Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Ted Lasso (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Ilya Rozanov/Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent/Jamie Tartt, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Jamie Tartt

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Texting, Friendship/Love, Past Child Abuse, Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Drug Use, Heavy Drinking, hook up to friendship pipeline

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-06 Words: 25,919 Chapters: 2/2

Air Buds for Life

Summary

A one-night stand leads to an exchange of numbers that becomes six years of a life-changing friendship.

Notes

For this particular vision to work, I had to make some adjustments to the timeline. Since Ted Lasso already doesn't harp much on exact dates, I decided to slide Jamie into the past to match up with Ilya's. The story opens with Jamie just post the events of season one of Ted Lasso and Ilya in his canonical position in 2014. Many spoilers for The Long Game, though some events come faster than before.

Yes, Jamie does have a cameo in Change Your Win Conditions, but this is not that story. I had a wild hair thinking about how they might have met earlier in their lives and this is how it went.

Chapter 1: July 2014-December 2016

July 2014

The throbbing beat of techno pounded through the club, a sonic pulse that shook Jamie's bones. He was the kind of dizzying drunk that was still fun, but bordered on dangerous. The pride before the fall. Someone had offered him coke in the bathroom and what the fuck, it was the off season, right? So he was buzzing and drunk. The club was buried deep in a series of them in a country that spoke polite English to their guests' faces which was good enough for Jamie. He'd followed a bunch of Manchester players here to blow off some steam and Jamie had enough steam to power a fucking train right now.

Fuck Richmond, fuck Ted fucking Lasso, fuck Roy Kent, fuck his old man and fuck Ke- no. No. Not her. Not Keeley, who had only done the smart thing by showing him the door. But fuck everyone else.

Jamie deserved a full week to care about nothing at all before he spent the summer keeping himself in shape for Manchester again. Closer to home, closer to the fire.

The dance floor was heaving with bodies, the lights flashing and everyone that Jamie had arrived with had already left, scooping up beautiful women on their way out the door like party favors. Jamie had had a few offers already, but no one that made him want to leave. The party with all its endless promise was more seductive. Boom, boom, boom, went the music, and bang, bang, bang went the badly glued together pieces of Jamie's heart.

He headed for the bar to get another drink. The women he'd been dancing with pawed at him a little, so he blew them kisses and winks, promising to return and immediately losing them in the crowd. The bar was heaving with people. He'd started the night at the VIP table with bottle service, but on another player's dime. With their departure, so went the bottle service girl and he was missing her now.

It took some thrown elbows and time to even get to the bar. Once he'd bellied up, it was the work of a lifetime trying to get someone's attention.

"What the fuck," Jamie gritted out as another bartender's eyes skittered by him.

"Fucking nightmare," someone said beside him.

Jamie glanced over and then took another longer look. The man stood to his left, a few inches over Jamie and definitely a weight class of muscle above. He had curly hair, sweat pasting a few of the curls to his forehead and neck. Where Jamie had unbuttoned his shirt to show of his abs, this guy was wearing a v-neck cut so deep, Jamie hadn't even known they made them for men. They should. Jamie was buying one for himself as soon as he could though because it made the guy's pecs look absolutely insane.

"You'd think they'd know how busy it was going to be," Jamie said casually.

The guy shook his head, eyes still on the workers. "Bad business."

He sounded foreign. Was it still foreign if you were in another country? Probably, because the guy didn't sound like he was from around here either.

"Too bad, decent fucking party. Might be time to go if I can't get another. Find a place that's better."

The guy was definitely still listening, but he didn't respond right away. Figured. Jamie was ready to go back to ignoring him, when the guy said, "I am only here another half hour."

"Headed to bed already?" Jamie asked with a smirk.

Finally, the guy's gaze snapped from scanning for help to Jamie's face. And chest. And oh ho ho, hellloooo. This guy? Built like one of those fancy statues and eyes like steel? Him too?

"Not yet," the guy said and his voice changed a little. "My friend wants me to go to a yacht thing with her. Leaves at 3 AM. I will need to be very drunk to enjoy a boat."

"Fucking boat parties," Jamie agreed. "Sound like fun until someone starts puking over the side and you can't swim back."

"Yes, this. Ah! Hello!" A killer smile flashed over the guy's face at the exhausted bartender. "Six shots of vodka, please."

"You're not fucking around," Jamie acknowledged. "Where's your party?"

"Gone. This is for me and for you, so you can stop looking like pathetic lost dog."

"Cheers," Jamie said happily. An extra shot and then maybe getting the bartender back in his vicinity would be good.

There was a brief pause and then the guy shrugged and held out his hand, "Ilya."

"Jamie," he said. First names were fine. It wasn't even really his first name, technically. Not that he'd ever let anyone write down 'James' on anything. Not ever.

The shots arrived and to Jamie's surprise, Ilya divided them equally, sliding three shots down to Jamie. Jamie reached for the first one and they took it at the same time. If left to his own devices, Jamie preferred sweet drinks that hid the burn, but he knew how to look like he was having a good time with anything. Never show weakness. Never flinch.

"Where will you go next?" Ilya asked as he reached for the second shot.

"Depends on who I run into," Jamie said.

"You ran into me."

It was a simple statement. A nothing kind of thing. It spiked through Jamie harder than the second shot.

"Yeah, but you've got a fucking boat party."

"I do," Ilya acknowledged. He picked up the last shot. "Unless I find something better."

"Sounds shit, so probably anything would be better."

A third shot. That layered on top of however much of the three bottles for ten people had gotten into Jamie in the VIP lounge, the coke, and his endorphins. They were already pumping from dancing, but Ilya's gaze raking over him was giving him the good kind of shakes.

"Dancing," Ilya said, pushing off the bar.

The bartender was nearby. Jamie could get whatever he'd been meaning to get and lose Ilya in the crowd. There would be someone else interesting along eventually: a model, an influencer, a rich girl with bad ideas. Jamie had run through all of them since the breakup. None of them had filled the space Keeley had left behind.

Ilya was big. He moved through the crowd with ease, no pushing required. Following in his wake, Jamie joined the sway of bodies far faster than if he'd gone on his own. Attention aimed at Ilya as he started dancing. The hours were ticking by and women looking to end the night with company were starting to make their choices.

When Ilya showed attention to a sleek brunette, Jamie started moving in too. A little competition was just good fun. He caught her eye and winked. She laughed and wrapped an arm around his neck to undulate against him. Her pupils were blown and she smelled like sweaty candy. Over her shoulder, Ilya stared at him. The jealous type? A fight would be good right now. Jamie could throw a punch and let the violence sweep him under.

It didn't come. Instead, a smirk curled over Ilya's lips and he leaned in to talk right into the brunette's ear where she hung off Jamie. Close enough that Jamie could hear, "You leave me for this? So quick?"

"Sorry," she said, tipping her head back to rest against Ilya's chest. "You're hot too."

They danced with her caught between them and it was clear she thought it was her lucky night. Until a guy with greasy hair stepped up to her and put a hand around her wrist.

"You had your fun," he said. "We're going home now. Say goodnight."

"We are?" she said, then sighed. "Okaaaay. Byeeeee!"

"Byeee," Jamie said, laughing as she plastered herself to the guy and he took her weight like he was used to it. "What do you think? He into his girl fucking other guys?"

"If he was, he should not have taken her away," Ilya said. "Another?"

"Yeah," Jamie said, not even sure what he was agreeing to. Drink? Dance? Girl? Yes all around, thanks.

Maybe that was what Ilya meant too because there was another and another. They did two more shots, they danced, catching a parade of women between them. Time had become meaningless to Jamie as the night became a thread of percussion, but he was almost sure it had been more than a half hour.

When the DJ shifted to something a little slower, a little more sultry, Jamie leaned in. "I think you missed your boat, mate!"

"Very sad," Ilya said. "You make me lose track of time. So you need to make it up to me."

"Fuck off," Jamie laughed. "I don't know shit about this place. No secret parties up my sleeves."

"You do not have sleeves."

His shirt had become mostly theoretical at some point, tucked in his back pocket.

"No point hiding a body like this!"

Two fingers hit his chest. A prod. Like the beginning of a fight, except instead of a push, Ilya walked them up to Jamie's shoulder before they disappeared. It was barely anything. Two fingertips there and gone, but Jamie was buzzed all over. He'd seen Ilya's eyes drag over his crotch.

Jamie wanted.

He wanted all the time. An illegal hunger that he denied as ruthlessly as he did sugar through the long months of the season.

"What do you lift?" Ilya asked, a curl of mockery in his voice.

"A lot," Jamie said, his brain mostly vodka at this point and no longer responding to such prodding with anger like it should. Where had his anger gone? Had he left it behind the bar?

"Not as much as me. I can lift you."

"Nah," Jamie said, his skin still tingling from where Ilya had touched him. "Fuck off with that."

"You think I can't?"

A shift in Ilya's posture sent his hip colliding with Jamie's. Not hard. Enough. A warning. A question. This language Jamie knew even if it was from the other side mostly.

"I dunno, man, can you?" Jamie asked. He dipped his chin down, lowered his eyelids a little.

Before he'd broken into the big leagues, before Jamie Tartt had a chant, merch, and deals, he had been a muscular young guy with pretty pink lips and the kind of curiosity that was only encouraged by a few drinks. He never did anything that would get him in the tabloids, but he might've had some nights in nicer beds with the kind of blokes that had just as much to lose as he did if they said a word about it.

It had been a long time ago. Jamie hadn't thought of it much, except when Keeley had tried to shock him with a strap a few months in. When he'd said yes eagerly, she had been excited, but somehow it never quite happened.

The kind of guys Jamie had been with were deeply closeted married guys closer to his father's age than his own. There had never been one like Ilya, built and young and as tough as Jamie. None of them had been this bad an idea, basically. Jamie was gagging for a bad idea right now. The worse, the better.

"I will show you," Ilya decided. "Not here."

"Bathrooms?" Jamie suggested. Did this place have those kinds of bathrooms? Probably.

"They are already taken probably," Ilya gauged. "I have a room. The hotel is not very far."

That would mean a walk, visibility, but it was some bizarre time stretched between reality and dreams when no one was paying much attention. Jamie found himself nodding along. Makes perfect sense for me to follow you out of here, both of us already half-dressed and hair sweat-matted down like the worst already happened.

A faint prickle of warning came over Jamie as reached the cruelty of the outside world, quieter than the club, but still loud with people, cars and food smells. Before he could listen to the whisper in his ear that sounds too much like Keeley, Ilya took a left and they were heading down a smaller road, away from the noise. It enveloped them in shadow.

Walking nearly alone down a dark road with a stranger should not have soothed Jamie. He followed along with Ilya's steady stride. There was a discreet door, the sign above it declaring a word close enough to hotel that Jamie deemed it good. The front desk was empty with one of those bells that always made Jamie want to smack it at as loud as possible.

Ilya went for the steep stairs, taking them two at a time which meant Jamie had to do the same. Showy asshole wasn't going to have one up on him.

The keycard flashed in Ilya's hand before Jamie could sort out the hallway which seemed too long.

The room was dark, except for a bedside lamp burning amber over a king-sized bed. It was like what a porno set wanted to look like, but never quite could because of how well lit it had to be for cameras.

And Ilya was like what a porn star wanted to be. He was pulling off his shirt, the two of them regarding each other across the shadowed space, taking measure.

"Go ahead then," Jamie challenged, lifting his chin. "Show us what you've got."

The way Ilya came towards him made Jamie's well trained body want to leap out of the way. He could, for a fraction of a second, even see the play. There was something in the way Ilya moved that said 'athlete' beyond a guy who hit the gym a lot. By sheer drunken will, Jamie stayed put. Ilya got in close enough that Jamie could smell the tang of sweat mixing with some earthy cologne. Strong hands wrapped around Jamie's thighs and he left the ground with a surprised exhalation.

He was pressed to Ilya from waist to shoulder, one arm slinging around his shoulder for balance. They teetered there together for a single second before Jamie grinned down at him.

"Guess you won. What now?"

Ilya walked backward to the bed and unceremoniously tossed Jamie down onto it. He bounced against the mattress with a raucous laugh. Certain that he had Ilya's attention, Jamie ran his hand down his chest to the waistband of his trousers.

"What do you want?" The words were a rumble over Jamie's skin.

What did he want? Sex, obviously. It'd be nice to have his cock sucked, but he could get that a lot of places. When was the next time he'd have a man this safely nearly anonymous for?

"I want to get fucked," Jamie said. It came out a little plaintively to his disgust. Like he'd been hoping for something that he couldn't have. He hadn't. It was fun. He hadn't done it in awhile and wasn't like to do it again for a bit. That was all.

"Mm, I can do this for you because I am very generous," Ilya said.

"You're a bit of a prick," Jamie declared. "I like it."

Ilya blinked then rested his hands on Jamie's thighs, heat pouring into Jamie's already too-warm flesh. "Good."

In Jamie's experience, men got weirder about kissing than women with one-offs. He didn't see the problem. Kissing was hot, it made the sex better, who cared? Lucky him, Ilya apparently of the same philosophy and he kissed like he was trying to win an argument. It was no hardship to kiss back, letting Ilya tongue fuck him while Jamie relearned the joys of insanely hard muscle under his hands.

Somehow, they shimmied further up the bed, trousers and pants discarded and Ilya straddling Jamie's waist. It gave Jamie a good look at what Ilya had been packing and Jamie couldn't help, but admire it.

"You want me to fuck you or you want to stare at my dick?" Ilya taunted.

Jamie reached out and wrapped his hand around it which was a surefire way to make most annoying guys shut up.

"Don't fucking rush me," Jamie said and jerked Ilya off a little. He was big, bigger than Jamie which was annoying, but also kind of nice. If he was only going to get fucked once in a blue moon, it should be from a high quality dick. Luxury cock. Jamie snickered.

"What?" Ilya demanded. "What is funny?"

"Luxury dick," Jamie said. "Condoms?"

"I have," Ilya said, getting up and heading for his suitcase. "Lube too. Roll over."

There was the snap of a command in that and Jamie was rolling over before he'd given it much thought. Shit. Well. Whatever. He was alone on the bed just long enough to get a prickle of unease before Ilya was back. A big hand cupped Jamie's left arse cheek and gave it an experimental squeeze.

"Yeah," Jamie breathed out. "You can hit me."

Ilya stopped moving. "What?"

Maybe Jamie should consider shutting up forever. Certainly enough people had told him to and he had yet to listen despite all evidence pointing to it being a good idea.

"Not like a fight," Jamie muttered. "Just a fun slap on the arse."

The mattress shifted and before Jamie could explain himself any further, there was a sharp sound and then the registration of a sting of pain. He groaned and buried his face against his forearm.

"You like this," Ilya determined and smacked him again.

"Yeah, no shit," Jamie said.

"You turn a pretty pink." Another slap and another and Jamie lost grip on time and his mouth, which allowed whiny little moans to drop out of it with every blow.

When Ilya stopped, Jamie panted against the duvet, trying to figure out a way to goad him into doing it again when a shock of cold rattled through him. Liquid dripped down his crack and over his balls.

"What the fuck," he complained. "Fucking freezing."

"This bothers you?" Ilya asked bemused. "You let me spank you the color of a tomato. Shut up."

Jamie shut up. The pad of a finger rubbed over his lube-soaked hole, the rest of Ilya's hand brushing over the throbbingly sensitized slapped skin. The push in was slow, experimental like Ilya was testing him. Jamie spread his legs a little wider and arched into it. He didn't want slow. He wanted to be fucked within an inch of his life and he could only hope Ilya was up to it. Fuck, what if the guy got whiskey dick? That would suck.

Then Ilya found Jamie's prostate, sending a zing of warmth through Jamie's body. He relaxed even more with a throaty noise. To his body's pleasure, Ilya was the type of guy who knew when he'd nailed it and proceeded to finger fuck Jamie into jelly.

"You want me to fuck you now?" Ilya asked, still pistoning two fingers in and out of Jamie like he could do it all night.

"Yes, fuck. C'mon," Jamie slurred.

"Ask nice," Ilya chided, edge of meanness slicing through Jamie.

"Please fuck me," he said immediately. Desperate. Wanting. Fine. That's what this was anyway.

