’re up and moving.”

“Fuck,” Shane whispered very very softly, the gears in his brain finally all clicking back into place. “Fuck, ok.” 

Or

Shane navigates his feelings about his boyfriend's near-death experience while also navigating a gaggle of fanboys. Social media alerts the Centaurs to their upcoming visitors.

Chapter Notes

Shane didn’t really sleep on the flight, not really. 

Hayden had kindly put his noise cancelling, over-ear headphones on Shane’s head, more to politely indicate “leave this guy alone" than to actually play anything for him. Shane wasn’t really a music guy, which he knew Hayden knew. But the headphones did block a little of the sound around him, which Shane appreciated, and he closed his eyes, resting his head against the cool window before the plane had even taken off, and stayed that way for the duration of the flight.

Shane lost track of time, as his mind largely disconnected from his body. The cabin lights had been dimmed early in the flight, and he had let the darkness envelop him, allowing himself to disassociate in the near sensory deprivation.

Shane wondered what he would have done if Hayden and J.J. hadn’t been there when he found out. If he’d been on a photo shoot, at the grocery store, or god forbid a media appearance, and his two best friends hadn’t been there to block for him. Fuck, if just Hayden, as one of the few people who knew the full secret, hadn’t been there… how would he have reacted?

Without the safety to shut down with at least one of his friends, it definitely would have been worse. He might have screamed. He might have puked. He definitely would have cried. He might have just told everyone and thrown away all of their hard work, all of the years and pain they put themselves through to keep this quiet, in one nuclear sentence. The million times he’d shoved his hands in his pockets when they itched to touch Ilya in public, his refusal to go to Ilya’s team party, that goddamn argument at Christmas, all for nothing.

He might have ruined everything. Even more than he maybe already had. 

And it was fucking unfair that that was his reaction right now, that he was more worried about how he could have potentially outed them than he was about Ilya nearly dying. That he was tempering his response to keep his life externally controlled, instead of just being able to feel how completely awful this entire situation was.

The white noise of the whirring of the plane mechanisms that cut through Hayden’s headphones transitioned into a mantra in his head.

He could have died, he could have died, he could have died, he could have died, he could have died…

He. Could. Have. Died. 

Ilya could have died. The man he loved could have died.  

The man he loved could have died, and there were exactly fourteen other people who knew that was the case. And four of them were little kids, one was his agent, and two were immigration attorneys his mom had threatened with NDAs and probably death, so none of them really seem to count. And up until four hours ago, it had only been thirteen people, because J.J. just found out.

Wait, maybe it was actually fifteen, because there was also Ilya’s therapist. The therapist Ilya hadn’t even told him about until this week, because he didn’t want Shane to know how depressed he was, which was definitely a problem to spiral about at a different time.

How fucked up was it, Shane realized, that he had an intentionally kept running tally of how many people knew that he was in love?

If Ilya had died, there would have been fifteen people who would have known the truth. Fifteen people who would have been able to understand that he was so destroyed that his body had effectively been turned inside out. Of those, his parents, Hayd and Jackie, Rose, and he was pretty sure J.J. would have helped him through it, he knew that, but the rest were acquaintances or people they paid to keep their secrets. Farah, Ryan, Fabian… they weren’t really friends, the kinds who sat with you when you cried until you threw up and passed out.

If Ilya had died, his shitty brother would have arranged the cheapest funeral possible and then wanted to know how to get the inheritance that legally was almost definitely his. And Shane would have had to watch him ruin Ilya’s death as much as he’d tried to ruin his life.

Ilya’s friend Svetlana knew he was friends with Shane, but officially that was it, although Shane knew Ilya had thought she suspected, after Ilya moved to Ottawa. She definitely knew Ilya was with a guy and it was so secret that even she didn’t know who he was; she probably would have put it together for sure if she saw Shane’s face after, if it had happened. Would she have reached out to Shane? Would he have have told her the truth and let her fully into that select inner circle, so they could grieve together, lie on the floor of Ilya’s house side by side and hold hands and inhale whatever clothes still smelled like him? 

Who would he have shared Ilya’s Instagram messages, his final, gutting words, with? Anyone? Would he tell anyone that the last time they saw one another hadn’t ended with a kiss but with Ilya telling him to leave? Would he have told Hayden or Rose that Ilya had questioned if Shane loved Ilya as much as Ilya loved him, had laid so bare how selfish Shane had been these past few years?

He wondered, curiously, how it would have impacted his game, long-term, to not have the chance to redeem himself, to never get to show Ilya just how much he mattered to Shane, to make Ilya know Shane really would choose him over everything, even hockey. Commentators one day would have speculated about what happened to Hollander’s game back in 2021, when he either became an unstoppable machine, a cold-blooded terminator completely consumed by the sport, or his game had collapsed so entirely that he’d been traded to some third tier team until he faded into obscurity. Probably he would start fighting more and people would wonder what had broken Canada’s Most Polite Boy.

How would he play without a soul, without the ability to feel anymore, especially when Ilya and hockey formed such concentric circles in his life?

The thoughts cycled through his mind, the ideas not really starting or ending but merging in an infinite loop, a perpetual motion machine, waves of nausea periodically rising and then subsiding, until he felt the tension of the lights coming back on through his eyelids, and Hayden placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

Shane blinked his eyes open and pulled the headphones away from one of his ears, his head turning to his friends.

“Hey, buddy,” Hayden said softly, his smile far too intentionally calm. “You ok?”

Shane blinked a few times, rebooting. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He shifted in his seat, stretching his muscles and reengaging with his body, his surroundings.

“Good. That’s good.” Hayden’s voice was the soft one Shane recognized from when Ruby had jumped off the porch and clearly needed stitches, but Hayden hadn’t wanted her to panic at the sheer quantity of blood pouring from her forehead. Hayden cleared his throat. 

“Um, we need to update you on a little situation.” Shane’s eyes must have shown his fear immediately, because Hayden quickly added, “Everything’s totally fine, everyone’s fine, but there’s just a little… thing you need to be aware of. Here.” Hayden took a deep breath and glanced at J.J. who gave a completely unconvincing double thumbs up to both of them. 

“So… there’s a hockey team on this plane. Like, a high school team. And they recognized you. I mean, they recognized all of us, but especially you.” The implication clearly hadn’t clicked for Shane yet, so Hayden elaborated. “Once one saw you, they pretty much all came up to ‘use the bathroom,’ one at a time, but they wanted to see you, man. And we’ve been signing stuff and taking selfies with them and made sure they knew you were sleeping so they’d, like, move along, but…”

“We’re not you, Capitaine,” J.J. said gently. “We held them off for a while, but they may lose their minds once you’re up and moving.”

“Fuck,” Shane whispered very very softly, the gears in his brain finally all clicking back into place. “Fuck, ok.” 

Shane hated crowds. He had mental psych up routines he used before press interviews and media appearances, just as much as he had them for games. He could force himself to be The Captain, all smiles and professional eloquence, but it definitely wasn’t his default mode on a good day, never mind one where he’d had to read his boyfriend’s last words in an Instagram message and then so fully disassociated that he’d missed an entire hockey team worth of kids talking to Hayden and J.J. during their flight. He didn’t mind talking to younger players, he kind of liked it even in the right circumstances, but these were decidedly not those.

“Ok.” He sat up more fully in his seat, shaking his head, slapping his own cheeks a couple of times, rolling his shoulders, forcing himself to be completely alert and present again. He could do this. He could shut down his feelings and smile and take a few pictures and sign a few things and then get in the car and get to Ilya. He could rally for that.

He noticed as Hayden and J.J. looked quickly to one another, concern entirely apparent on their faces.

“You sure, bud?” Hayden asked the question tentatively, like approaching a wild animal.

Shane nodded too enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m fine. There’s not really another option, is there?” A memory prickled from the car ride to the airport. “And like J.J. said, it’s good PR and all that. We can sell this. I can sell this.”

J.J’s eyebrows furrowed. “You heard that?”

“Yeah, of course I did. I was sitting right there.”

Hayden looked to J.J. “What the fuck is he talking about?”

“It’s the reason I gave Coach. They’ve got the charity, it looks good for the team if we show our support, the rest of the assholes on the bench get to benefit from us being good guys. Boom.” He gestured with one hand dismissively.

“You know I can’t keep up with French that well, you could have told me that was the plan,” Hayden grumbled.

“Yes, we know. Amber’s French is better than yours, and she barely even speaks English yet.”

J.J. and Hayden descended into an incredibly childish and unnecessarily timed argument about just how bilingual the Pike kids actually were, as Shane continued to breathe and center himself for the mob and conversations ahead.

People-ing. He didn’t like it, but he could do it. It was definitely easier when he knew it was coming, like after a game or at camp, and it definitely wasn’t great that his head and heart and bones were somehow simultaneously screaming but also achingly empty in this exact moment, but he could do it. He’d do it for Ilya.

******************

It began almost as soon as Shane stood up. After the plane had landed and reached the gate, the guys rose to gather their things, hoping to maybe make an efficient, polite escape to the car rental kiosk. As Hayden passed his bag to him, Shane saw in his peripheral vision the familiar, unsubtle movement of phones snapping pictures from behind him. It happened more often back in Montreal or at home in Ottawa, or anywhere in Canada really, but the quantity was a lot, even for him. Or maybe it just felt that way today in particular; Shane couldn’t be sure which.

Don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick, he reminded himself over and over. “Polite Canadian Hockey Player Is Polite to Hockey Teens” would get a lot less online traction than “Polite Canadian Hockey Player Is Actually An Asshole,” he knew. And it wasn’t these kids’ fault that they had wound up on a plane with three Cup winners on what was maybe the worst day of Shane’s life. 

But being polite didn’t have to mean immediately engaging directly, so he forced small talk with Hayden and J.J. instead, pretending to be involved in an important conversation as he asked questions he didn’t actually need the answers to, like the rental company they’d be using, and wondering how far their gate would be from the rental counter. They were asinine questions, but his friends, Shane was grateful, seemed to understand something about what he was trying to do, so they responded and continued the conversation with similar focus. “Polite Canadian Hockey Player Is So Interested In Friends He Doesn’t Notice Hockey Teens” had an acceptable ring to it.

Things fell apart as they exited the plane. An elderly woman sitting behind them commented to J.J. on how nice they all looked in their suits, and J.J. thanked her and reassured her in her worries that no, they hadn’t just come from a funeral. Hayden helped retrieve her bag from the overhead compartment, and, of course, as very sweet old women often do, she kept chatting with them as they made their way out through the tunnel, asking where they were going looking so dressed up so late at night. “They make you wear suits after hockey games, oh my goodness! Well, I won’t complain, you boys are very nice to look at. Who do you play for, would my son have heard of you, he prefers baseball but does watch hockey sometimes…” J.J. was always too social for his own good and continued to make polite small talk with her - somehow somewhere along the way she had looped her arm through his for stability, his way with women apparently not diminished by age - as Shane followed, with Hayden trailing behind a few steps, seemingly trying to create a barrier between Shane and the group behind them.

The minutes J.J.’s inherent sociability had carved out created the opening the Hockey Teens needed, a crack in the defensive line, and when they reached the terminal seating area, they were rushed by awkward teenage boys, clearly trying, unsuccessfully, to be cool while also fanboying.

One boy, broad-shouldered with red curls, had seemingly been appointed as their spokesperson. “Uh, Mr. Hollander, sir, we’re here for a tournament, and you’re like a legend, could our team maybe get a picture…?” 

Shane had plastered on his media face already, professional, emotionally blank, smiling and nodding, the boy’s voice and the enthusiasm of his friends around him blending into a sound like rushing water as they continued talking.

“Sure, guys, sure.” 

Hayden shot him a brief wince, as the elderly woman said something else to J.J., who laughed artificially and nodded, even as his eyes also flickered over Shane with a quick flash of concern.

Someone shoved a sharpie in Shane’s hand and he fell into a familiar routine of signing random papers and the backs of shirts, looking up to pause and smile quickly at phone after phone in between, offering mundane words of encouragement and generic advice to the younger players, who seemed to absorb them like they were personalized nuggets of wisdom and not cliches that were already mass produced and hung in locker rooms. Work hard. Trust yourself and trust your team. Every loss is the chance to improve. Don’t go for glory when it’s smarter to make the pass.

Eventually he became aware of a different presence in front of him, a beaming woman, auburn-haired with occasional gray streaks in her curls and small lines crinkling alongside her smiling eyes. 

“We need to let the Voyageurs get going, boys. It’s late.” Grumbles responded, as she said to Shane, “Could we get one picture of the three of you with the entire team?”

“Of course,” Shane heard his own disembodied voice respond.

“Thanks so much,” she paused before adding softly. “On a personal note, I wanted to thank you for the work you’re doing with your foundation. It’s so important to let these kids, boys especially, know that mental health is important. It’s… important to our family,” her eyes drifted briefly to the boy who had been the first to approach Shane, now shifting in alongside his friends for the photo, “And I just really appreciate it.” She paused. “And know that we were so glad that your friends from the Centaurs were ok earlier. I’m sure that was really scary.” She raised a hand like she might pat Shane’s arm and then thought the better of it, dropping it back to her side.

