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“Have you heard from Shane?”
Hayden shook his head. Shane had been sick all last week, fighting through it to play their Thursday game, coughing and spluttering all over the place as he did so. Coach had sent him home afterwards with strict instructions not to return until he was better - it took a bit of forcing, to get Shane to take any time off. But Hayden, and basically everyone else, knew it was for the best. No one enjoyed being around a sick player, it just meant the rest of the team risked catching something too, and that would be even worse.
But now it was Monday, they were finishing for the day, and Hayden hadn’t heard from him since he trailed off Thursday night, not even a text. If Shane needed the time off, then that was fine, but Hayden worried about him more than he let on. He was pretty sure Shane didn’t have any friends outside the team (and whatever the weird fucking situation was with Rose Landry post-breakup). He was close with his parents, sure, but they were in Ottawa and Hayden knew without having to ask that Shane would never let them drive all the way down to look after him.
“I’ll try ringing,” he told JJ, finding the contact in his phone. It rang, and rang, but no answer. “Voicemail,” he said.
JJ frowned. “He is probably just sleeping.”
“Yeah, probably. Anyone managed to contact him since the game, though?” Hayden looked around, as the rest of the team shook their heads and shrugged. Hayden made the call - with Shane out of action, it was his job as Assistant Captain to take the helm. “Alright, probably nothing, but I’ll drop by his apartment this evening, make sure he isn’t comatose or anything.”
“I will come too,” JJ said.
Hayden was about to say he didn’t have to, but one look at the man’s expression told him that JJ was already determined. “Sure,” he said instead. “Let me swing by home and eat, then I’ll pick you up and we can go check on him. Good?”
“Good,” nodded JJ.
~
Two hours later, Hayden had JJ in his passenger seat and a thermos of Jackie’s soup in his cupholder as he drove to Shane’s apartment.
“Have you seen ESPN?” JJ asked.
Hayden shook his head.
“They are saying Rozanov is back in Russia, he is missing his next game. Family emergency.”
“I thought all his family were dead.”
“Dude.” JJ stared at him. “Harsh.”
“... Maybe, whatever.” Hayden felt no lost love for the Boston Captain. He chirped relentlessly, every game he played and in the press conferences afterwards, like he got off on it. And he was good at it too, was the worst thing - he could find the one thing that was going to enrage you more than anything in about thirty seconds, and would then never let it go. In fact, Hayden wasn’t sure he’d ever managed to get through a full game without punching the Russian.
“Is a pity we are not playing Boston this week,” JJ continued. “We would thrash them without Rozanov.”
“Not if we don’t have Shane.”
“We could beat them without Shane! We’re good players, Pike!”
Hayden chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Alright.”
“Ugh.” JJ switched his phone off. “New York will get to beat Boston instead, now. It’s not fair.”
“Probably better for us, though. We can then beat New York easy.”
“Not as satisfying though.”
Hayden had to agree with him on that one. He turned on his blinker, pulling into Shane’s apartment complex and parking up.
Shane was fine, Hayden knew that really. He was just sick and sleeping twenty hours a day, like you were supposed to do. It was just that Shane was, well, reliable. Private, yes, but reliable. If you texted or called, he didn’t ghost you and leave you to worry. It just wasn’t like him to be unreachable. And yes, of course, Shane was just very sick, that’s all this was. But if he had- Hayden’s mind also contained a million worst case scenarios, like Shane passing out and hitting his head and bleeding out while no one was aware. He was a worrier, he knew that, but logic didn’t stop him from getting scared, even unreasonably. So. He and JJ were here to check on him as a precaution.
They both got out of the car, and Hayden led them to Shane’s door, ringing the doorbell.
For about a minute, there was silence, and the worst case scenarios possibilities started to spike in Hayden’s mind. Then the hallway lights switched on, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Then the door opened, and Hayden was greeted with the sight of a shirtless Rozanov, sweatpants hanging low off his hips.