The fingers withdrew, behind Jamie's back there was the crinkle of packaging and the squelch of lube. Jamie tuned it out, riding the wave of blissed out relaxation. Booze and sex were the best combination. He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders, then scrubbed his cheek over his forearm as he settled into a deeper arch.

"Fuck," Ilya said behind him.

"I know," Jamie said with a grin. "I'm the perfect ride. C'mon."

There was something said in a language Jamie didn't understand, but right now understanding English was effort enough so he didn't ask. When the blunt head of Ilya's cock nudged at his hole, Jamie let out a long held breath. The push in wasn't easy, but Jamie loved a good stretch. He chewed on his own forearm a little, working through it. When Ilya's hips kissed Jamie's sore skin, Jamie made a depraved noise.

"Okay?" Ilya checked.

"Mint," Jamie mumbled. There was a moment of silence.

"This means okay?"

"Yeah, it means fucking great," Jamie said with a laugh. "Go on then."

Two or three tentative thrusts which were already good enough to rearrange Jamie's internal organs and relocate some of his ego into his dick, were quickly followed by the pounding of a lifetime. Jamie stopped stringing anything like a thought together and simply rode waves of pleasure. He met each of Ilya's demanding shoves with a hip thrust back, asking for more. Every time Ilya slammed forward it was against Jamie's reddened cheeks, doubling the sparking sensation over.

When Jamie finally reached down to wrap a hand around his cock, it became a serious feat of strength to keep himself from moving across the mattress to smack into the headboard with only one arm.

"Come for me," Ilya commanded.

It probably wouldn't work on a normal person, but Jamie had left normal behind for super stardom. He came when he was told and groaned like he was dying about it. Maybe he was dying. There was certainly a light show behind his eyelids and then a total limpness of body that most healthy people didn't display. Ilya thrust into him a handful more times, warning shocks of overstimulation rattling over Jamie's body, but he was too fucked out to care. Besides, it was kind of nice to feel the other guy come when Jamie was already pleasantly spent.

When Ilya pulled out and collapsed next to him, Jamie reached out and found the general vicinity of Ilya's thigh, giving it a solid smack. "Good game."

"What?" Ilya asked.

Jamie winked at him, stretching luxuriously, before he rolled over onto his back. The wet spot was under him. He yawned, considered the way the ceiling had gone a little wavy with distant interest, then fell asleep. Dimly, he was aware of someone saying his name and maybe touching him? Unclear.

He dreamed of running as he often did. Sometimes on the pitch, sometimes through the maze-like back corridors of a stadium. It was the pitch tonight. He was alone, only him and the ball, yet he was certain there was a crowd in the stands. Sometimes he was being chased or the pitch grew to impossible size leaving him exhausted and still running. There was no goal tonight. It had disappeared as if there had never been one. All Jamie had to do was run and keep the ball with him, easy when there was no competition.

The crowd didn't cheer.

He woke with a headache and a full bladder, the sun stabbing directly into his eyes. The bed wasn't familiar, but Jamie traveled too much to let that throw him off. A few deep breaths and then he took stock. He was on top of the covers, but the duvet had been folded over him like a taco shell. Beside him on the bed was a strong wide back dotted with moles. Jamie stumbled for the name and it came to him attached with memory. Ilya. Picking him up off the floor, fucking him like a sex demon, and apparently letting him crash here instead of rolling him out the door.

Ilya only had the sheet for cover and even that had pooled around his waist. He didn't seem cold though. Had he minded Jamie stealing the only real blanket? Probably not, if the way he'd dumped it on top of Jamie said anything. There was no way Jamie had done it himself. Once he was out with booze in him, he would stay wherever he landed.

Whatever. That was far too much to consider right now. He had to piss. Gingerly, he rolled out of bed. Standing, he found himself mostly intact. As he walked a weak twinge reminded him of how he'd ended his evening. With a wrinkled nose, he swept his hand over his stomach and found some dried come.

The bathroom had a claw foot bathtub which Jamie stared at baffled as he pissed. Why did a bathtub need feet? Jamie didn't want to scrub himself in something that could walk away with him. There was a stack of towels and things under the sink. A quick wiped down with a washcloth left Jamie feeling a lot better.

Ilya had a black bag on the sink which Jamie perused and decided that if a guy had almost come down his throat, Jamie was definitely allowed to use a little of his toothpaste to make his mouth stop tasting like active death. There were no obvious pill bottles, so Jamie's headache would remain unresolved until he could get out of here.

Stepping back into the room, he scanned the place to locate his clothes. That was when Ilya shifted, turning over on his back, his eyes slitting open in distaste as the sun found him too.

It had happened from time to time that Jamie got wasted and picked up someone who was far uglier in the light of day. Such was life. Ugly people still fucked and as long as they didn't try to hang around, what did Jamie care?

Far more rarely, a person was even better looking in the morning. Even more rarely they were hot and up for round two. And in an all time first, Ilya was twofold better look and hard as a rock. Jamie's head throbbed. If he couldn't locate some paracetamol then an orgasm might do the trick.

Jamie put on a knee on the bed. Ilye eyed him warily.

"I'm well hungover. Gonna suck your cock and then you give us a hand. We'll both feel better and I can find my way out of here after."

The words were weighed for a surprisingly long time. Then Ilya smirked and waved a hand as if to say 'go ahead'. Good enough for Jamie. He didn't bother with foreplay or anything fancy. If anything, he fell mouth first on Ilya's dick. It was a very good dick to suck on, big enough that you couldn't forget what you were about. With a bit of shifting, Jamie propped himself up on one elbow and used his other hand palm Ilya's balls. When he got an approving grunt out of that, Jamie rolled them in his palm.

Eating someone out was Jamie's specialty. He'd been very good at even before he'd met Keeley and she'd helped him finesse it to an art. Sucking dick was further out of his range, but Jamie thought he did a bang up job when left to it. Ilya seemed to agree, one hand coming down to cup the back of Jamie's head. He'd tensed for a second, but there wasn't any pressure to it, only a sort of cradling hold. That was fine then.

Ilya even gave his hair a slight tug when he got close, so Jamie could back off, get his hand around it and give Ilya a few good strokes with his hand to finish him off. It was all very civilized. Jamie sat back on his heels.

"You want something?" Ilya asked. Oh, so he was that kind of bastard. Figured.

Jamie gave him a sly smile and ran his hands down his chest, then over his thighs. "I figure you might want something."

There was a coldness to Ilya that Jamie liked. It wasn't cruelty. Jamie had a good radar for that even if he still ran towards it with a bared teeth and open arms. Coldness was good. Coldness was distance and control. Warm people could hurt you. They could get in under your skin with their smart words and hugs, then take away that warmth and leave you freezing. Cold people were reliably cold. They told you to keep your distance, even if you didn't listen.

"I already came," Ilya pointed out, but his eyes did track Jamie's hands.

"Yeah," Jamie said like it hardly mattered to him. "Suppose I can have a wank in your shower instead if you're too fucking tired to do your bit."

Fast as a snake, Ilya hand his arm around Jamie's waist. Apparently he was trying to take Jamie down to the mattress, but Jamie was pretty well planted and not inclined to move. Ilya paused, reassessing then said low and dark, "Lay down."

That was a different matter. Jamie scrambled, getting duvet bunched up under him by accident. Shoving it aside, he went flat and still, letting Ilya loom over him like a hungry wild cat. A hand slid up from Jamie's him to his pec giving in a squeeze that felt bizarre and fantastic at the same time.

Ilya sucked cock like he knew what he was doing and also wanted to rip Jamie's spine out through it. It felt great and quickly enough Jamie croaked, "Close." Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought Ilya pulled off a little reluctantly. Jamie still came hard and it did ease his headache.

They both lay there, catching their breath for a moment then Jamie groaned and pushed himself back up.

"Can I use your shower?"

"Yes," Ilya said.

"Great. You want to get something to eat after?"

Suspicion narrowed at him, Ilya's eyes going hard. "Why?"

"Oh fuck off with that," Jamie scoffed. "You're not marriage material, mate. I just don't like eating alone."

Ilya said nothing, just stared at him. Wanker. Jamie shrugged and headed back into the bathroom. He used up the hotel tiny bottles without concern. If Ilya was going to be a prick then he could use whatever he thought to bring or beg more off housekeeping. Refreshed, Jamie paused at the mirror to attempt something with his hair. Ilya didn't have any obvious gel, but when Jamie was searching for it, he did find a ring box in the little bag. Fuck. Had Jamie screwed a guy who was about to get engaged? Gross.

He flipped open the box, but instead of a woman's ring, he found a gaudy enormous one with the words 'Stanley Cup Champion' and 'Raiders' on it. Jamie didn't bother following a lot of other sports, but he liked championship titles. They tended to stick in his head. Ilya was built like a pro-athlete.

Fucking hell, what were the odds? Jamie could pretend he hadn't seen it. He probably shouldn't have been rooting around in the man's shit anyway. If Jamie did things the way they should be done though, he wouldn't be as great as he was, so fuck it. He walked back into the room, abandoning his towel for better effect with the ring box in one hand.

Only to find Ilya standing over Jamie's pile of clothes with his phone in his hand. The lockscreen was lit up. A few months ago that wouldn't have mattered. Jamie's lockscreen used to be one of Keeley's ad spreads. After the exorcism and breakup though, Jamie had felt the need to change it. It was him and his mum standing on the pitch with him in his full Man U kit for the first time. She was smiling up at him while he smirked at the camera. Every time Jamie looked at it, it calmed him a little.

Right now, it did not make him calm. Maybe Ilya wouldn't know what he was looking at, but Jamie doubted that. Full kit, not a fan's jersey, and the spread of Old Trafford behind him. Even if you didn't know football, it wasn't hard to figure out. The box in Jamie's hands no longer felt funny, but necessary.

"You got a call," Ilya said blankly.

"Did I?" Jamie asked, shifting his weight a little.

They stared at each other and then Ilya started to laugh humorlessly, "What were the chances of this?"

"Trade you?" Jamie asked. Ilya nodded.

Jamie tossed over the box and Ilya caught it, throwing Jamie the phone.

"Your girlfriend?" Ilya asked, not sounding convinced even as he asked.

"My mum," Jamie mumbled. "Why the fuck do you have that in with your shaving cream?"

"The room did not have a safe. It was supposed to," Ilya said. "I did not think anyone would be poking around."

It was said without much heat, so Jamie figured he couldn't be too angry. Still, Jamie wished Ilya would back off from his clothes now. He should get dressed and go.

"Could be worse," Jamie said. "Least neither of us will say shit, right?"

"Right," Ilya said. He did take a step back, then winced as the sun sliced into his eyes. "I will shower. If you still want to eat breakfast, stay."

Jamie pulled on his clothes. Everything smelled like stale cigarette smoke and a splash of vodka, but there were worse colognes. His phone, wallet, and hotel key card were all still accounted for which was better than he could say about some nights out. Leaving was likely the better idea and probably what Ilya was hoping for.

Drifting to the window, Jamie found the narrow street they must have traversed last night. It was as unfamiliar to him as the rest of the city. He should've bought a guidebook. Why did he never do that? He'd been so excited to do it the first time he'd traveled with the team, but somehow it had never happened.

The call on his phone proved to be from his agent asking him to call him back. The last dozen or so calls in his phone history were from his agent and they went back months. Only dotted with a few calls from Mummy and one from Simon.

Texts weren't much better. Chatter with Keeley, with the Richmond guys, all of it gone dark weeks before he left. Him. The only reason Richmond had stood a chance in hell and somehow he'd wound up standing on the outside looking in like an orphan in a Christmas song. He could feel the boots in his hands, standing over the barrel and saying things he hadn't said to another living soul in years.

For what?

"You should not think so hard," Ilya's voice crept up Jamie's spine and wrapped softly around his neck. "It looks like it hurts you."

Jamie flipped him off without looking at him. "You want to eat something or not?"

There was a tiny place down the street, a few rickety tables in the late morning sun with chairs that threatened to collapse between both of them. Their faces were a battle of designer sunglasses and regrets. While Jamie was in yesterday's clothes as befit any epic hangover, Ilya had donned Adidas shorts and the kind of muscle tank top that screamed 'touch me, but I bite'. Jamie wondered if he did bite. Right now, he'd probably let Ilya clamp his jaws around his neck and shake.

Thank fuck for mirrored sunglasses. Jamie drank coffee and ate two omelettes to soak up last night's destruction of his internal organs. A few times he had to shift in his chair to get comfortable and each time, Ilya's dirty smirk got wider as he ate a pile of pastries.

"Are you any good?" Jamie asked idly, more to fill the silence than because he gave a damn.

"At what?" In the bright light of day, hungover as fuck, Ilya was still the most handsome guy Jamie had ever pulled. Too bad no one would ever know.

"Hockey," Jamie said.

"Am I-" Ilya cut himself off, his face so offended that Jamie started laughing. "I'm the best!"

"The best!" Jamie said and doubled over trying to catch his breath.

"What? You think I am terrible?" Ilya asked. "Have you ever watched a game?"

"Nah, don't really do winter sports," Jamie wheezed. "You look like I slapped you. Fuck. Wow. What a face. The best, huh?"

"You do not get a ring like that when you suck," Ilya said. "You are what? Twenty-seventh worst footballer?"

"Me?" Jamie's voice rose and cracked. Okay, less funny from this side. "I'm fucking incredible, thanks much."

Ilya snorted and Jamie narrowed his eyes at him. "You don't think I am?"

"I think you are not playing very long yet."

"I've been playing since I was five, prick."

"Pro?"

Jamie shrugged. "Two seasons. Only twenty-three though. Give me a few years."

"Three seasons," Ilya said like he'd won something. As if it was comparable. "And I am only twenty-two. You are an old man."

"Fuck off!" Jamie, out of sheer instinct, balled up a paper napkin and threw it at Ilya's shitty grin. It got batted away, but Ilya's laugh got less mean. "You're an arse."

"It is strange," Ilya said when they'd both calmed a little and returned to their food. "I think if we did other things for work, we would just be starting now."

"Nah, this is the only thing I was good at and I'm fucking amazing at it."

"Yes, the same for me. But I think sometimes of other things anyway. Maybe you do not because your thinking face hurts."

Sitting in the bright sunshine with the fragile feeling of a headache recently fled, sore from dancing and great sex, was like a dream. This was what Jamie thought having teammates would be like (minus the fucking, except in his nighttime considerations under the glowering supervision of a beloved poster). It would be endless fun, a party, in-jokes and celebrations.

It had been. Sort of. For a bit.

He grasped at it now and smiled back at Ilya. They both put down cash, too much, when the meal was done.

"You ever in England?" Jamie asked him.

"Never. Do you ever come to America?"

"Not yet," Jamie said. "But one day I'll be fucking everywhere and back, at least twice. So how about you give me your number."

Ilya made a considering noise, then nodded once. "Fine. Jamie. This is also a girl's name sometimes, I think?"

"Fuck off," Jamie spat. "I'm-"

"So if someone goes 'Oh Ilya, you have text from Jamie' they will think you could be a girl, yes or no?"

"Yes," Jamie said sullenly. "I guess that's a good idea. No one will know an 'Ilya' where I'm from. Probably think it's a girl's name too."

He stared blatantly at Ilya's screen as he typed, catching the odd keyboard. "Are you writing in code?"

Ilya stopped typing and gave him a look Jamie. "It is a good thing you are pretty."

"Thanks," Jamie preened.

"It is Russian."

"Oh. Yeah," Jamie said. Russian had different letters? Since when?

Numbers entered, food gone, bill paid, they regarded each other with complete understanding.

"Bye," Jamie said.

Ilya inclined his head, they turned their backs to each other and walked off in opposite directions.

 

August 2014

Jamie: Reality tv is a bad idea don't do it

Ilya: Who is this?

Jamie: fuck sorry delete should've known he gave me a wrong number ignore me

Ilya: It's me, I was joking. Are you drunk?

Jamie: I wish

Ilya: Did you go on one of those shows?

Jamie: Yes

Ilya: Why?

Jamie: I thought it would fix things

Ilya: Why?

Jamie: Dunno. Didn't work

Ilya: Which show?

Jamie: Fuck off, I'm not telling you. No one will have me now. I've got to go beg like a fucking dog to get back on the team that hates me.

Ilya: Why do they hate you?

Jamie: Never googled me?

Ilya: No.

