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Shane mostly tuned out his team in the locker room. Game days were usually fine, but when it was just practice listening in on his teammates' conversations often made him feel lightly concussed. But some days the conversation was just a little too loud or the speaker was a little too close and he ended up overhearing them anyway.
And it was usually really stupid.
"Okay," Comeau said. "You have to give a guy a blowjob. And you either don't get anything out of it at all, or he'll get you off too if you let him come in your mouth. Do you let him?"
Shane was used to feeling like a little bit of an alien around other people. He was always a beat behind other people with jokes, never seemed to like the same things as everyone else. He didn't get the references, didn't put the right expressions on his face at the right times. It was isolating, sometimes, knowing everyone saw him as off, as different, and only really put up with him because he was so good at hockey.
But there were times when the alien feeling came with a sense of superiority. Times like this, when his teammates were playing what apparently passed for a game amongst Shane's peers. Whatever this was, he was glad it wasn't his idea of fun.
Drapeau apparently found the question to be a real stumper. He was considering it with all the apparent seriousness Shane would usually only dedicate to analyzing plays. "Do I have to swallow? Or can I spit after?"
"Swallow. Obviously."
Obviously. This wasn't the first time he'd heard Comeau and Drapeau - and half the rest of the team - play one of their weird rounds of 'Would You Rather.' It never got any less bizarre. Or sex-filled.
"Damn."
"How good is this guy gonna get him off?" Mitty asked, apparently invested in making sure Drapeau got all the necessary information.
"It's gotta be pretty damn good," Drapeau asked. "Otherwise it's a pretty obvious choice."
"Yeah. Like. Best blowjob or handjob or whatever you've ever gotten. If you swallow."
"Nah. Like, sucks that I don't get anything out of it, but I feel like I just want it to be over with, you know?"
"Yeah, dude, that makes sense."
Shane barely restrained himself from shaking his head, which would risk drawing attention to himself and his bafflement at their game. They had, mercifully, decided this wasn't a game to be played with their captain a couple of years ago, when someone had asked if he'd be willing to take it up the ass if that was what it took to win the cup. Shane had stared at Comeau for definitely way too long before Wilson had rescued him, saying that if that was the only way to get the cup, he'd take it on cap's behalf. Everyone else had agreed that they wouldn't let any hypothetical 'must fuck or else' situations happen to their captain and Shane had done his best to turn deaf every time the weird excuse for a game rolled around again.
It was homophobia, he was aware. The idea that two guys having any form of sex was something only to be done under dire circumstances. But the nature of the hypotheticals - why would you ever need to have sex to win the championship? - was so baffling that Shane couldn't even find it in himself to be offended. He didn't join in and he tried not to hear it and he allowed himself to be that set apart from the team he was the leader of.
It occurred to him as he got home that, for the first time in his life, he had someone he could actually float the question of is this as weird as I think it is past. Hayden was a good friend, but when he didn't react to shit - he didn't play Would You Rather but he didn't seem to think anything of it - Shane usually hesitated to ask, not wanting to brand himself as the weirdo in any more ways than he had to.
But Ilya, even when he was teasing, never made Shane feel like he was stupid, or like his lack of fit was a problem. It was October and they'd been officially official for four months and it still sent a zip of excitement through him when he remembered that he could text Ilya whenever, about anything, and it wasn't an issue. It wasn't crossing a boundary, it wasn't him doing the casual sex thing all wrong, it was what he was supposed to do, because Ilya was his boyfriend.
Shane: I have a question
Lily: i love when you have questions. never know what you're going to say
Shane's chest warmed. He'd asked Ilya about a character's backstory in a movie they'd watched a few weeks ago, and Ilya had stared at him and said that, despite having seen the movie approximately a million times, he'd never thought about that, and proceeded to fuck Shane through the couch because it was apparently 'incredibly sexy' how unique Shane's mind was.
Shane: Does your team talk about gay sex a lot?
He felt like that was a bad way to describe what they were doing, but he couldn't figure out another way to word it. Would You Rather almost always seemed to be about absolutely needing to have gay sex.
Lily: ?
