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Marlow needed a lot of beer after this shit show of a game. How on earth had Buffalo made it to the playoffs?
It was a sell-out, and the stadium was packed in the way Marlow knew it would be. Playoff games were always intense with fans, black and gold taking over the view, flags and banners and jerseys and a lot of noise that didn’t do his headache any favours. He just needed this game to be over, but unfortunately, hockey required them to play all the periods, whether they won or lost. Marlow briefly, very briefly, wondered if he could fake an injury to get off the bench and into the blessedly silent locker room.
But Marlow was so fucking glad he hadn’t done that, because he saw the kiss cam focus on Sebbin and Hammer right before the third period was about to start. The two of them were sitting with their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, not an inch of space between them. It was the same way they always sat, ever since Marlow’s first day on the Raiders, and he hadn’t thought much of it before now.
Most players on the kiss cam smacked a quick kiss on the helmet and left it at that, but these two idiots had their helmets off for the break, and what were they doing?
What the fuck were they doing?
Marlow, like everyone who had ever watched hockey, had watched Hunter come out after the Admirals’ cup win before the summer, so this was only going to fan the flames with the fans. Most of them would absolutely ship the pair, Marlow knew, and he was going to have so much fun playing all the edits on the screen for the team before tape review later, but seriously, this was such a terrible idea on live television.
Sebbin and Hammer fucked each other pretty often, from what Marlow knew, or at least as often as he, and almost everyone else on the team had walked in on them in compromising positions, usually after they’d finished sucking each other off, or while they were getting as close to it as possible. Considering Roz also fucked dudes on the regular, Marlow was starting to wonder if sucking dick was a secret requirement for being good at hockey.
The Raiders were now technically queerer than the Admirals, because Roz wasn’t picky at all about who he slept with, and neither were Seb or Hammer. They scored about as often as Marlow did—well, not Roz, because nobody scored as much as Roz—and they also fooled around with girls together sometimes, so Marlow figured they just didn’t care much who they were sleeping with.
Maybe he should try it too.
Roz would tease the absolute fuck out of him if he asked for help, but Seb would probably help him out. Seb would even wingman for him. Hammer couldn’t be trusted with a secret like that. He’d blab to someone on the team the minute he got a beer in him. But Seb? Seb would be a good sport about it.
How were they still doing that? Good fucking god, the kiss cam needed to stop airing this.
Marlow wasn’t homophobic or anything, obviously. Especially since more than half of his friends on the team were fucking queer. Carmy and Connors, on the other hand, seemed just as straight as Marlow, and they exchanged looks now as they both watched the train wreck happening on the Jumbotron. Then Marlow caught sight of Roz.
Roz was grinning widely, but the blond had basically been grinning nonstop since he got back from All Stars and refused to confirm anything beyond the fact that he was now officially with Montreal Jane. The man smiled constantly at his phone, talked for hours like he was in high school, and went to bed with his headphones in, but still refused to admit he blushed. Marlow was the not-so-unwilling spectator to this sport he called couple cam, though technically he only had one half of it.
He also thought Jane was a dude, but he wasn’t willing to bet one of his limbs on it yet. He would absolutely risk it once he retired in a few years, though. Roz probably needed that long to figure out passport issues before coming out publicly anyway.
Viggy was married, and his wife was as much of a little shit as he was, and Marlow knew she would bring up this kiss cam for the rest of Hammer and Seb’s lives, but he figured they wouldn’t care. Marlow loved gossip, and he loved being a shit with Arya St.Simon, Viggy’s wife, who loved gossip as much.
Who could blame Marlow when there were so many interesting things to know about other people?
She worked for the Bears in marketing, knew all about hockey, most of the hockey dudes, and she found out hockey gossip through her job when she spoke with other teams, and was happy to exchange information with Marlow about everyone! It was how he’d found out Hunter had met his boyfriend, Kip, aka Christopher, at a smoothie shop, and wasn’t that the best gossip of the year?