Jamie: I googled you. Watched your highlight clips. Don't know the game, but I know goals and yours are dead good. Helmet is murder on your hair though.

Ilya: I try to tell them I do not need it, but they say it keeps my brains in my head.

Jamie: A few concussions are good for you.

Ilya: Who told you this?

Jamie: Dunno. Just one of those things.

Ilya: Who do you have to talk to to get back on the team that hates you?

Jamie: Head coach to start. He seems nice, but he's tricky.

Ilya: Be honest. Nice people like honest. Say you were dumb and now you are sorry.

Jamie: Hate being sorry.

Ilya: Then don't fuck up so much.

Jamie: Fuck off.

 

A Week Later

Jamie: Thanks for answering. Helped. Back on the team. They hate me even though I said sorry.

Ilya: I watch a few videos. Maybe you have to say sorry a lot more. Jaundiced worm is very funny though. I will steal this.

Jamie: Do you insult your friends?

Ilya: Yes, all the time.

Jamie: Do you apologize?

Ilya: They know it is a game. You were not playing, I think.

Jamie: I thought I was. Fuck. Don't suppose you want to fly to London to fuck?

Ilya: You want to come to Boston?

Jamie: Sounds good right now. Being here sucks.

Ilya: Schedule says you have a game tomorrow.

Jamie: And training this afternoon. Too bad. America has to live without me another day.

 

December 2014

Ilya: Have you ever fucked another player?

Jamie: Fucking hell, hello to you too

Ilya: Never mind.

Jamie: I haven't. Never really thought anyone was like that, but me.

Ilya: Odds say yes.

Jamie: Not risking my whole career on odds, am I? Why? What happened?

Ilya: If I say, I need you to delete the conversation after.

Jamie: I can do that.

Ilya: You must promise. This could be very bad for me.

Jamie: I promise. Doesn't look great for me to have these on my phone either anyway.

Ilya: It does not.

Jamie: You hooked up with a teammate?

Ilya: Not on my team. Another player though.

Jamie: Okay, but it's like you and me. He'd be just as bad off as you if it came out. So you're safe.

Ilya: He is a good person. I am not.

Jamie: What's that mean? Are you a murderer or something?

Ilya: I fuck around, I drink, I'm mean. He is not any of these. He is very boring. I think I need to stop before I do something very bad to him.

Jamie: You're being really weird. What bad thing would you do? Hurt him?

Ilya: No! In the game sometimes, but that is the game.

Jamie: Then I don't get it.

Ilya: If someone found out. It would be very bad for him. Worse for me. We go to the Olympics soon.

Jamie: Congrats on that btw. Steal condoms they're the best souvenirs some guys who were on the team for 2012 told me about them

Ilya: I will mail you some if you like them so much

Jamie: Mint! Does he not know it's dangerous for him?

Ilya: He knows. He is very scared.

Jamie: So? He's scared. He says yes anyway. What's the problem?

Ilya: You don't understand.

Jamie: I guess I don't. At least he likes you back.

Ilya: He does not like me.

Jamie: He hooks up with someone he doesn't like?

Ilya: He likes the sex.

Jamie: Hate sex sounds good, but it sucks after the third or fourth time. Do you hate him too?

Ilya: I have to go.

Jamie: Ok! Bye!

 

January 2015

Jamie: Happy new year from the future!

Ilya: This is not how time zones work. Happy New Year

Jamie: Did you make a resolution?

Ilya: Yes. Winning.

Jamie: Same! We're resolution twins.

Ilya: …yes okay.

 

February 2015

Jamie: I don't even know where Latvia is.

Ilya: This does not surprise me.

Jamie: Fuck off. Sorry about the loss is what I mean. You were good.

Ilya: You don't know hockey.

Jamie: I watch it a lot now, thanks much. Think I'm getting the hang of the rules.

Ilya: Why?

Jamie: Got to fill the nights somehow.

Ilya: You could go out. Find a pretty girl.

Jamie: With who? The guys are a little okay with me now, but they're not hitting the clubs with me. Anyway, Doc tells me I'm using sex to fill a void or something and maybe it's not good for me.

Ilya: What kind of doctor is this?

Jamie: Therapy kind. She's nice.

Ilya: Why do you need this? Something wrong in your head?

Jamie: Yes.

Ilya: I'm sorry.

Jamie: It's okay. Doc is really nice. She has to listen to me talk about myself so that's pretty great.

Ilya: Are you sad?

Jamie: Sometimes. More like I don't always feel like I know how to be if I'm not being a prick. Prick is easy. Doc says I have trust issues. Like I don't like people to know me.

Ilya: She thinks this is bad.

Jamie: Seems like it. She doesn't say this is bad or good or anything that much. I wish she would. I don't like when things aren't really clear.

Ilya: Why?

Jamie: It's like there's rules no one told me about. I told Doc that when I'm a prick, everything makes sense. People don't like pricks, but if they're good at what they do, then they can just keep doing whatever. If I have to be nice and think, then I say the wrong stuff and when people don't like me like that it hurts worse. Because then the guy they hate is me. You know?

Ilya: I think I understand. I like you.

Jamie: Thanks. I like you too. Did you break it off with that other player guy?

Ilya: No. Yes. I'm not sure. I was not very nice last time we talked.

Jamie: Do you text him?

Ilya: Sometimes.

Jamie: Then text him. Just say hi or something.

Ilya: Maybe.

 

Two Days Later

 

Ilya: He messaged me back. I think he doesn't hate me.

Jamie: That's good.

Ilya: I will tell him when I see him in June that we must stop all this.

Jamie: Why now?

Ilya: Why ever? It must happen. Now would be better before something happens.

Jamie: Dunno, mate. I think something already happened.

Ilya: Nothing happens. Just sex. It's simple.

Jamie: Okay.

 

March 2015

Jamie: Can you be haunted by alive people?

Ilya: It is 2 am here, what the fuck is this question?

Jamie: Sorry. This player that I used to know, who fucking hates me, showed back up this week and now he's our coach. I know he hates me and I'm going to to lose the whole team again when they remember that they should hate me too.

Ilya: Are you having a panic attack?

Jamie: No. I don't panic.

Ilya: Maybe you are breathing hard and having bad thoughts?

Jamie: Maybe.

Ilya: Breathe. You are okay. I see your team on the field.

Jamie: Pitch.

Ilya: Fine. Pitch. They trust you more now. He will not be able to change their minds.

Jamie: You don't know him. He's a god of football. One of the best to ever do it. I had a poster of him on my wall as a kid/ When I met him it was like my face made him mad.

Ilya: I can imagine this.

Jamie: I wanted him to like me, but then I was me at him. And I'm the reason he can't play anymore. I mean the stupid wanker went after me when he should have stayed on the bench, but still. He went down because of me and he can't play and he's going to kill me about it.

Ilya: Coaches are not allowed to kill players. I think this is true in all sports.

Jamie: Funny.

Ilya: You will be okay. You made the jaundiced worm like you again.

Jamie: Colin is nicer than Roy.

Jamie: Shit. Delete that.

Ilya: Yes, I will. But I look him up first. Why are his eyebrows like a muppet?

Jamie: Because he's Oscar the Grouch's meaner cousin.

Ilya: This is not your fault. I watch the play. He did this to himself. He should be mad only at himself.

Jamie: I made him hate me enough to do it.

Ilya: So you will make him like you. It will be okay.

Jamie: I should let you go back to sleep. Thank you.

Ilya: Yes, good night.

 

April 2015

Ilya: I am watching a very stupid movie, but I also like it. Does this happen to you?

Jamie: All the time. Which one?

Ilya: I miss the name. Dog is playing basketball.

Jamie: Airbud! Loved that as a kid.

Ilya: You are like this dog.

Jamie: Good at sports?

Ilya: Yes. Also you have the same color hair and smile with your tongue hanging out.

Jamie: You're right! I like that. I think you'd be an alsatian. Looks all scary, but fun to pet.

Ilya: What the fuck is an alsatian?

Jamie: Black and brown dog? Kind of serious?

Ilya: Americans call this a german shepherd

Jamie: They're German? That's kind of close to Russian.

Ilya: It very much is not.

Jamie: Okay. I'm going to find a Russian dog.

Jamie: Borzois are scary looking who makes a dog with a nose that long?

Ilya: They are very good. Sweet.

Jamie: Huskys are Russian. That's you. Even got the eyes.

Ilya: I don't think I like this conversation.

Jamie: They made another AirBud movie for football. It was really bad, but cute. No hockey one though.

Ilya: A crime.

 

May 2015

Jamie: fuck

Ilya: Bad loss, but you played well.

Jamie: You saw that?

Ilya: Yes. The game was on in the bar. I had to explain to my teammate why I was swearing so much. Now I am a known Richmond fan.

Jamie: Cheers

Ilya: You do not usually message me because you lost a game.

Jamie: I punched my father

Ilya: When? Why?

Jamie: In the locker room after. He kept pushing and pushing and everyone could see it. He shoved me and I lost it.

Ilya: Your head coach saw?

Jamie: He didn't do anything. No one said anything. Except for the other coach. You know the one. He hugged me.

Ilya: He did?

Jamie: I think I cried. Please don't laugh.

Ilya: I am not laughing.

Jamie: I cried in front of the whole team. They watched me punch my dad. I don't know what's going to happen. I can't think. I'm so tired.

Ilya: Does your father do this often? He tries to hurt you?

Jamie: He wants me to be the best. He's mad I don't play for his team anymore.

Ilya: They always want too much.

 

Two hours later

Ilya: I hope you are sleeping.

Ilya: I think maybe Roy hugged you because he understands.

Ilya: I wish I could hug you right now.

Jamie: You too?

Ilya: Fathers are hard.

Jamie: I think my dad hates me. I think hate him too. Doc says I don't have to talk to him, but I don't know how to do that.

Ilya: If you find a way, tell me.

 

June 2015

Jamie: Not your fault. You're defense wasn't there.

Ilya: Too many injuries. Next year.

Jamie: Next year.

 

A Week Later

Ilya: That was very classy. Giving the ball to him.

Jamie: Dani deserved it! My man! We're out of relegation!

Ilya: It was a very good game. Your muppet coach headbutted you.

Jamie: Nutted

Ilya: You came because he headbutted you?!

Jamie: No, we call it nutted. He nutted me. Might come if he hit me in the right place tho

Jamie: Fuck. Shit. Delete. Fucking voice controls.

Ilya: He is not awful looking.

Jamie: I can't even think around him. It's fucking awful. He's my coach.

Ilya: Do not kiss him.

Jamie: He would kill me dead. He already wants to kill me because his girlfriend used to date me. I think he can tell I still care about her.

Ilya: You are what they mean by bisexual diaster.

Jamie: What does that make you?

Ilya: Hot.

Jamie: No argument there. Got any free time this summer?

 

August 2015

The hotel room was terrible. Airport hotel rooms always were, but Jamie didn't care. He was spread over the crumpled sheets. Ilya was sitting on the edge of the bed, damp from the shower with only a towel around his waist. A layover between Moscow and Boston that didn't make any sense, but Jamie would grab with both hands.

"You are okay?" Ilya asked tentatively.

"Yeah, guess so," Jamie said. "Better right now."

"You are still seeing Doc?"

"Oh, yeah. Sometimes," Jamie sighed. "Her job ended with Richmond and she's helping me find someone else. It's weird. I don't really want to start over."

"But you will," Ilya said and it wasn't a question. Jamie liked Ilya's commands. They settled him.

"Yeah, I will," he said. "She thinks I'm like traumatized or something. I told her I didn't go to war or anything. She said lots of things can mess you up though."

Ilya nodded. He was still distant and cold, but Jamie didn't mind that. It was calming. He wouldn't know what to do with Ilya hugging him anymore than Roy. He still trying to work through all that.

"You're okay?" Jamie checked.

Ilya shrugged. "Yes."

"It's okay if I keep texting you? I know I'm…" Jamie trailed off.

"You are what?" Ilya studied Jamie, still entirely naked and not about to get self-conscious about it. He spread his legs a little and waggled his eyebrows. "Slutty?"

Jamie laughed. "Yeah, mate. Definitely that."

Even if Jamie hadn't slept with anyone in awhile. He went out for drinks with the team then went home more often than not. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. Even after his bungled confession to Keeley, she'd stayed friendly with him because she was the best. She and Mummy were the only women in his life these days.

"And a dog."

"Woof," Jamie laughed harder and fell fully back against the mattress again. "When is your flight?"

"Four hours."

"Room service?"

They ate on the bed, consuming the kind of food that belonged only to the off season. Jamie tried not to lick his fingers, but grease tasted amazing. It didn't seem to bother Ilya, who only watched him with detached amusement.

"Did you break it off with your guy?" Jamie asked idly.

"Not exactly," Ilya ventured. "He keeps texting."

"So no?"

"There is nothing to break, maybe. We see each other a few times a year, we fuck. Maybe I was thinking too much."

"Maybe," Jamie said. What did he know about it? Even if Ilya looked a little sad. "Sounds different than what we do though."

"We are only twice and talking. Friends. It is different."

Jamie tried not to smile to wide about that. He had thought they were friends, but having the confirmation felt good. Making friends on the team was great, settling in a way that was hard to describe, but there was still history there. Ilya had never hated Jamie. It was a little more pure that way.

"You're not friends with him?"

"No," Ilya said like it was final.

"Okay. You going to finish your chips?"

When it was time for Ilya to leave, Jamie still hadn't bothered getting dressed. He had nowhere to be until tomorrow and it was nice to lounge around and be admired a little. Ilya pulled on his coat and gathered up his carryon, heading for the door.

"No goodbye kiss?" Jamie teased. "That's just rude after I put out."

Ilya froze up. He looked to Jamie, eyes wide and wild. "What?"

"I'm only taking the piss," Jamie said with a chuckle. That didn't smooth out the expression on Ilya's face. He looked mildly horrified. "Fuck, what'd I say? I don't care, truly."

"Not you. I remembered something," Ilya said quickly. Then with a groan he knocked his head against the doorframe.

"Something about kissing?"

"Yes," Ilya said. "Fuck. Okay. Goodbye. Text if you want."

"Cheers! I will."

As the door closed behind Ilya, Jamie saw him take out his phone and start texting. What a weird guy. Jamie ate cold chips and let the BBC commentators voices wash unheard around him.

 

September 2015

Ilya: Who is Zava?

Jamie: FUCKING THANK YOU

Ilya: what?

 

October 2015

Jamie: Why is your goalie so shit this season?

Ilya: He is very bad at hockey.

Jamie: I can see that.

Ilya: They traded for him. I lose my best lineman and they give me this goalie.

Jamie: Bad year for trades all around.

Ilya: You're winning.

Jamie: At what cost?!

 

December 2015

Jamie: My coach offered to train me. 4 am every morning. He thinks I can be as good as Zava if I do that.

Ilya: Extra practice is good. 4 am is not.

Jamie: He bought little head torches for us. I didn't think he gave a shit about me and now he wants to train with me every morning. I'd get at up at 2 am.

Ilya: You are obsessed with this man.

Jamie: Too right. Can't stop though. Also I want to be better than Zava more than I want to sleep.

Ilya: This I understand. Tell me what you do, maybe it will be useful for me too. Cross training.

 

Two Weeks Later

Jamie: I am dying. I'm so much better and I'm also dying.

Ilya: Because it is too hard?

Jamie: Because he keeps wearing tinier running shorts than me and mine are very fucking small. How does an old fuck like him still have such a good body? It's not fair.

Ilya: You are in trouble.

Jamie: So much trouble. You?

Ilya: My trouble at least comes hands-free on my cock.

Jamie: Mine punishes me and doesn't realize I like it, so who is the real loser here?

Ilya: You, I think.

Jamie: Fuck.

 

January 2016

Jamie: Happy New Year from the future!

Ilya: Still not how it works. Happy new year!

Jamie: Same resolution as last year?

Ilya: Yes. You?

Jamie: Twins for life!

 

February 2016

Jamie: Me and coach's ex is dating a really hot rich lady. Is it weird to wank to them?

Ilya: No. Weirder not to.

Jamie: Thank you! That's what I thought. When I asked coach he got all stiff and mean about it.

Ilya: Strange.

Jamie: Right?!

 

March 2016

Jamie: That was a sick goal. Shane Hollander is pretty good.

Ilya: You have watched two seasons of hockey and you are just figuring that out?