Lily: this is what is happening in metros locker room?
Shane: They play Would You Rather all the time, and it's usually stuff like "would you rather never have sex again or have to give a guy a blowjob once a week for the rest of your life"
Shane: It just always feels weird to me, like why are you thinking about dicks this much?
Shane: I'm gay and I don't think about dicks this much.
Lily: oh, that game. yes, bears do this too. i think marly is maybe a little bi, because he is always the first to say he will do it
Lily: i don't know why, but straight men talk about dicks more than anyone else alive
Lily: and draw them. i have never understood that one. you have one, you know what they look like
Shane snorted. He hadn't even made that connection, but he remembered high school, when virtually any school-owned book could be counted on to have a drawing of a dick somewhere inside it. Or drunken hazing, with the rookies drawing dicks on each other's faces.
Shane: Maybe they're still trying to figure out how they work. I'm not sure Comeau knows he can use it to give women orgasms.
Ilya sent back a string of crying-laughing emojis. Shane grinned at his phone, feeling pleased with himself. Screw what everyone else thought - Ilya Rozanov thought he was hilarious.
"Okay," Mitty said, announcing the next round of Would You Rather as he unlaced his skates, "all of hockey is about to be canceled. Or disappear out of existence or whatever. The only way to save it is to let Ilya Rozanov fuck you. Is it worth it?"
Shane's head snapped around on instinct at Ilya's name. The locker room was full of groans, everyone playing despairing at the idea of having to choose between hockey and sex with Rozanov. That wouldn't be the concern if they had any idea how good sex with Ilya was.
Not that they ever would. No one but Shane would ever get to experience how good sex with Ilya was ever again, if Shane had his way.
"That's a fucking nasty one, dude," Wilson complained. "Jesus. Fuck. Okay - is he going to remember this when it's over? Like, am I going to have to listen to him chirp at me about my performance in bed during games for the rest of my life?"
The group started muttering. Apparently that was a major factor in their decision. Shane supposed that was fair - from what he'd heard, most of them would give Ilya lots of material.
"Also, what kind of fucking are we talking about?" Comeau asked. "I could like. I could probably fuck him, if I didn't have to look at his smug face."
"Or a blowjob," Berkes said. "Just close your eyes and get it over with."
These guys were an embarrassment. Like they'd have the first idea what to do with a dick if one got anywhere near their mouths.
"No," Mitty said firmly. "He has to fuck you. Up the ass, whole deal. All of hockey is on the line. You gotta go all in."
"Or he does," Berkes said with a smirk. Several of the guys started gagging dramatically.
"Does he have to enjoy it?" Comeau asked. "Because really, the thing I can't stomach is the idea of the guy having a good time."
"Just for that, yes. He's gotta have an orgasm that makes him feel like he's seen God. Is your ass gonna give it to him, or are you gonna let all of hockey disappear?"
Listen. Shane knew it was dumb to feel anything like jealousy over this stupid game. It was a stupid game when it didn't involve Ilya, and it was even stupider when it did. He should tune them out and leave them to it, like he always did.
But nobody was having sex with Ilya but him. Nobody else was even thinking about it.
"I'll do it," he said, raising his voice just loud enough to make sure they heard him. He hoisted his bag out of his locker and slung it across his shoulder.
The team turned around like they were one multi-headed being and stared at him. He shrugged, trying to walk the line between I want a hole to open up and swallow me whole and that is my man and you all need to stop talking about his sex life and appear totally casual. "To save hockey? I'll take one for the team. Honestly, I'm ashamed of all of you for having to think about it."
"You're a fucking legend, Cap," Drapeau said, his tone much more serious and respectful than was needed for a game of Would You Rather. "We all appreciate your sacrifice."
"Show me you appreciate it by winning tomorrow," Shane ordered, and received several salutes in response. "I don't want to hear that I saved hockey for nothing." He made his way out to the parking lot, working his phone out of his pocket as he went.
Shane: You ready for tonight?
Shane: We have really important stuff to take care of.
Lily: ? i thought we were just hanging out?
Lily: i dont have anything in my calendar. did i forget something?
God, Shane loved him.