Rozanov stared blankly back at Hayden and JJ. The only reaction was a widening of his eyes, but it only lasted half a second before his expression flipped to stony, so quick Hayden might have imagined it.
“Ah,” he drawled, his Russian accent thick, “you are not delivery man.”
Hayden blinked, like that would make his brain reset and what he was looking at would disappear. It didn’t.
“Um, what the fuck?!” JJ exclaimed. “Pike, you said this was Shane’s place!”
“It is,” Hayden said. Still staring at Rozanov. Trying to come up with a way this made sense.
“What do you want?” Rozanov asked, and he had the gall to sound annoyed, leaning against the doorframe like some sort of large cat. “You were not invited.”
That kickstarted Hayden’s brain again. “Us?” he demanded. “What the fuck are you doing here, Rozanov? What the fuck is going on?”
“Ilya?” Shane’s voice echoed from within the building. “What’s happening?”
Rozanov hesitated, his eyes darting backwards and jaw hanging slightly open. Hayden didn’t care anymore, he pushed past the larger man and stormed inside, vaguely aware of JJ at his heels. He practically raced up the stairs and burst into the living room.
Shane was led out on the sofa, and he was still sick, that much was immediately clear. He was wrapped in blankets, a small wastepaper basket at his feet that was filled with used tissues. As soon as he saw Hayden, his face went ashen.
“What are you two doing here?” he breathed. He looked terrified.
“We only came to check on you!” JJ was flinging his arms all over the place; he almost knocked the thermos out of Hayden’s hands. His French lilt had tripled in intensity. “Capitaine, what the fuck is Rozanov doing here? What is this?!”
Hayden would like to know too. But Shane just stared back at them, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.
There was the sound of footsteps, and Hayden turned to see Rozanov following them up at a leisurely place. “You have very rude teammates, Hollander,” he said dryly. “Come without invitation and then break in. I thought Canadians had better manners than this.”
“Ilya…” Shane whispered.
And yeah, that was another thing. Hayden was going to need Shane to stop referring to Rozanov as Ilya, like, right the fuck now.
“Shane,” he said - begging, almost. “What the fuck is going on?”
“It’s- It’s just…” Shane trailed off. Silence hung in the air.
“Hollander is sick,” Rozanov said simply. “I look after.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Hayden snapped.
Rozanov shrugged. “You asked.” He was still shirtless. Slowly, Hayden was beginning to realise that the obvious explanation was the only one. Except it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.
“But- but you are supposed to be in Russia!” JJ cried out. “It was on the news!”
“That is what I say, yes,” Rozanov said, entering the room fully, and walking around Hayden and JJ to go and stand behind Shane, resting a hand on the crook of Shane's neck. Hayden stared at the touch like it personally offended him. “Then I come to Montreal, because Hollander is sick.”
Hayden couldn’t ask the follow up question - he didn’t want to hear the answer. Didn’t want to make it real.
JJ could apparently stomach it. “Why?”
“Because we are lovers,” Rozanov said, like he was informing them the sky was blue.
Shane screwed his eyes shut. “Ilya,” he groaned. “I told you not to say it like that.”
“What?” Rozanov looked down at Shane, his mouth twisted in a crooked smirk. “Is accurate, no?”
“Just- Christ, say boyfriends or something. Oh my God.”
Lovers. Boyfriends. Jesus fuck. Hayden might throw up.
“We just… we were worried,” JJ said, voice sombre. “We hadn’t heard from you in days.”
“I- sorry,” Shane said. It came out all stilted. “I haven’t checked my phone. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking.”
“We are sorry, Capitaine,” JJ said.
Hayden whipped round to look at him, accusatory.
“What?” JJ mouthed.
“Um, no, sorry,” Hayden said angrily. “I think I’m gonna need a bit more to work out what the fuck is happening here.”
Rozanov glared at him. “You know what is happening, Pike. You just do not like it.”
“Shane,” Hayden implored.
