1 – 1 of 1 Work in Shane being pushed by his boyfriend to go on a date with Troy
- Shane being pushed by his boyfriend to go on a date with Troy ×
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Ilya thinks he’s being a good friend to Troy when he gets Troy to confess his crush to him. But when the crush turns out to be Shane, HIS Shane, he does the most stupid thing he could possibly do. He gives Troy Shane’s number. Ilya Rozanov wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he stepped off the ice after another grueling practice session in Ottawa. His muscles ached in that satisfying way, the kind that reminded him he was alive, pushing limits. His teammates were scattered in the locker room, some laughing about a drill, others stripping off gear with tired grunts. Ilya felt a buzz of anticipation wash through him as he remembered his boyfriend Shane was due to visit this weekend, and just the thought of it made the world feel a little less heavy. Sneaking around had always been exhausting. But those stolen moments? Worth every fucking risk. Troy Barrett was hanging back by his stall, twisting his gloves in his hands like they owed him money, Ilya noticed. A few months ago, after a late-night game, after weeks of talking and trying to get Troy to trust him, had cornered Ilya in the empty hallway and spilled his secret that he was gay. He'd said it in a whisper, eyes darting around to make sure there was nobody nearby when he said it. Ilya had just shrugged, clapped him on the back, and told him it was no big deal. “Your life, your business Barrett,” he'd said. "I got secrets too." Troy had looked relieved, like a weight had lifted, and since then, there was this unspoken bond between them. Ilya respected that trust if he was being honest. it wasn't easy being different in a league full of homophobic, straight people. But now, Troy looked downright nervous, shifting from foot to foot, his face flushed under the locker room lights. He kept glancing at Ilya, then away, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Ilya arched an eyebrow as he unlaced his skates, tossing his helmet into his bag and faced him. "What? You look like you swallowed bad borscht. Or maybe you finally realized your slapshot sucks. Spit it out Barrett." Troy let out a nervous chuckle, but it came out strained, like he was forcing it a little. “Nah, man. My slapshot's fine, dare I say better than yours on a bad day. Hey, can we talk? Somewhere private? Not here with these clowns eavesdropping." Ilya nodded, curiosity getting the better of him. He grabbed his towel and slung it over his shoulder. "Sure. Hallway? Or you need a confessional booth?" They stepped into the dim corridor, the door clicking shut behind them, muffling the locker room noise to a distant sound. Troy leaned against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, his eyes fixed on the floor like a child waiting to be scolded by a parent. What could Troy possible be so nervous about? Ilya couldn’t stop wondering to himself. He was about to say “Spit it out Barrett, I don’t have all day to play guess my thoughts game with you,” but then Troy spoke before he got the chance. "Okay, so... there's this player I like. Or, I think I like. He's just hot, like really hot. Got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. It lights up his whole face, you know? Makes you want to stare forever. And his eyes? Man, they're killer. Plus, he's got that whole intense, focused vibe on the ice like he owns the puck." Ilya grinned wide, leaning in with genuine excitement. This was new territory for Troy. Crushes weren't something he'd brought up before. It felt good to be the confidant and also hearing first hand gossip that he was definitely going to tell Shane later that night. But Ilya wasn’t going to tell him that. “Oh? Good for you Barrett. Finally getting some action in that boring life of yours? Who is mystery man? Tell me. I know every player in league. Maybe I set up introduction for you, yes? Or scare him into confessing if he’s into men?” Troy's face turned even redder, and he hesitated, biting his lip like he was debating running back to the locker room. This was new, Ilya thought. He couldn’t remember Troy ever being this flustered before. Not even when he had finally confessed to him he was gay. “I don't know if I should say it though” “Why” Ilya’s curiosity reached an all time peak at that. Who was this player? Whoever this player was, it had to be a tough guy or someone that seemed out of his league for Troy to be so nervous about telling him. “It’s kinda bold. And he's like out of my league. Way out. Like I'm a beer league scrub and he's NHL All-Star material." "Come on," Ilya urged, his voice light and encouraging. He slapped Troy's arm playfully. “Don't be shy like little puppy Barrett. Even if you too chicken to ask him out, I do it for you. I talk to guy, make it happen. Tell him you're great catch, strong and also quiet type. Girls love that yes? Guys too probably. Easy peasy. “Well I don’t know if girls or guys in general love that but maybe…” Troy trailed off, one hand still resting nervously at the bottom of his head, scratching lightly, but Ilya cut in, already losing his patience. “Who? Spill Barrett or I start guessing. Which player is it? Is it that one you almost fought with the other day from Toronto? The one with weird mustache?" Troy shook his head quickly, a small nervous laugh escaping him. “No, god no. That mustache is a crime. Alright fine. But don't laugh, okay?" He took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes finally meeting Ilya's. "It's Hollander." The word hung in the air, and for a split second, Ilya didn't process it. Then shock slammed into him like a body check against the boards, hard, unexpected, leaving him winded and almost losing balance. His mind raced, hard and fast. “Hollander? "Who? Hollander Isaac?" There was one minor league scrub named Isaac Hollander, right? A nobody with average skills and zero presence. Had to be him. Please let it be him.The only other “Hollander” option here was well, oh fuck! It couldn’t be right?
- Language:
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