Shane: I just found out. My team told me.
Shane: If you don't have the best orgasm of your life tonight, all of hockey might disappear.
Lily: ohhhh. they were all trying to decide if they were willing to let hockey disappear or if someone would be willing to suck me off?
Shane: Oh, blowjobs aren't enough for this. I need to have you fuck me until neither of us can see straight.
Shane: It may make for a long night, but I told them I'd take one for the team and ensure the future of hockey.
Lily: u are so brave <3
Lily: all of hockey thanks you
"If I was dying," Drapeau began, in the tone that said this was definitely going to be one of their 'gay sex as torture' questions, "and the only way to save me was by sucking a guy's dick, would you do it?"
Comeau's face screwed up in consideration. "Any guy's? Or, like, a specific one?"
"Does it matter? Shit, fine - Ilya Rozanov. I'll die if you don't suck Ilya Rozanov's dick. Am I going to make it?"
Maybe it was Shane's own Ilya obsession talking, but it sure seemed like Rozanov came up in these questions a lot.
"God, you're the fucking worst. You think we're such good friends that I'll suck Ilya Rozanov's dick for you?"
"What, you won't? That's a fucking betrayal. Ten minutes out of your day to save my life-"
"-with Rozanov, and I bet he'd spend the whole time chirping me-"
"-like I didn't haul your drunk ass home at two in the morning-"
"-have to hear about my shitty blowjob skills every time we play Ottawa-"
"-never said word one about the time you threw up in my shoes-"
Shane let out an ear-splitting whistle, making everyone in the locker room wince and freeze. "Tell you what, Drapeau," he said. "We're playing Ottawa tonight. If it'll make you and Comeau quit having the stupidest argument I've ever heard, I'll suck Rozanov's dick to save your life, all right? But only if we win. You're not worth it otherwise."
Several people whooped approval. "Yeah, fucking work for it, Drapeau!" Wilson shouted.
"Cap gets it!" Stedlund chimed in. "You want him down on his knees for Rozanov, you gotta earn it!"
Tuning them out, Shane reached for his phone. He didn't usually text right before games, but under the circumstances...
Shane: So I'm only going to suck your dick if the Metros win tonight.
Shane: No blowjobs if Ottawa wins. BUT if Ottawa wins, I have it on good authority Drapeau will drop dead.
Lily: ooh, this is a tough one moy lyubov
Lily: will have to think about it all game
Lily: i can still give you blowjob, yes? can do it over drapeaus corpse
Shane: ew
Lily: yes, sounded much more romantic in my head. forget that part
Shane: Yeah, you can blow me if you win. And I'm not sure how often you have to fuck me to ensure that hockey's safe. We should probably play it safe.
Lily: good plan
Lily: guess we will know drapeaus fate in 2 hours
Lily: tell metros time to find a new goalie ;)
"This has become some sort of weird foreplay thing for you two, hasn't it?" Hayden asked in a low voice, too quiet to hear from anywhere farther away than Shane's locker. He nodded his head towards the group of guys who were arguing over if gay sex would get better or worse the more of it you had. "When Rozanov gets brought up in their stupid little game."
Shane's face flushed hot. Had he joined in that many times? Had anyone but Hayden noticed? "I haven't been-"
"No, man, you're fine. I think they think it's a weird level to the rivalry. You're ten times as dedicated to hockey as Ilya Rozanov, look you're even willing to fuck Rozanov to prove it."
"Oh no. They were very clear. He has to fuck me to save hockey."
"Please don't make me think about the specifics."
"Okay, a year!" Wilson announced. "You'll get a billion dollars if you can stick it out playing married with Rozanov for a year. Are you in?"
"Define 'playing married'," Comeau said suspiciously.
"Well, you gotta live together. And you have to have sex regularly."
"How often is regularly?"
"I don't know, a normal married couple amount! Like, twice a month."
Hayden made a strangled sort of snorting sound and buried his face in his locker. "Twice a month?" he hissed. "I feel like I should be offering their wives money for the divorce lawyers."
No kidding. Shane lived two hours away from his partner and was juggling two NHL schedules, and he and Ilya were still having sex more than twice a month. And that was without counting the phone sex.