Jamie: Don't see him much. I only watch Boston games.

Ilya: Why?

Jamie: I don't have bags of time. I watch yours, check a few other scores, I get the picture. I want to know how you're doing.

Ilya: Thank you.

Jamie: Yeah, of course.

Ilya: I do this too with the Premiere matches. You are doing very well with all your training. If Zava would give some space on the field, you could do something impressive.

Jamie: I know! Fucking showboating prick.

 

April 2016

Ilya: No more Zava. You must be happy.

Two Hours Later

Ilya: No?

Ilya: Did your phone die and you forgot where you put your one million chargers again?

Three Hours Later

Jamie: Sorry. Did an overnight tour of Amsterdam with Roy and it was maybe the best night of my life even though he was pissed with me for the first bit.

Ilya: You had sex?

Jamie: No. No kissing even. It was just really nice to spend all night with him. We rode bikes to a windmill and he listened to me and asked questions and things. It was almost like a date.

Ilya: You do not have to settle for almost. Someone would date you. Maybe even someone with normal eyebrows.

Jamie: Don't want someone. I want him.

Ilya: How long will you wait for that?

Jamie: How long are you going to keep fucking your guy and saying you don't care?

 

Fifteen minutes later

Jamie: I'm sorry.

 

One hour later

Jamie: Not that sorry tho. If you're not going to talk to me like a baby than do that, but that means I get to keep saying what I want until you tell me to stop.

Jamie: Maybe I'm pathetic waiting around for someone who won't notice me. I feel pretty pathetic sometimes. I'm tired a lot. I forget how to be the person I used to be. I miss being him. Or I think I miss some things about it.

Jamie: But being honest with myself feels okay. Like even if no one, but you and me and my doc knows that's still better than it only being me deep down.

Jamie: Living like this is fucking torture sometimes. It would be worse without you. Without Keeley. Without the guys even though they don't know anything. If you like this guy, I think maybe telling me would help. Or someone. I don't know.

Jamie: Please don't hate me.

 

May 2016

Ilya: I do not hate you.

Jamie: okay

Ilya: You left a novel on my phone.

Jamie: I had a lot to say

Ilya: You and your coach? You are okay after your date?

Jamie: You care now?

Ilya: I care.

Jamie: I can't do the silent treatment thing anymore. It makes me really worried about you. Please don't do that.

Ilya: I will try.

Jamie: It wasn't a date. Everything is the same. I think he wants to get back with our ex or something. He says he broke up with her. I don't know. As long as we keep training together, at least I get that time in.

Ilya: And after the season?

Jamie: We'll see. Done talking about me. Let me know when you want to talk about your shit.

Ilya: Might be never.

Jamie: Guess we'll just talk about dogs then. Look at this bulldog I saw in Leeds. [image of a bulldog wearing a cabled sweater]

Ilya: I love him! What is his name?

Jamie: Brutus!

 

June 2016

Jamie: Two in a row. Hollander is kind of a Zava.

Ilya: Shut up.

 

One Week Later

Ilya: Second in the league! Congratulations!

Jamie: I can't fucking believe it! And did you see Colin kiss his man?

Ilya: I did. Very very brave. Did you know?

Jamie: He told us a few months ago. Wasn't mine to say tho.

Ilya: I understand. This is very good for you.

Jamie: It's a little different. I'm me. He's him. Not as famous.

Ilya: Very modest.

Jamie: Fuck off. You know I'm right. If your goalie kissed his boyfriend would you think it was safe for you to do it?

Ilya: No. You are right.

Jamie: I know I am. Doesn't matter anyway. I don't have anyone to kiss. I thought coach and me finally were friends at least. Guess we're not even that.

Ilya: What happened?

Jamie: We fought over our ex. Don't even know why. I wasn't trying anything. He just decided I was since she broke up with her girlfriend and she's coming with me for a work thing. I thought he was taking me out for a drink because he was proud of me for the win. He even said he was. Thought it was going to be a grand night. Instead, we got into a fucking fight over her.

Ilya: He punched you?

Jamie: I nutted him first. Gave myself a nosebleed and all.

Ilya: He is your coach. He can't touch you.

Jamie: Never stops anyone, does it?

Ilya: Fuck. Are you okay?

Jamie: We were drinking, it was stupid. It's fine. Keeley thinks we're both idiots now. Suppose I've lost both of them.

Ilya: I think you have gotten good at apologizing. So apologize to her. Him, not so much.

Jamie: Maybe. I don't think she wants to talk to me right now. Every time I think I'm moving forward, it's like I shove myself back.

Ilya: You do sometimes, but this time was not all you. Not even a little with Roy. He is supposed to watch out for you. Train you. Not bully you about a woman. Stupid.

Jamie: At least I don't have to see him for a few weeks.

 

July 2016

Jamie: Guess who my new head coach is?

Ilya: No.

Jamie: Yes. Fuck.

Ilya: I think my father is very sick.

Jamie: Shit. Sorry, mate.

Ilya: He is nicer to me when he is sick in the head.

Jamie: Mine is in rehab. He's nicer when he's trying to be better, but I don't trust it.

Ilya: Fuck. We have a terrible club.

Jamie: Can we give a good name? I'm thinking Air Buds for Life

Ilya: I hate it. It's perfect.

 

August 2016

Jamie: Would you rather wear the same color every day for a year or have the same haircut forever?

Ilya: I already wear a lot of black. First one.

Jamie: Black isn't a color tho

Ilya: What are you talking about?

Jamie: It isn't! It's a shade or something.

Ilya: This is wrong.

Jamie: Search it!

Ilya: Fuck. Still one color. I will wear something dark, no one will know.

Jamie: You don't change your hair that much.

Ilya: For life is a very long time. What about you?

Jamie: It's hard because I love to change my hair, but I don't feel me unless I'm wearing different colors. I guess you're right though. Forever is forever. Color it is. I'd go with red.

Ilya: Yes, visible from space, of course.

Jamie: I was thinking that it has a lot of shades that look nice on me. And I could still wear pink.

Ilya: How has no one ever clocked you?

Jamie: They have. I just smile and say I'm flattered. Works every time.

 

September 2016

Ilya: That goal was filthy.

Jamie: Thank you, thank you.

Ilya: What does head coach say?

Jamie: Not much. Feels like I'm a regular player to him. Not avoiding me, not talking to me either. Doc says I can only control my own actions, so if he wants to be distant or whatever than let him be.

Ilya: This is very smart. You are not doing this.

Jamie: Nope, I keep trying to get him alone. He ducked into the broom closet yesterday to avoid me and smacked himself in the face with a mop. That was kind of funny.

Ilya: Anyone else notice?

Jamie: Sometimes I think one of the journos that hangs around might've, but he's our journo so it's fine.

Ilya: You have your own press?

Jamie: He's the book guy.

Ilya: What book?

Jamie: He wrote a book about our team. Kind of more about Lasso. Sometimes I think the journo fancied coach or something. It's a lot.

Ilya: When did it come out?

Jamie: Last month. I have a copy, but reading it was boring. I was there and all. Pictures are nice though.

 

October 2016

Ilya: If someone you had been fucking on and off for awhile asked you to stay overnight what would you think?

Jamie: That they wanted to go again in the morning.

Ilya: Thank you.

 

Fifteen minutes later

Jamie: Wait. No! No no no. Once and a while is something else. Not the guy you've been screwing for fucking ages. You two have never slept over?

Ilya: So what? It will be fine. For sex in the morning.

Jamie: No.

Ilya: What no?

Jamie: You can't just decide to change the game on him.

Ilya: It's not a change. Just a small adjustment.

Jamie: If you did that to me, I would think you wanted something and I wouldn't know what and it would make me barmy.

Ilya: Maybe he is not like you.

Jamie: You won't tell me anything about him, so I don't know shit. I'm just saying. You asked me what I would do and I'm telling you.

Ilya: So I should not ask.

Jamie: You should and you should explain why you're asking.

Ilya: For more sex.

Jamie: Fuck me, this is what karma is. I get it now.

 

Three Days Later

Jamie: Colin says there's a club him and Michael like that is sort of mixed up with gay and straight people and I could go with them. What do you think?

 

Two Days Later

Jamie: I didn't go. Got in my head. Are you okay?

 

A Day Later

Jamie: Watched the game. I'm calling you in two hours. It'll be fuck off early here so you best pick up.

 

Jamie calling. Sent to voicemail.

Jamie calling. Sent to voicemail.

Jamie calling. Sent to voicemail.

Jamie calling.

 

"Leave me alone," Ilya snarled into the phone.

"No," Jamie said. The line cut off. "Fucking prick."

 

Jamie calling. Sent to voicemail.

Jamie calling. Sent to voicemail.

Jamie calling. Sent to voicemail.

Jamie calling. Sent to voicemail.

 

"What do you want?" Ilya sounded fucking terrible.

"You promised me you wouldn't go quiet again and you did. So either you go back on your promises or it isn't about me. Guessing it's the second one."

"It isn't about you," Ilya confirmed, vicious. "So now you can leave me alone."

"No."

"I can block you."

Jamie stared out the window into the little back garden. He had liked that about this house. He'd sold the one with the glass stairs from his first year in Richmond over the summer. Bought something smaller and quieter. That's how he felt sometimes now. Smaller and quieter and it wasn't so bad. Right now though, he wished he could be as numb as that prick he'd been. It would be easier. Less painful.

"You can," Jamie said heavily. "Wish you wouldn't. I'm just worried."

"I am fine."

"It went that bad, huh?"

Echoing silence and for a moment, Jamie was certain he had hung up and blocked him. When he checked though, the call was still connected. So he sat and listened to Ilya breathe and tried to be comfortable with the silence. His new doc was always trying to get him to be comfortable with silence. Jamie hated it. Or he thought he had. Sometimes now though, he could spend the whole night at home without turning on the TV or playing videos on his phone so there would be some kind of voice in ear.

"He does not want me," Ilya said heavily, the silence shattering.

"I'm sorry," Jamie said. "Our club sucks."

"Air buds for life," Ilya muttered.

"For life," Jamie agreed.

"Your coach is still running into broom closets?"

"He let me talk to him for a whole minute yesterday," Jamie said flatly. "Called me 'Tartt' the whole time. Not like he ever said Jamie much, but I don't know. I hate that maybe he only ever looked out for me because he felt like someone should. At least you got laid."

"It does not help very much," Ilya said.

"Yeah, guess it wouldn't. I don't have training for a few hours. Now that Roy gave up me, I get to sleep in until 7. Crazy shit. Can I help?"

"Just talk," Ilya practically whispered. "Please. About anything."

So Jamie told him about Keeley taking him out to brunch last week. The way they were friends again and she still helped him with his career a little. He told Ilya about Mummy and Simon's pub quiz group which was always rife with drama. As he went on, he made breakfast for himself and then ate it in between words. Every so often, he'd go a little quiet to listen and be sure Ilya was actually still there. He was.

He stayed on for two hours all told before he heard the slight wheeze in Ilya's breath.

"You asleep?" Jamie checked. No response. "Okay. Good. Sleep. Don't fucking block me."

 

November 2016

Ilya: What is wrong with Sam?

Jamie: Dislocated shoulder. He's going to be okay. Me and Isaac are going to go keep him company tomorrow.

Ilya: Bad hit.

Jamie: Unlucky.

Ilya: You punched 15. The guy who did it.

Jamie: I maybe watch too much hockey.

Ilya: You regret it?

Jamie: Fuck no. My coach even told me it was okay. I'm not in trouble or anything. Except for the penalties.

Ilya: Did he look you in the eyes when he said it?

Jamie: Nope.

Ilya: You should find someone else. A distraction.

Jamie: Tried that. Think my brain is broken. Or my dick. Or both.

Ilya: If I do not get asked to All Stars, I will come to England and distract you.

Jamie: Fat chance then. You're going.

Ilya: Yes, probably.

Jamie: Prick.

 

December 2016

Jamie: Help!

Jamie: Right now!

Jamie: Not fucking about!

Ilya: What is it? I have the day off. I am trying to sleep.

Jamie: Roy kissed me.

Ilya: I am awake. What happened? You want to call?

Jamie: I can't! We're at a party. Some fundraiser bullshit that the owner asked us both to go to. He's in a suit. I'm in a suit. Why is this happening in suits?

Ilya: At least it is not a tuxedo.

Jamie: Why does that matter?

Ilya: Never mind. What happened?

Jamie: We were sitting a table together and I was like remember when Ted made us sit together at one of those things and he was like yeah that was kind of shit, but also not a terrible idea. And that was nice and we both kind of laughed and then he said Phoebe missed me. And I was like who's fault is that? I can't invite myself over to hang out with a little girl. Shut him up pretty fast. Figured I'd ruined the moment, but then he's all intense with saying he had to stop spending so much time with me, wasn't right now that he's the head coach.

Ilya: What.

Jamie: That's what I said! What's the fucking difference between coach and head coach? And he says that we were getting too close and people would talk.

Ilya: Or he punched you and did not apologize.

Jamie: I didn't say that, but I did say that he stopped talking to me because of fighting over Keeley and he said he thought that was it too, but we had gotten past that before. That this time it was different. That it was me. That he was worried we were getting too close. And I was like you were one of my best friends and you shut me out and didn't tell me why so that's shit.

Ilya: This becomes a kiss? How?

Jamie: I maybe got upset and walked away. I didn't want to have a fight like that in front of people. Someone is always taking pictures and last thing we need is some Daily Mail write up.

Ilya: And you went into the hallway?

Jamie: Places like this always have weird hallways. Just followed one. I didn't hear him follow me. He waited for me to stop. Told me he was sorry. Then he kissed me. I don't think he meant to do it. I kissed him back. I know I did. But then he ran off and now I'm standing here. What do I do with that?

Ilya: He is still your coach. Not good to be kissing your players.

Jamie: I want him to kiss me. Why'd he run off? Now it's worse.

Ilya: Two choices. You stay or you follow.

Jamie: What should I do?

Ilya: I don't know. What do you want to do?

Ilya: Did he come back?

Ilya: Jamie?

 

Several Hours Later

Jamie: I went after him. He was trying to leave, but thank fuck like thirty old ladies stopped him. I rescued him and we left together and I took him to my house. We started trying to talk, but we fucked instead and it was maybe the best sex of my life.

Ilya: Fuck you.

Jamie: Sorry, you're still at 11/10, but you're not the guy I've been wanking it to since I was sixteen.

Ilya: So what now?

Jamie: Wait for the morning for round two.

Ilya: He stayed?

Jamie: He stayed.

Ilya: Good.

Chapter 2: January 2017-July 2020

January 2017

Jamie: Happy new year from the future!

Ilya: Happy new year, you are still wrong

Jamie: I have a new resolution, but I think we should still match.

Ilya: You want me to change mine to match yours? Rude. Selfish.

Jamie: My resolution is to try to do things that will make my life happier instead of sadder.

Ilya: Low. Very low.

Jamie: It really is my resolution. I think it's a good one. Winning makes me happy so it's almost the same if you think about it. Do it with me?

Ilya: Yes. Fine. I will.

Jamie: Promise me.

Ilya: We are not children. Promises do not mean much.

Jamie: You've actually kept every promise you've ever given me. I talked about it with Doc. Lots of people haven't. You have. Mummy. Simon. Short list, but you're on there.

Ilya: This is a lie. I broke the promise about no silent treatment.

Jamie: That was different. We were fighting or something and now you won't do it again.

Ilya: You are very sure.

Jamie: I am.

Ilya: Okay. Yes. I promise I will try.

Jamie: To 2017!

 

Two Weeks Later

Ilya: I made up with him. We are okay now.

Jamie: Amazing! Did he explain?

Ilya: Yes, it was like you said. I changed things too fast. I think maybe you and him are a little alike.

Jamie: He better be good at hockey. If you're comparing me to some loser, I'll be pissed.

Ilya: I would not do this. He is very good. He is many good things.

Jamie: Sex god?

Ilya: He is. Does your coach treat you well?

Jamie: He knows what I like. Well isn't it, you know?

Ilya: It is. You know how I mean it.

Jamie: So far. We're going slow. I'm nervous.

Ilya: Yes. Me too.

 

February 2017

Ilya: Is your father still sober?

Jamie: Not sure, but I got a few phone calls from him around the holidays that weren't good. I blocked him. Feels like shit, but feels worse to hear from him like that. Why?