Hunter had told Vaughn, who had told his actress girlfriend Gloria Grey, who had told her co-actor Dela Cruz. Marlow had met that guy once at an event and decided he was a stuck-up ass. The asshole had told his makeup girl, who occasionally worked for this brand rep Arya talked to often, the dude had told Arya, and Arya had told Marlow. Also, Kip was in grad school at NYU, studying social history, and wasn’t that so cool, but was it cradle robbing if old man Hunter was dating him?
Anyway, Hammer and Seb were still at their bullshit. What the fuck were they doing?
When they had seen themselves on the kiss cam, the pair had somehow scooted even closer, something Marlow hadn’t thought was physically possible. They turned toward each other so their faces were practically touching, and then they raised their hands between them like a little tunnel, as if they were whispering.
The only saving grace was that their giant palms completely covered their mouths, so no one could actually see what they were doing. Marlow was a hundred per cent sure they were either kissing or licking each other, but most likely kissing. If there weren’t cameras pointed at them, Marlow was positive there’d already be a betting pool.
How long did people usually stay on the kiss cam? Two seconds? Five? This had been going on longer than it should have been. Fuck, they needed to stop airing this.
“Twenty bucks they’re licking each other,” someone said next to him, probably Roz, because he didn’t care for propriety, but it was also Roz’s funeral since he would be the one doing post-game press after scoring a hat trick, and he would probably have more goals after the third.
Carmy couldn’t resist a bet. “I’ll put fifty on a kiss.”
Marlow shushed them, though he covered his own mouth with his hand before adding quietly, “Twenty on the kissing.”
A couple of the other guys threw in bets as the cam finally moved away to the crowd. The audience seemed to take it as a gag because Seb and Hammer were publicly known for being close. Those fuckers could get away with so much because they’d established themselves as hockey bros. They could probably go out for Valentine’s Day dinner together, and fans would still say it was just a friendly hang.
Meanwhile, Marlow couldn’t even have coffee with a girl without ending up in the tabloids the next morning, and sometimes he didn’t even sleep with them.
Oh no, he needed to text Arya before the squad started asking questions to get her in on the bet. If he knew her, she’d already be waiting outside the locker room and would absolutely shove her husband out of the way to get in on the betting pool before congratulating anyone on this shit show of a game.
The Raiders were four goals up against Buffalo, and Marlow didn’t see why they couldn’t just put them out of their misery before Boston racked up even more in the third period.
𓅢 𓅢 𓅢
The Raiders won 6-0.
Marlow had been right about Roz having to do post-game press, and Roz made them all promise to hold off on resolving the bet until he got back. Arya winked at him from the door, and she only did that when she was sure the press conference was going to be entertaining. She was rarely wrong, so Marlow quickly peeled off his sweaty jersey and followed her out in just his compression shirt. He had been collating the bets and hadn’t had time for a shower yet.
The hallway outside the locker room already had the usual small crowd with the media dude Marlow still didn’t know the name of, the usual beat reporters, and the setup with the Raiders logo wall behind it. Roz sat down at the table, looking freshly showered, hair still damp and curling up at the ends like when he hadn’t had a chance to do his full curly hair routine, already wearing the good grin he saved for when he knew they had a good night on the ice.
The media guy pointed at the first reporter. Maybe the media guy’s name was Adam, or it must be Luke, or had that been the last guy?
“Congratulations on the win tonight. Did you feel the team needed a bounce back after the last road trip?” Oh, that fucker didn’t have to start with that question. The Raiders had a bad streak before this game, and it had been half the reason for Marlow’s headache earlier that the break before the third had cured.
Roz leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world and shrugged. “We need momentum again, yes? Tonight, we fix some of it. The team worked great together.” His English had gotten so much better than it was when he first moved to Boston. Marlow was pretty sure Roz had understood less than half of what was being said back then, and Marlow had been drafted a full year after Roz.