"I'm out," Drapeau said. "Not for money. I make enough as a hockey player."
"I think I could do it," Mitty said consideringly. "So long as it's a decent sized house and I can get away from him regularly, you know?"
"Have a room full of mirrors," Stedlund suggested. "He'll spend all his time in there, admiring his own reflection."
"Don't be ridiculous," Shane said, before he could think better of it. But really, who could blame him? They were talking about shacking up with his boyfriend. "Not one of you could get through a year of living with Rozanov. You can't even get through a game without handing him a power play." It was embarrassing. Shane had been telling them for years that a fight was exactly what he wanted, and yet they kept right on taking the bait.
"Think you could, Cap? For a billion dollars?"
Comeau snorted. "Like he'd need to. Cap could be a billionaire no problem, if he wanted to do a few more Calvin Klein ads."
"I could handle him." Shane shrugged. "I don't need a billion dollars, but I could." It was a nice thought, really. Sharing space with Ilya. Living together, instead of just visiting. Figuring out how to get two sets of shoes in Ilya's front closet. Two sets of meal prep in the fridge. Nightly arguments over what to put on TV.
"Okay, new question," Wilson said. "Who kills who first? Cap or Rozanov?"
"Rozanov snaps first, but Cap takes him down," Stedlund said without a moment's hesitation. "So then not only is Rozanov dead - good job, Cap - it's self-defense, so Cap isn't in any trouble. And he tried his best, right? So he still gets the billion." Everyone nodded, apparently satisfied with this conclusion.
It twisted in Shane's gut sometimes, knowing that if they knew he really did have regular - actually regular, not this twice a month bullshit - sex with Ilya they'd be disgusted. On the other hand, it had become a little funny, seeing how close he could get to saying he wanted to be the one having sex with Ilya without anyone being the wiser.
Well, anyone but Hayden, who was giving him a very judgmental look. "Yeah. This is totally a thing for you two. Don't look smug."
Shane flashed him a quick grin, which widened at Hayden's quiet but still theatrical groan. "Tell them to stop talking about sex with Ilya Rozanov and I'll stop having to mark my territory."
"They don't even know that's-"
"What are you two whispering about?" JJ asked loudly, bumping up next to them, apparently refusing to be left out.
"Nothing important," Hayden said, because cover stories really weren't something he was good at.
"He doesn't think I could do it," Shane said. "Go a year without killing Rozanov."
JJ threw back his head and laughed. "Pike, you know that'll just make him better at it! Nothing makes Shane Hollander good at things like telling him you think he'll be bad at it. Remember the first time we went for darts?"
"God, don't remind me," Hayden complained. "I still think he was hustling us."
Shane took advantage of the two of them being distracted to fire off a quick text to Ilya.
Shane: Rumor has it they're offering a billion dollars to anyone who can live with Rozanov for an entire year.
Lily: ooh, any other rules? like maybe u cannot leave the house? just u and ilya rozanov, how will you pass the time...
Shane smiled, tucked his phone away, and felt his eyes catch on his jersey. Not for the first time, his mind wandered to the idea of it not hanging from the rafters one day, of wearing black and red instead, of being in a locker room where Ilya said the games of Would You Rather were about silly things, like ducks the size of polar bears and polar bears the size of ducks.
It was just a stupid game. It was a stupid game Shane had even found a way to play with without making him feel repulsed with himself. But every time they played it, every time he tuned in to hear one of his teammate's say yeah, dude, but like, you'd have another dude's junk in your mouth, gross he was reminded of just how little he fit. He'd never fit, had always believed that was the cost of playing hockey, but sometimes...
Sometimes he watched Ottawa's game and felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a space his size on their bench, tucked up against Ilya Rozanov's side.
"At this point, I think you guys are just coming up with excuses to fuck Rozanov."
Shane looked up just in time to see half a dozen betrayed faces looking at Hayden. "He does seem to come up a lot," Shane said, willing to push the line, just a little, when he could cover it under someone else started it. He knew it made him a coward, not being willing to throw his weight around in his own locker room, rip the 'jokes' out at their root, but he also knew he'd been playing hockey since before he'd learned to read, and when guys like Comeau and Drapeau and everyone else wanted to talk about gay sex like it was water boarding, there was no stopping them.
