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Hayden Pike prided himself on being a loyal person. If he considered you family, there is literally nothing he would not do for you. He would do anything for Jackie. For his kids. For Shane Hollander.
It was only when Shane waved him off that he didn’t drop gloves on the ice to fight Ilya Rozanov after Rozanov had checked Shane into the boards so hard the glass panel threatened to shatter. Shane chased after Rozanov to try to get the puck back, but Rozanov streaked ahead, grinning wildly as he shot the puck forward into the net, bringing Boston into the lead.
Hayden skated over to Shane to check on him. Shane shook his head, letting Hayden know he was fine, but he did skate slower for the rest of the game.
When the final buzzer sounded the end of the game, Boston had won 4-2, with Rozanov managing a hat trick. The Montreal locker room was morose.
“You doing okay?” Hayden asked Shane after he got checked over by the trainers.
Shane nodded. “Yeah, just bruised ribs.”
Hayden nodded. “You wanna come over tonight? Jackie can make you some bird food.”
Shane shook his head. “No, I’m just going to go home and rest.”
Hayden nodded. “For sure. Just let me know if you need anything. I can always swing by.”
Shane gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Hayd. But I’ll be fine.”
Which was why, when Shane called Hayden at 1AM, he answered.
“Hey buddy, what’s going on?” he answered quietly, trying not to wake Jackie. He slipped quietly from the bedroom and stepped into the hallway.
“Fuck, Hayden, I… I need your help. I didn’t know who else to call.” Shane’s panic was clear through the phone.
“Hey, hey, take a breath,” Hayden said quickly, slipping into the calming tone he used for his kids when they were upset and for Shane Hollander when he was about to have a panic attack. “What’s going on?”
“I fuck, oh my god. People are going to see. They are going to see the body and find out and I can’t have anyone find out. Hayden, fuck, I can’t lift him. My ribs are all fucked from the game, otherwise I’d be able to move him, but he’s so fucking heavy.”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Hayden said urgently. “Body? Shane what’s going on? What happened?”
“Fuck, can you just come here? Like now?” Shane begged urgently. “I need help dealing with the body before someone sees.”
Hayden pinched the bridge of his nose as adrenalin overpowered the lingering sleep. In all the jovial bantering in the locker room and on long bus rides, the question of ‘would you help me bury a body?’ had been well discussed and explored. Never in all their stipulations had they ever considered that it would be Shane Hollander calling to ask the question.
“Fuck, yeah, buddy, alright, um, I’m on my way. Are you at home?”
“Um, uh, no, I’ll send you the address.”
“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
They hung up. Hayden gave himself five seconds to breathe out, “What the fuck?” before silently opening the bedroom door again. He tried to get dressed as quietly as possible.
“Mmm, what’s going on?” Jackie stirred.
Hayden considered his wife. He couldn’t tell her that he was going to go help Shane bury a body. She might try to stop him. Or worse, she might try to help, and then she might get in trouble too. They can’t both get arrested, someone has to be there for the kids.
“It’s nothing. Shane just needs a bit of help with something. Nothing to worry about, go back to sleep.”
Jackie, who had been up since 3 am the night before with the kids, did not need to be told twice to go back to sleep. By the time Hayden had dressed in the first sweats his hands touched, she was already asleep.
Hayden padded through the quiet house and shrugged on a coat before darting into his garage. As he unlocked his minivan, his eyes scanned the garage. Thinking about what he would need to bury a body, he quickly grabbed the shovel that was in the corner and a tarp. He made quick work of collapsing the back row of seats and laying out the tarp to put the body. He tossed the shovel in with it and closed the trunk.
Not giving himself the chance to overthink what he was doing, he climbed in the car and pulled out his phone. He plugged in the address Shane had sent him, confused why it was on the outskirts of the city. Google maps estimated that it was a ten minute drive.
Seven minutes later, Hayden pulled up to a back entrance of what looked like an apartment building. It was poorly lit, but as he pulled up, his headlights flashed across Shane as he stood anxiously outside a slightly ajar door.
“Shane!” Hayden called out as he climbed out of the van.
“Hayden, thank god,” Shane breathed, his anxiety spilling off of him in waves. “Please, don’t freak out. I can explain later, but just help me move him first before someone sees.” Shane jerked his head to gesture over his shoulder toward the door that was propped open.