Ilya: Mine died.

Jamie: Shit. Sorry.

Ilya: I hated him, but I didn't want him to die. I don't know why.

Jamie: I don't want my dad to die either. I just want him to go away or change or something.

Ilya: It is better that he's dead. I don't think I will come back to Moscow.

Jamie: Never go back home?

Ilya: This isn't home anymore. My home is maybe Boston, but I think maybe more him. My player.

Jamie: That is really romantic. Damn. You want to lay over here or do you have to get back to work? Not saying a hotel or anything. I can take you to Sam's restaurant. Meet some of the guys?

Ilya: Your team knows about me?

Jamie: They know I've got an American friend that I text a lot and your first name. That's it. Don't think any of them have ever watched a hockey game in their lives. I put one on once and Colin asked if it was curling.

Ilya: Please tell me you are lying.

Jamie: Swear down. It would just be dinner with some guys. Sam's place is good about keeping off the paps and all. I won't tell them about your dad if you don't want me to. Come be one of the lads for a night.

Ilya: I would like that. Your coach?

Jamie: You want to meet him?

Ilya: Very much.

Jamie: I'll ask him then.

 

It occurred to Jamie as he waited in arrivals that he'd never done this before. Mummy and Simon didn't like to travel much and when he'd been with Keeley, she had been far too independent to need him to pick her up. All of his friends had enough money for private cars. Jame had never needed to pick anyone up from an airport.

Standing around meant a few people recognizing him. He smiled and signed autographs, then deliberately moved away to stand near a pillar and pull his hat down a little, pretending to look at his phone. Instead he watched the concourse until he made out a familiar figure. Ilya was dressed for the weather instead of sex, black jeans and a black hoodie. Before he spotted Jamie, he looked exhausted, face devoid of expression.

"There he is!" Jamie cried and Ilya jerked up, made eye contact, and the exhaustion wiped away that cold mask settling into place. Neat trick.

"You came?" Ilya asked bemused, but he did open his arms for Jamie to crash into him in a hearty hug. "Why?"

"Felt like it," Jamie said, letting go reluctantly. "Flight okay?"

"Almost nothing. The next one is longer. And it leaves in twenty hours."

"Better get going then. Make the most of it."

Jamie led Ilya back out. When they approached Jamie's car, Ilya made an appreciative noise.

"The Chiron? When did you get this?"

"Over the summer. I liked all the pics you sent of your Veyron, but the design on this one called my name."

"It is very you," Ilya laughed. "The paint job especially."

"Keeley liked it," Jamie said pleased. The car had been a specialty paint job, the glossy black standard and then the splash of hot pink very much not. "I can find it every car park."

"It's good," Ilya said. "Can you drive it? A lot of power for one man."

"I'm fucking great at it, but you'll just have to take my word for it because it's all traffic from here to home."

They didn't talk about Ilya's father or either of their sports. They talked about cars instead, things they'd test driven or wanted to. Jamie had no idea how to comfort someone who was grieving, but he figured Ilya wasn't sad the same way some people were when they lost people so that was all right.

When they pulled up at Jamie's place, Ilya got a little quiet. He only had an overnight bag with him, his actual luggage stowed away at the airport. It didn't feel too different from having one of the lads over so they could drink without worrying about heading back out until the morning.

Not that Jamie did that much anymore.

"I'll show you the guest room," Jamie said and Ilya relaxed a little. "Did you think I was going to jump you or something? I'm all monogamous now."

"You didn't say," Ilya muttered.

"I said no hotel stuff," Jamie reminded him, fishing out his keys.

"You know you can fuck in your house," Ilya said dryly.

"Trust me, I know," Jamie said with a wink. "But yeah, Roy and me talked about being exclusive and all."

"We have not," Ilya said. "I don't know. Maybe we will."

The house had been properly done up by now. Pale colors and solid pieces of furniture. Jamie had sold off some of his larger paintings that the interior designer had picked at his last place and put up framed posters of movies he loved. There were a few vinyl albums hung up too in a way Keeley said was cool and artsy. Jamie wasn't sure about that, but he liked how they looked. Black circular soldiers in their neat lines.

Ilya took it all in, eyes resting briefly on the Transformers Jamie had hung onto and moved from the kitchen to dot between photos on the mantle.

"Very nice," Ilya said simply and Jamie's shoulders went down too.

"Bedrooms are upstairs."

He'd mostly planned out the guest room for Mummy and sometimes even Keeley, so it was all piles of pillows and blankets since they both tended to being cold. Ilya's smirk ticked up when he saw it all. There was no comment made though. Only his bag set down on the floor.

"Bathroom is through there. We're not due out to dinner for another few hours if you wanted to shower."

"That would be good."

Jamie left him to it. He had his own routines to see to, things that had been aborted to get Ilya from the airport. Calls to make and try to focus on, stretching to do for the ankle that liked to get stiff on him between workouts which led to him reading the Wikipedia article ligaments that was really too dense for him, but was kind of interesting anyway.

The door buzzer went off and Jamie frowned up at the ceiling. The shower upstairs wasn't running anymore. How much time had passed? He checked and swore, leveraging himself up and heading for the door.

"Fall asleep on the floor again?" Roy asked.

"Hello," Jamie said happily.

"Hi," Roy said and reached for him as the door closed behind him.

The kiss was certain. Roy's hands didn't hesitate on Jamie anymore. The first few times had been a little touch and go, but they were settled in now. Jamie kissed back, tucking his thumb through one of Roy's beltloops to tug him in closer.

"Hi," Jamie said again against his lips. "Didn't fall asleep."

"Good, you'll fuck up your whole insane nighttime routine otherwise," Roy said, his hand rubbing a little over Jamie's back like he couldn't quite pull away from him. Jamie rested his forehead on Roy's shoulder, silently asking for more. "Is he here?"

"Mhm. You sure you can't come out to dinner?"

"Yes," Roy said. "I would rather be with you than with the ladies, but Maureen begged me. She swears Janice is in some crisis with her son."

"How are you supposed to help with that?"

"No fucking idea."

Ilya came down the stairs and to Jamie's surprise, Roy didn't leap away. He did know that Ilya knew about them, but Jamie hadn't thought about how that would shift things. Usually they were circumspect and careful in front of everyone. It was enough to know they could come back here or to Roy's place at the end of the day. Jamie hadn't even thought about how good it would feel to be seen together.

If Ilya felt any way about Roy half-hugging Jamie in front of him, it didn't show on his face. He'd changed into nice black slacks and a deep purple shirt with a few buttons undone. There was product in his hair, slicking the curls down a little on the sides. With a single glance, Ilya seemed to take in all of Roy in his perpetual black on black, stormy face and grip on Jamie.

"The eyebrows are even more impressive in person," Ilya said.

Said eyebrows flew upward. "Nice to meet you too."

Ilya grinned and Jamie hadn't seen that flavor before in person. It was the smile in Ilya had when the camera pulled in tight before a face off. Shifting a little uneasily, Jamie said, "Either of you want a cuppa?"

"Yes, please," Roy said, his eyes never leaving Ilya's face.

"A cup of what?" Ilya asked.

"Tea," Roy supplied before Jamie could.

"Black?" Ilya checked.

"Yeah, you want?"

"Yes," Ilya decided.

Slipping out of Roy's grip and heading for the kettle, Jamie listened as the tension seemed to ease and small talk was made. Or what passed for Roy's small talk. He asked about Ilya's flight and listened to Ilya's story about another passenger. It all sounded normal and Jamie relaxed. Introducing Roy to new people was dicey for anyone. Jamie loved that about him. He didn't care if he was the P.R. team of their relationship for as long as it lasted (please let it last for a very very long time), but it would be good if Ilya and Roy liked each other. Jamie wasn't going to stop texting one or kissing the other.

When the tea was ready, they drank it at Jamie's kitchen table. Roy went into full quiet listening mode as Jamie caught Ilya up on some of the team drama that might come up over dinner and Ilya, in turn, provided stories of his own team.

"Fuck," Roy said in the middle of Ilya ragging a little on his linemate, Connors. "I thought direct flip-outs were illegal."

Jamie turned to him slowly, his heart swooping. "Since when do you know shit about hockey?"

"Since you started banging on about it on our runs," Roy said calmly, meeting Jamie's eyes.

They hadn't run together in months. Even once Roy had kissed him and they'd wound up in this new phase of things, they weren't able to really train together. Roy's knee no longer allowed for even short bursts. Sometimes long walks got him. Spotting each other in Jamie's home gym and doing a little yoga together was as much as they could manage.

So Roy had started watching hockey months and months ago, just to know what Jamie was talking about.

"Roy," Jamie said thick with warmth.

"Shut up," Roy grumbled.

Ilya glanced between them and laughed. "And you thought he did not like you?"

"How was I supposed to know?" Jamie demanded, but he was grinning too hard to make it sound annoyed. "Not like he said anything about it."

"Tell your fucking story," Roy demanded of Ilya, now shifting a little under their joint regard.

"Very cute," Ilya deemed, but picked his story back up.

"Jamie," Roy nudged him a few minutes later. "You're meeting them at 7?"

"Yeah," Jamie said.

"Best get ready then or you'll be late."

"Shit, yeah, thanks." He got to his feet, hesitated than leaned down to kiss Roy quickly on the temple because he could. It was nice. Good. Settled.

He got most of the way up the stairs before he remembered that he was almost out of gel and he'd bought a new bottle this morning, leaving it in his car. He turned around, got a few stairs back down then stopped. Ilya and Roy were talking, but Jamie caught his name.

A better man would go upstairs or signal his return. Jamie was working on being good, but he wasn't a fucking saint just yet. He froze and listened.

"…going all right. Not that it's any of your fucking business," Roy was saying.

"He is my business," Ilya said, steady and cold as a glacier. It froze Jamie's blood. "He has been a very good friend to me for a long time. And he forgives very easily. I know this."

"He does. Too easy," Roy ground out.

What the fuck did that mean? Jamie held the banister hard.

"Kent, I think we are a similar kind of man, so when I say this, you will understand that I am very serious."

"About what?" Roy asked warily.

"If I ever find out that you hit him in anger ever again, I will come back here and I will break every bone on your body. You will drink your meals out of a straw for months. And I will take him back with me. I think he would make a very good follow up to Beckham. Play for America. Maybe Canada."

That was ridiculous. Jamie would never leave England. Beckham was a twat for running off and everyone knew it. Everything Jamie loved was here. It was a stupid threat.

So why did Jamie sit straight down on the stairs and bury his face in his hands to hold the feeling close? Stupid. Overwhelmed by a threat that Ilya probably hadn't even meant. It was a thing you did, wasn't it? Warned off the new guy from your friend. Except Jamie had never heard of a bloke doing it for another bloke. It was a thing girlfriends did for each other. Hissing like angry cats at men twice their size.

Ilya could actually see through the first part of his threat. Even in his prime, Roy wouldn't be able to win a fight against Ilya. Most of the time, Ilya wasn't involved in fights on the ice, but the few times Jamie had seen him get into it, he had winced for the other guy when Ilya's fist connected.

"We weren't like this then," Roy said and he didn't sound angry at all. Just kind of sad which wasn't very Roy. "Never hit anyone I dated. I would never. He told you about the fight about Keeley?"

"He did," Ilya said.

"What'd he say about it?" Silence. "You won't tell me."

"I will not," Ilya confirmed. "I do not care what your reasons were. I want him to not be afraid in his own house."

"I want that too. Christ, you don't pull any fucking punches do you?"

"I do not see the point." They both went quiet and then Ilya said very lightly, "Nice outfit by the way. Did you steal this from an undertaker?"

They started trading insults, but no one sounded actually angry. Jamie listened a little longer than retreated upstairs. Washing his face with cold water, he got rid of the redness around his eyes and moisturized away any trace of feeling, before doing his hair and getting dressed. He had meant to wear something crisp, but Ilya teased him a lot about the pink stuff. It gave Jamie the feeling that he liked it or at least liked to have it on Jamie to tease him about. So he pulled on the faded pink sweatshirt with 'Smoking in the Boys Bathroom' written on it in blocky letters and found the matching trousers.

He hadn't smoked since he was fifteen and his manager would give him shit about role modeling or something, but whatever. No pictures tonight hopefully.

The way he came down the stairs might've been unnecessarily thunderous, but Jamie couldn't afford to overhear anything else tonight.

"You two kill each other?" he asked and it came out cheerfully enough.

"Not yet," Ilya said with a grin. Roy was studying Ilya like he was something Phoebe had brought home from school and was trying to convince him was interesting. "I like this sweatshirt."

"Thanks," Jamie said. "Roy, are you staying for a bit or headed out too?"

"Headed out. Should've left already, probably."

Jamie didn't ask why he hadn't. Roy liked to linger. Cling a little. Jamie fucking loved that. He wanted to live under Roy's skin and Roy seemed happy to let him.

"Probably," Jamie agreed. "Give us a kiss before you go."

"Don't include me in this," Ilya said, eyes wide.

"Just a saying," Jamie rolled his eyes.

"I'm not fucking kissing you," Roy said, flipping Ilya off for good measure as he rose.

Jamie met him halfway and got a very nice kiss out of the deal. Roy's hand rested on the back of his neck and gave it a light squeeze too which was perfect.

"Come by tomorrow?" Jamie asked hopefully. "I have to get Ilya back to the airport around eleven, but there's fuck all to do the rest of the day."

"Coaches' meeting over lunch," Roy said, "then I'll come by. Have fun tonight, but Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

Roy leaned in and said low enough that it was only for him, "Be good."

"I will," Jamie said ducking his head to hide how wide and stupid his grin had likely gotten. "See you tomorrow."

If Jamie had expected Ilya to recount anything to him once Roy was gone, he would've been let down. They talked sports and movies on the way to the restaurant. Once there, Ilya was easily folded into the effusive camaraderie of Richmond. It was a small slice of the larger group tonight: Sam, Isaac, Colin and Dani.

Adding Ilya into the mix meant the vast majority of Jamie's friends were in one place. Only Keeley was missing and Jamie wondered if she would enjoy being here. If it ever happened again, he'd ask her. As it was, Ilya took the temperature of the room and turned down his iciness by an order of magnitude. He let Sam recommend him dishes, asked Colin about his boyfriend earnestly, and engaged Isaac about the perils of leadership.

These days, Jamie listened a lot more than he talked at these dinners. He liked letting the happy banter flow around and through him, adding in only when he was addressed directly or thought he had something worth saying. Roy had told him to be good, so he stuck to water and choose options that adhered to his meal plan. No harm there, Jamie wanted to be in top condition this season. They were defending a title now and that felt just as serious as trying to win it in the first place. Most of Roy's orders were things Jamie wanted to do anyway and that made them even better. Like Roy knew Jamie had to have some easy wins or the game would go sour.

"What do you do in Boston?" Sam asked Ilya, all bright-eyed friendliness.

"I will pay for the entire dinner if one of you guesses correctly," Ilya declared with a wink to Jamie who grinned back. "If none of you guess, than I eat for free."

"Do we get to ask any questions?" Isaac asked, already warming up to the game.

"Yes or no only," Jamie put in, pleased when Ilya nodded along. "One per customer. Ask your question, take your guess."

"I will go first!" Dani said. "Is it football?"

Everyone groaned. Dani blinked. "Not good?"

"Dani, we'd know if he was a footballer," Colin said gently. "Jamie wouldn't be friends with a crap player, so we'd know him."

"Oh yes, true," Dani frowned. "Can I change my question?"

"No," Ilya said. "And no, not football. I would not be very good at it."

"Would be fun to watch though," Jamie said merrily.

"Fuck you," Ilya said without heat.

"Do you have to talk to press for your job?" Colin asked.

"Oh, good one," Sam praised and Colin preened over that. They all liked Sam's compliments though everyone tried hard not to show it in case he stopped.

"Yes," Ilya said.

"Ha! Okay," Colin said. "Uhh…I guess politician."

"You think with this accent I am politician in America?" Ilya laughed.

"They elected the Terminator," Colin pointed out.

"I am not Austrian!" Ilya squawked. "No. Not politics."

"Good," Sam said. "I don't serve politicians."

"Not even ones you like?" Isaac asked.

"I don't like any of them at this point," Sam sighed heavily. "Okay, my turn. Do you play professional sports?"