Shane’s vision blanked out for just a moment. He hadn’t, maybe stupidly, expected anyone to draw the line between their trip and the Centaurs quite so directly, and hadn’t, in his mental fog, prepared to address it, not even when he’d mentioned J.J’s PR angle.

And then, the effort of keeping up a stoic appearance, of being the calm captain, just felt like too much. “Thanks,” he said sincerely as his shoulders dropped. “It was a rough day. That’s where we’re headed, actually. To see them.” He swallowed the lump that had rapidly risen in his throat and tried to regain some of the composure he had let slip. “My- our friends,” he caught himself and noticed the way Hayden and J.J. looked to him in a jolt of panic as they took their places for the picture, “Hazy and Bood and Ilya, they went through something scary tonight, scary for them and for us, and we talk a lot at our camps, for the Foundation, about how important it is to be there for your team, for your friends, to make sure they know they have support. So that’s what we’re doing.” Hayden tossed an arm over Shane’s shoulder, giving him a quick squeeze, as J.J. also threw an arm around him from the other side and plastered a smile on his face, a signal to stop talking and just pose for the damn picture. 

“Alright, mes amis, picture time!” J.J. interjected, a little too enthusiastically, followed quickly by Hayden’s “Say cheese!”

The photo was taken, “thank yous” from the teens and parents and “good lucks” from the guys were communicated, and the three made a quick but polite exit, following the signs until they reached the car rental counter.

As Hayden schmoozed the counter rep and J.J. went to locate a vending machine to grab some beverages for the road, Shane found a spot against a nearby wall and slid down it, legs stretched in front of him, and pretended to look intently at something on his still-dead phone, the fingers of one hand digging into his forehead.

It had only been a few minutes since they parted ways with the kids, and Shane was still trying to process what had happened - rather trying to process what had almost happened. What he had almost said.

He had almost said it. Almost said what Ilya was to him, not intentionally but because it felt natural and right. And as terrifying as that was, he was particularly digesting the exact words he knew he had almost said.

My boyfriend, my partner, my person, my HUSBAND almost died tonight.

He hadn’t just almost revealed their relationship. He couldn’t be positive, because the words hadn’t actually made it out of his mouth, but he was pretty positive he had almost said husband. Or at least it’s what he had wanted to say.

Holy shit.

Eyes welling, Shane rooted in an outside pocket of his duffle bag and dug out a small purple plastic ring adorned with a chunky heart, the one the Pike kids had made Ilya slip onto his finger at a fake wedding months earlier. It felt silly, embarrassing even, that he took it on road trips, so much so that he hadn’t even told Ilya, but sometimes when he felt panic rising, he’d slip it on his finger in hotel rooms and let it ground him. He’d find peace in the reminder that he was Ilya’s and Ilya was his. His. And wasn’t that sort of what real wedding rings were for?

If they were normal people, with normal jobs, or if they were just, like, the world’s best computer programmers or high school gym teachers or zoologists, Shane had no doubt that they would have been married years ago. Ilya would have his Canadian citizenship, they’d maybe even have a kid or two. He’d definitely have caved and let Ilya get a dog. It was just this life and their very unique situation that kept things secret and unmoving.

And that felt so incredibly stupid now.

Shoving the ring into his coat pocket, Shane stood up and made his way over to where Hayden had turned around, car keys in hand. J.J. met them at the same time, arms full of individual sized bags of trail mix and chips, energy drinks, and bottled waters.

Captain mode activated, not in the way he did for media but the way that had led their team to back-to-back Cups, Shane looked to each of his friends and then grabbed a water from J.J. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, man, but first - either of you need the bathroom?” Hayden picked out one of the energy drinks and twirled the rental key fob around his finger. “Because if you need me to make a stop in 15 minutes, I’m going to lose my shit.”

Interlude

Ilya had done a decent job putting on a good front for the team, he thought. He’d come back inside to find they were mostly on an adrenaline high already, so he’d been able to feed off of that initially. He’d bought a round for the guys, then a second one, and had bounced between the groups at small tables, cheers-ing with those that were in a celebratory mood after their near-death experience and placing a quick, reassuring hand on the shoulder of those who still seemed to be processing. He’d offered Troy a few words, encouraging him to go after Harris, subtle enough to be easily glossed over by others who may have overheard, and had allowed himself a quiet moment of paternal pride when he saw them both peel off, first the one, then the other, without much commotion or fanfare.

He hoped things would be easier for Troy than they had for him and Shane and also felt a jolt of burning, bitter jealousy that they almost definitely would be.

The group had started to whittle down, most of the guys calling it a night already, heading to their rooms to FaceTime their wives and girlfriends in private or call their parents one more time or just jerk off alone and pass out in celebration of being not dead. The remaining group was decidedly less boisterous now, but still congenial, the group clearly the guys who just didn’t want to be alone quite yet. 

They were the only ones left at the hotel bar, which was still in general disarray after the group had pulled together all of the small round tables to try and form one misshapen mega table so everyone could be together. The tabletops were full of empty glasses and bottles still to be cleared after the bartender/front desk attendant, who Ilya knew from previous Tampa trips was cool as hell, had left them to their own devices and given them permission to get their own drinks themselves, if they kept a running list of what drinks to charge to what rooms. She’d pointed sternly at Ilya specifically before she walked away and let him know that if she thought a single drink was missed, she’d charge him personally three times what they said they owed and would add a very robust tip for herself. They’d discussed before that her parents were Russian, and he knew she spoke a little bit, mostly a combination of swear words and very domestic things you would say to small children, and the look she gave him in that moment was so playfully firm and Slavic that he laughed and responded affirmatively in Russian, even as he felt a painful squeeze in the part of his heart that clenched when he thought of his own mother.

Ilya was sitting by Hayes and Haas, who were having a very boring conversation about comic books that had Ilya staring aimlessly at the clear liquid in his glass and wishing that everyone else would go to bed so he could also head to his room, maybe try to call Shane. Ilya was a little surprised, maybe a little hurt even, that Shane hadn’t at least texted him again. Sure, Ilya had told him he could skip it, but he hadn’t actually expected that, probably didn’t actually want him to do that either. 

Ilya sighed just a bit into his glass before taking a slow sip. He was doing that thing, where he didn’t say what he felt and expected Shane to know that. No doubt Galina would have some words to say about that if he told her at his next appointment. Between that and the Christmas fight and the almost dying, maybe he should see if she’d let him book two hours, ask if she did one of those buy one, get one half off deals people loved so much.

He took another drink.

“Hey, guys?” Wyatt asked, looking up from his phone, where he’d probably gotten a text from his wife mid-shift or maybe been looking up the year a superhero was born or some bullshit like that, probably. “Did we know that Hollzy, Pike, and Bouzy were coming here?”

Ilya’s eyes laser focused to him. “What did you say?”

Wyatt held up his phone. “We got tagged on Twitter. They’re in Orlando apparently. And said they’re headed here.”

Ilya snatched the phone from his hand. And sure enough, there was a picture, the three men still in their game day suits standing in an airport, arms around one another’s shoulders, smiling amidst a gaggle of teenage boys in matching t-shirts for some youth team. And the caption - Heading to a tournament in Orlando with Benny and the Wolves and had these three absolute legends on our flight. Thank you for the time you gave our boys, @shanehollanderhockeyplayer, @therealhaydenpike, and @jeanjacquesboiziau! It meant so much for them to meet you all! We’re so glad too that your friends from @theirinafoundation @ilyarozanov81, @wyatthazyhayes, and @thezaneboodram, and the rest of the @ottawacentaursofficial are ok ❤️🖤 Safe travels!

Ilya instinctively balked at Hayden stupid Pike being labeled an “absolute legend” but he didn’t have time to think on it more as he scrolled through the rest of Wyatt’s mentions. There were some similar pictures, and finally a shaky video, taken of Shane talking to what looked to be a team mom - Such a cool opportunity for our 🐺 boys tonight!!! Look who we ran into at the airport!!! @shanehollanderhockeyplayer @therealhaydenpike and @jeanjacquesboiziau are here to see @ilyarozanov81 @wyatthazyhayes and @thezaneboodram after their plane incident. Bros being there for their bros when scary things happen to them… THIS is what people should mean when they say boys will be boys 💙 If this is what @theirinafoundation is putting into the locker room I’m making a big fat donation and hope you do too!!! 🏒

The angle was weird, and the top of Shane’s head was initially cut off, and the surrounding group was getting situated for the picture he’d seen earlier, so the volume of Shane’s voice came and went as he moved into position as well. “It was a rough day. That’s where we’re headed, actually. To see them. My- our friends, Hazy and Bood and Ilya, they went through something scary tonight, scary for them and for us, and we talk a lot at our camps, for the Foundation, about how important it is to be there for your team, for your friends, to make sure they know they have support. So that’s what we’re doing.”

It wasn’t really that profound or personal. Everyone thought Shane was good at media appearances, and Ilya was admittedly always glad to let him cover things for the Foundation, but honestly, his responses usually sounded like they came from a computer that had been programmed to deliver the most appropriate hockey-based answers.

And what Shane had said here included some of that. It wasn’t especially poetic. It definitely wasn’t a grand romantic statement.

But Shane had used his first name in public, which still always warmed Ilya’s insides, even after so many interviews about the Foundation where they’d agreed first names wouldn’t seem suspicious.

AndShane had publicly said he’d been worried about him. And apparently, people loved that for them.

Ilya realized that his mouth had curled up into a smile, even as he processed that Bood was asking him a question that he evidently hadn’t answered.

He looked up at Bood dumbly and feigned irritation. “What, Bood, you are so loud and I am a little drunk, ask me again at normal volume.”

“Drink some water, man, I just asked if Hollzy had texted you. Hazy and I didn’t hear from Pike or Bouzy.”

Maybe Ilya should be concerned that there was somehow some assumed communication between him and Shane - Pike and Boiziau would maybe text Bood or Hayes but Shane would only text Ilya - and Shane would almost definitely be concerned about it if he were the one getting the question. But Ilya was still too dazed and suddenly frothy over the fact that his boyfriend was coming to see him, his boyfriend would be here probably soon, his boyfriend had told people he was worried about him. “No, I heard nothing. I don’t think.”

Ilya pulled out his phone, turning it just so slightly away from the others, as he’d learned over time to do to keep his screen concealed. No alerts. He opened his messages, in case maybe he had accidentally muted Shane too. Considering that almost everyone he knew was with him, he had a surprising number of texts he had missed. Yuna and David, Jackie, Svetlana, and Cliff had all responded to his most recent messages, and apparently Rose Landry, his agent, and some other Bears players had checked on him, too.

Still nothing from Shane, which stung a little, even as Ilya reminded himself that Shane was apparently traveling here to see him right now, so he fired off a few texts of his own. 

Ilya: are you ok? 

Ilya: team saw on Twitter you are coming to Tampa?

Ilya: I love you and am excited to see you but also you did not tell me you are coming?

And finally, turning back to his unread messages, there it was. He had a blind spot for Hayden Pike that he’d developed quite intentionally. So he’d glossed right over the contact “☠️ Pike ☠️” and the messages that had been sent. But he read them now.

His mouth turned up in absolute delight, and he looked up at the teammates around him.

“They should be here in a hour and a half.”

Now he just had to figure out how he’d see Shane and not devour him right there in the hotel lobby in front of everyone.

Chapter End Notes

Next time: Hayden Pike is a very good dad, a very good friend, very sick of people calling him stupid, and knows a very little bit about car maintenance. Also the Centaurs acknowledge that it’s not actually a normal friend thing to fly to see your buddies in the middle of the night when they’re actually fine so… maybe something else is going on? Things are about to get a lot sillier.

Chapter 3 should be ready within a few days!

Thanks for anyone who came back for chapter 2! It’s a good writing exercise to write a chapter and let it go but also a challenge for my very type A self so thanks for being along for the ride ;)

Chapter 3: The Ballad of Hayden Pike

Chapter Summary

Jackie was totally the one who had put it together, but J.J. didn’t need to know that. Jackie’s ideas were also his ideas, and his ideas were also Jackie’s. Some kind of married couple magic or rule or something. They got to share everything, even ideas. And after years of being the butt of locker room jokes about being stupid, he wasn’t going to give J.J. any more fuel for that fire.

“You expect me to believe that you figured it out, before seeing them hang out for the Foundation, before seeing them at camp together…”

In frustration, Hayden started to pull the car over to the shoulder of the road, so he could safely really scream at J.J. for just a minute, because fuck that guy -

And a very loud pop sounded from the front passenger side of the car, the weight of the car shifted, and the tire pressure light sprang to life on the dashboard.

Or

Hayden Pike tries to be a Very Good Dad by coordinating his squabbling best friends and managing basic car repairs, while Ilya panics when his teammates' inside thoughts become outside thoughts.