He'd been thinking about that a lot, the last couple of weeks. Since Troy Barrett had gone viral for fighting his own teammate and Ilya had said that maybe Barrett wasn't so bad as everyone thought. That maybe he'd been hiding in Toronto, the same way Shane was hiding in Montreal. Shane had gotten a few nasty comments when he was younger about not joining in, about what, do you think you're better than us, Hollander? but he was good enough at hockey - still was - to tell them that he focused on playing instead of running his mouth and they would slink off. Barret wasn't good enough for that. (He wasn't bad. But he definitely wasn't on Shane and Ilya's level.) So Shane could understand it, even if he'd be waiting for a little more evidence that Barrett wasn't now just hiding behind Ilya before he rolled out the welcome wagon.
"That's disgusting," Comeau said, looking horrified. "Dude."
Shane shrugged, very pointedly not feeling the twist in his gut at his and Ilya's relationship being called disgusting. "Just saying. A billion dollars, Drapeau's life, and all of hockey depend on Rozanov using one of you to get off. I'm not hearing anyone asking if they'd suck Dallas Kent off for a million dollars."
Their faces were horrified, like Shane just suggested they eat dinner off the locker room floor. Somehow - and here was another of the nuances of this game that Shane just couldn't get his head around - Hayden had turned on a light over their game, drawing attention to something that was fine to do but not fine to point out.
"Well," Wilson attempted, blustering and red in the face, "Rozanov would be the worst guy in the league to have to fuck." It sounded pathetic, the flimsiest of excuses.
"Yeah," Stedlund said, jumping onto Wilson's defense like it was a life raft. "You gotta agree with that, right, Cap? I mean, you hate the guy. You'd rather fuck anyone else besides Rozanov, right?"
It was getting heavier. Having to nod along when people said you hate the guy. Exhausting to say no, it's not just PR, we really are friends, he's an okay guy. He'd never expected dismantling the rivalry to be so impossible.
He also hated the idea of fucking anyone who wasn't Ilya ever again, but that was something else entirely.
"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "At least Rozanov is good at hockey. I'm absolutely not fucking anyone who's never even been to All-Stars." Or didn't have a dedicated trophy room. Who'd never lifted a Stanley cup or competed against him in the scoring race or the shooting competition or-
"Is it weird that I'm proud of that?" Drapeau asked. "Captain Hockey knows what he's about."
Several of the guys nodded.
"Wait, wait," Wilson said, shaking his head, "Cap, are you saying Rose Landry's good at hockey?"
"No, no," Stedlund said before Shane could think up an answer, "that's why they broke up! She's drop dead gorgeous, but that isn't enough for the Hockey Robot. He needs a perfect Hockey wife so he can make the most talented baby hockey player of all time."
That set off a chorus of laughter and jabs, some of them seeming to be along the lines of guess that means Cap would never fuck you, but the attention moved off Shane.
"Maybe now they'll stop activating your jealousy trap card," Hayden murmured.
"Is that why you said something?" Shane laughed. "Okay, would you rather-"
Hayden put him in a headlock. "Shut up and just get on with your flirting before they start paying attention to you again, okay?"
Shane really was grateful for Hayden. He was a good wingman, even if he regularly had to gripe about just who he was winging for.
Shane: These idiots just implied I'd be willing to fuck ANY hockey player to save Drapeau's life. I have standards.
Lily: and for drapeau? not sure it is worth it even if it is your dick
Shane: Like you'd ever say no.
Lily: did not say i would go that far...
Everything happened quickly, once the dominoes started crashing down. A fight Shane hadn't seen coming - even though in hindsight it really felt like he should have - that led to Shane having a panic attack in his car on the side of the road.
A plane that almost crashed that led to a panic attack before, during, and after getting Ilya on the phone to confirm he was all right.
A frantic trip to a jewelry store on entirely too little sleep that led to a panic attack about what if he says no??? which had been ended by Hayden smacking him - lightly - up the side of the head.