"This is my question!" Dani protested.

"Mate, there are other professional sports," Colin said like he was breaking terrible news to Dani.

"Do not say you play golf," Dani said to Ilya, wide-eyed. "I will be so sad."

"Does that look like the body of a golfer?" Jamie protested.

"I have played golf," Ilya confessed. "But I hate it. Yes, I play sports professionally. How did you know this?"

"Can't really imagine Jamie making friends with someone who isn't some kind of athlete," Sam said. "At least not a guy one."

"Hey, I can branch out!" Jamie protested.

"Name one guy friend you have who doesn't play a sport for money," Sam said flatly.

"I don't have to play this game," Jamie said sullenly.

Ilya laughed at him. Prick. "He is very focused. It is okay. I am like this too. You all have many not-sports friends?"

"Michael's friends are all in finance," Colin said. "I think some of them are my friends now too."

"I have a restaurant," Sam said. "I have chef friends and things now."

"It is a good restaurant," Ilya decreed.

Isaac didn't bother defending himself, apparently deep in thought about his question while Dani described the eclectic mix of friends he'd managed to accumulate in London.

"Does your sport have a ball?" Isaac asked abruptly, interrupting Dani mid-sentence with all the seriousness of asking for nuclear codes.

Ilya grinned and pointed at Isaac, "No, it fucking does not. Balls are too easy."

He was shouted down immediately and looked thrilled by it.

"I have a guess," Isaac declared. Everyone got quiet immediately.

"Okay," Ilya said. "Go."

"MMA," Isaac declared.

Every held their breath until Ilya delivered a definitive, "No. But I like this. I would be a good fighter."

Napkins were thrown and general booing ensued. Sam shrugged, "Your meal is on the house then."

"No, it was a good game, I will stay pay for me and Jamie."

"In that case, I want dessert," Jamie said. "Maybe two."

"You haven't had dessert in three months, no one believes you," Colin said. "Let's do another round though."

Jamie drank in the utter relaxation of the night. The lads didn't try to keep guessing what Ilya did, seemingly content to leave it a mystery they had failed to solve. Maybe they'd google him later and get there, but Jamie knew they'd leave well enough alone and not bring it up. The chances that they'd give a shit about hockey were vanishingly small anyway.

They left before the hour got obscene and Ilya was trying to hide jetlagged yawns as they got back into Jamie's car.

"They are good, your team," Ilya deemed. "I like them."

"Me too," Jamie said. "Can't believe I almost fucked it."

"We are lucky, sometimes."

"Sometimes," Jamie agreed.

The house was quiet and dark when they got back, only the light over the stairs left on. In the shadows, Jamie felt a little safer asking, "Are you all right?"

"Probably," Ilya said, matching Jamie's quiet. "I will be."

"Do you want a hug?" Jamie asked.

He waited for Ilya to snap back something pithy, but instead, he got an armful of lightly cologne-scented man. Jamie was strong, he could carry a lot of weight. Recently, he had carried Dani piggyback through the streets of Brighton after he had given everyone a fright almost twisting his ankle again. Bearing up Ilya for a few minutes, holding him tightly, was nothing. Easy work.

The hard part was after when Ilya pulled away and started to make for bed.

"Wait," Jamie said and it came out a little raw. "I've got something for you. You don't have to do anything with it, but you promised. That you would try."

"What?" Ilya asked.

"Just hold on a second."

He ran up the stairs and got the paper off his printer. It had taken him awhile to make the list. Jamie wasn't a natural researcher or even that strong a reader most of the time, but he'd been dogged in this since Ilya had agreed to the stopover. Ilya hadn't stayed at the bottom of the stairs, of course he hadn't, but he had waited in the hallway instead of following Jamie into the 'office' that was really more a trophy room. Jamie handed the paper to him.

"What is this?" Ilya asked, glancing over it. "Who are these people?"

"Top three have practices in Boston. The other three can do stuff online. I didn't know what you'd want, but they all speak Russian. Doc said that would be easier for you maybe. She doesn't know who you are, just that I have an American friend who plays sports."

"Jamie."

Ilya stared at him and Jamie met his gaze defiantly as he would an opposing player.

"You promised."

"You think I am sick?" Ilya challenged. His jaw was tight, a tick in the muscle.

"No," Jamie said. "I think you're sad. Like really fucking sad. I can't do shit about it and I'm worried."

"No one asked you to worry about me," Ilya spit back.

"Same, mate," Jamie said. "But you threatened my boyfriend about it anyway."

"You are a sneak," Ilya accused, but some of the anger left him. "I did not mean to-"

"We're all right," Jamie cut him off. "Thanks for that. Really. But I get to do this back. That's how it works."

"What book did you read this out of?" Ilya grumbled. He held the paper like it might disintegrate at any moment Mission Impossible style.

"I'm all intuitive and shit," Jamie said with a snort. "Life is so fucking hard and miserable sometimes. It's nice to complain to someone who's paid to listen."

"That is therapy?" Ilya asked doubtfully.

"Sometimes, yeah," Jamie said. "Sometimes it's crying and hard things, but sometimes it's just having another person on your team to help figure shit out."

"It makes you happier?"

"It makes me want to put conditioner in my hair and wear clothes I like," Jamie said. "Got to a place where that felt too hard last year. Wasn't great."

The list crinkled a little in Ilya's hand now. "Okay. I will try."

Jamie nodded once. "Good."

"But now I will go to bed and we will not talk about this in the morning."

"Bossy," Jamie decreed, but he started walking backward towards his bedroom. "Want to go for a run when we get up?"

"Fine, yes," Ilya decided.

Getting into bed felt off and Jamie tried to put his finger on it as he got comfortable. Then he caught a whiff of Roy's shampoo on the pillowcase. Right. They hadn't actually been doing much sleeping apart lately. With no witnesses about, Jamie hauled in Roy's usual pillow and held on as he drifted off.

They did go for a run in the morning. Ilya had good form and seemed pleased with the overcast sky and damp breeze. It was easy to relax a little into Ilya's pace. Usually Jamie pushed himself in these between season weeks, running longer and harder when he didn't have practice to hold back for. It was nice to have an easier morning and make eggs for both of them.

The drive back to the airport was quieter, only the sound of the engine and Jamie's music turned low. When Jamie pulled up to departures, Ilya didn't get out right away.

"You want me to go around again?" Jamie teased. "Take a few practice loops?"

"Shane," Ilya said.

"Shane," Jamie repeated. "Is that a code word or something?"

"That's his name. I called him last night and I told him about you."

"Wait, did he not know before?" Jamie demanded. "I told Roy about you ages ago!"

"We don't talk like that. Or we didn't," Ilya amended. "We do now. So I told him. And he said that if I trusted you I could tell you his name. So I am."

Jamie nodded slowly. "Okay. Shane. Your player named Shane. Your hockey player named Shane. Holy fuck. Ilya!"

Ilya watched him, unblinking. "Yes."

"Fuuuuck." Jamie sank back in seat.

"Yes," Ilya sighed heavily.

"He is very fit."

"Oh yes," Ilya agreed.

"Tell him I said hello, I guess. I won't say anything."

"I know," Ilya said. He reached across the car and gave Jamie's cheek a single pat. "Tell your man that you were very good, yes? You should get your reward."

"Ah shit, you heard that? How?" Jamie groaned, flushing.

Ilya winked at him, then swung open the door.

Gone again. Jamie watched the crowd converge around him, his curls still visible for another few seconds before he was out of sight entirely. Jamie glanced at the time. Roy would be home soon, time to get gone.

 

April 2017

Jamie: Fuck me that was a hard hit. Is he okay?

Jamie: You're still playing. Shit. Of course you are.

Jamie: What a fucking nightmare.

Jamie: I'll stay up. Call if you want.

Ilya calling.

 

May 2017

Ilya: I don't like it.

Jamie: Don't be a baby.

Ilya: She keeps asking me why why why. I don't know! It just is sometimes. Who cares?

Jamie: What does Shane say about it?

Ilya: That it is good for me to explain myself to someone because then I explain things to him.

Jamie: And?

Ilya: Yes, I will go back. Your coach behaving?

Jamie: Only as much as I want him to.

 

June 2017

Ilya: This is a terrible idea.

Jamie: I think it's great. Two weeks of sex. You'll probably die, but you'll die happy.

Ilya: You could have this. Go take your coach somewhere.

Jamie: Our summer is shot. Finally bullied him into getting the knee surgery.

Ilya: When did you win this fight?

Jamie: Yesterday. He got down to blow me and couldn't get back up. New low.

Ilya: Big surgery.

Jamie: I never took care of anyone after surgery before. We'll have like proper nurses to help too, but I'll be with him for it. What if I fuck it up?

Ilya: You will not. Maybe we both have to promise not to.

Jamie: Yeah, okay. Promise.

Ilya: I promise.

 

July 2017

Jamie: I hate seeing him like this. He's being so fucking good about not being a prick too. Going to bring Phoebe around tomorrow for back up. And you're probably having round fifteen of screwing.

Ilya: His father walked in on us and we are going to dinner with them right now.

Jamie: Jesus. Full naked? At least you put your best bits forward.

Ilya: Bathing suits. Shane is changing now. Maybe still panicking. I will get ready too.

Jamie: Meeting the parents. Big step. Lucky me, Mummy already met Roy before we started up.

Ilya: What about Roy's parents?

Jamie: Not in his life really. His sister already likes me and you know about Phoebe.

Ilya: How did you make her like you?

Jamie: She says she likes anyone who makes Roy's teeth stop grinding. And I'm a merry ball of fucking sunshine, aren't I? I don't know. Be the guy you were that night in the restaurant. All the lads think you're top tier. They ask me about you all the time.

Ilya: Yes, okay. No more time.

Jamie: Tell me how it goes. We're all shit telly and moaning over here. Could use a little good news.

 

August 2017

Ilya: Love is terrible.

Jamie: Yes.

Ilya: I am dying.

Jamie: Probably.

Ilya: You do not share my pain.

Jamie: Might smother the love of my life with a pillow. Daft bugger only went and did too much and now I'm layering ice on him like we're both penguins.

Ilya: Is that something penguins do?

Jamie: I don't fucking know. I think they bring each other nice rocks.

Ilya: I prefer blowjobs.

Jamie: Same, but that's why I've got twenty thousand ice packs out now. I can't feel my fingertips.

 

September 2017

Jamie: Barmy

Ilya: No, third letter is t.

Jamie: Batty

Ilya: Yes! Good. Thank you.

Jamie: Still feels like cheating.

Ilya: I am trying to prove myself to Shane's father. He takes the crossword very seriously.

 

October 2017

Ilya: This one?

Jamie: Handcuffs look cheap. Get the good kind with some padding.

Ilya: This is for a costume, not roleplay.

Jamie: Think bigger. Using things more than once is just good sustainable practice.

Ilya: Who taught you this?

Jamie: We did a volunteer day with the environment people. Reusing can be even more important than recycling.

Ilya: I do not think they meant slutty Halloween costumes.

Jamie: Their lack of imagination, not mine.

 

November 2017

Ilya: What happened?

Ilya: Are you okay? Still at the hospital?

Ilya: Text me when you can.

Jamie: Tore my ACL.

Ilya: Shit.

Jamie: They say if I do everything right, maybe I could play again by April. Best case.

Ilya: I'm sorry.

Jamie: Me too. Roy is having fits. Says at least my timing is good since his knee is all healed up.

Ilya: You will be able to make his life difficult now. Watch terrible TV that he does not like.

Jamie: Already the plan.

 

December 2017

Jamie: Never got a box this big before! You're a nutter. Thank you.

Ilya: You like it?

Jamie: It's enough DVDs to build a fucking addition on the house, of course I like it. Gonna get Roy to watch all the Air Buddies with me. I bet I can get Phoebe on board.

Ilya: Air Buds for life.

Jamie: Air Buds for life!

 

January 2018

Jamie: happy new year!

Ilya: Do it right.

Jamie: You hate it.

Ilya: My year does not start well without it now.

Jamie: Happy new year from the future!

Ilya: Happy new year from the past. What is our resolution this year?

Jamie: Last year went well. Again?

Ilya: Again.

 

February 2018

Jamie: Watching is so much worse in the stadium than from home. I hate this.

Ilya: Watch the coaches instead of the players.

Jamie: Why?

Ilya: You will want to get up and do it yourself if you watch the players. The coaches have a different job. I like to listen to them. See how they see us.

Jamie: Smart. They are kind of boring though. Just standing there. Even if the view is good. Roy's arse has really tightened up since he can start doing squats again.

Ilya: At least you are distracted.

 

March 2018

Jamie: Never listening to your advice again.

Ilya: My advice is always good. What did you do?

Jamie: I was listening so much to the coaches that I started telling them what I think. Guess I must've annoyed the shit out of them because Roy took me over to Phoebe's school and said if I was getting so clever about it, I should make myself useful.

Ilya: You tell him you are useful being eye candy.

Jamie: I did! He said that only works when he's around to see it. So now I'm coaching Pheobe's U11 team. Their coach had her baby early.

Ilya: You are coaching little girls?

Jamie: Get your giggles out. This is your fault.

Ilya: I think this is good. Something to do and they will love you.

Jamie: I don't know what I'm doing.

Ilya: You do. Have fun!

Jamie: Eat a dick.

Ilya: Not for weeks. Do not taunt me.

 

April 2018

Ilya: Why do we need rookies?

Jamie: Guess because we don't get vets without them? What happened?

Ilya: Bailed two of them out. They were pissing in an alleyway outside a bar.

Jamie: That's illegal? What the fuck is wrong with your country?

Ilya: Not my country, but I think this is also illegal in your country.

Jamie: Are you sure?

Ilya: Probably.

Jamie: Learning something new every day. Did you kick their asses?

Ilya: They were already crying. One asked me not to tell his mama.

 

May 2018

Ilya: Update.

Jamie: Tense. 0-0. Bozy choked on a penalty kick.

Ilya: How much time left?

Jamie: Five. Gotta watch.

Jamie: They only went and fucking did it! Phoebe did a beautiful header and Bozy got it off her and into the goal.

Ilya: Congratulations, coach.

Jamie: Thank you! Going to take them all out for ice cream now. Rowdy hooligans will probably get us all kicked out.

 

June 2018

Jamie: I'm sorry. No way to end your time in Boston.

Ilya: It is what it is. Now I only have to move my whole life to another country.

Jamie: At least your player will be there on the other side.

Ilya: That would be nice, but he is still in the playoffs. No time.

Jamie: Your unpacking on your own?

Ilya: His parents might help a little. Anyway, I will only be there two weeks and then we will do summer at the cottage.

Jamie: What day do you get to Ottawa?

Ilya: The tenth.

Jamie: Bought a ticket.

Ilya: I do not need help. I have a moving company. You are not even supposed to be doing things on your feet.

Jamie: Wrong, wrong, wrong. Got a letter from PT that says I'm good to start training again. I'll be back on the pitch for next season.

Ilya: Good. I do not need help.

Jamie: I'm bored and I've never been to Canada. So I'm coming. If you don't pick me up from the airport, guess I'll just have a vacation in Ottawa by myself.

Ilya: What about your coach?

Jamie: He has to stick around here for a week or two. We're going on vacation when he's done.

Ilya: Somewhere safe?

Jamie: Private villa. Two weeks. Can't fucking wait! But Canada first.

Ilya: I am going to drown you in a river of maple syrup.

Jamie: That's real?

Ilya: Send me your ticking information I will pick you up, so you do not get lost in the airport.

Jamie: Cheers!

 

Ilya's new house had a lot of windows and wood. The Boston house had been something Jamie had only seen in glimpses on their rare video calls, but he thought they were similar enough. This was what Ilya liked: wide open spaces, big windows and weird abstract art. The furniture, rugs, art and lamps had all been carefully placed by the moving company. The boxes were their business.

"You are yawning," Ilya observed.

"I didn't sleep on the plane. Gotta keep moving or I'll pass out," Jamie acknowledged. "Point me in a direction."

"There is not much left," Ilya hedged.

"Clothes?"

Ilya frowned, eyes darting to the bedroom where Jamie could see many boxes. "I want to leave space for Shane."

"So we'll leave space. C'mon, feels more like home when your shit is where it's supposed to be."