“Speaking of momentum,” another reporter cut in, “this was a big win heading deeper into the playoffs. Does a six-zero goal game send a particular message?” Oh, Marlow liked this one.
“Message is we score six,” Roz said, tilting his head, “pretty clear message.”
A few reporters chuckled. Marlow snorted quietly from the doorway, and Arya elbowed him without looking away, like she knew what was coming with the next question.
Arya was right as always, because another hand went up from a reporter, a guy Marlow recognised as someone who asked questions specifically to stir things up.
“Rozanov, during the break before the third period, the arena kiss cam focused on Sebbin and Hammersmith for quite a while. Will we see anyone from the Raiders walking in Hunter’s footsteps?”
Roz sighed dramatically and leaned forward slightly toward the microphone, “Ask me again after we win the Cup this year.” Oh god, this fucker would break the internet tonight because he didn’t stop there.
“Maybe you will not need to ask,” Roz continued, “because you will see on the big screen when we win. Anyone on the Raiders can kiss better than dinosaur Hunter.”
“Okay,” interrupted Drew, which Marlow thought was most likely the media guy’s name, before Roz could get more carried away, “next question, please.” Had no one taught this media guy anything? It was in everyone’s best interest to get Roz away from microphones once he got into what the Raiders called his chaos goblin mode. Was the media guy not Drew anymore, and had they hired someone new, because Drew would have known about Roz? Marlow felt Arya vibrate in excitement beside him, and felt the same excitement rise in himself.
“That seemed like a pretty long moment on screen,” another reporter said, “Did the team notice anything going on there?”
Roz looked mildly puzzled. “Yes,” he said, “They were on the bench with us, so we saw them?”
Marlow almost laughed out loud, and would have if he didn’t know Roz had some top-tier bullshit coming. Roz only played dumb when he had a line he knew would get picked up mapped out in his head. He was just waiting for the right question.
Eventually, someone scrounged up the courage to ask. “Do you think they were actually, you know, on the bench?”
Roz spread his hands a little. “Actually what?”
The reporter waited, and Roz waited back, and so did Marlow. Oh, he could not wait for what Roz was going to say, and almost shushed Arya because she was going to vibrate out of her skin with how much she was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
The reporter tried again. “Were you able to see your teammates kiss? The cam didn’t catch it through their hands.”
This was Roz’s moment, and Marlow saw his smile turn up at the corners. “I did not see kiss.”
There was a pause, because the reporters hadn’t expected that answer, and neither had Marlow. Was that all Roz had been waiting to say? It was a bit of a letdown if Marlow was being honest, and he saw Arya deflate next to him.
“It’s like that stupid science cat,” Roz added thoughtfully into the silence, and there it was, but what science cat?
Several reporters blinked stupidly, and Roz waited with all the patience of a cat himself until someone finally asked, “You mean Schrödinger’s cat?”
Roz nodded, pleased it was going the way he wanted. “Yes, stupid cat is alive and dead at same time.” What the fuck was Roz talking about?
Arya suddenly latched onto Marlow’s sleeve, her nails digging into his skin where he would definitely have marks later. She had a strong grip, and Marlow briefly wondered why Viggy didn’t have more scratch marks on him. Maybe Viggy liked to tie Arya up so she wouldn’t scratch him? Marlow would have to ask her later, also about the cat that was apparently both dead and alive at the same time. How was that even possible?
“Seb and Hammer both kissed and did not kiss,” Roz said, “because they were in the mouth tunnel.” His captain gestured vaguely toward the locker room hallway where Marlow and Arya were standing, and Marlow hoped their expressions didn’t look too much like the cat that ate the canary, because Marlow knew that cat. He definitely needed to find out about the other cat.
The new media guy finally wised up and ended the press conference, and Roz waved cheerfully at the media before heading back into the locker room.
It was time to find out who won the bet.