A paparazzi Shane would personally like to see dead, camped out in front of Ilya Rozanov's house to see how 'the former party icon' handled a near-death experience.
After that, it hadn't felt like he could number the panic attacks. They were too present, one bleeding straight into another. Benched. Threats of suspension. Threats of worse.
Somewhere around being screamed at by Crowell, something in Shane's brain just... broke. Some fundamental ability to give a fuck snapped in half. Some awareness that he should have been panicking, would have been panicking, but the part of him that was responsible for that had gotten overloaded and shut itself down.
So, when it was finally time to return the Montreal locker room, he couldn't find it in him to be nervous, not even with the way Hayden kept glancing over at him.
The room went silent when they walked in. Shane couldn't find it in himself to care.
Theriault had implied this would be his last season with the Metros. Shane had briefly met with the manager of the Centaurs, who had been very nearly skipping in place at the prospect of getting both the generational top talents on her team.
He would still play his best hockey. He would make everyone who wanted to talk about how obviously he couldn't do this look fucking stupid when put up against his stats. But if the Montreal locker room was no longer safe to him... Well, had it ever been in the first place?
Comeau was the first to figure out how to break the silence. "Fucking. Rozanov. And they let you back in here?"
Shane waited, but no panic registered. No twist of fear or shame. The worst was already over with.
He felt like the breakdown might be lurking on the horizon, ready to hit him after a big loss or after getting booted out of the playoffs or over the summer, in the safety of the cottage.
But right then? Standing in a locker room that he knew only boasted cup winners because of him? "What are you talking about, Comeau?" he said mildly. "I'm saving all of hockey." He pulled off his shirt and began to gear up. "Also Drapeau's life, I guess, but we had to talk about that one. We were hoping if we held off a while he'd keel over, but you can't have everything, I guess."
Hayden snorted, incredibly loud amongst twenty hockey players all holding their breath. "You've been sitting on that one for years, haven't you?"
Shane shrugged. "Well, you've met him. He's been biting through his tongue, refraining from telling Mitty that he's only interested in marrying one member of this team." No one in the locker room besides Hayden felt real. What did it matter, really, what they thought? What could they do to him that somebody else hadn't already done? That he hadn't done to himself?
They couldn't take Ilya from him. Not for money or life or hockey itself.
"It was a joke," Mitty protested.
"Have fewer jokes about fucking my fiance," Shane suggested.
"Fiance?" JJ repeated. He was the biggest wildcard - he'd messaged Shane you're still my captain when the tabloids had exploded, but Shane hadn't heard from him since, supportive or not.
The uncertainty put a chink into Shane's I don't care anymore armor.
"Yeah. We were going to come out this summer, when we started planning the wedding, but I guess the press had other ideas."
He didn't feel apathetic towards the paparazzi. In fact, he felt fully capable of murder. Camping outside of Ilya's house, hoping to catch him doing something shameful... It would have been revolting even if he hadn't gotten anything. Shane had already reached out to lawyers - if there was any way to squeeze the fucker until he was too ruined to ever hold a camera again, he'd find it.
"Damn," JJ said. "Uh, congrats, I guess?"
"Congrats?" Drapeau repeated, disgust dripping off every word.
"Well, yeah." JJ's tone shifted a little, joining in on the game. "I hear Cap's gonna get a billion dollars if he sticks out for the first year." He glanced at Shane, and Shane didn't need to be an expert in reading people to understand I've got your back. I don't really get it, but I'm on your side.
That was good enough, at least for now. Shane nodded at him, appreciation bleeding around the edges of the apathy.
"Get your asses on the ice," he ordered the rest of the Metros. "I know we've established I'm the only one in this room who actually cares about hockey, but the rest of you can at least pretend."
They were pissed, he could tell. Disgusted. A whole host of other words he didn't have the energy to think up. But he'd won. Even if all the rest of them were too stupid to know it, Shane knew that he had won.
Ilya: u will be home soon?
Ilya: need to save hockey
Ilya: i feel like it is very important tonight
Shane: See you soon.