Hayden looked past Shane at the empty doorway. No, that wasn’t true. On the ground, there were a pair of legs sticking out, the rest of the body hidden from sight, holding the door open.
“Fuck Shane,” Hayden breathed.
“I know,” Shane moaned. “I tried to drag him inside while I waited, but this was as far as I could get him. My ribs are still fucked.”
Shane started walking toward the body and pushed the door a bit wider so he could step over the body of…
“Holy shit, that’s Ilya Rozanov!” Hayden said, way too loud.
“Hayden, shut the fuck up!” Shane whisper yelled.
“Right, sorry,” Hayden said in a hushed tone. “Fuck, Shane, that’s Ilya Rozanov.”
Hayden’s brain tried to catch up to Shane Hollander panicking over his dead arch rival. Hayden knew Shane well enough to know that he would never intentionally kill Rozanov, but the Russian was enough of a menace he could just imagine Rozanov coming to start a fight and forcing Shane to defend himself.
Shane sighed heavily. “I know, just, I swear I’ll explain later, just help me move him. He’s fucking heavy.”
Hayden hesitated. If it was self-defense, then surely it was better to just come clean and not go through all this trouble of burying a body? “Maybe we should call the cops? I’m sure if you just explain what happened…”
Shane’s eyes nearly bugged out of his face. “The cops!? No, fuck, Hayden, we can’t call anyone. No one can know. I can’t… if this gets out, that’s the end of my career.”
“Alright, alright,” Hayden placated, trying to stave off the inevitable panic attack. “No cops.”
Shane looked nervously around. “Come on, we’ve got to move him before someone sees.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll get the legs,” Hayden offered and bent down and grabbed Rozanov under the knees as Shane bent down to grab him under the armpits.
“On three,” Hayden counted them in. “One, two, three, lift. Fuck, he is heavy.”
It took a few seconds for them both to adjust their grips before they felt like they had a handle on Rozanov’s slack body.
“Okay, ready?” Hayden asked him. Shane nodded.
Hayden started backing toward the alley where his minivan waited. Almost immediately, Hayden felt his grip start to slip on his hold of Rozanov as Shane started trying to back his way up the first few steps of the stairwell.
“Dude!”
“Fuck!”
They both scrambled to regain their grasp on the dead Russian.
“Dude, come on!”
“You come on!”
“What do you mean, me come on?”
“Shane, we can’t bring him inside. We have to get him out of here. My van’s right outside and is all set up.”
“Get him where? We can’t bring him back to his hotel like this!”
“Dude, no, obviously not. We’ll have to find a spot to dump him.”
“Dump him!? Dude, what the fuck!? Just help me get him inside.”
“Dude, no, if we bring him inside, then what? Think, Shane, you can’t just leave someone’s body inside a building and hope it never gets found. Who’s building is this anyway?”
“It’s mine. No one is going to find him here.”
“What, how do I not know that you have a whole ass building?”
Shane stumbled slightly as he tried to readjust his grip on Rozanov’s slack body. “Hayden, we can talk about the building later, but can you please just help me get him up the stairs and inside? We can talk this out once we’re inside. Just… ugh, he’s fucking heavy and my ribs are killing me.”
Hayden nodded quickly. “Right, sure, inside first, we’ll come up with a plan later. Sounds good.”
With many groans and curses later, they started slowly carrying Ilya Rozanov up the stairs.
Once they were two thirds up the stairs, a deep groan sounded and the body in Hayden’s hands fucking squirmed. Hayden screamed so shrilly that both he and Shane dropped Rozanov on the stairs.
“Ого — какого хуя?!” the Russian, who was not dead, shouted angrily.
“Shit!” Shane cursed. “Ilya, are you okay?”
“Oh, my god, fuck!” Hayden yelled, his heart pounding in his ribcage. “What the fuck?!”
"Почему ты кричишь? Где я? Почему я на лестнице?” Rozanov was struggling to blink his eyes open.
“Can you stand?” Shane was asking Rozanov, who blinked confused up at Shane. Shane turned to Hayden. “Fuck, help me get him inside.”
Hayden bent down to reclaim his grip on Rozanov’s legs while Shane grabbed under his arms again. As it turned out, as hard as it was to carry a ginormous dead Russian up a flight of stairs, it was exponentially harder to carry a ginormous squirming Russian up a flight of stairs.