Chapter Notes

After a whole lot of Shane angst, things are about to take a much sillier turn. Join me as we enter the mind of one Hayden Pike ;)

When they arrived at their rental, Shane called the backseat and J.J. took shotgun, as Hayden climbed into the driver’s seat without further discussion. He adjusted his mirrors, opened his maps app, tapped in the address for the hotel he assumed the Cens were at because of course fucking Rozanov hadn’t responded to him, opened his music app and started up a playlist that usually calmed Arthur down so felt like the right vibe, and checked on Shane in the rear view mirror. “You got a USB port back there?”

In response, Shane held up his phone, already plugged in, the dead battery graphic on his screen confirming it was indeed charging but still too drained to actually turn on.

“Alright, then, let’s fucking go.” Hayden drummed on the steering wheel a few times and put the car into drive.

“Jesus, man, you’re such a sad dad, with your sad fucking dad music,” J.J. noted, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not the one in charge of snacks and drinks like a fucking soccer mom.” He nodded towards J.J., who had literally just torn the top off of a bag of trail mix and nestled it into a little cubby in the console between the front seats, clearly placed lovingly there for Hayden’s easy access while driving. “Also fuck off, Springsteen’s great.”

“I didn’t see he wasn’t great, I just said he’s for sad old dads.” J.J.’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he turned to hand Shane a bottle of water and a snack.

Hayden shrugged congenially. “Whatever.” Some of the guys on the team, mostly the rookies, would call him Dad sometimes, and he knew it was a joke about the brood of children he and Jackie hauled around everywhere, but he also liked to think it was because of the role he played on the team. When the younger guys needed someone to come to for legit relationship advice, not just about girls they were hooking up with but when it was getting serious, like moving in together or getting married serious, that someone they talked to was usually Hayden. He’d even had a couple of guys in serious relationships ask him about how he and Jackie juggled the kids with his travel schedule, like they were thinking about kids themselves and saw Hayden as a good example of how that could work. It was a pretty nice compliment, Hayden thought.

He glanced quickly at the display on his phone. Estimated drive time was an hour and twenty-five minutes, not too terrible, and would get them there right around 2:00, like he’d told Roz. Assuming, of course, it was the right hotel, which he would know if the prick would have just answered him. Hayden’s jaw clenched as it often did when he thought of his best friend’s boyfriend, but he took an intentional breath and relaxed his facial muscles, as Jackie had lectured him that he needed to do when his best friend’s boyfriend made his jaw clench. She’d also told him to “grow the fuck up, he’s a good guy, he just gives you shit because you react and you make it fun for him,” but whatever.

If someone had told Hayden two years ago that he’d be driving across Florida in the middle of the night, taking his best buddy Shane to see his secret long-term boyfriend Ilya Rozanov, and that the whole trip had been Hayden’s fucking idea, he’d have assumed that person had some serious CTE after one or five too many concussions.

Well, maybe not two years ago. By then, he knew Shane was gay, so maybe some of the story would have seemed a little more likely. But three years, three years ago it would have seemed crazy, definitely.

But two years ago… he glanced over at J.J. and caught J.J.’s eyes, giving him a quick, stern nod. J.J. returned it, a little less confidently than he usually did, which fuck, but he did nod so… ok.

Their whole thing had started two seasons ago, right after Shane came out to the team in a short, simple speech delivered before a pre-season practice a few months after the whole Hunter Cup win kiss. Hayden didn’t really remember what Shane had said, because Hayden was too busy being surprised himself, but it was basically, “I’m gay, I wanted you guys to know, it doesn’t impact my playing, it’s not public so please keep it quiet, and I don’t want to hear any bullshit about Hunter so keep it professional.” It had been a very Shane announcement, brief and to the point, like a local sports reporter recounting nightly game scores.

J.J. and Hayden had locked eyes over Shane, who had sat down to finish getting his equipment on like he hadn’t just detonated a tiny little bomb in their locker room, and they had each given one another wide-eyed head shakes, the communication clear. I didn’t know, did you? And some of the team had been ok, especially the younger guys, but a lot of the older guys, the ones who already liked to give Shane shit about his Rolex sponsorships and underwear ads (shit that was honestly borderline hostile, even though Shane didn’t seem to realize that, thank god), had already started closing ranks.

It had been Hayden’s idea, for him and J.J. to grab a drink after practice a week later, without Shane. Neither needed to say the why for getting together, and definitely neither ever needed to say “I’m good with this, but what are we going to do about the rest of these assholes?” But they both knew that was exactly what was happening in their team and what they needed to discuss.

Ever since Shane had become captain with his two closest friends as his alternates, they’d slipped pretty smoothly into unofficial roles, without even formally dividing up responsibilities. Shane was good at motivating the guys, a quiet and focused general rallying his army for battle, and his knowledge of the game and careful observational skills meant he could give technical advice on how to tweak form and technique better than even Theriault did, but he sucked at the more… human parts of captaining. So Hayden became the team dad, dispensing life advice and personal reassurances to guys who were struggling, while J.J. became the cool big brother, organizing parties and nights out and building up team morale.

Shane’s announcement had definitely thrown an unexpected wrinkle into each of their domains. They’d both need to account for potential new team dynamics, with Hayden noticing how some of the younger guys were uncomfortable with the visibly cold and antiquated reaction of the older guys, and J.J. chewing on ideas for how to build up a locker room that would want to keep Shane’s secret ideally because they supported him, but at least out of respect for the man and not because they were grossed out or embarrassed.

Mostly, the two needed to talk about how they’d be there for their captain. Their friend.

And they left the evening not with a plan exactly but an agreement. They didn’t know what the fuck might happen over the coming weeks or months, so they couldn’t really plan, plus planning wasn’t really either of their strong suits; that was more Shane’s thing.

But they could agree to protect their captain. Verbally shut down guys who might say shit in the locker room and throw down their gloves against guys who might say shit on the ice. Volunteer for media duty for games that might put Shane in the position of having to dance around his answers, like Pride Night or after they played the Admirals. Block for him, regardless of whether the threats came from inside or outside their own house.

They had shaken hands and exchanged nods, and since then, they’d developed a sort of shorthand silent communication, the kind otherwise reserved for old married couples. If one of them sensed Shane needed coverage - and usually they both sensed it at the same time - they’d look to one another, exchange nods, and tackle the situation together. It wasn’t the most creative signal, but it got the job done.

So J.J.’s nod to Hayden just now being a little less enthusiastic was… unsettling. But Hayden could also kind of guess why. J.J. played up his party guy, cruise director, good time friend persona, but he had a huge heart and was sort of a romantic softie under it all. He’d gotten drunk and cried at Hayden’s wedding because “I was there when you met her, mon ami, and now we’re here, and you’re so in love, and it’s all so fucking beautiful!” Hayden knew that J.J. took his job protecting Shane, of being his friend, pretty seriously under the bravado. And he’d just found out he’d been kept in the dark for… a pretty long time.

Plus there was the Rozanov of it all, which really couldn’t help matters. Because, like, of all the guys in the league… him? Seriously?

Despite it all, J.J. was still here, and he was putting on a good enough front, but now, in the quiet, finally alone, Hayden thought things might be cracking a little.

He wondered briefly what Jackie would do if she were here, as he glanced at Shane in the rearview mirror. She’d probably try to make them talk, and she was so fucking smart. So talk it was. “Hey… you ok, buddy? We haven’t really been able to, like, talk much without an audience since all this started.”

Shane’s head bobbed, visibly exhausted, releasing a sigh. “Yeah? I mean I’m not at all ok actually, but yeah. I’m ok enough.” He took a long drink from the water J.J. had given him and rested his forehead on the dark window. “But um, thank you guys. For being here and stuff.”

“Yeah, of course, man, you know we’ve got your back,” Hayden said quickly, glancing at J.J., who offered only a somewhat grumbled, “Mmm hmm.”

No one spoke again for a few minutes, Hayden’s eyes moving on a quick loop between the road, J.J, and Shane in the mirror, his eyes shifting with a speed developed from years of practice confirming kids in the backseat were breathing and not killing one another while also not accidentally driving the car into a ditch. Shane’s eyes were still closed, not sleeping but in thought, clearly oblivious to the creeping tension that was visible in the tightened muscles of J.J.’s jaw and neck. The speed at which J.J. was downing his energy drink probably wasn’t going to help with his apparent agitation either. 

So it was now or never. Or rather, it was now or later when J.J. would probably be even more pissed and a lot less constrained, maybe even when Roz was there and probably wouldn’t take to a J.J. tantrum very well. So yeah. Now seemed like a better option.

“Ok, so I know this is going to be weird, but you guys have 45 minutes to talk this out and be normal before we get there.”

“The fuck?” J.J. shot a quick glare to Hayden and turned back to the window. “Talk about what? I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, man. And I get it, this is a lot to have happen at once and a lot of it feels… weird, I get that, but I promise it gets less weird eventually.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence about how weird my relationship is, Hayd, but you can stop now,” Shane cut in, irritated, before releasing a sigh. In the rearview, Hayden saw him pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“You know what I mean, man. It’s not weird because of the gay stuff, it’s weird because of the Roz stuff.”

J.J. barked a laugh. “I don’t think you’re helping your case.”

“Exactly, thank you!” Shane burst from the back seat, followed by a sigh and several long beats. “For real though, Jay, I’m sorry you found out that way. And I appreciate how cool you’ve been through all this tonight.”

J.J. just hummed in response, his hand running along his jaw, his gaze still turned out to the darkness.

“‘Hmm’? That’s it? That’s all you want to say?” Shane didn’t usually didn’t confront people quite so directly, and it sort of caught Hayden by surprise.

J.J. laughed a little, bitter and to himself. “What do you want me to say, Capitaine?”

“I don’t know… Like, I’m sure you’ve got thoughts or questions or whatever., and it’s been a long fucking night. So just say it.”

Hayden noticed as J.J. rubbed his hand along his jaw, clearly debating his response, maybe trying to physically loosen the muscles there, before replying. “How long?”

“Off and on since around our rookie year. Officially for about three and a half years.”

J.J.’s head dipped a few times, visibly processing. “You ever go easy on him on the ice?”

“Fuck you, you know I don’t.”

J.J. nodded again seriously, like Shane had passed a test. “Yes. I do.” Pause. “That’s why he moved to Ottawa? To be closer?”

“Partially, yeah. Also Russia isn’t a safe place for… for queer people and Canada’s citizenship process is cleaner than in the U.S. Easier to be able to keep him here, too, if people find out and Russia tries to take his passport or whatever. So moving was a first step we needed before we can, like, tell people.”

“Before you can tell people…” Hayden heard J.J. mutter to himself, shaking his head. The tone was definitely more angry than not.

“Yeah, it’s why I didn’t say anything, Jay. I am sorry about that.”

The next words came out brittle and hard. “Except you told Hayden.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not bullshit, he figured it out the season after Ilya moved.”

J.J.’s laugh was bitter, harsh. “Hayden figured it out. Sure.”

“Hey, fuck you, man, why am I getting pulled into this? I did fucking figure it out, thank you very much. I’m not an idiot.” Never mind that Jackie was the one who had actually started putting pieces together. “Shane’s been going to Ottawa a lot lately, are his parents doing ok?” “Shane didn’t see his guy in Boston, they didn’t break up, did they? He hasn’t seemed in a funk, if anything he’s seemed to be doing amazing.” “Wait, babe, do we know how Shane picked ‘Lily’ as a code name for his Boston guy, because it sounds a lot like…” 

Ok, Jackie was totally the one who had put it together, but J.J. didn’t need to know that. Jackie’s ideas were also his ideas, and his ideas were also Jackie’s. Some kind of married couple magic or rule or something. They got to share everything, even ideas. And after years of being the butt of locker room jokes about being stupid, he wasn’t going to give J.J. any more fuel for that fire.

“You expect me to believe that you figured it out, before seeing them hang out for the Foundation, before seeing them at camp together…”

In frustration, Hayden started to pull the car over to the shoulder of the road, so he could safely really scream at J.J. for just a minute, because fuck that guy -

And a very loud pop sounded from the front passenger side of the car, the weight of the car shifted, and the tire pressure light sprang to life on the dashboard.

“FUCK!” Hayden yelled, banging on the steering wheel with both hands as the car came to a stop. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK!” Then turned to his friends instinctively, parental instincts kicking in again, “You guys ok?”

Shane affirmed he was fine as J.J. spat accusingly, “What did you hit?”

“I don’t think I hit anything, but maybe like ran something over? Maybe something on the shoulder. I’ll check it out.”

All three unbuckled and got out, walking around the car to find the very obvious, very flat tire alongside J.J.’s door and some sort of weird rusty metal debris, the presumed culprit, about twenty feet back.

J.J. was swearing in French as Hayden grabbed his phone to contact the rental company and Shane checked to see if his phone had enough charge to text Ilya yet.

He’d never hear the end of this, Hayden knew. The one time he lost his fucking temper, he’d done something undeniably stupid, and now they were stuck on the side of the road, in Florida, in the middle of the night, instead of heroically delivering their captain to his not-dead boyfriend. 

