Chapter Text
November
“Hey,” Troy tried to sound casual as he approached a still-shirtless Ilya Rozanov in the locker room after yet another loss. “Got a sec?”
“Do I look busy?” Ilya raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he continued putting on his clothes.
“Right.” Troy’s cheeks flushed. “I just wanted to ask… I mean, do you— ?”
“Spit it out, Barrett.”
“You’re friends with Shane Hollander, right?” The words came out rushed, and Troy could feel his face burning. He hoped it didn’t show.
Amusement danced in Ilya’s eyes, as his mood immediately jumped from post-defeat despondency to something much more devilish.
“Yes.” The smirk on Ilya’s face was lethal. “We have a charity together. You may have heard of it. Why?”
“I was wondering if…” Shit, how was he supposed to say this? “If I could have his number? There’s something I wanted to ask him about.”
“Something.” Ilya raised an eyebrow, obviously enjoying this too much already.
Fuck, was Troy already giving himself away? If he’d learned anything in the last few weeks, it was that Rozanov was annoyingly perceptive. His gut instinct told him that Ilya wouldn’t judge him or tell anyone even if he did see through him and figure it out, but he still felt on edge as he tried to think of any platonic reason he might need Shane’s number. He probably should’ve thought of an excuse before asking, but no one had ever accused Troy of being too smart for his own good.
Maybe he could take the mysterious route? Ilya himself had proved to be a bit of an enigma in the short time Troy had known him, so he might respect that.
“I can’t really get into it. It’s just like, an advice thing. I thought he might be a good person to talk to about it.” Troy practically held his breath.
“Advice.” Ilya’s lips quirked up, staring at Troy like he knew every secret he’d ever had. Well, no option now but to double down.
“Yeah. So… Can I have it?”
“Sure.” Ilya shrugged. “You are not going to post it online, are you?”
“What? No!” Troy blustered. “I would never. That’s not—”
“Relax, Barrett. I am fucking with you.” Ilya grinned, reaching for his phone.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“There. Sent. Don’t send him a dick pic.”
“What?! I’m not— that’s not why I’m—” Troy blushed furiously. Yeah, Ilya totally knew.
“Barrett. Is fine. You are fine.” Ilya chuckled, clapping him on the back in a somewhat fatherly manner. Well, fatherly if Troy’s actual father wasn’t a shithead.
Troy exhaled through the stress of the conversation, and Ilya met his eyes, a kinder, more serious look crossing his face. “Is okay. Whatever you need… advice about. From Hollander. He is a good guy. He will give it to you. Okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
***
Later that night, Troy stared at the blank text he had open on Shane’s contact. He still kind of couldn’t believe he had Shane Hollander’s phone number. The advice thing had sort of been an excuse, but he probably could use some words of wisdom from another gay man in the league. He could start there. God knows he had no idea how he was supposed to hit on a guy he’d barely met.
He logged into his burner account and opened Shane’s Instagram. All things considered, it was pretty sparse, mostly featuring professional photos from games and a couple promotional posts for the Irina Foundation. But damn. The man really was a fucking cutie.
Chat with Shane Hollander
8:12pm
Troy: Hi, this is Troy Barrett. Roz gave me your number. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something
There. That was simple. Direct. Not flirty.
It only occurred to him afterwards that he didn’t actually have anything to talk to Shane about. Nothing beyond, “So I’m gay. I heard you are too. I think you’re hot. Want to tell me how to come out and also maybe fuck me?”
Shane: Hey, sure. What’s up?
The response came twenty minutes later, which was enough time for Troy to sufficiently freak himself out. His stress only worsened as he workshopped different versions of what to say.
Troy: There’s not really a good way to ask this but I heard you’re gay? Is that true?
He watched as Shane’s typing bubble appeared and disappeared, until it seemed like he might not get a response. Fuck, this was coming off all wrong.
Troy: I mean it’s cool if you are
Troy: I was just wondering
And now he had triple texted. And said the word “wondering” twice, which looked increasingly suspicious the longer he looked at it.
Shane: Uh, yeah, I am. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?
Alone in his barely furnished hotel room, Troy turned beet red. He should’ve thought this through. His only option was to come out to Hollander, and pray that he wouldn’t tell anyone — which, okay, he probably wouldn’t — or… Was there an or? He’d probably already outed himself just by asking.