“Отпусти меня!!” Rozanov protested, kicking Hayden in the chest.
“Oof,” Hayden cried out, dropping Rozanov again as he threw out his hand to grab the railing so he didn’t fall down the stairs.
“Fuck!” Shane cried out as he was left holding all of Rozanov’s weight and tried to lower him down gently instead of dropping him again. Rozanov’s ass still hit the step hard.
““Перестань причинять мне боль лестницами!!” Rozanov barked out.
“Fuck, Hayden, come up here and grab an arm,” Shane commanded.
Hayden carefully stepped over Rozanov’s body, who was currently glaring at him from his undignified heap on the stairs. Hayden bent down and grabbed Rozanov under one arm while Shane braced under the other and they successfully hauled the Russian to his feet. After a bit of swaying and stabilizing, Shane and Hayden very slowly turned Rozanov around to face up the stairs. Hayden could smell the booze on Rozanov’s breath.
“Alright, let’s get him inside,” Shane grunted out.
Once they were in position, with Rozanov's arms draped over their shoulders, they started making their way up the stairs. It was a tight fit, three hockey players side by side on the narrow staircase. The railing dug into Hayden’s side as they made slow progress up the stairs. Rozanov seemed to accept his fate and went through the motions of moving his feet to catch each progressive step, but Hayden and Shane still bore the brunt of his weight.
Finally, they reached the top of the landing and Shane reached out his free hand to open the door, which was unlocked.
Hayden faintly registered the nicely furnished apartment before Shane muttered, “Shoes,” and started toeing off his shoes once they were through the door.
“Dude, seriously?” Hayden asked, but he still shifted his grip on the Russian so he could toe off his shoes as well.
Rozanov tried to follow Shane’s instructions, nearly toppling them all forward in the process.
Once they were adequately shoeless, Shane muttered to Hayden. “Help me get him to the couch.” Rozanov’s socked feet dragged along the rug before he was unceremoniously dropped onto the couch.
Hayden took a moment to catch his breath from the ordeal while Shane disappeared into the kitchen. He returned shortly with a tall glass of water.
“Drink,” he ordered.
Hayden watched as the Russian blinked up at Shane’s determined face. He took a sip.
“Drink it all,” Shane commanded.
Rozanov smirked up at Shane. “You give orders now?” his accent thick as he slurred the words.
Shane crossed his arms, waiting. Rozanov chugged the water under Shane’s watchful gaze, before setting it down on the coffee table.
Shane scoffed and leaned over to move the glass onto the coaster. Rozanov watched the action with some amusement, his eyes somewhat soft and unfocused.
“So what should we do with him?” Hayden asked Shane.
Rozanov looked at Hayden and seemed to take in his presence for the first time. “Pike,” he said.
“Yep,” Hayden confirmed before turning to Shane. “Well?”
Shane blinked at him for a moment. “Um…” Shane glanced off to the side, as if he was trying to think.
Right. Shane had no plan. Hayden needed to help him tidy up this mess.
Hayden turned to face Rozanov fully, crossing his arms over his chest in the most intimidating posture he could manage. “You’re not going to tell anyone?”
Rozanov blinked at Hayden in confusion before turning to Shane. “Tell anyone what? Shane, what do I not tell?”
Hayden looked at Shane who also was looking at him in confusion. Okay, looks like Hayden’s on his own. Hayden turned back to Rozanov and spelled out, “You’re not going to tell anyone about your fight with Shane. He doesn’t need that.”
Rozanov’s mouth opened and closed at Hayden before turning again to Shane. “What fight? We fight? You are mad with me? No, am sorry, don’t be mad.”
Shane shook his head in exasperation. “What? No, we aren’t fighting. I’m not mad at you, Ilya. Well, I’m a little mad that you showed up drunk and passed out as soon as I opened the door.”
Rozanov made a whining noise and reached his hand out toward Shane. “No, am sorry. I did not mean to. Was team. They insisted on celebrating win. I tried to get away, but they kept buying me shots. Was very good vodka, would have disrespected Russia to say no.”
Hayden looked back at forth between the two rivals. Rozanov looking at Shane with desperate, pleading eyes and Shane looking vaguely annoyed, but a slight lift at the corner of his mouth gave away his amusement.