After three minutes on hold, Hayden gave J.J. his phone so he could take a turn listening to the smooth jazz music and soothing voice promising their call was important to him. Shane’s phone apparently had some juice, because he was sitting in the backseat and texting with that gooey look on his face that Hayden meant knew he was talking to his boyfriend, while Hayden dug through the trunk. Maybe there was a spare. Hayden knew how to change a tire. That is, his dad had taught him how to change a tire when he was a teenager, and he had actually changed a spare one time… also when he was a teenager… with his dad supervising… but he could probably find a video and do it again, if they had the necessary equipment.

J.J. started talking into the phone, clearly finally having gotten off hold, as Hayden rooted around the trunk, thank fuck finding what he would need and doing a quick YouTube search. He vaguely heard J.J. explaining their location and the situation, as Hayden skimmed a couple of videos, until eventually J.J. hung up with an exasperated, “The tow truck is going to take an hour.” Shane’s frame visibly deflated in the backseat.

Hayden took a deep breath and declared, with much more confidence than he actually felt, “Fuck that, we’ve got a spare and a jack. We’ll be out of here in a half hour max.”

Shane turned and frowned at him over the back seat. “Are you sure?” as J.J. said simultaneously, “Who the fuck knows how to change a tire?”

Hayden began pulling the necessary parts out of the trunk. “I the fuck know how to change a tire.” Hayden continued gathering supplies as he spoke.

He couldn’t miss the look J.J. and Shane shot one another as Shane asked gingerly, “Have you done this before?”

“Yes, I’ve done this before,” Hayden responded tersely. “Just because you assholes can’t do it doesn’t mean it’s hard.”

“Ok… but like also I don’t think you’re supposed to drive very far on one of those donut tire things…”

“Shane, buddy, stop. It’s either this or wait for an hour. We’ll be fine.” He looked to J.J. “Call the tow place back and let them know we don’t need them.”

J.J. frowned. “Maybe I should wait until this is actually done?”

“Come on, dude, can you have, like, the smallest bit of confidence in me? Just a little.”

“Sorry, man, just, like, if there’s a bigger problem, then we have to start waiting all over again…”

Hayden glared at J.J., even as he admitted to himself that this wasn’t actually a completely terrible point. He pulled his suit jacket off and threw it into the car, then rolled up his shirt sleeves. “Fine, ok.” He gestured where he needed the guys to stand as he laid down on the ground. “Give me some light.”

He could tell Shane did not like anything about this situation, not even a tiny bit, but he was willing to comply; when Hayden set his mind to something, really really set his mind to it, he knew he was kind of a stubborn pain in the ass.

Hayden took a deep breath, reassuring himself that he could do this as he set to work by the light of his friends’ phone flashlights, only pausing once after the car was jacked up to ask Shane to take a picture of him in action, because he was pretty sure Jackie would think it was hot to see him working on the car in the middle of the night in his suit. Or maybe she’d be pissed at him for probably fucking his suit pants up so bad that even the dry cleaner wouldn’t be able to salvage them. It was hard to say, honestly.

He ran into only one very brief hiccup when the first lug nut he tried to remove was on more tightly than expected, and he had to hold up the thumbs and forefingers of both hands in L shapes to remind himself which way was left, to reassure himself he was definitely turning it the correct way.

“You don’t know fucking left from right?” J.J. spoke for the first time in maybe 10 minutes, the criticism in his voice stabbing into the base of Hayden’s neck. There it was again, the presumption of Hayden’s intelligence, or lack thereof.

“Fuck off, man, you want to try to change this tire instead? And I’m dyslexic, left and right are fucking hard sometimes.” He gritted his teeth as he finally loosened the stubborn piece. It wasn’t something Hayden had really told many people, only something he’d really sort of figured out himself recently, when Jackie gently noted some similarities between Hayden and Ruby, after school had flagged some concerns about quirks they’d noticed with her writing. And it wasn’t a huge deal, but he needed Jay to back off and if he felt a little guilty, so bet it. Fuck that guy.

It was a few more minutes before J.J spoke again. “That’s the one with, like, flipping letters?” J.J. sounded almost apologetic. Almost. 

“Yeah that can be part of it. But also like directions and shit can be hard too, especially if I’m tired or whatever.” 

“Huh.” Pause. “Well, I didn’t know. Sorry about that.”

“No worries. Not like it’s going to come up when I’m, like, explaining that it’s a lot of work for me to read the book for the book club we don’t have.” 

The final nut came off minutes later, and Hayden pulled the mangled tire off, his hands grimy with grease and dirt. He wiped his forehead on his upper arm, clearing some of the sweat that was continuing to creep into his eyes, and gestured for Shane to hand him the small, clean donut that he had propped against the car.

Hayden returned to his task silently, imagining how Jackie would beam at him when he told her the story later, maybe even break her general “no sex without a locked door when the kids are home” rule and let him eat her out on the couch or even fuck her in the kitchen after they’d gotten the kids to bed. The manly tire work was the kind of stereotypical masculine stuff that sometimes got her going, but mostly he knew she’d want to jump him for sticking up for himself. She knew how much it bugged him when people acted like he was stupid, but he never really bothered to confront people about it so directly. But now it did sort of feel like sticking up for himself on that was sticking up for Ruby too, and he’d sure as fuck always stick up for her.

Ten minutes later, spare firmly in place, he lowered the car back down and then stood, trying to play it cool and not absolutely beam with pride. “See, not so fucking hard, was it?”

“Well done, man,” Shane complimented as J.J. gave him a high five.

The triumph was undercut almost immediately when he went to wipe sweat out of his eyes again but used his hand, the same hand that was covered in about four different kinds of black gunk from the car and the road. 

The pain took a moment to settle in but then, like a bomb with a delayed wick, exploded. Maybe not as bad as when he’d dislocated his shoulder in a particularly bad check a couple of years ago, but definitely worse than after Shane and Roz had babysat a few months ago and Roz taught the twins theatrical wrestling moves so they’d started jumping off the couch screaming what Hayden was pretty sure were Russian curse words and landing on his balls 60% of the time.

The next few minutes were chaos, as Shane poured water into Hayden’s eyes to rinse them out and J.J. removed his own dress shirt to try and wipe off as much of the grime as he could from Hayden’s eyes.

Finally, Hayden waved them both off, his eyes still very red but no longer burning. “Enough, I’m good, stop!”

“Do we need to get you somewhere to, like, get that checked out?” Shane asked, his expression not subtle about just how awful Hayden evidently looked.

“No, man, I’m fine. I’m good.” Hayden was about 80% sure he wasn’t lying. He went to glance at his watch but his vision was too blurry to read the time. That was probably fine, right? Normal after rinsing highway crap out of your eyes with bottled water?

“I’m good. Let’s just get going. But one of you is going to have to drive because I can’t see for shit.” He held up the keys again, and J.J. grabbed them with a grin.

“Get in, losers, we’re going to Tampa.”

Interlude

     Shane: Hayden got the tire fixed, so we’re getting back on the road.

     Ilya: good, I will skip two jokes when I see him as reward for fixing

     Shane: Great because he also got oil or something in his eye and looks like shit, so be nice to him.

     Ilya: actually I will add five jokes because he got flat tire in the first place and also got oil in his eye like old fashioned cartoon character looking in car pipe

     Ilya: so I get three jokes

     Shane: You’re an asshole.

     Ilya: be safe, I love you

     Shane: Love you too.

Ilya put his phone down, well aware that his smile was probably much more like that of an idiotic, swooney high school girl than a totally regular bro whose bro was in the area and coming by to say hey and not at all kiss him and definitely suck his dick later, but it was late and he was a little drunk and he had almost died today, so he gave himself some grace. It was an even smaller group in the lobby bar now, just five of them and multiple vacated chairs strewn haphazardly around the mostly empty tables that were still pulled together.

“Pike fixed the tire that he exploded with his bad driving, so they are all good now.”

Bood grinned, seemingly almost as happy about this turn of events as Ilya was, because he was a genuinely nice man and liked even stupid Hayden Pike. “Awesome! And in the dark, go Pike.”

“He fixed the problem he made by undoing and redoing some screws, is not that impressive. His children have toys that do same thing, I have seen even his toddler do this, he should have much practice.”

Wyatt’s brow furrowed so briefly, something clearly clicking into some vague place somewhere at the mention of Ilya’s familiarity with Pike’s 700 children, but Ilya didn’t think anyone else noticed the micro expression before it flickered away.

“Why do you always give Pike such a hard time, man? He’s a good guy.”

Ah, ok, the frown was maybe just at Ilya seeming too mean. Maybe. Hopefully. The little Shane voice in the back of his mind always made him too paranoid.

Ilya shrugged and hoped it seemed casual. “Is fun. He is annoying and very bad at hockey. Also it makes him very mad, when I tease, like putting a cat in a bathtub, so is extra funny.” 

Wyatt shook his head fondly. “Well he’s a good guy, man, you should give him a break sometimes. Not many people would come all this way to check on their friends. He’s a good dude.”

A pleasant silence settled over the table but transitioned into one that was a little more awkward for a few beats longer than Ilya was comfortable with. It was the kind of silence that tended to precede statements, observations, confessions, and he wasn’t sure which one might follow, but he wasn’t really ready for any of those things after this particular day. He needed to change the subject, or maybe convince the guys to disperse and get some sleep with the promise that he could wait up for the three Voyageurs himself and they could all have breakfast together in the morning or something. They could avoid awkward questions, and if that meant he could pull Shane directly into his hotel room and tear his clothes off so fast that Shane even forgot to fold them up neatly, well then that was just a bonus.

Dykstra beat him to it and put the awkward question on the table. “I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but is it weird that they’re coming here? Like I get you guys did camp together, but that’s, like, a lot to do for friends?” Fucking Dykstra, with his terrible music and wife who is too good for him and inside thoughts that were now outside thoughts. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird,” Bood cut in too quickly, like he’d been waiting to not be the one to say it first. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice… but it’s weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I’d totally do that for any of you guys.” Wyatt really was too good for this world, Ilya thought for the thousandth time.

“Yes, but we are actual teammates. It’s weird for people who are not our teammates.” Haas didn’t even look at the others as he spoke, his head rested flat on its side in one elbow on the table as his other hand sketched aimlessly on the back of the list where they were supposed to be tracking what drinks they’d had. His glasses were slightly askew, and Ilya had no clue how or if he could tell what the fuck he was even drawing from that angle.

“Is not that weird to do this for friends.” Ilya shrugged, trying to keep his tone flat, calm, indifferent. “Just want to check on us I think. And is good PR for the charity. And like Hazy said, they are good guys.” He traced one finger through the etched swirls in the side of his glass, refusing to look up. Look how calm and indifferent I am. Look how normal this is. It’s so normal that this ugly cup is even more interesting than this normal, boring thing.

He felt rather than saw the moment that four sets of eyes turned to him in the same moment. Even Luca flipped his head to rest his opposite cheek on his arm, so he was looking at Ilya over his elbow. 

Ilya knew he was in a game of chicken, sitting at a poker table with the other players calling his bluff, playing that stupid kid game where you tried not to blink and eventually your eyes started to burn and water from being open too long.

Fortunately for him, Ilya was very good at these kinds of games.

So he kept his eyes on his glass for a beat, two, three, four, before he lifted it to take a slow, purposeful sip of the hotel’s very mediocre vodka and feign surprise at the eyes on him. “What?”

“They’re good guys?” Dykstra barked. “Hayden Pike is a ‘good guy?’”

“Hollander and Boiziau are. Pike gets caught up because he is with them, like opposite, good version of when innocent person is killed in explosion in action movie?” Maybe he could distract them by pretending he didn’t remember an English colloquialism. That usually worked.

“Collateral damage.” Bood offered the phrase, his tone very clear that he wasn’t biting at Ilya’s attempt to shift the conversation, and raised a single eyebrow. No statement. Just waiting.

“Ah, yes. Collateral damage. Pike is good guy through collateral damage.” Ilya shifted under their shared gaze, trying to remain nonchalant as he finished the last of his drink and rose to stand. “Any of you need another? Or heading to bed? Is very late.” He made his way to the bar, hoping that at least some of them would take the invitation to call it a night, but they all tapped their near empty drinks in a sign for refills.

He got to work finding a couple of beers, as Wyatt popped up with an amiable, easy smile, as always. “Hey, I’ll help you out, Cap!”

Wyatt came back behind the bar with Ilya, grabbing some pint glasses as Ilya opened the bottle of the vodka he had been alternating with water through the evening. It should be water this time, but these were desperate times that called for the strength of his ancestors to exercise his genetic ability to stunt his reactions and steel his emotions.

Wyatt glanced to the table, confirming visually that the three men there were talking amongst themselves, before leaning to say to Ilya very quietly, “Hey, man. Listen. You know goalies, like… notice things.” He raised his eyebrows in implication. “And I don’t know what Boston was like, and I’ve heard some things about what Montreal is like… but this is a good group of guys. You know that. We’ve got your back for… whatever.” He had paused in his work while he spoke. Now, he nodded once at Ilya, holding far too much eye contact for a few beats too long after talking, and then started filling up the glasses from the bottles Ilya had pulled from the fridge under the counter.