The terror had left Shane’s face now. He just looked devastated instead. “Please. Hayd,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, but- but you can’t tell anyone. Please.”
“Rozanov? Seriously, fucking Rozanov?”
Shane bit his lip, and glanced up at the Russian standing over him. “Give us a minute?” he asked, in a tone far too soft for Hayden’s liking.
Rozanov nodded once. “Da,” he said.
“And will you-”
“Yes, moy lyubimyy.” Rozanov apparently knew what Shane wanted without needing to hear the question. He went and picked up the wastepaper bin (which yes, was full enough that Hayden knew it would be bothering Shane, but Rozanov shouldn’t know that) and then started to move away, carrying the pile of used tissues. To Hayden’s horror, Rozanov walked right up to him.
“Is for Shane?” he asked, eyeing the thermos pointedly.
“Uh- yeah.”
“He cannot have. Has stupid diet.”
Hayden felt the blood vessels behind his eyes begin to pop. “I know that, you fucker! I’ve been his friend for years! Why the fuck do you know that?!”
Rozanov didn’t seem to care that Hayden was practically spitting in his face. “So is okay for him?”
Hayden was so thrown, he couldn’t think of a response other than a simple: “yeah. My wife made it.”
Rozanov nodded, apparently satisfied. “Okay. Give to me, I will heat up.”
“...It’s in a thermos.”
“You freak out long time, Pike. Give to me.”
Hayden stared. He - literally - had no words. Eventually, Rozanov reached out and just snatched the thermos out of his hands and left the room.
“Come on,” Shane said tiredly, “both of you sit down. We’ll talk.”
JJ went over much more quickly than Hayden. Hayden had to force himself to move, one foot in front of another, until he was sat on one of the armchairs.
“I just-” Shane started, and then took a deep breath. Somewhere, in the back of Hayden’s mind that wasn’t freaking out about Ilya Rozanov wandering around Shane’s apartment shirtless and heating up soup, he really did feel bad for Shane. His voice was still so stuffy, and both he and JJ had sat as far away as possible, and not even because of the weird fucking situation. It was just standard practice if you were an athlete - you stayed as far the fuck away as possible from anyone who was ill.
“I want you both to know I’m sorry,” Shane said. “I should’ve told you sooner, but… well, you see. It’s complicated.”
JJ nodded. Hayden grabbed onto that explanation like a life raft.
“Shane, it’s okay,” he emphasised. “We can fix this.”
“Sorry?”
“So you’re gay, whatever. That’s fine, really, buddy. But you don’t have to subject yourself to Rozanov.”
“I… I don’t-” Shane interrupted himself with a coughing fit, and both Hayden and JJ winced. Hayden waited until it was over before continuing.
“Really, I mean it,” he said, looking Shane in the eyes. Trying his hardest to show his best friend it was okay. “We don’t care. I just feel like an idiot, I spent all that time trying to get you to go out with girls. But it’s fine - you like men, that’s- that’s chill, right, JJ?”
JJ paused, like he didn’t expect to get called on. For a second Hayden got scared, but then JJ started nodding vigorously. “Absolutley. You are still our Capitaine, non?”
Shane gave them both a sort of grim, watery, smile.
“So, it’s all okay,” Hayden reiterated. “We’ll fix this. We’ll find you a nice guy, it doesn’t have to be Rozanov. We’ll find you someone else, someone better. We’ll make sure you’re happy.” Hayden grinned at his best friend encouragingly. “We’ll fix this.”
“Yeah, um,” Shane said. “That’s, um, nice, but the thing is, I don’t… I mean, it’s not-”
“He does not want nice guy.” Rozanov re-entered the room, that smug look he always wore on the ice back on his face again. He had put Hayden’s soup into a mug with the fucking Boston logo on, and Hayden just knew it was intentional. His hands curled into fists. “He wants hot, sexy Russian with big dick.”
Shane groaned. To Hayden’s shock, JJ barked a surprised laugh, before slapping a hand over his mouth. Hayden felt like he should skip vomiting and get straight to hanging himself.