“So you just showed up here drunk to what? Finish what you started?” Hayden challenged Rozanov whose head swung back in his direction.
“What did I start?” Rozanov asked in his drunken confusion, accent thick.
“His ribs!” Hayden yelled.
Rozanov’s head snapped to look over at Shane. “You are hurt?” his voice was very serious now.
Shane let out a groan of annoyance. “Yeah, asshole. You fucked up my ribs in the last period with that check.” At Rozanov’s expression, he rushed to reassure him, “but I’m fine, they’re just bruised.”
“Fuck that,” Hayden protested. “You’ve been in agony since I got here, hauling his heavy ass up these stairs.”
“No, Shane, please tell me you do not hurt yourself to bring me up stairs.” If Hayden didn’t know any better, Rozanov sounded worried about Shane.
Shane huffed. “Well, I couldn’t just leave you passed out right outside my door. That’s why I called Hayden to help me get you inside.”
Rozanov turned his attention back on Hayden. His gaze was scrutinizing. “You will not tell? About tonight? You will keep secret?” Only Ilya Rozanov could make a question sound like a threat.
Hayden scoffed at him. “Dude, what the fuck?” He turned to look at Shane for back up, but was struck by how nervous Shane looked, waiting for his answer.
Hayden looked back and forth between the two men. “I mean, sure, fine, I won’t tell anyone about tonight.” If Shane didn’t want anyone to know, then he was not going to tell anyone that Ilya Rozanov had drunkenly tried to harass Shane in the middle of the night after a game. Well, except Jackie of course, but he told her everything.
He watched Shane’s shoulders drop and Rozanov’s jaw unclenched.
“So you’re not mad?” Shane asked nervously.
Hayden watched Rozanov, waiting to hear his answer. Rozanov stared back at Hayden, seeming to be waiting for something from him. Did he need permission to speak or something? Hayden looked at Shane and was surprised to see him facing him expectantly, his thumbs nervously hooked into his pockets.
“Oh, me?” Hayden asked Shane, pointing to his own chest. Shane nodded and Hayden took in how nervously he was looking at him. Hayden tried to think of why Shane would think he was mad at him. Then he realized that Shane always worried about inconveniencing others and he was probably feeling guilty about pulling him out of bed in the middle of the night to get his drunk arch rival off his doorstep. “Shane, no I’m not mad. I can never be mad at you. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Shane seemed to relax further.
“Oh thank god,” Shane breathed.
“See, Pike is not mad, and you are not mad, so can you please come here and kiss me?” Rozanov pleaded to Shane, stretching over to grab Shane’s arm to tug him onto his lap.
Hayden was pretty sure his mouth was hanging loose like an idiot as he watched Shane go willingly into Rozanov’s lap with a slight giggle and then they were kissing!
“What the actual fuck!?” Hayden screeched.
The two men startled away from the other’s respective face and turned to look at Hayden with equally startled looks.
“I thought you just said you were okay with this?” Shane said in a quiet voice.
Hayden’s mouth opened and closed several times. “I… wait what?”
Rozanov’s eyebrows drew into a furrow. “He did not say he was okay with it, he just said he was not mad. You are homophobic, Pike?”
Hayden spluttered. “What? No, I’m not homophobic! Wait, Shane, are you gay? I mean, well, obviously, you just kissed Rozanov.”
Shane blinked at Hayden, still perched in Rozanov’s lap. “I mean yeah, I thought that’s what we were talking about. Wait, what did you think was happening?”
Hayden blinked rapidly. “Um, not fucking this! For starters, I thought you’d killed Rozanov.”
There was a long, stunned silence before Shane shrieked, “What?!”
“Dude, you called me to come help you deal with a body!” Hayden defended.
Shane looked at his friend for a long beat as he reinterpreted the nights events with this information.
At some point, Shane’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, when you said we were going to dump him somewhere!”
Hayden cringed as the very-much-alive-Rozanov looked at him as they discussed how Hayden had planned to dispose of his corpse. “Um, yeah, well, that’s what you do with a dead body, right? You didn’t want to call the cops!”
Shane’s mouth gaped at him until his brows furrowed. “Wait, you said your van was all set up… What the fuck is in your van right now?”
Heat creeped up the back of Hayden’s neck, he was pretty sure his ears were beet red. “Nothing, clearly we didn’t need it.”