Ilya’s entire stomach had moved up into his throat and his hands were buzzing. “Um, yes, I know this. Very good guys.” He cleared his throat, not because he needed to but because he needed the pause and honestly had no clue what else to do but pull a classic Hollander freak out. “Uh, if you have this covered, I am going to step outside quickly for cigarette.” He downed the remainder of the glass he had just poured, then turned and tried to move away as casually as he could. I’m definitely not going to text my boyfriend in a panic, I just need to smoke. Talk amongst yourselves. Pay no attention to the freaking out closeted bisexual man behind the curtain. But he felt four sets of eyes follow him the entire way out the door.

     Ilya: ok, do not panic but some of the guys are realizing that maybe it is not a normal thing that friends fly to Florida in middle of the night to see friends who did not die or even get hurt really

     Ilya: I am trying to distract them but they are smarter than they seem

     Ilya: is like interrogation in movie

     Ilya: and I am very scary and sexy like movie spy but am not actually a spy and they are suspecting something weird is going on and even pretending my English was bad did not work to distract them

     Ilya: WHAT DO I DO SHANE

     Ilya: SHANE

     Ilya: SHANE

     Ilya: SHANE

     Ilya: I know you are one with panic attacks but I am having small to medium one right now, what do I do?????

As Ilya sent his messages, he saw three dots appear and disappear multiple times, until finally a series of texts came through.

     Shane: Take some deep breaths. Slow ones like you do with me when I freak out.

     Shane: It’s going to be ok.

     Shane: You can tell them.

Ilya frowned. Tell them what? Tell them he was having a panic attack? Tell them he didn’t know how to answer their far too perceptive questions? Tell them he watched a shit ton of action movies, of course he knew what collateral damage was? Tell them -

Wait.

     Ilya: what do you mean

He chewed on the cuticle around his thumb as he watched the next messages come through, a grin progressively growing across his face.

     Shane: Tell them the truth.

     Shane: Your tightly wound boyfriend is kind of a mess about what happened, so his friends are coming with him to see you.

     Ilya: are you sure?

     Ilya: you do not have to do this, I can figure something out

     Ilya: it is maybe too big a decision when you are in emergency panic mode?

     Shane: You’ve said before that you trust your team. Just do it.

     Shane: I’m kind of sick of pretending I’m not insanely in love with you, so might as well let your friends know. I mean, if you want to.

Ilya burst back into the hotel lobby, charged across to his teammates, picked up the beer that Wyatt had set at his place, and took a very long pull from it, not attempting to hide the completely deranged joy on his face.

“Emergency team meeting. Mandatory. Everyone in my room in ten minutes. I have important announcement.” They all stared at him, confusion evident. “Tell people! Wake them up!” he said slowly and clearly and then turned away to head to the elevator, twisting back to them only once to add, walking backwards as he spoke, “I will get Troy. And Harris. You get everyone else.” He didn’t know if they saw him do a little skip after he turned back around, and frankly, he didn’t care.

Chapter End Notes

Next time: J.J. Boiziau is tired of feeling left out and conquers everything he hates about Florida, while Ilya's mandatory emergency middle of the night meeting proves that the Centaurs are the most ridiculous and lovable team in MLH history.

Shout out to own dyslexic spouse for being the literal smartest person I know :)

Chapter 4: The Ballad of J.J. Boiziau

Chapter Summary

J.J. tried not to let it get to him too much, the Shane and Hayden of it all. They were a trio where two of them were undeniably the central pair, never mind that J.J. had known Hayden first. And he wasn’t going to say anything, because he wasn’t going to be a high school drama queen about it, but it sort of hurt his feelings.

He’d always tried to tell himself that their best friend-ness was more that Hayden was fucking boring now that he was a dad, and Shane was fucking boring because he was Shane, and so they just made more sense because J.J. was still fucking cool. But also it kind of sucked when they’d talk about doing shit so much without him.

OR

J.J. faces his hurt feelings and his general distaste for the Florida of it all, while Ilya has a Very Important Announcement for share with the Centaurs.

Chapter Notes

J.J. had been happy to snatch the keys from Hayden’s hand. Maybe now they’d actually make some good time, with someone who wasn’t used to driving a fucking minivan in charge.

As he adjusted the seat and his mirrors, Hayden melted into the back of the car, twisting under his belt to throw his legs up across the bench. “I’m going to get some sleep if that’s cool.”

“You just finished a Monster like a half hour ago and basically poured motor oil or some shit directly into your eyes, and you can sleep?” J.J. asked dubiously.

“I haven’t slept uninterrupted through the night in my own house in like ten years. I’m always tired. I can sleep literally anywhere, any time.”

“Ok, man, if you say so.” J.J. thought briefly about turning on his getting ready EDM playlist, just to be a prick and test Hayden’s theory but decided against it, opting instead for something more mellow. He was still mad at Hayden, mad at Shane too, but he was calming down, as he also knew most of that reaction wasn’t entirely logical and definitely wasn’t mature.

“You said I listen to sad dad music? Jesus, what is this?” Hayden grumbled, eyes closed, settling in.

“Cat Stevens, you fucking philistine. You listen to sad dad music, this is beautiful shit for people with hearts and brains. Go the fuck to sleep.”

“Yeah, but isn’t this song literally about sad dads?”

“Go the fuck to sleep.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice.”

“I literally just did have to tell you twice.”

Hayden threw up a middle finger, eyes already closed, and then burrowed into the darkness of the back seat.

The events of the night shouldn’t have been a total surprise, and they weren’t, not really. J.J. had suspected and then basically known for about a year, not because of inarguable evidence but because he had functional eyeballs, that his captain had been in love with Ilya Rozanov. The idea had first percolated when he’d gone to the press conference they’d done together to announce their charity, and there’d been a look that came across Shane’s face when Rozanov had started talking about his mom that had struck J.J. as odd. Not most people odd, but Shane odd. In the years J.J. had known Shane as his captain and one of his best friends, he’d never actually seen Shane look at anyone like he was feeling what they were feeling. He wasn’t a dick, he just wasn’t the most emotionally connected, and J.J. had quickly filed the look away for further consideration. So he’d kept his ears and eyes open over those next months, especially when they’d play Ottawa, but there wasn’t anything definitive to add to the list, just an abundance of smiles at text messages that could have come from anyone.

But then J.J. had actually helped out with their camp last summer, and he’d gone from suspecting to being very confident that his poor friend had it bad for someone he couldn’t have. Roz gave Shane playful shit like he did to everyone, and Shane definitely acted like it pissed him off, but more often than not, a little smile would come across his face when he’d skate away, and J.J. knew. It was a swooney ass smile that would have been fucking adorable if it weren’t a huge problem.

Shane was in love with someone who couldn’t love him back. And J.J., a very romantic man himself, had been there before and knew it sucked. So he tried to help. “My sister’s friend from university is coming to the game tonight, and he’s pretty hot, I think. Want me to introduce you?” “Hey, have you met the physio who’s covering for Hannah’s parental leave, he’s a beast, and he’s got a rainbow flag sticker on his water bottle.” “That reporter who did that interview at the camp, he was totally giving you a look. And he’s based out of Ottawa, yeah? Not too far away…” But Shane never took the bait. J.J. thought he had, just the once, when he told Shane he wanted to introduce him to J.J.’s cousin Henri the architect, who was ripped with a smart nerd vibe, a lot like Shane himself. Shane had taken his number very enthusiastically, but it turns out Shane literally just wanted to talk to him about a kitchen renovation project at his condo. It hadn’t gotten Shane off of his Rozanov kick, but Henri’s firm had gotten a contract for the project out of it, so not a total loss.

J.J. had debated just calling it out directly, but he didn’t want to embarrass Shane, didn’t want to make him think everyone knew and noticed. He didn’t even bring it up to Hayden, because if Shane wanted them to know, he would have told them, right? So J.J. kept the secret Shane didn’t even know he was keeping for him, because he was just that good a friend.

Except now J.J. knew he hadn’t known, not really. He’d only figured out half the puzzle, and he felt kind of dumb for not asking outright earlier. He could have been there for Shane. He could have done what he and Hayden had promised to do and protected their captain.

But fucking Hayden had known and hadn’t said shit to him. Hayden had known because Shane had actually told him. It had been going on for years, and Hayden had known.

Of course he had.

J.J. tried not to let it get to him too much, the Shane and Hayden of it all. They were a trio where two of them were undeniably the central pair, never mind that J.J. had known Hayden first. And he wasn’t going to say anything, because he wasn’t going to be a high school drama queen about it, but it sort of hurt his feelings.

He’d always tried to tell himself that their best friend-ness was more that Hayden was fucking boring now that he was a dad, and Shane was fucking boring because he was Shane, and so they just made more sense because J.J. was still fucking cool. But also it kind of sucked when they’d talk about doing shit so much without him.

And it really sucked today when he realized that Hayden actually knew all along, because Shane had absolutely told him. Hayden had guessed? Bullshit. Hayden was as oblivious as shit. Hayden wouldn’t have known his own future fucking wife was interested in him, if J.J. hadn’t told him very directly at that club that “yes the hot brunette who keeps looking at you and tonguing the tiny straw in her drink wants to fuck you, Hayd.” Hayden wouldn’t have even been there, if J.J. hadn’t made him go out with him that night. Which admittedly didn’t really have anything to do with Hayden being able to guess about Shane and Rozanov, but still. Show some gratitude, asshole.

It only took about ten minutes for Hayden to begin snoring behind them. That mother fucker really could sleep anywhere.

And finally in the decidedly unusual situation where it was just Shane and J.J., it felt like time to go for it.

“I knew you were into him, you know.” J.J. didn’t really want to talk about it, but also it seemed weird as hell to not just address it. And dammit, he had figured out some of it, for real, and it felt kind of good to have Shane know that. Maybe, maybe, rub it in a teeny tiny bit.

Shane scrunched up his nose. “You did?”

“Yeah, man. You’d get these cartoon princess eyes around him.” J.J. clenched the one hand he had on the steering wheel, his forearm muscles flexing, and took a drink from his bottled water with the other. 

“Oh.” Shane shifted in his seat. J.J. wasn’t sure if he was uncomfortable to hear he’d been too obvious, or if he was uncomfortable with the conversation in general. 

“I don’t think other people would pick up on it, but I notice things.” J.J. was still pissed and emotionally didn’t totally hate making Shane a little uncomfortable, but also logically he knew he didn’t really want to do that to his friend, and didn’t want him to spiral from assuming loads of other people would have caught on to them. J.J. took a long breath, letting the pause between them just exist. “It’s why I was always trying to set you up with guys, to get you over him. I figured it sucks being in love with someone who can’t love you back, so I was trying to help.”

“Oh,” was Shane’s only reply again. His voice was very small, drowned out by the sounds of the car, his gaze cast out the window away from J.J. 

“You could have told me. I would have had your back.”

“I know.” Shane sighed heavily. “And I’m sorry. We just couldn’t really tell anybody, you know? Our careers and Russia…”

J.J. couldn’t help it. A bitter snort of a laugh escaped him. “Except you told Hayden.”

“I didn’t, I told you, he guessed.”

“And I told you that’s absolute bullshit,” J.J. spit out in French. “You expect me to believe Hayden put all the pieces together?”

“I don’t know what to tell you. He figured out years ago I was seeing someone in Boston, then figured out it was a guy after I came out, then realized I hadn’t seen that guy for a while and that I’d been going to Ottawa more often, and he just asked me directly.” To his credit, Shane looked as genuinely surprised as J.J. was by that turn of events, and J.J. believed him. “He really did put it all together.”

“Damn, a Sherlock Holmes motherfucker.”

“Yeah,” Shane laughed.

J.J. hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Jackie probably figured it out, yeah?”

“I mean probably, yeah.” A grin broke across Shane’s face and he looked to his friend with that overly earnest look that J.J. liked to give him shit about. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. And I really am grateful you know now, and that you’re here now.”

J.J. swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn’t expected Hollander to get quite so sincere so quickly. That dude fucking hated talking about his feelings. “It’s alright, Capitaine,” he responded softly. Then in French. “But don’t keep me out next time.” He shook his head and forced a playful smile, not really needing or wanting to stay quite so emotionally deep while driving down the highway in the middle of the night in stupid fucking Florida. “Especially not if that asshole knows something already.” He gestured with his head back to Hayden.

“Deal.” Shane smiled easily, and ran his tongue along the inside of his lip in thought for a moment before turning back with a quiet, excited intensity in his eyes. “Want to know something Hayden doesn’t?”

“I know many things Hayden doesn’t, but of course. What does Hayden not know already?” J.J. grinned.

Shane paused, thinking for one more moment before committing. “I’m gonna propose.”

“WHAT?” J.J. didn’t mean to yell the word, didn’t mean to wake up Hayden who admittedly had had a long night and, J.J. begrudgingly admitted, deserved some rest, even if he was an asshole who kept critical, captain-protecting secrets to himself. And fortunately, he just snorted once in his sleep, adjusted a little bit, and went right back to his steady breathing. 

