Chapter Text
“You’re going to be fine, Ilya. They’re going to love you, you have nothing to worry about,” Shane’s voice rang through the phone as Ilya drove a concerning amount over the speed limit. Probably not enough to get pulled over, or at least he hoped not. That would look bad on his first day, the one where he’s supposed to meet his new team.
“Yes, probably even worship ground I walk on,” Ilya quips. He hears Shane scoff on the other end of the line and a fond smile plays at his lips.
“Mhm. Sure.” Shane responds, not seeming to buy Ilya’s confidence. That’s okay though, he likes that Shane can see through him like that. “Okay, baby, so sorry but I gotta run- mom is breathing down my neck about the foundation paperwork. You’ll be okay?”
“Yes Shane, I’ll be fine. Think I can’t handle room full of Canadians? Think they’ll, what, jump me? No, too nice for that.” Ilya says. Then, more seriously “It will be okay. I love you.”
“Okay, but call me when you get home, yeah? I love you too.” And then the phone beeps and Ilya’s music resumes - a spotify playlist Ilya spent years cultivating so that the vibe was just right to keep him energized but focussed.
It’s another 15 or so minutes before Ilya is parking outside the rink, but when he does so he practices a breathing technique his therapist, Galina, taught him a couple weeks earlier. Then, he puts on a controlled expression and walks inside as if he owns the place and, let’s be honest, he might as well. Sure it’s his first day and some (Shane) may call him cocky, but he’s about to be the best thing that ever happened to Ottawa Centaurs fans, it’s not his fault he’s gifted with foresight for this specifically.
The vibe in the locker room is… weird to say the least. It feels like there are dozens of eyes on him, which there probably are. But this isn’t the sort of staring he expected. There’s an anxious energy he could understand from a younger player (he’s quite the legend after all), but it feels like every single person in that room is on edge. There’s minimal conversation, no music playing, just everyone quietly getting their gear on and exiting the room. Which, okay sure Ilya jokes about Canadians and how boring they are all the time, he knows! But hockey players are at least still hockey players and this isn’t just the Canadian charm shining through if you ask him. Ilya’s suspicion grows when he joins the team on the ice and any conversation that had been going on before was suddenly cut short at the site of him. Oh. Okay. So it was about Ilya. Got it.
Before he let his mind spiral too much (but mind you it DID spiral) the coach came out and introduced himself to Ilya, before formally “introducing” Ilya to the team (as if he needed introduction). The rest of practice went by fine, nothing too out of the ordinary other than Ilya making himself extra observant of his new teammates. He was, afterall, their new captain as well and it was his job to become familiar with each of them and their individual strengths and weaknesses. Practice went well though, especially because things felt normal for a while. The smell of the ice was the same, the drills had the same functions, and hockey was hockey.
Off the ice things were marginally less tense, maybe that was the endorphins maybe it was reality. Either way, Ilya felt good about it. In fact, he’s gonna make a speech. Yeah that should break the ice.
“Alright everybody, listen up! That was half decent practice today. You’re not completely hopeless and you should take that as compliment. None of you have seen a Stanley cup in person, and unless each and every one of you puts in a fuck ton of work, you never will. But me? I want that cup. I miss it like ex lover. So, is my mission for us to make it to the playoffs this year. I took Boston and made it un-shitty, I can do same here. But we all work hard and fight, what is saying? Fight teeth and nails for it!” A chorus of cheers and whoops start up and it’s better than Ilya’s hype playlist.
A man Ilya believes is called Boodram shouts “great speech cap” over the noise that now rings out from the locker room. And Ilya feels… good. For the first time today he feels really good about this. He even manages to strike up a few friendly and teasing conversations with some of his teammates, who seem more inclined to talk to him now. He can see in their eyes though that there’s a hesitancy about them still to approach him or include him in already existing conversations. No one complains or tries to leave when he talks to them though. He just can’t tell if it’s something about him specifically, something about his reputation perhaps. Maybe they can sense his bisexuality and are trying to distance themselves from it like it’s a disease. Maybe it is just weird Canadian custom to be strange to strangers. To be fair, the Hollander’s were all a odd towards Ilya when first meeting him. Though they all expressed that in different ways and this feels… more organized. Whatever it is, Ilya can’t “put his finger in it,” is that how the phrase goes? He really doesn’t care at this point, he’ll figure it out regardless.
Right now all Ilya wants to do is go home and call Shane. His Shane. God he loves that man, obviously he does, why else would he be in Ottawa of all places? He has a feeling he’s going to like it here though, even if the nightlife is shit and the people are strange. He sees the potential for a future here, and that’s more than he’s ever had before. So he’s going to hold onto that for dear life. And call Shane.