Troy: I guess I just wanted to know how that’s going
Shane: How it’s going? What do you mean?
God, Hollander probably thought he was asking about his sex life. Well, he was planning to, but not like this.
Troy: Like how Montreal is treating you
Shane: Uh, fine mostly. Why?
He should’ve anticipated answering that question. Of all of the dumb shit Troy had done recently, this was turning out to rank pretty high.
He could pivot. Say his curiosity came from asking about how progressive the league was, given his most recent situation with Kent and Toronto.
Or he could be bold. Say he’d rather get into it face-to-face and see if Hollander would meet up with him the next time he was in town, then take it from there. Hollander was from here, right?
Yeah. That was the right call. Feel it out in person. Troy had been informed enough times by Adrian to know that his text game was subpar anyways.
Troy: This might be more of an in-person conversation now that I’m thinking about it. Maybe we could meet up next time you’re in Ottawa or after a game or something
His heart beat rapidly in his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d sent that. Fuck, this was so stupid.
The reply didn’t come for another ten minutes, during which Troy sincerely debated throwing himself off of his patio.
Shane: Sure. I’m not in town much during the season but I’ll be home at Christmas. Happy to get coffee or something and give some advice
Christmas. Two months from now. During which they definitely had two games against Montreal planned that Shane was clearly not down to meet up at.
Well, that was a shut down. The patio was looking pretty good right now.
Troy: Sounds good 👍
Shane gave the message a thumbs up, and Troy resigned himself to go miserably jack off in the shower and attempt to forget this had ever happened.
***
“You gave him my number?! What is wrong with you?!”
Ilya cackled at the bewildered look on Shane’s face over FaceTime. He’d been hoping Troy would text Shane immediately, and now he was giddy to hear how it went.
“He asked! What, am I supposed to say no?” He couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face if he tried. Shane’s shocked, distressed little face right now was so adorable he wanted to bite him through the screen.
“I mean, yes!”
“What did he say?” Ilya smiled. “‘Hi Shane, this is Troy Barrett, do you like dick?’”
“Stop it.”
“‘Would you like to try mine?’”
Shane groaned, smashing his face into a nearby pillow.
“He is growing on me. He has bad vibes, but, good taste.”
“Come on,” Shane looked up, cheeks going a little pink. “You don’t even know that he’s gay.”
“No?” Ilya smiled, patronizing as ever. “He asked you about something else?”
“Fine, he’s probably gay.” Shane’s consternation did nothing to dampen Ilya’s spirit. The next part came out awkwardly. “He… He asked me to meet up.”
“Ha!”
“I don’t know if he meant like, for advice or to hook up!” Shane’s face went even redder.
“Of course he meant to hook up! Look at you!”
“Stop.”
“What? You are very beautiful! I do not blame him.” Ilya waggled his eyebrows.
“You are aware that I have a boyfriend, right?” Shane looked into the camera flatly. “And that it’s you?”
“Yes,” Ilya practically giggled. “A boyfriend who loves you very much and thinks you are very cute when you are embarrassed.”
Shane couldn’t keep the shy, annoyed smile from surfacing.
“What did you tell him?” Ilya loved this situation far too much. He loved Shane far too much. He looked so uncomfortable, blushing so brightly that Ilya wanted to kiss every pink freckle on that face.
“I said maybe we could meet up for coffee—”
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
“—and advice when I’m home for Christmas. I tried to, like, friend zone him or whatever. I’m just hoping he’ll forget about it by the time it actually happens.”
“Oh my God.” Ilya laughed so hard his eyes watered.
“It’s not funny!”
“Is absolutely funny! My homophobic teammate is gay and tried to hit on you!” Ilya’s whole body shook. “And he asked me! Your boyfriend! For your number! Come on, Hollander, is fucking funny!”
Shane chuckled, finally giving in, until they were both wiping tears from their eyes.
“God,” Shane smiled wistfully as the moment settled. “I wish you were here right now.”
“Me too. Two weeks is too long. I want to be touching you right now.”
A sentimental look passed over Shane’s face, and Ilya stared back fondly before his smile widened.
“Just like Barrett.”
“Oh, fuck off.”