“What?” J.J. asked again at a loud stage whisper. “Like… now? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Shane nodded very slightly. “Yeah, now. I think.” He ran his hand across his mouth, trying to hide a sad but undeniable smile. “I just… like, he could have died today, you know, and it just seems so stupid now… keeping everything secret. Waiting.”

“Fuck, Capitaine. That’s big.”

“Yeah. There will be a lot to figure out. The Russia stuff definitely, how the teams will react, how the league will feel about it… but I sort of don’t care anymore. I’m just really tired.” Shane sighed again deeply, the weariness of years seeping from his body in one large breath. “I’m pretty sure he’s telling his team everything now. So… yeah.”

“Did they know anything? Like you told us about you already.”

“No, he hasn’t really told anybody. It sort of… he’s bisexual, and his history with women has been sort of a helpful shield, you know. Covers for both of us.” Shane shifted in his seat, looking out the window, his chin in his hand. “I think he’s wanted to tell people, though. Not just about him, but about us. We sort of had a huge fight about it at Christmas.”

J.J. didn’t know what to say to that. They were big confessions, bigger feelings than really Shane was usually comfortable discussing, and more serious than people generally brought to J.J., so it wasn’t really a conversation either of them were particularly suited for, but here they were.

“So… yeah. Like if he’s willing to move and risk all of the Russia stuff, I can just, like, stop being a huge coward and tell our friends I’m in love, I guess. Seems sort of minor by comparison. Especially now.”

J.J. cleared his throat. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself, Capitaine.” The anger of the day had pretty much deflated, as his friend’s exhaustion radiated from him. “And I think it’s fucking cool as hell for you two to get married. Total power couple. Literally. If you two have kids? Fuck, the MLH will have to create new awards just for them when they start playing.”

Shane’s body shook in what J.J. recognized as a single, silent laugh. “Dude, we’re both guys. That’s not how genetics work, you do know that, right?”

J.J. waved a hand at Shane dismissively. “Ah, science makes progress every day, give them time to work out the details. Especially when you two are married, it will give motivation to speed up the research. And even if the science is too slow, you’ll be the ones training your kids, so they will be the best.” He clapped a hand on Shane’s shoulder and looked to him, a grin on his face. “I am happy for you.”

And he looked a moment too long, because when he turned back to the road, there was a literal fucking dinosaur in the middle of the highway. J.J. jerked the steering wheel hard to the right, as his seatbelt locked in place and inertia pulled his head too hard to the left, smashing into the window with a loud crack and a pain that shot through the front of his face. The car spun in a circle, a tight, fast, perfect rotation, before coming to a screeching stop, somehow, miraculously, mostly on the shoulder of the highway, facing in the correct direction. J.J. had just enough awareness to shift the car into park before he took his foot off the gas, his heart beating hard and fast.

“What the FUCK just happened?” Hayden, fully awake, broke the silence after a few beats, sitting very tall in the back of the car, eyes comically wide. Shane was staring straight ahead, his jaw hanging open, completely unmoving, his breathing quick and irregular.

“Are you guys ok?” J.J. spoke in French, not meaning to exclude Hayden, but the words coming from him naturally. He turned to check on them both.

“Holy shit, man, you’re bleeding!” Being woken from a deep sleep had somehow made Hayden the most aware of the three.

J.J. realized that Hayden was talking to him and instinctively reached up to touch his face. Pain shot through his nose and forehead instantaneously, and he dropped down the sun visor to look at his reflection in the small lit up mirror, startling at the sight of his nose decidedly crooked and blood streaming from it. The side of his forehead was also swelling and red from the impact but fortunately appeared otherwise fine.

“I think I broke my nose.” His voice sounded incredibly stopped up, his sinus passages already swelling and closing off.

“Fuck, man, are you ok?” Hayden leaned forward to get a closer look.

“Well my nose is broken, so, non, but I think that’s it, so kind of yes?” J.J. ran his tongue across his teeth, taking stock like he would after a hard hit. Everything in his mouth seemed to be intact, thank fuck. He was too pretty to lose teeth. And the bleeding appeared to be coming from inside his nose, so hopefully no external scarring either.

Shane slowly emerged from his daze. “Is the car ok?”

“I think so?” J.J. went to open his door to get out but Shane grabbed his arm to stop him.

“The… thing!” He gestured back behind him frantically, language temporarily escaping him.

“The thing?” Hayden asked. How this motherfucker had missed everything was ridiculous.

“There was a fucking crocodile in the road. But it’s back far enough, I think. I can get out and check, it’s fine.”

Shane’s face scrunched up, his mind visibly resetting now that there was factual information to lean on. “They have alligators here, not crocodiles-”

“Shane, will you shut the fuck up please?” J.J. cut him off, a hand held up in protest to silence his friend. “It was a fucking monster, whatever it was, but I don’t think we hit it so the car should be ok.” He glanced back at Hayden. “Unlike some people, I can drive without hitting things.”

“Fuck you, man,” Hayden grumbled, as he opened his door as well. The three got out of the car and circled it slowly, cautiously eyeing what did indeed appear to be a fairly large alligator, slowly crossing the road about 50 feet back, completely disinterested in the vehicle and men that had almost run it over. Hayden pulled out his phone and snapped a photo.

“Seriously?” Shane didn’t bother hiding his irritation.

“For Arthur, man. It’s a real life Chompy.” Hayden shrugged. 

The car, miraculously, did look to be unscathed, even the donut that had made Shane so nervous seemingly in decent shape. “Fucking Florida, man,” J.J. complained.

Hayden leaned back into the car and grabbed J.J.’s dress shirt, already greasy from earlier, from the back seat and held it out to J.J. with a gesture at his face.

J.J. held it up to his nose, the starchy material stinging.

“Wait, I think I actually have a towel in my bag,” Shane suddenly remembered, producing it seconds later and handing it to J.J.

“You didn’t have that a half hour ago?” Hayden grumbled, and Shane shot him a disapproving look that made him hold up his hands in surrender.

J.J. pulled the towel away after a minute. “How does it look?”

“Fucked, man.”

Shane winced. “Yeah, I think maybe you should go to the hospital.”

J.J. looked to him, aghast. “I’m not going to the hospital. This has already been the longest 90 minute drive ever, Capitaine. Let’s just get to the hotel.”

“I don’t know, it looks pretty bad. And I think maybe your head needs to get checked out too. Like rule out a concussion.” Shane held a hand up like he might actually touch J.J.’s face, and J.J. swatted his hand away, shaking his head in exasperation. 

“Are you hockey players or little fucking girls?”

“Whoa, man, sexist!” Hayden shook his head disapprovingly. “So not cool to say that. Little girls are fucking badasses. You’ve met my girls, they’re hard core.”

J.J. took a frustrated breath. “I mean are you tiny children. Boys or girls or nonbinary tiny children, does not matter what.” The two frowned at him. “You want to fucking quit? Go home and cry to your mothers? Take me to the hospital so they can tape up my nose and tell me to rest, which we already know to do, because we’re fucking hockey players?” He gesticulated wildly, as blood trickled down his face, into his mouth. “We flew all the way to Florida,” the word sounding like a swear coming from his mouth, “and Shane did impromptu media for goddamn teenagers, and Hayden changed a tire and blinded himself, and I defeated fucking Godzilla, and now you two want to just quit?” He pointed back and forth between them emphatically as he spoke.“No. NO! You are going to have to drive, Shane, because I am losing… more blood than is probably smart, but we are going to get back in that car and FINISH THIS FUCKING TRIP!” He grinned at Shane, knowing he probably looked demented, vampiric.

“Let’s go get you engaged, Capitaine.”

Shane shook his head in bemused acceptance, one side of his mouth raising in a smile and reaching out for the keys, as Hayden’s own mouth fell open. “ENGAGED???”

Interlude

Ilya looked around at his teammates gathered in his room in various states of undress. 

Most had thrown on sweats and t-shirts, and the guys who had been downstairs with him were still in their travel clothes, but several of the rookies - Young, LaPointe, and Holmberg - were in only their boxers, standing closest to Ilya, having rushed over immediately, obediently, after being summoned. The group from the bar stood at the back of the group, closest to the door, having been the last to arrive after gathering everyone.

Well, second to last. Troy and Harris were actually the last to join, hair noticeably wet from recent showers, slinking in together through the door that had been left ajar for them. Ilya grinned at Troy, whose mouth was tight in what was either concern or annoyance. Probably both, Ilya thought. He was glad Troy hadn’t ignored his texts and he hadn’t needed to figure out which room Troy and Harris were canoodling in and pound on the door.

     Ilya: Troy

     Ilya: Troy

     Ilya: Troy

     Ilya: are you awake

     Ilya: is emergency, we are having team meeting

     Ilya: Troy do not make me call you

     Troy: I’m up, what do you mean emergency, is everyone ok?

     Ilya: yes, is good emergency. meeting is mandatory. in my room

     Ilya: bring Harris

     Ilya: oh fuck sorry I hope you were finished with Harris

     Troy: seriously wtf is going on

     Ilya: meeting is in 10 minutes but I will give you 15 to finish with Harris if you need it because I am kind 😇

Ilya jumped up to stand on his bed so he could better see everyone. He was acutely aware of the ceiling being maybe a foot above his head and reminded himself not to bounce or wave his arms around. 

Looking down at his gathered teammates staring up at him expectantly, he realized that he, very stupidly, had had 15 minutes to plan what he wanted to say and yet had absolutely not thought out a word of it. So this could be interesting, seeing as he was tired, buzzing with adrenaline, and a little bit drunk.

“Ok, everyone, be quiet. Thank you all for coming to this meeting.” He took a deep breath. “We had a scary, fucked up day today, and-”

“Technically it was yesterday,” Haas corrected very politely, and Bood swatted him.

“Yes, ok, yesterday. Scary, fucked up day yesterday, but we survived it together, because we are a family. And I need to tell you something, because I do not want to keep lying to you.”

“Oh my god, are you sick?” Young blurted. His eyes were wide, gazing up at his captain.

“No, I am not sick. I-”

“Holy shit, you’re retiring?” Dillon shouted out from the middle of the room.

“No, I’m not retiring, I am the best player in the MLH, why would I retire, what I mean to say is-”

“Are you being traded?” Holmberg grabbed Young’s arm in a panic.

“No, why do you keep guessing things?” How had he lost complete and absolute control over his own coming out meeting?

“Are you in some kind of legal trouble?” LaPointe asked very seriously, hand thoughtfully on his chin.

“No! Everyone shut up, is not a guessing game.” 

“How drunk are you, Roz?” Troy, arms folded across his chest, spoke up from the back. Ok, so it was concern on his face. He knew where this was going and didn’t want Ilya making any rash, drunken decisions.

“Only a very little bit, and I am ok, Troy, I promise. Very in control.” He tapped his temple with one finger, reassuringly, faculties all there. Troy nodded at him once but didn’t look entirely convinced. From his side, Harris looked back and forth between them with a small frown on his face, trying to interpret whatever had just happened there.

“Is this about the Voyageurs?” Wyatt asked with his hand slightly raised, refocusing the conversation, someone finally actually being helpful.

“Yes! It is, thank you, Wyatt.” Returning his attention to the rest of the group, he continued, “Now maybe saw that-”

“Oh FUCK, you’re being traded to the Voyageurs???” Holmberg looked like he might throw up.

“What the, NO, I am not going to fucking Montreal! I would die before I would play with Hayden Pike and that piece of shit team, racist, homophobic, untalented assholes. What I wanted to say-” He stopped himself, before begrudgingly course correcting, “Ok, Pike is not homophobic or racist. Boiziau is ok too. Rest are assholes though. And-”

In the back of the room, Ilya caught the moment where Harris’s eyes, still moving between Ilya and Troy, got very wide in realization and his entire face widened into a pure, complete smile. He instinctively leaned into Troy, before thinking the better of it and straightening his frame back up. Troy dropped his arms and Ilya saw as his left hand found Harris’s right, entwining their fingers. They were at the back of the room and probably no one else would notice, all of them with their backs to the pair, but Ilya did.

“Wait.” LaPointe pointed a finger at Ilya accusingly. “You said Pike and Boiziau are ok but didn’t say anything about Hollander. And you guys are supposed to be friends. Did he do something to you, because I swear to fucking god, if he did-” The rookies were suddenly starting a revolution, apparently.

“NO, fuck no! Hollander is not a problem, I am trying to tell you he is my boyfriend, if you will all just stop talking!”

The room froze. By the door, Harris gasped audibly and wrapped his arms around Troy’s waist in a big hug, beaming up at Ilya. Wyatt grabbed Dykstra’s upper arm affectionately, wide grins on both of their faces, and Bood threw both arms around Haas, picking him up off the ground ever so briefly and squeezing him so tightly that Haas had to readjust his glasses after.

Ilya breathed deeply one more time, now that he finally had the room’s full focus. “I am bisexual, and Shane is my boyfriend. We have been together a very long time. And I am sorry I did not tell you all sooner. But we want you to know now, because you are family.”