In his sleepy, jetlagged space, the afternoon took on a dreamy quality for Jamie. Moving had become an accidental specialty of his. He hung things up, organized drawers and kept changing the music to irritate Ilya as he sorted out his bathroom.

They ate dinner slumped over the kitchen island, a stack of boxes collapsed by the front door and very little left to do.

"Thought that would take a few days," Jamie said idly.

"I told you there was not much," Ilya reminded him. "Now you are stuck here."

"Yeah, horrible," Jamie said with an eye roll. "We'll go out. Figure out what's good to do around here. I want to try the fries thing with the gravy."

"Poutine?"

"That," Jamie said. "All the travel people say I need to try it."

Poutine was fucking delicious as it turned out and Jamie sent a picture of it to Roy and got back a 'eat some of it for me, fuck, all I have is your performance bullshit for dinner'. Which meant that Roy was in Jamie's house without him because that's where Roy was most of the time these days.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Ilya asked suspiciously.

"Roy's home," Jamie said. "C'mon, let's go see the big buildings."

"Which ones?"

They walked around Parliament Hill. Jamie led Ilya to Centennial Flame. "It was supposed to only be for a bit, but everyone liked it so much it stayed."

"You said you have not been here before."

"I haven't," Jamie said, watching the flames. "The fire keeps the fountain from freezing in the winter. Guess that's a problem here, hope you brought a good coat."

"I'm Russian," Ilya said affronted. "How do you know this?"

"Read a guidebook."

"For a three day trip?"

Jamie shrugged. "I like them. Travel books. Roy reads sometimes at night and I like being all cozy with him while he does. Figured I'd read something, but I don't much like novels or whatever. I like travel guides though. Don't laugh."

Ilya didn't laugh. He cocked his head to the side as if taking Jamie in anew. "You are a little boring now. It looks good on you."

"Fuck off," Jamie said, but it was with a warm spark in his chest.

The handful of days flew by. After a day of general tourism, they narrowed their focus to Ilya's actual neighborhood, trying local restaurants and figuring out where all the shops that Ilya might need were. Running errands was more of a luxury than a necessity for their level of wealth, but it was fun anyway.

Late on Jamie's last morning there, they were both sitting on the mats of Ilya's home gym ticking down after a workout. Ilya was stretching out his quads and Jamie rolled his ankle carefully, checking for tightness.

"Do you-" Jamie started.

A door closed somewhere. "Ilya?"

Ilya's head whipped up. "Shane!"

Ilya jumped to his feet and ran out, leaving Jamie to follow more cautiously behind. In the living room, Ilya was wrapped around the man Jamie had only seen in full uniform or sweat-soaked post-game interviews before. Shane was gorgeous in person too. He was also taking in Jamie over Ilya's shoulder with slow, stonefaced, perusal.

"Hi," Jamie said, maybe laying in a bit of swagger. It might make up for the fact that he was a sweaty mess. "Didn't know I'd get to meet you."

"I stole a few hours," Shane said, disengaging from Ilya slowly, but not completely. "I know you leave tonight and I wanted to meet you before you left."

"You will stay the night though?" Ilya asked and it was just about the softest Jamie had ever heard him.

"Yeah, of course," Shane said, a flash of a bright smile. "The house looks good. You guys got a lot done."

"Eh, he had it mostly fixed up" Jamie said. "Hung a few things and moved a few boxes is all. Speaking of. I am going to go take a shower. Long one."

"Yes, thank you," Ilya said even as Shane started some kind of polite protest. "Shut up, Hollander."

Whatever they did, they kept it quieter than the pounding of the water which was nice. Jamie texted Roy when he got out of the shower, nothing sensible, just a series of heart emojis until Roy texted back 'trying to sleep, you little prick. love you too, see you in the morning'.

By the time Jamie sauntered back towards the kitchen, Ilya and Shane were emerging from the main bedroom, also both freshly showered. Lunch came together in fits and starts, Jamie quickly deciding to get out of their way and plopped onto a stool. They seemed to forget he was there entirely for a bit, bickering in a warm way over potential side dishes.

"I like sweet potatoes," Jamie said when he started to feel a little stung by being so thoroughly ignored.

"Ha!" Shane said like it was a trump card that had been played and Ilya set down the orange-filled tupperware with an annoyed noise. "Glad that's decided. Sorry about the ACL tear, by the way, sounded brutal."

"It was," Jamie said, watching Shane pull down plates as if the way the kitchen had been configured was already familiar to him. Maybe it was. "Healed up now."

"And you coached a girl's team," Shane said, less a question and more like a confirmation.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a laugh," Jamie said. "Kept me busy. Their real coach is back from leave now though, so it's a good thing I can play again or I'd be out a job."

"Do you think you'd want to coach when you retire?"

"Ah, I don't think about it," Jamie admitted. "Ages away, isn't it? Could play another ten years. Roy almost made it to forty, the stubborn bastard."

"That's your boyfriend?" Shane asked with a slight frown.

"Yeah, that's the fucker."

"The eyebrows," Ilya said seriously to Shane.

"I remember, you kept saying," Shane said. "I guess I just didn't realize he was older."

"Yeah, he's a granddad," Jamie said fondly. "Acts like one anyway. He's building speed back up though since the knee surgery, so he's a fucking fast old man."

Ilya and Shane exchanged a glance, some couple-y communication that went past Jamie's head. That was fine. It was nice to talk to more than one person at a time about Roy. Mostly Jamie didn't mind being closeted, but he did occasionally want to tell people: 'I landed Roy Kent, can you fucking believe it?'. Keeley knew now. They'd agreed she should. But it wasn't right talking to her about Roy too much, when she had her own feelings about him.

This was good. Comfortable even if Shane didn't seem to know quite what to do with him. They ate with Ilya and Jamie filling Shane in on their exploits around Ottawa. The local in Shane came out and he added in information, pulled a few faces at where they had wandered and gave Ilya the name of a far better dry cleaner.

"Yuna recommended that one to me," Ilya said with wide eyes. "You want me to argue with your mother?"

"I want your shirts not to get over starched," Shane said tartly.

"This is an impossible choice. You know she will ask me."

"Why?" Jamie asked, bewildered.

"My mother likes things a certain way," Shane said. When Ilya snorted and muttered 'genetic', Shane gave him a look. "Yeah, I know. But I'm your boyfriend."

"I know," Ilya said that wide happy smile returning.

Jamie decided to help Shane clean up while Ilya went to paw over their movie choices. Dishes slotted into the dishwasher as Jamie put leftovers into containers. Not that there was much left over. Between the three of them they'd decimated a fair amount.

"When Ilya met Roy, he threatened him," Jamie observed.

Shane froze over the dishwasher for a beat, then slotted a fork into place and stood up. "He mentioned. So. You want to threaten me because-"

"No," Jamie cut him off. "I like you. He loves you. I don't have anything to say about that."

"Okay," Shane studied him. "Then what?"

"He doesn't always say things," Jamie said carefully, stepping between secrets and things that might be secrets. He had run through it all with Roy before he'd left, in case he got this chance. "About how he feels."

"I am well aware," Shane said, not cold exactly, but definitely a little tired.

"You have to ask him a lot and listen hard," Jamie said helplessly. This had felt easier in practice. "Please."

"I do," Shane said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't need you to tell me that."

"Okay," Jamie deflated. Mission failure. Great. "Great. Good. That's all I wanted to say."

"Sharknado!" Ilya yelled from the living room.

"Only if it's the fourth one!" Shane yelled back and the moment broke irrevocably.

If Jamie was quieter through the movie, the happy couple didn't seem to notice. He bit at his cuticles and turned it over in his head. Had he said it wrong? Made it seem too simple? Towards the end of the movie, he quietly slipped away to finish packing. Ilya had said he'd drive him, but Jamie figured he'd change his mind now and that was fine. He could get a car service.

"You missed the ending," Ilya said from the doorway as Jamie zipped his case closed.

"Gotta get gone," Jamie reminded him. "I'll download it and finish it on the plane."

"You know I drive fast. You won't be late," Ilya said and a knot untied in Jamie's chest.

"Yeah, I know," Jamie allowed. "Bit sad about going. Never had so much time with you before and I'll miss you is all."

"We have gotten very soft. Saying these things."

"I'm saying things, you're acting like a door," Jamie pointed out, turning to face him. "I like him."

"You do? You got very…small."

"Doing a new thing where I don't act like a prick with every new person I meet."

"There is something between prick and disappearing. He wanted to ask you things about me, probably. Get stories."

"Give him my number," Jamie suggested. "Texting is easier."

"But not as good," Ilya said.

"Yeah," Jamie's voice caught. "It isn't. But you know. Whatever."

"Whatever," Ilya agreed and then Jamie was being pulled into a rough encompassing hug which he returned with probably too much strength. Luckily Ilya was a pretty strong guy.

 

July 2018

Jamie: Coatis are fucking wild. Look at these. [image of a coati sitting on the railing of a beautiful balcony. Behind it is a blue stretch of ocean]

Ilya: Steal me one.

Jamie: I'll just put it under my shirt and tell customs Roy got me up the duff.

Ilya: What the fuck slang is that? What is a duff?

Jamie: Preggers?

Ilya: Disgusting. I love it.

 

August 2018

Ilya: First match back and Tartt kicks it in from mid-pitch? What kind of rehab did you do?

Jamie: Fucking all of it. The return of the king, baby!

 

September 2018

Jamie: So.

Ilya: I know.

Jamie: Boodram is good.

Ilya: Don't.

Jamie: Okay.

 

October 2018

Jamie: What are you going as this year? Pheobe's school is doing a fancy dress dance and she's a plague doctor. Kinda creepy, long nose thing.

Ilya: No time this year.

Jamie: Gotcha. Think Roy would let me put cat ears on him?

Ilya: Please tell me if you try.

 

November 2018

Ilya: David invited me over.

Jamie: That's cool. To do what?

Ilya: Have dinner. Yuna is out of town. Shane isn't here.

Jamie: Okay. So do we think this is a trap?

Ilya: I did, but I cannot think of why he would want to trap me. I think he likes me.

Jamie: Maybe he just wants you to hang out.

Ilya: Maybe.

Jamie: If he says anything weird, it doesn't matter.

Three Hours Later

Ilya: We did a puzzle. It was nice. Not a trap.

Jamie: I think you've got nice in-laws.

Ilya: We're not married.

Jamie: Close enough.

Ilya: I like them.

Jamie: Good.

 

December 2018

Jamie: How did you get these? I thought they were limited edition.

Ilya: My player has good sponsors and asks for nothing most of the time. I ask him to ask. So it is from both of us.

Jamie: Tell him thanks for me. Did you get yours?

Ilya: I did not know you could customize fireplace tools.

Jamie: Classy ones!

Ilya: We have different definitions of classy, but I like them very much.

 

January 2019

Jamie: Happy new year from the future!

Ilya: Happy new year from the past!

Jamie: New resolution.

Ilya: Why do you always decide this? What if I have a new resolution?

Jamie: Too slow. You don't have to do this one with me. Or we can make it like broader or something.

Ilya: Why?

Jamie: I want to come out to my team.

Ilya: Shit.

Jamie: I can do it on my own. This isn't me trying to push you, I swear.

Ilya: I know. You are ready. It is different. With Colin.

Jamie: Roy won't be part of it. I don't know if he ever will. I'm just going to tell them I have someone who can't talk about it. It's stupid though. I'm going to do it anyway. We can make a different one together.

Ilya: No. I think I want this. My player might tell his team too.

Jamie: Really?

Ilya: Really. We can be triplets this year.

Jamie: Mint!

 

February 2019

Roy: This is Roy Kent. Jamie is going to be fine. No concussion just a little dizzy. They suggested screen rest for the day as a precaution. He'll be back to talking to you constantly tomorrow.

Ilya: Thank you.

Roy: He won't take a nap until I tell him I texted you. He thought you'd be worried.

Ilya: I was.

Roy: How's your shoulder? Looked stiff after that second period hit yesterday.

Ilya: Better already. Mostly bruising.

Roy: Icing it?

Ilya: Yes. Tell him we are on the injury list together too.

Roy: I will. Rest up.

 

March 2019

Ilya: Pop

Jamie: Bang

Ilya: Gun

Jamie: Bond

Ilya: Martini

Jamie: Olive (gross)

Ilya: Green

Jamie: Blue

Ilya: Sky

Jamie: Grass

Ilya: Dirty

Jamie: Grave

Ilya: They called my name.

Jamie: Okay.

 

Forty-five minutes later

Ilya: If these pills break my dick, I'm telling my player that it is your fault.

Jamie: Cool. Can't wait for that text.

 

April 2019

Shane: Is this Jamie?

Jamie: It is today.

Shane: This is Shane. Sorry to bother you. Hope it's okay that he gave me your number.

Jamie: Fine by me. He asked, I said it was okay ages ago. Everything all right?

Shane: Nothings wrong.

Jamie: Wait, are you mad because the pills broke his dick? Because he said they didn't.

Shane: The pills didn't break anything. Why would I be mad at you?

Jamie: Bullied him into it?

Shane: He said it was time to try something else.

Jamie: Yeah.

Shane: He's so full of shit.

Jamie: Yep.

Shane: Anyway that wasn't why I was texting.

Jamie: Okay?

Shane: I'm trying to figure out a birthday present for him. I know I've got time, but he can be hard to shop for.

Jamie: You're not going to like it.

Shane: Why not? If he wants something and you know, I want to know. Unless you were going to get it for him?

Jamie: No, I can't really. Not sure how I'd go about it. We don't really do birthday gifts anyway. First time we even did Christmas gifts properly was this year.

Shane: You get each other things.

Jamie: Sometimes. When we think about it. Gotta figure out something for Roy for Uncle's Day. Hold on, gotta start a new list.

Shane: You keep lists?

Jamie: So many. I'm not good at keeping things in my head. Okay, gift idea.

Shane: Yes. Please.

Jamie: Dog.

Shane: You're right. I don't like it. But he'd love it. I've never had a pet.

Jamie: Me either. Sounds nice though and he loves them.

Shane: He really does. If I were to get him a dog, what kind do you think would he like?

Jamie: One with a sad story.

Shane: Fuck. You're right.

Jamie: Always am!

 

May 2019

Jamie: So the whole thing is like even when you're outside the cave, someone down there is still seeing shadows. Broke my fucking brain.

Ilya: This came up because you asked why he was sighing so loud?

Jamie: I'm worried about him. He misses Ted. It's like those cats at shelters with the little signs.

Ilya: When have you been to an animal shelter?

Jamie: Pheobe's lizard came from one. I said hi to the cats when they were doing the paperwork.

Ilya: What signs did you mean?

Jamie: Bonded pair, do not separate.

Ilya: I like this sign. Very clear.

Jamie: Me too. I think I like cats.

Ilya: They have knife feet.

Jamie: So do you sometimes and I like you.

 

June 2019

Jamie: [picture of two kittens, both white with black splotches. They are curled up on top of a black-clad chest with one hand cupping both of them carefully]

Jamie: He's obsessed.

Ilya: I thought he did not like cats.

Jamie: He didn't like me either at first.

Ilya: Did you settle on names?

Jamie: Hex and Penta.

Ilya: What kind of names are those?

Jamie: Footballs have white hexagons and black pentagons.

Ilya: Okay, I take it back, I like that. They are very cute.

Jamie: Right? My housekeeper says she can stop by and feed them when we have away games. So all set.

Ilya: I did not think of a private employee for this. A dog would be be more complicated.

Jamie: They've got places though. Nice ones. Doggy daycare or whatever.

Ilya: Maybe.

 

Three Days Later

Ilya: Did you know?

Jamie: Know what?

Ilya: [picture of a sweet-faced brown dog attempting to lick Ilya's cheek]

Jamie: Happy birthday, mate!

Ilya: I love her. He says he does not want a dog then he gets me a dog.

Jamie: Guess he loves you more than he cares about dog hair.

 

July 2019

Ilya: I am going to tell my team over group chat today. Is doing it over text cheating?

Jamie: That's fucking brilliant. I'm doing it too. Keep putting it off and it's stupid. Same time?

Ilya: Same time. What will you say?

Jamie: Was going to use the gif of N'Sync saying bye bye bye, but it says 'bi bi bi' then 'it me'.

Ilya: This is insane. Perfect. I will do the same.

Jamie: Count of three?

Ilya: One.