Rozanov headed straight for Shane, shoving the mug into his hands. “Here,” he said, and he spoke sternly, not with care, which angered Hayden even more. “Drink.”
Shane glared up at him. “‘M not hungry.”
“I do not care, Hollander. Is nutrients, you must eat.”
“I ate earlier.”
Rozanov’s jaw stiffened, and his eyes flashed with annoyance. “You are being big baby. You cannot take medicine without food. This fits your stupid diet. Drink it.”
“No, I feel nauseous, I’ll have it later.”
Rozanov sighed, like getting Shane to drink the soup was the equivalent to having the entire world on his shoulders. Then he stepped closer, taking the mug and lifting it up to Shane’s lips. “Drink,” he said quietly.
And Shane - did.
“Good,” Rozanov murmured. “Swallow.”
Shane swallowed, never breaking eye contact.
Hayden suddenly felt like he was watching a porno.
Rozanov withdrew, and some of the tension broke. Not all of it. “You will drink whole cup,” Rozanov said. “Then I can give you more medicine.”
Shane nodded, taking another sip, and Rozanov smiled, like he had won. Gloating like he did when he was playing.
Hayden spared a glance at JJ, who just shrugged, eyes wide, as if to say, What the fuck?
“I thought you were pissing off, Rozanov,” Hayden hissed.
Rozanov grinned, and Hayden was reminded of being on the ice once again, where it was like the man fed off of others' disdain for him. He was the only player in the league that played better away than at home - the analysts all said he fed off the boos more than the cheers. In Hayden’s mind, that alone confirmed Rozanov was a fucking psychopath.
“What, Pike, you do not enjoy my company? I only come to give your soup to my sick boyfriend.”
“You could at least put a shirt on,” Hayden said through gritted teeth.
Rozanov continued to grin, and started to flex shamelessly. “What is problem, you do not like? I know that Shane likes.”
“Ilya, please,” Shane said, a hand rubbing his face, “it’s really, really, not the time.”
Rozanov looked back at Shane. “You have rude teammates,” he said. “They push in, no warning, then they yell at you. I am allowed to make fun.”
“What if they tell people?”
“They will not,” Rozanov said, as confident as ever. He glanced at Hayden and JJ. “They are your friends, they are not going to ruin your career. They are angry, yes, but will keep mouths shut. Do not worry, moy lyubimyy.”
“You don’t know-”
“You will keep secret, yes?” Rozanov interrupted, staring down Hayden and JJ.
“...Uh, yeah,” JJ said finally. “I mean, I won’t tell.”
Then everyone turned to look at Hayden. “I- I mean I don’t- fuck-” Hayden spluttered. But he knew the answer. He could never do something that would hurt Shane. No matter how much of a fucking idiot his best friend apparently was. “Jesus Christ, no! Of course I won’t tell!”
“Thank you,” Shane breathed.
“That doesn’t mean this is fucking okay!”
Shane looked scared again; Rozanov just looked angry.
“I think…” JJ said slowly, “I think more explanation would be helpful. How? Why?”
Shane nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair. Well, I mean…” he paused, for a long time. “I guess, technically, it’s been going on since we were rookies. Maybe a bit before.”
Hayden felt himself jolt. “I didn’t even know you until you were a rookie,” he said.
Rozanov let out a quiet little huff of air, and Hayden zeroed in on him immediately. He had seen Rozanov look smug a lot: on the ice, during press conferences, on social media. Never had he seen Rozanov look as smug as he did right now. Rozanov met his gaze, as if daring him to say something.
“It wasn’t, like, straight away,” Shane continued quickly. “It was just sex, for a long time. And then… more.”
“More?” JJ echoed, disbelieving.
“Yeah, more,” Shane said. He took a deep breath. “Like, ‘we’re in love' type of more.”