One, two, three beats as a room of mostly blank faces looked up at Ilya, whose brain felt briefly disconnected from his body, time frozen in anxious waiting.

LaPointe broke the silence. “That’s cool as fuck, man.”

“Yeah, Cap, Hollzy’s a fucking catch!” Holmberg shot him a thumbs up.

“Thanks for telling us, Roz.” Bood was positively glowing.

As the room descended into a general wave of affirmations and support, Wyatt spoke loudly over the rest, cupping his mouth with one hand for volume, “Hey, Roz, is there any specific reason you’re telling us this now that would be good for everyone to know?”

“Oh yes! Thank you, Hazy, you are very good at keeping us on track today.” Ilya was sure he looked absolutely giddy, because he was. “My boyfriend is coming here right now, and he will be here in 20 minutes so you can all meet him!” He threw his arms up into the air victoriously, his hands smacking into the ceiling loudly and painfully, as the room burst into an enthusiastic roar, and the rookies jumped up onto the bed and tackled him in celebration like he had just scored a hat trick.

Yes, Ilya thought to himself. These really were good guys. Very, very good guys.

Chapter End Notes

Next time: Shane and David Bowie bring the road trip to a close, as our two teams' parallel tracks finally converge.

I'm 98% sure J.J. couldn't actually get this injury from this almost-crash, but I 100% do not care, because the image of him screaming a motivational speech in the middle of the highway with blood streaming down his face after almost hitting an alligator was one of the earliest images I had for this story, and I loved the ridiculousness of it too much to worry about silly things like what is actually physically possible.

Chapter 5: Heroes

Chapter Summary

Wyatt Hayes would later tell his wife that it was the coolest moment of his life.
The three had entered the lobby in slow motion, Wyatt was pretty sure, which didn’t actually make sense, but he saw it with his own eyes so who was he to question the magic of the universe.
All three looked tired, dark shadows under their eyes and almost dazed smiles on their faces as they walked through the door. Relaxed and cool as fuck and steps in synch with one another’s, or at least that’s how Wyatt would always remember it. They were astronauts returning to Earth, spies casually walking away from an explosion.
They were the goddamn Avengers.

OR

Hayden and J.J. deliver on their promise to get their captain to his boyfriend.

Chapter Notes

“Engaged…” Hayden sighed, again, before he said the word for the… seventh time? Eighth? Shane had lost count. “Engaged! Man, I’m so fucking happy for you. Jackie’s going to be so psyched.”

“Thanks,” Shane said, yet again. “But, like… maybe calm down a little? He hasn’t said ‘yes,’ I haven’t even asked yet.”

Hayden waved a disagreeing hand from the passenger’s seat. “Eh, whatever. He will.”

Hayden’s certainty was making Shane more nervous than he would have expected, and he furrowed his brow. “Just maybe tone it down. We had, like, a huge fight the last time I saw him. I’ll have to see how he actually feels when he sees me again.” 

“Dude. Did he seem that mad when you talked to him earlier?”

“No,” Shane had to admit. “He seemed ok.”

“Exactly. Big scary shit puts stuff in perspective, and fights happen. I think Jackie’s going to divorce me, like, every other month basically. And she hasn’t yet, not even close. You guys will be fine.You’re catastrophizing, cut it out.” Hayden looked ahead again, grinning like he was the one about to be proposed to. “That asshole is obsessed with you.”

The song playing through the cable connected to Shane’s phone changed, “Under Pressure” to “Space Oddity,” and Hayden looked at Shane again with surprise. “Wait, did you turn on Bowie on purpose?”

“Yeah.” Shane didn’t see why that was so noteworthy. “Is that weird?”

J.J. spoke, up, his voice nasally as he held up Shane’s towel to his still lightly bleeding, rapidly bruising nose. “Not for most people, but you just listen to, like, white noise and shit, so it’s weird for you. But Bowie’s fucking cool.”

“Bowie is fucking cool,” Hayden affirmed. “And I didn’t know you liked him. Because of the white noise and shit.” He gestured with his thumb back to echo J.J.

Shane shrugged. “My parents really liked him when I was growing up. We listened to him a lot on road trips.”

“God, your parents are the best. Super fucking cool.” If Shane didn’t know Hayden was completely sober, he’d think he was maybe drunk, or that he was the one who had lost a lot of blood, based on the generally loopy, affectionate energy he was radiating.

“They are,” Shane agreed.

“Do they know?” J.J. asked.

“About what?”

“About you. Rozanov. All of it.”

“Yeah, they know.”

“Ok, so your parents, Hayden and Jackie… who else knows?”

Shane ticked through the list that had become a part of his daily routine, reiterating it nightly. “My parents; Hayden, Jackie, and the kids; our agent; a couple of immigration attorneys; Rose; Ryan Price and Fabian - that’s his boyfriend - and now you.” He didn’t mention Ilya’s therapist; that was Ilya’s information to keep or share.

J.J. exhaled in a way that could only be described as exasperated. “Ok, I could look past Hayden’s enfants but Ryan Price and his boyfriend, who I do know, by the way? Come on, Capitaine, what the fuck?”

“Sorry, man, I didn’t, like, tell them on purpose. Ryan walked in on us making out at camp.” Shane’s face crinkled again in thought. “Actually most people we didn’t tell on purpose. Fuck.” There was a beat as his chest clenched at another realization. “But he’s telling his team right now so… I guess that’s a whole bunch of people we are deciding to tell on purpose. Sort of on purpose anyway.”

“Your parents, the Pikes, Rose Landry, your agent, your lawyers, the Centaurs, and fucking Price and his beautiful angel music man…” J.J. shook his head maybe in frustration, maybe acceptance, before he lowered the towel and leaned forward, grinning ghoulishly through the drying blood on his face. “Remind me, though… how many of them did you tell you were going to propose?”

Shane shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Zero. Just you, Jay. Just you.”

“Just. Me.” J.J. made each word its own sentence, reaching around the headrest in front of him, squeezing Hayden’s shoulders with each one. “No. One. Else.”

Hayden grinned again and wordlessly flipped off his friend without looking back at him.

The next few minutes were spent in, at last, an amiable silence, the music washing over them as the exit numbers continued to decrease, creeping rapidly closer to their destination.

Reminding Hayden of the fight had ratcheted up a little of the anxiety that had haunted Shane on the plane to Orlando. Logically, even emotionally, he did think Ilya had forgiven him, or at least that he trusted Shane’s love for him enough, and returned enough love of his own, to make the fight a bump and not a conclusion. Sometimes, Shane worried that the lengthy secrecy of their relationship, the years spent seeing one another only in stolen chunks of time, loving each other before they could even acknowledge to themselves that they were a thing, had frozen them in a sort of stasis. Ilya had once told him that they were too good at publicly pretending they weren’t a couple, that they were in a relationship that was so accustomed to being hidden and maybe, Shane worried on dark and especially anxious nights, it would be all too easy for Ilya to leave, when he realized that a relationship didn’t have to be this difficult. That Shane was too difficult.

They were thoughts that usually had him reaching for that plastic purple ring he kept hidden away.

Beside him, Hayden had started softly singing along to the newest song that was playing, his eyes closed, head swaying subtly against his headrest. “Oh we can be heroes, just for one day…” The sound of his friend’s voice, barely audible, helped ground Shane, bringing him back to now and out of his worries. It was a peaceful night, despite everything that had happened first to Ilya and then to the three of them in the car. Shane drove and felt his body relax, pulled by the sensory memory of the comfort of being small and watching the blanket of stars out the window as his dad would drive them to his parents’ cottage for long weekends, trees and the vague outline of sporadic houses racing by in the night, familiar music clearing out the catastrophizing, as Hayden (Shane had to admit) had very aptly labeled it.

His anxiety, he knew, usually lied to him. He was safe. Ilya was safe. They were going to be ok. Ilya’s plane hadn’t crashed, Shane had survived whatever the fuck was cursing this car, and they’d make it past the Christmas fight. They were going to be ok. 

And dammit, if Ilya was on board, they were going to stop being a secret, sooner than previously planned.

Suddenly, J.J. leaned forward, over Hayden’s shoulder and joined his singing loudly, dramatically.

“And I, I will be king… and you, you will be queen!”

Hayden startled and jumped in his seat and let out a full belly laugh, increasing the volume of his own voice, until they were both belting out the song, only pausing once for Hayden to complain, “Fuck, dude, back up, you’re getting blood on me!” J.J. didn’t miss a note as he shook his head like a wet dog, flecks of blood flinging off his face, then stopping quickly, hand flying up to his head, the movement clearly putting pressure on his absolutely broken nose.

“Gross!” Shane grimaced but laughed as he spoke, because it was gross, but he almost didn’t care, so overwhelmed by the warmth and safety of this moment with his two friends and teammates, who had been there for him and had his back without always knowing what they were even protecting, for longer than any of them had realized. 

**************

The entirety of the Centaurs, all fully clothed, although most in pajamas and socks only, had reconvened in the lobby bar again. The energy that had led to the team tackling their captain had moved downstairs with them, and more chairs had been pulled together around the gathered tables, even more beers poured. Based on the palpable anticipation moving through the group, apparently finally winning a fucking game and then not dying wasn’t actually the most interesting thing that had happened to them in the past 24 hours.

Ilya sat, Wyatt on one side of him and Troy on the other, eyes glued to the door and his leg bouncing with excited energy. The guys had given up trying to talk to him, instead surrounding him with the familial warmth of their own enthusiastic conversations.

And then the automatic doors from the outside slid open.

The three Voyageurs walked into the lobby side by side, and Ilya wasn’t sure if everyone actually stopped talking, or if his mind just shut them all out. He vaguely registered Pike and Boiziau on either side of Shane, Pike looking like shit as Shane had promised and Boiziau bloody for some reason and neither of them entirely dressed, but Shane looked perfect, his small, easy smile widening as his eyes met Ilya’s.

He didn’t know exactly how he made it around (over?) the table and teammates surrounding him, but the next thing Ilya knew, he was in Shane’s arms, and Shane was in his, and their mouths were on one another’s in desperate relief. He ran the fingers of one hand up into Shane’s hair while the other went under the back of his suit jacket, needing to feel his scalp, feel more of his heat through his shirt, just feel Shane and know he was really there. One of Shane’s hands moved over Ilya’s chest, resting over his heart, while the other wrapped tightly around Ilya’s waist, holding him in place as their tongues moved against one another and Shane gasped into his mouth, a sound that Ilya recognized as equal parts hunger and exhaustion, the warmth of his breath entering into Ilya like a resuscitation.

They may have kissed for two minutes, or twenty, when Shane wrapped his arms both fully around Ilya’s back and buried his head in his shoulder with a sharp exhale that sounded distinctly like a sob. “I’m so sorry,” the words mumbled into Ilya’s shirt.

“No, shh, what are you sorry about, everything is ok, sweetheart, it’s ok.” Ilya ran his hands reassuringly along Shane’s spine and placed gentle kisses onto his temple between words.

“No, it’s not. I keep thinking you could have died, and the last things I would have said to your face… you wouldn’t have known… no one would have known…”

“It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok.” The words were a reassuring mantra, whispered into Shane’s hair. “We’re ok, it’s ok…”

Shane pulled back and met Ilya’s gaze in that very direct way that generally meant they were either about to fuck or Shane was very serious about something. “No, it’s not. Listen to me.” He took a deep breath. “If something had happened, no one would have known why I died, too. Because I would have. Maybe not literally, but… I would have in every way that matters. I wouldn’t know how to be alive without you.”

Ilya felt his brow creasing as Shane spoke. “Do not say that. Ever.”

“I understand, and I know that’s a horrible thing for me to say, and I’m not trying to bring up any… memories right now, but I need you to know. It’s how I would feel. I love you so much, and I know I don’t always do the best job showing that, but… you’re everything, Ilya. I will always choose you.” His voice cracked, the tears that had been building in the corners of his eyes starting to fall. “There’s no universe where I don’t pick you. Every time. My mind might… you know, mess with me sometimes, but it will always land on you. Always.”

Ilya’s expression softened, his hands moving to Shane’s face so his thumbs could move over those miraculous freckles. “I know, moy lyubimy. I know. I love you too. And I am sorry about-”

“No, shut up, I’m not done.” Shane looked so serious that Ilya had to let out the laugh that had bubbled up in him. Shane moved his hands to hold Ilya’s face too, one hand on each side, his eyes focused fully. “I don’t want to do this, the secret thing. Not anymore. I know we have a whole plan for retirement, and I know the passport thing is a problem, but I want to figure it out sooner. I want… I want people to know how important you are to me. You deserve that.” Ilya’s eyes widened, enraptured, as Shane continued.

“We can, like, get a house in between Ottawa and Montreal. Keep our current places for late games or early practices or whatever, but actually have one place, together, that’s ours, both of ours, our home, that we share and come back to together, every night. I can even help take care of the dog you want so bad.” The words had come out in a rush but Shane smiled gently at how Ilya’s face particularly lit up at that last part. 