Jamie: Two.

Ilya: Three.

Jamie: I'm going to spew.

Ilya: We can also do this on the count of three.

Jamie: Colin just said I missed pride month, but he's still proud of me. What a prick.

 

August 2019

Jamie: [Picture of a kitten sleeping on someone's arm] Do I just live here now?

Ilya: Cut it off.

Jamie: Sleeve or arm?

Ilya: Yes.

 

September 2019

Ilya: What is wrong with Bumbercatch? He played like shit today.

Jamie: He's nervous.

Ilya: About what?

Jamie: He's asking his girlfriend to marry him on Friday.

Ilya: He played very well now that I know this. Do you think about marriage?

Jamie: Not really. Mummy never married Simon and she did marry my Dad so what the fuck does it even mean. I love Roy. Great boyfriend. I don't know what would change if he was my husband. You?

Ilya: I already know how I will propose. I don't want to do it while we are still hiding though. I want to marry him out loud.

Jamie: So you'll wait. Are you okay with that?

Ilya: Yes.

Jamie: Really?

Ilya: I have to be.

 

October 2019

Ilya: [picture of Ilya from the neck down in a Roman Centurion costume]

Jamie: Fuck me that's hot. Is that for your team party?

Ilya: Yes.

Jamie: If you wanted to figure out who else on the team likes dick that's one way to do it.

Ilya: I already know this. This is just for me.

Jamie: And me apparently. I showed it to Roy and even he froze up for a second.

Ilya: I did not show you the best part. [picture of Anya in a matching helmet]

Jamie: 11/10. Best costume goes to her.

 

November 2019

Jamie: You know how I usually only watch your games?

Ilya: Yes because you are obsessed with me. A stalker.

Jamie: I'm being serious here. Changed it up this season and started watching your player's games too. Not all of them, more the highlight reels and things. He's fun to watch.

Ilya: That is nice. He has five millions fans, but yes, he can also steal one of mine.

Jamie: His team looks different with him. Did he tell them?

Ilya: Yes. You can tell?

Jamie: Dunno. Might just be me being weird.

Ilya: What did you notice?

Jaime: Not sure yet.

Ilya: Tell me when you know.

 

December 2019

Jamie: Are you okay? What the fuck is happening?

Jamie: I got this crazy news alert and there's nothing else.

Jamie: Ilya?

 

Fifteen Minutes Later

Jamie: I'm sorry to bother you right now, but have you heard anything?

Shane: Sorry, this is Shane's friend Hayden. We don't know anything yet.

 

One Hour Later

Shane: He's okay it was an emergency landing everyone got off okay

Jamie: Oh thank fuck. Are you all right?

Shane: No. Do you know his ring size?

Jamie: I will fucking find a way to figure it out. Lock him down, Hollander.

 

January 2020

Jamie: Happy new year from the future! Where you are still alive! Thank fuck!

Ilya: Happy new year from the past! It is a good year to still be alive. And engaged.

Jamie: He didn't wait a single second, did he? Did we nail the ring size?

Ilya: Yes, it is perfect. You helped?

Jamie: It was something to talk about while we were both getting our breath back.

Ilya: I think I have a resolution for us this year.

Jamie: Breaking tradition?

Ilya: You said I was too slow, now I am fast enough. Ready?

Jamie: Lay it on me.

Ilya: Be honest about how we feel with the people we care about.

Jamie: I like that one.

Ilya: Good. You are one of my best friends and I love you.

Jamie: You're one of my best friends and I love you too. Fuck now Roy is going to ask why I'm crying over one glass of champagne.

Ilya: And what will you tell him?

Jamie: The truth, you prick. Not breaking the resolution in the first five minutes.

 

February 2020

Jamie: Figured it out. It isn't in the game. It's the other stuff.

Ilya: Explain.

Jamie: They're not celebrating his goals. When he's talking, they don't look at him. Except for those two guys that I think are his friends. It's really cold and I think it's messing with the game too, but not in a big obvious way.

Ilya: I thought this was only me being bitter with them, but you see it too.

Jamie: Ask your team. I bet if you point them at it, they'll notice. Some of them have to have friends on his team too, right?

Ilya: My team is young. Not as many transfers, but I will ask. You're right. Hayes or Bood might have noticed. They are a sharp.

Jamie: What do you want to do if we're right?

Ilya: He loves his team. He wants to retire there.

Jamie: Shit.

 

March 2020

Jamie: Then it goes do do do doot doot doot

Ilya: Why would you type this out? Send a voice memo.

Jamie: [audio file of off-key humming]

Ilya: I played it for the room. No one knows.

Jamie: Tell them Richmond is fucking stumped too. I swear I will give a thousand pounds to whoever figures it out first.

 

Ten Minutes Later

Ilya: Hazy thinks he has it.

Jamie: Lay it on me.

Ilya: Is it 'The Real Slim Shady'?

Jamie: FUCK YES THAT'S IT. Kiss him for me.

Ilya: He says he would prefer the money. Rude.

Jamie: He can have both. That was making me mental.

 

April 2020

"Jamie," Roy's voice cut through Jamie's evening routine, "get down here!"

"Why?" He called back down.

"You need to see this!"

It was annoying to stop between toner and moisturizer, but Roy usually left him alone to do what he needed, so something was off. He came down the stairs, face still damp to find Roy standing behind the couch, eyes glued to the television.

"What?" Jamie asked, coming in closer.

Roy pointed.

"-in other news tonight, the NHL has announced they will be benching captains Ilya Rozanov, of the Ottawa Centaurs and Shane Hollander, of the Montreal Metros, pending investigation. Earlier today, a video was posted online that caught both men in an intimate moment in the background."

Footage flashed up on screen, grainy and pixilated. Ilya was holding Shane close, the two of them kissing with sweet intent.

"What a fucking nightmare," Roy said under his breath.

"I have to call him."

"He might not be able to pick up," Roy said, touching Jamie's back lightly. "Go on though."

The phone rang and rang. This is Ilya. I will never listen to your voicemail.

That tracked, so Jamie switched back to the tried and true.

 

Jamie: Just saw. Fucking jackals. Tell me if there's anything we can do over here to help.

 

It would be the middle of the night for them. Hopefully they were sleeping or at least had their phones off and were keeping each other distracted.

Roy came back with tea and they sat down heavily on the couch, mugs filling their hands. The news had already moved on. Jamie turned it off.

"You want to tell people," Roy guessed before Jamie could even say anything.

"Not right now," Jamie said quickly. "I don't want to fuck up what we've got, but Roy…I don't want someone else to do it for us."

"Neither do I," Roy said. "Good fucking thing we told Rebecca and signed all that paperwork. They wouldn't be able to nail us like this. A fucking investigation. Fuckers."

"You'd really be okay if people knew?" Jamie checked.

"I hate what people will probably say about it. About me. That's just fucking noise though. I'm proud of you. Proud to be with you. Let me them fucking know it."

It was a good thing Ilya didn't call back until morning. Jamie had spent a good portion of his night getting the worst rug burn of his life.

 

Ilya: It is very bad. But can I tell you something that you cannot repeat ever?

Jamie: You know you can.

Ilya: I am a little bit relieved. I have felt a train running towards us for so long, now that it has hit I do not have to wait for it to happen anymore.

Jamie: Makes sense to me.

Ilya: If they take hockey from him, I will kill every last fucking one of them.

Jamie: I'll help. Seems like a lot of bodies to hack through alone.

Ilya: We meet with the commissioner soon. I am so fucking tired. Everything feels fake right now.

Jamie: You're real. He's real. It's going to be all right. I know it. Wait, can I use names now?

Ilya: What does it fucking matter? Go ahead.

Jamie: You're Ilya fucking Rozanov and he's Shane fucking Hollander. The only thing you two can't do together is have lesbian sex and I'm sure you could figure that out if we gave you enough time. Go bite their throats out.

 

May 2020

Jamie: Happy birthday, mate! Here's to a better year coming.

Shane: Thank you. It's already looking up. Did you get the invitation?

Jamie: Already bought a suit and got Roy a new tie so he won't look like the grim reaper.

Shane: I appreciate that. Ilya said it was late enough not to interfere with your season, but weren't sure about the Olympics.

Jamie: You're good. Can't hang around for long after, but I figure you're going to honeymoon or something.

Shane: We're going to Ibiza.

Jamie: Brilliant! Have you been before?

Shane: No. Ilya has.

Jamie: Not for years he hasn't. I'm going to ask around, send you guys some recommendations. I think Zoreaux was there a few months ago.

Shane: Thanks that'd be nice.

Jamie: I know this wasn't how you wanted it to happen, but I'm really happy for both of you.

Shane: You don't have to say that. I know you're not crazy about me.

Jamie: What the fuck? Why would you say that?

Shane: You think I'm bad for him.

 

Jamie calling.

"Hello?"

"Hollander, what are you on about?" Jamie demanded.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Shane said. "Sorry."

"No, no, we're having this out. Of course I fucking like you. Where did I fuck up?"

"I don't know. When we met, you seemed upset. I thought it was jealousy, but Ilya keeps saying you're not like that, so I figured it was me. Especially with you telling me about keeping him happy or whatever."

"Fuck me," Jamie groaned and thumped his head against the wall behind him. Janice from ticket sales walked by and gave him an odd look. Great. "I was just worried about him and shit at talking about it. I told him I'd fucked it and he said I hadn't."

"You didn't fuck it. I'm glad someone else saw that things weren't okay. I thought I was making it up sometimes."

"You weren't," Jamie confirmed. "I was trying to help, I'm just shit at it. Not enough practice."

"You did kind of help," Shane murmured. "Or maybe you helped a lot, actually."

Had he? Jamie rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest. "You're a good man. You're good to him. I like you a lot. Okay?"

"Okay," Shane confirmed. "Friends?"

"Friends," Jamie said.

 

June 2020

Ilya: What things do you need for a wedding?

Jamie: Fuck if I know. Someone to marry you. Couple of people to applaud. Cake. Music.

Ilya: Cake and music are easy.

Jamie: Oh! Flowers. Flowers are nice.

Ilya: What kind?

Jamie: Mate, I've been to three weddings and I was blackout drunk for two of them. You're rich, hire someone to help.

Ilya: We did not want someone else to do things this time. It is our wedding.

Jamie: That's fucking stupid.

Ilya: You're an asshole.

Jamie: You don't know dick about event planning. Keeley does it all the time and just listening to her talk about it makes me tired. You call someone, you tell them what you want and throw cash at them like they're a stripper. They'll do whatever.

Ilya: Why do I even ask you?

Jamie: Cause I'm a genius, obviously.

 

July 2020

"You're going to chew through to bone if you keep that up," Roy said as they got out of the car. "Quit it."

Jamie dropped his thumb away from his mouth with a groan. "I know, I know. I want it to go nice for them."

"Is that under your control?" Roy asked.

"No," Jamie sighed. "Don't be Doc at me right now. She already laid into me about it."

They driveway was long, but Jamie could already hear the rise and fall of voices. Jamie liked meeting people. He was good at it. This felt different. He re-buttoned his suit jacket and smoothed it down. The walk wasn't long. He squared his shoulders.

His hand went warm and there was pressure that eased him. Roy had taken his hand in his.

"Really?" Jamie asked.

"It's a gay wedding on the other side of the pond," Roy said roughly, not looking at him. "Where else if we want to make start of it?"

The tension Jamie had been holding ran out of him. He squeezed Roy's hand. They walked into the backyard together. The green patch had been transformed. There was white silky fabric draped along the fence and a cluster of chairs set around a wooden arch that had been festooned with still more fabric and small patches of white roses. Along the fence there were tables with chafing dishes and modest sized cake. There were several enormous guys in suits already there and dotted among them wives and children.

"Hello, you must be Jamie and Roy." A woman approached them with neutral expression. Even if she hadn't looked like Shane, the set of her lips would've told Jamie who she was. "I'm Yuna."

"Pleasure to meet you," Jamie said.

"Ilya speaks very highly of you," she said, studying his face. "He says you've been friends for some time."

"Five years," Jamie agreed, then did the math. "Six. Fuck, it's been six years. Sorry for swearing."

"Don't worry about that here," Yuna assured him. "It's been swearing all morning getting everything together. Would you like to meet some of their team members?"

"I want to put faces to stories," Jamie agreed readily.

Yuna was very smooth about passing them off to Hayes as she went to greet the next person. It wasn't hard to play nice with the Centaurs. They were good guys and they'd shown up today, so they weren't going to say anything that made Jamie's blood boil.

"Oh, you should meet our rookie," Hayes said when Boodram accepted his very tiny baby from his wife. "Haasy! Come meet Jamie."

"Captain's texting friend?" A young beefy guy with some kind of accent bounded up to them and then stopped dead in his tracks.

"Nice to meet you, rook," Jamie said.

"Hazy that is Jamie Tartt! And Roy Kent!"

"Yeah," Hayes said with a frown. "Why?"

Roy laughed quietly, "Didn't think it'd be the rookie."

"He's the only European on the team, I think," Jamie whispered, then said louder. "Promise we don't bite. Mostly. Okay, I don't. Roy might."

"Shut up," Roy said.

"It is very nice to meet you," Haas squeaked out. "I did not know Captain's friend Jamie was you."

"Why would you?" Jamie asked with a grin. "Not advertising it or anything."

"No," Haas said faintly. "But it makes a lot of sense."

"What am I missing here?" Hayes asked, looking between them.

"He is one of the best current players," Haas said which was already nice to hear, but then Haas tacked on, "And Roy Kent is a legend."

"Oi! Not one of the best. The best," Jamie corrected. "Mostly cause I'm on the best team with the best head coach."

"I wondered what kind of guy Cap would be friends with that wasn't a hockey player," Hayes laughed. "This is pretty much what I pictured. The twinning is real."

"So goalies are weird in every sport, good to know," Jamie whispered to Roy when Hayes walked off still laughing to himself and taking Haas with him.

Music started up and everyone found seats. There didn't seem to be sides, so Jamie sniped two seats in the second row. There wasn't much fanfare before Shane and Ilya were standing up under the arch in their nice suits. Jamie heard the words they said to each other, but they didn't really sink in.

What he would remember was the picture of them together, framed by an arch that seemed draw them closer together.

He would remember the rings put on with certainty and the kiss that had everyone on their feet applauding. He would remember the way Roy ducked his head and dashed a hand across his eyes so fast that it could've been nothing at all. It wasn't nothing. Jamie leaned in, touched his temple to Roy's for only a moment and whispered, "Softie."

"It's nice," Roy growled at him. "They look happy."

"They do," Jamie agreed.

More of the usual wedding things happened after that. There was dancing and food. Not much in the way of speeches or throwing things into the crowd, but Jamie didn't miss that bit. There was a football, produced by one of the handful of kids and Jamie ditched small talk in favor of playing with them. He taught twin girls with wide eager eyes how to roll the ball up to their knee and kept a toddler from face planting every time she kicked.

"Uncle Ilya!" One of the twins yelled. "Come play!"

"I cannot today," Ilya said apologetically, but he came over and watched her kick a 'goal'.

"Uncle Ilya?"

"Children do what children do," Ilya said, his eyes bright with pleasure and his cheeks pink with a lot of toasts. "

"Look at you," Jamie said, shaking his head. "Husband. Uncle. What the fuck?"

"It is like a dream," Ilya said softly.

Behind them, the party was starting to pick up steam. The bass thumped and the sun slid down. Fairy lights turned on under the pretty fabric. Ilya strode away to dance with his husband again. The kids were starting to get tired, retreating to complain to their parents.

Turning, Jamie scanned the crowd and found Roy a little ways back, watching like it was a match and he'd have to give notes later. Amused, Jamie drifted to him and teasingly held out a hand, nodding towards the floor.

With a huff of annoyance, Roy grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him towards the dancers. No conversation, no protest. The music was soft and sweet as Roy settled his hand on Jamie's back. They didn't try for anything fancy. Shuffling around in circles with Roy under the rising moon was perfectly lovely without theatrics.

The lights caught in Ilya's curls and the dark strands of Shane's hair. They brushed past each other, moving through the crowd. Ilya caught Jamie's eye and winked. Jamie had been sober for months, keeping his body a temple for end of season and now the Olympics. Burrowing in close to Roy and celebrating a night he'd never imagined coming, Jamie had the best high of his life.