JJ guffawed for a second, and then stopped himself. Then, like he couldn’t hold back, burst into full on laughter. Hayden stared at him in betrayal, Shane in shock. Rozanov just stared - if his face was giving anything away, Hayden didn’t know how to read it.
“JJ!” Hayden hissed.
“I’’m- I’m sorry,” JJ said, getting himself under control. “But it is funny! Everyone thinks they hate each other, for ten years! And they were banging the whole time!”
Shane let out a small chuckle. Hayden felt entirely alone.
“It’s not fucking funny!” he exclaimed. “Shane’s stuck dating the biggest dickhead we know! It’s not a fucking joke!”
The room turned silent. Rozanov’s eyes hardened. To Hayden’s dismay, so did Shane’s.
“He’s not a dickhead,” Shane said, serious once more. “He’s- he’s very good to me. You need to know that.”
Hayden rolled his eyes. “No offence, but if you’ve actually been with him since you were eighteen, then how the hell would you know? You think Rozanov’s the best you can do? I promise you, Shane, we’ll find you someone better.”
Rozanov stayed stoic, glaring at Hayden. Shane shook his head.
“Hayd, I don’t want anyone else. I want him.”
“You think that now-”
“No.” Shane rarely yelled. Even as Captain, he rarely yelled. This was the closest Hayden had seen him come in months, maybe years. “...No,” Shane repeated, returning to normal. “I know it’s confusing, and you don’t- you don't understand, and I get why you don’t. That’s- that’s our fault. We let everyone believe we hated each other for so long. But he really is good to me. Why else would he be here right now?”
Hayden faltered, glancing back to Rozanov like he could offer some explanation.
“Shane is sick,” Rozanov said once more. “I take care.”
That, more than anything, was when Hayden’s whole world really fell apart. Because it was bad enough if Shane and Rozanov were screwing, it was worse if Shane thought there was romance while Rozanov used him… But if Rozanov cared for Shane too…
“I think it is fine,” JJ said suddenly. “Rozanov is awful, yes, but he does not seem to be awful to Shane.”
“I am not.” The ever-present sarcastic undercurrent in Rozanov’s voice had disappeared. “Shane is very special, he is nice person. Deserves only nice things back.”
Hayden agreed Shane was special - but he didn’t think being nice was special. Plenty of people were nice. But somehow, due to the craziness of the situation, his brain had gone from a standstill to moving a million miles an hour. And he thought, out of nowhere, about what he knew of Rozanov, beyond the asshole who threw insults and punches like no one else. The details of Rozanov’s life were a mystery to everyone in the league, but the broad strokes were an open secret.
A childhood training in Russia - everyone knew that was no picnic. A dead mother from before he was drafted, and a father who died not too long ago, who had been rumoured to be something of a hardass. He hadn’t even been that friendly with his own teammates for his first few years in the league, on account of his poor English. Rozanov was the worst, but even Hayden knew, deep down, that he hadn’t had it easy.
It was Jackie’s voice that spoke in his head. Maybe a nice person is rarer to some people.
“You best not be fucking with us,” Hayden practically growled. “If you fuck him over, even a little bit, even once, then I swear to God-”
“You do not need to threaten me, Pike,” Rozanov said, and his tone was bored, but he looked at Hayden and his eyes were serious. “I do not even care what you would do, I would not hurt Shane.”
Hayden nodded once, curtly. “You better not, or I’ll-”
Shane started coughing again, and all focus shifted. “Sorry-” Shane choked out, still hacking up a lung.
Rozanov started shushing him, taking the mug out of his hand. It was empty now, Hayden hadn't even noticed him drinking it.
“Get it out,” Rozanov said, and then proceeded to do the grossest thing Hayden had ever witnessed, crouching down and replacing Shane’s hands with his Rozanov’s own, letting Shane spew flem and germs into them. Rozanov didn’t even flinch, just waited until Shane was done. “Has been four hours,” was all he said, standing back up. “And you have eaten, so you can have next dose now. I will get.”