“I want to marry you. I don’t know when, exactly, but not years from now. Sooner. Much sooner. We’d have to plan it out, and make sure you’re safe, obviously, but… I don’t want to wait anymore. Do you…” He took a deep breath, recentering amidst the jumbling words, slowing down and focusing, swallowing, his throat bobbing. “Will you marry me?”

Ilya thought he had understood everything Shane had said, although admittedly sometimes with Shane, he was relying more on instinct than real comprehension, when Shane was talking fast and Ilya was tired and distracted by Shane’s beautiful eyes and beautiful freckles and beautiful everything. But he knew he had understood the last part. He ran his thumbs across those extraordinary cheekbones again and leaned his forehead against Shane’s. “You want to marry me?”

“Yeah.” Shane’s breathing was shaky. “More than anything.”

Ilya kissed him softly, briefly, before the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile against Shane’s lips. “Of course I will marry you, Hollander.”

Shane pulled his face back to look at Ilya again, discerning for any hint of teasing, any indicator that Ilya was being anything other than entirely serious. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Shane. Yes.” He kissed Shane again, slowly, gently, releasing the fatigue of years in the moment, before he shifted to place another at the corner of Shane’s mouth and laughed against his cheek. “Do you think I would fake accept a proposal from you? I am not this big an asshole.” 

“Well, you are, but - oh, shit, I forgot!” Shane’s face scrunched up in that adorable pout that made Ilya want to devour him, as Shane reached around frantically in his pocket, finally producing a small purple plastic ring. “I had a ring ready and everything.”

Ilya held his hand up, and Shane pushed the tiny ring down as far on Ilya’s ring finger as it would go, barely to his first knuckle. They locked eyes, and Shane’s smile widened, and even though Ilya had seen that unguarded grin before, it was a revelation, like it was every time.

Ilya reached into his own pocket and pulled out the matching pink ring, holding it up to Shane between two fingers. “And look, I have one for you too.”

Shane’s eyes softened. “You carry that around with you?”

Ilya shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes.” He slipped the ring onto Shane’s finger and placed a kiss into Shane’s palm. “But I think is not so unusual, since it looks like maybe you do too.”

Shane’s hands returned to Ilya’s face, and Ilya didn’t know whether he had gotten lucky or made a deal with a devil he had forgotten about or somewhere there was a god who finally felt bad for the decades of shit his family and the universe had thrown at him, but he didn’t know what he had done to deserve this perfect person standing in front of him.

“I love you so much, Ilya.”

“I love you too, Shane.” He leaned in to kiss Shane properly this time, but suddenly, in horror, processed that some of the flecks on Shane’s face were not, in fact, freckles but bits of dried blood. “Oh my god, are you hurt?” His voice was panicked. “There is blood!”

Shane shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine, it’s J.J.’s.”

Ilya’s shoulders relaxed instantly. “Oh good.” 

And without a single follow up question asked, he kissed his fiancé, good and hard, in the middle of a hotel lobby, not a care for who saw them.

 **************

Wyatt Hayes would later tell his wife that it was the coolest moment of his life. 

The three had entered the lobby in slow motion, Wyatt was pretty sure, which didn’t actually make sense, but he saw it with his own eyes so who was he to question the magic of the universe.

All three were still in their game day suits, albeit in various levels of dress. Pike’s jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, burgundy striped tie still on, but his shirt was wet, black smudges on both it and his slim gray slacks, matching the streaks on his face. Boizy had stripped down to his sleeveless undershirt, stark against his stylish blue plaid pants, both of which were covered in a surprising amount of blood that had apparently originated from his very clearly broken nose. Hollzy stood in the center of the trio, composed as always and so hot it honestly was kind of unfair, his charcoal gray tie loosened but otherwise his tailored, ridiculously expensive blue suit still fully intact. 

All three looked tired, dark shadows under their eyes and almost dazed smiles on their faces as they walked through the door. Relaxed and cool as fuck and steps in synch with one another’s, or at least that’s how Wyatt would always remember it. They were astronauts returning to Earth, spies casually walking away from an explosion.

They were the goddamn Avengers.

Until their eyes landed on the Centaurs on the opposite side of the wide open lobby.

Their faces broke into full grins, as Pike and Boiziau stopped walking, and Hollzy began to run. The ceased movement of the two behind him made it look even more like Hollander had broken into an immediate sprint, full-on Flash mode.

Yep, definitely cool as fuck.

At Wyatt’s side, Ilya rose and in three quick steps stood on his chair, planted a single foot on the table in front of him (somehow the beautiful son of a bitch didn’t knock over a single drink), leapt through the space between Chouinard and Haas sitting opposite him, and hit the ground literally running. He and Hollander crashed into one another in the middle, arms around one another’s bodies and in one another’s hair, kisses moving from mouths to faces to necks, until eventually they were just standing there holding one another, merged into one entity.

Beautiful. Just damn gorgeous.

Behind them, Pike and Boiziau had each thrown an arm around the other’s shoulders, either celebrating or literally holding one another up, and were beaming, talking to one another and staring unabashedly at the two captains, still intertwined. Wyatt felt a hand clap on the back of his shoulder, and Bood stooped down to speak into his ear. “I guess we should go greet the in-laws, huh?”

Bood grabbed two beers and Wyatt grabbed a bar towel, and they swung wide around Ilya and Hollander, clearly now in intense, emotional, private conversation, on their way to the two men still standing near the entrance.

Bood handed Pike and Boiziau the beers, briefly grasping each of them on their shoulders as he did. “Good to see you, but why do you two look like such shit?” he asked with a signature warm laugh.

Wyatt offered the towel to Boizy, who waved it away, so he offered it to Pike instead.

Pike frowned as he took it. “Wait, do I still have stuff on my face?” He looked to Boiziau accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me I still had stuff on my face?”

Boiziau shrugged and took a long pull from his beer, then held the end of the cold bottle alongside his nose and sighed in relief. “I was busy shattering my face and defeating a monster.”

Wyatt’s face lit up as Hayden scowled. How were these guys so cool and just, like, casual about it?  “It was an alligator, idiot, and you didn’t defeat it, you drove around it.”

Boiziau shrugged again. “I faced a living dinosaur. You drove over a piece of metal. Who is the idiot.” 

Hayden went to argue, but then stopped, a genuine smile growing over his face again, as he elbowed Boiziau and gestured with his head to the two men who were still wrapped up in one another, literally and figuratively. “I still can’t see that great, but did he…?”

Wyatt and Bood both glanced back, in time to see Ilya pulling something small and pink from his pocket - some kind of kid’s toy? Ah, ok, a ring, based on how he slipped it on the end of Hollzy’s finger, wait, he what? Wyatt’s and Bood’s heads snapped back to Pike and Boiziau, as Boizy wrapped both arms around Pike and squeezed him tightly, beer sloshing from his bottle onto Pike’s back. “He did, mon ami. He did.”

Pike burst into tears, which streamed through his still sooty face through the creases around his absolutely mushy grin. He buried his head into Boiziau’s shoulder and wept, unmistakably overjoyed.

***********

At Shane’s embarrassed insistence, Harris took a few pictures of the entire group together, for the sake of the cover story J.J. had given to their coach. Theriault would probably be less enthusiastic when he saw the state of them, but he’d need to find out about J.J.’s nose eventually anyway, so oh well. Shane and Ilya stood in the center of the group, arms thrown over one another’s shoulders, absolutely silly grins on their faces, a small spot of purple barely visible on Ilya’s hand where it rested on Shane’s shoulder, with Hayden, J.J., and the other Irina Foundation volunteers standing closest to them, with the rest of the pajamaed men mugging to fill the rest of the frame, the rookies lying in poses on the ground in front of the others. Then Ilya waved over to the young woman at reception, who had barely looked up from her book since the Voyageurs arrived, to get a picture with Harris in it too. “Just for personal memories, not for media, I promise, Harris.” 

Ilya noticed as Shane tensed just a little bit, his long-standing anxiety over being found out, his dawning realization that it wasn’t just their friends with them, visible on his face, as the woman took Harris’s phone from him. “Is ok,” Ilya whispered reassuringly, quickly. “She’s very cool. Russian. She won’t say anything.” He turned his attention to her as Harris took his place next to Troy. “Hey, Katja, you’re cool about this, yes?” He gestured between himself and Shane and then elaborated in Russian. “You won’t tell anyone, yeah? It’s a big, sexy secret, because Russia. And hockey.” Shane cringed visibly.

“Stop, you know that’s way too much Russian for me at 3:00 in the morning, but yeah, you’re good. I’m not an asshole.” She adjusted settings on Harris’s phone as she spoke then turned to the group. “Smile!” She snapped a few photos before adding. “And it’s not, like, the 90s. Outing people, blech, so tacky, so gross.” She scrunched up her face in disgust, her tongue sticking out between her teeth, and then made to pass the phone back to Harris. 

“Wait, no, Katja, not yet,” Ilya interrupted the handoff. “Take a few more while I am talking, ok?” She shrugged but did as instructed, and when he looked back at the pictures, Ilya identified no fewer than five that he would definitely frame for the cottage, of his friends’ reactions and the subsequent celebratory group hug that turned into a dogpile, when Ilya introduced Shane to his teammates not as his boyfriend, but as his brand new fiancé.

**********

Ilya made the rounds with Shane, pulling him by the hand like an overly eager child through the players, seated again in the bar. “This is Shane Hollander, yes, you know he is very talented hockey player but also is my fiancé now, say hello!” “This is Shane Hollander, my fiancé, he will be your new step-captain, he is not as fun as biological captain but is more reliable and will help you with boring homework sometimes.” Shane shook hands, accepted congratulations, expressed his own relief that everyone was ok, apologized unnecessarily for not telling everyone sooner. “This is Shane Hollander, my new fiancé, shake his hand very quickly, I need to get him up to my room to celebrate or I will die for real.” “This is Shane Hollander, hottest hockey player according to Cosmopolitan magazine, and he just asked me to marry him because sexiest man thinks I am actually the sexiest, you can say hello to him but do not touch.”

“Oh my god, Ilya, I take it back,” Shane’s cheeks went pink with embarrassment but laughed after that one, and Ilya threw both of his arms around him and kissed him dramatically on the cheek.

“What, take back your proposal? No you do not. No take-backsies, like Jackie’s kids say.”

“Dude, they’re my kids, too, and I’m literally right here,” Hayden spoke up from where he sat in front of Harris, who had compassionately offered assistance and was cleaning his face off with a damped bar towel.

“They are also Jackie’s kids, so what I said is true.” Ilya unwrapped his arms from Shane and walked over, standing behind Pike, planting both hands on his shoulders. Hayden tensed immediately, not sure what might possibly come next but trusting it wouldn’t be great. “You did a very good thing today, bringing Shane here and helping him. You are a good friend to him, and to both of us for helping keep our secret for so long. Thank you for this. You are a good man.” Ilya put his hands on either side of Hayden’s head, as Hayden’s eyes opened as widely as was possible. Then Ilya leaned down and loudly kissed the top of Pike’s head, before he rose again and pointed at Boiziau, who was sitting across the table talking amiably in French with Chouinard and Bood. Ilya reached over, grabbed J.J.’s hand and pulled him towards himself in a very tight, one-armed, slightly too long hug. “You too, Boizy. Thank you. Your nose will be a battle scar for love, make you even sexier.”

Ilya released J.J., then stepped back to Shane and grabbed his hand and spoke loudly to the group. “Now! Listen, you have all been good friends to us today, but you have also cock blocked with so much talking, so I am going to take my new fiancé upstairs and-”

Shane clapped a hand over Ilya’s mouth. “Nope, Ilya, no.” He released his hand with a firm glare, and Wyatt noted with awe that Ilya complied immediately, as Shane turned back to their gathered friends. “Thank you all. For everything. But we’re going to call it a night.” He waved around to the group, turning to face everyone briefly, but held his own teammates’ eyes for a few extra beats with a grateful smile, and then turned away, pulling a grinning Ilya after him.

“Tomorrow I hate you again, Pike, ok?” Ilya shouted over his shoulder before wrapping his arms around Shane’s back like a koala and kissing into the curve of his neck as they stepped onto the elevator.

Hayden and J.J. turned to one another, their faces finally relaxed and contented. Hayden nodded once and held up his beer, and J.J. nodded once in return, raising his own glass, before they each took a long drink.

Protect the captain. Always.

Chapter End Notes

And... that's a wrap! It's always driven me a little bonkers that Hayden wasn't there in TLG for the plane stuff and that Shane didn't just tell J.J. about his relationship at the time, so I loved getting to give them both the chance to be there and show that they're some Real Ones. I hope you enjoyed.

There's a deleted scene or two in my files, mostly involving the front desk attendant talking shit about the Voyageurs and thinking J.J.'s broken nose is hot and chatting with Wyatt because of course he would make a point to know every person who works at the hotels they stay at. It was silly and I enjoyed it but it was way too long and contributed nothing to the story so into a dead document it went. But maybe someday it will pop up again. We'll see.

Thanks to the folks who were stopping in with kudos and comments and subscribes over the past few weeks while this was in progress. I appreciate you!