“Answer the question, Pike,” Rozanov demanded.
After being stared down for ten solid seconds, Hayden finally caved and confessed, “A tarp and a shovel!”
Shane’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Rozanov grinned from ear to ear before throwing his head back and laughing.
Shane shoved Rozanov. “Dude, not funny.”
“No, I disagree. I think is very funny. You should be glad you have such good friend, will help you bury body." Rozanov turned to look at Hayden. "You have my approval."
"Um... Thanks?"
"Still 15th best player."
"Okay, fuck off."
Shane looked at Hayden, appalled. “You really think I am capable of murder?”
Hayden shook his head. “No! I figured it was self-defense! That Rozanov came here to start some shit and you fought and he fell or something and died.”
“Oh my god, that’s why you freaked out so bad when he started waking up on the stairs!”
“Oh, is this why I kept getting dropped on stairs?” Rozanov asked.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Hayden offered to Rozanov.
Rozanov gave him a nod. “Is okay. I think if I thought I was carrying a dead body and it moved, I would probably drop it and scream too.”
“Um, thank you,” Hayden said.
“But also now I get to drop you twice to make it even,” Rozanov threatened nonchalantly.
“Ilya!” Shane chastised.
“Okay, fine, I will not drop your best friend for dropping me on the stairs two times if you help kiss it better,” Rozanov said in a fucking mushy voice while he chased Shane’s lips again.
“Okay, so now that we’ve covered my side of the story, can we cover the what the fuck is going on here part of yours?” Hayden interrupted before they started making out on the couch again.
“Um,” Shane said, shifting so he was next to Rozanov and holding his hand. “We’re….” Shane trailed off.
“Lovers,” Rozanov supplied helpfully, grinning at Hayden.
“What, ew gross, don’t say that word, Ilya,” Shane’s face scrunched up. Shane took a breath before looking at Hayden and telling him, “We’re together.”
Hayden blinked rapidly for a too long period of time. “Oh. Okay.”
“Okay?” Shane asked, unsure.
Hayden’s brain finished rebooting and he took in how nervous Shane had been earlier, how worried he was that Hayden would be mad at him, at Rozanov’s accusation that he was homophobic when he freaked out when they started kissing.
“Oh, shit, no, fuck, Shane, yes, I’m totally fine with this. With, um, with you, I don’t have a problem that you are gay, or with Rozanov or whatever. I’m still processing that you didn’t accidentally kill Rozanov in self-defense and are instead kissing him on your couch in a random ass building that I’ve never been to before while I stand here and watch like a fucking idiot.”
Rozanov grinned and looked around at the nicely furnished space. “Ah, yes, of course you have not been to Shane’s sex building. Do not get used to it, you will not be invited back.”
“Ilya, stop calling it that,” Shane groaned. “It’s not a sex building.”
“Is building you bought to have sex with me,” Ilya challenged, trying to catch Shane’s eye so he could win this argument. “Is sex building.”
“Dude, you bought a building to have sex with Ilya Rozanov?!” Hayden cried out. He was suddenly very glad that he was standing and not on the couch he was eyeing with apprehension.
Rozanov grinned wickedly at Hayden. “Yes, this place has seen much sex. We have done it on every surface. Even that rug where you are standing.”
Hayden looked down in horror at his socked feet on the cream colored rug. It was shaggy and looked just the right color to hide any cum stains. Hayden let out a squeamish squeal and stepped two feet to the right.
Rozanov laughed while Shane smacked him in the chest. “Ilya, stop tormenting Hayden.”
“Yes, you are right, I would much rather be tormenting you. Pike will leave now and I will take you to bed, yes?”
Shane cast Hayden a guilty look.
“Oh, fuck this, I've got to get out of here. Rozanov, glad you aren’t dead. Shane, I love you, clearly I will help you bury a body, but I’m not about to stick around for whatever is about to happen. We’ll talk later when Rozanov isn’t trying to fuck you.”
Hayden quickly shoved his shoes on before making his escape from Shane’s sex apartment. The door wasn't even halfway closed before he heard Rozanov say in his thick accent, “Good, he’s gone, now we will fuck.”
“Fuck off, Ilya. You’re way too drunk and my ribs are killing me,” Shane protested.
“Oh, I get you ice. I will be your sexy nurse, hang on!”