He strode out of the room, as Hayden looked on in disgust.
“Dude,” JJ said, pulling a face. “Yuck.”
Shane shrugged, his face bright red. “He knows how weird I am about germs,” he muttered. “But he doesn’t care. So.”
“It’s foul.”
“I know!” Shane looked more embarrassed than Hayden had ever seen him. “I didn’t expect him to, like, do it in front of you. It’s not like I even asked him to! He just… knew how much I hated it. And started doing that.”
Rozanov returned to the room once more, holding a little thing of pills. God, Hayden hoped he had washed his hands. “Is not big deal,” he said nonchalantly. “Russians do not get sick.”
“Bullshit,” Hayden said, desperate to pick a fight he was able to win.
“Is true,” Rozanov said, pushing two pills out of the foil. “Sickly babies die in cold winter. Only strong survive.”
“He’s fucking making that up,” JJ said, and Hayden was glad to have him back on side, finally.
“He’s not,” Shane grumbled, taking the pills Rozanov handed to him and swallowing them. “I mean, the Russian stuff, sure. But Ilya just doesn’t get sick. S’not fair.”
“Is plenty fair,” Rozanov said. “You shower twice a day, take vitamins, carry wipes wherever you go. You build up no immune system, Hollander. Mine is very strong.”
Shane stared daggers at him. “Shut the fuck up, you smoke every day!”
“Not every day! And who is one with cough, hm? My lungs are good and healthy.”
Shane whacked at Rozanov’s arm half-heartedly. “Whatever. You have no secret, you’re just a freak of nature.”
Rozanov started to flex again, and Hayden cringed, looking away. He still had to hear him murmur “you love it.”
“We should go,” JJ announced, standing up. “We thought you were suffering alone, Capitaine, we only came to check on you. We are- well, we are not sorry. We were very worried. But we see everything’s okay, so we should leave, and let you recover.”
“Oh,” Shane said, shuffling to sit up properly. Rozanov took only half a step back. “Yeah, okay. I don’t- I’m really sorry you guys had to-”
“It’s fine,” JJ said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep our mouths shut. But we’ll have a proper conversation once you are well again, yes?”
Shane nodded. “Yeah, course.”
Hayden heaved himself to his feet too. “I…” He trailed off, and then tried again. “I just want you to be happy, buddy,” he said. “And if that’s Rozanov, then-”
“It is,” Shane said.
“Then fine. If it’s not, that’s fine too.” Hayden had to say it. Even if, at this point, he knew it was falling on deaf ears, he still had to say it.
“I’m happy, I promise,” was all Shane said, with Rozanov standing over him in all his cocky, unashamed, fucking shirtless glory.
Hayden shoved down any further comments. “Okay then,” he said. “We’ll talk later. Hope you feel better soon.”
“I will walk you out,” Rozanov said, striding towards the doorway, and not looking back to see if he was being followed. Hayden steeled himself, and nodded at Shane once more as he and JJ started to leave.
The three of them walked down the steps in silence, and Rozanov paused at the stairwell. For a few seconds, the three of them all just stood there.
“...You do not like me,” Rozanov said.
Hayden’s eyebrows flew up his face. “Yeah. No shit.”
“Is okay, I do not care. But I do not want you making Hollander feel bad about this.”
It was fucking outrageous - Rozanov acting like he was the one who had to look out for Shane, and not the other way around. Hayden was this close to punching him. “I don’t really give a shit what you want.”
“I’m just saying. You have problem, you take it out on me. Not him.”
“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll definitely be taking it out on you.”
Rozanov nodded. “Okay,” he said carelessly. “Goodbye. Do not come back.”
“God, fuck you.” Hayden stormed out, going straight to his car. He heard JJ getting in on the passenger side. “Je-sus Christ,” Hayden groaned.
“...I was not expecting that.”
“I need to be drunk, like, yesterday.” Hayden looked at his friend. “Want to try and drink enough it will bleach our brains?”
“Yes. Please.”