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Ilya was never one to get overly cocky about a game—well, not any cockier than usual. But there was something about playing a home game, especially against one of the bottom six teams, that loosened up the whole dressing room. The atmosphere was lighter, more fun, like they all knew they could hit the ice and have a good time doing the thing they loved.
Plus, they had the absolute chore of chirping each other extra hard before the game to get it out of their systems. Kicking a puppy when it was down was no fun at all. Ilya would still chirp Calgary out of respect, but being outright assholes when Calgary hadn’t scored a single goal in the last five games would be rude.
It was Evan’s turn to be dressing room DJ, which Ilya let slide because he wasn’t worried about their focus. Also, they all got to give Evan shit as he warbled along to some country song. Win-win. Evan’s seat was already piled high with wads of stick tape that everyone stuck there just to annoy him.
“Hey, Troy? You might want to blink occasionally,” Bood teased from Ilya’s left. Ilya’s head lifted from where he’d been taping his ankle, and he caught the fierce pink flush that crossed Troy’s cheeks before Troy hurried to bend down and put on his socks. Directly across from him was…Shane. Shirtless, compression short wearing, thick-thighed Shane. He looked fucking gorgeous.
“That is my husband, you are aware?” Ilya asked Troy.
Troy coughed, or maybe wheezed. “Yeah. I got that.”
“And you have your Harris.”
Troy shot him a glare and hissed quietly, “I fucking know, Roz. I love Harris.”
“Oh?” Ilya raised his brows high. “What? Someone else glued your eyes to Shane’s ass?”
Troy buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”
“Is alright.” Ilya’s serious face crumbled as he laughed and clapped him on the back. “You get one free look before is a problem.”
“Just kill me now,” Troy mumbled. “I wasn’t looking.”
“You were. Is okay.” Ilya let his eyes linger on the outsides of Shane’s thighs. No one else knew how they flushed pink when Shane was on the verge of coming, but Ilya did. His smile was smug and satisfied, Ilya was sure, but he didn’t bother hiding it. “Everyone looks. He is hot.”
“He is,” Bood agreed from Ilya’s other side. “I mean, I’m straight, and I’ve got Cassie, but I also have eyes. I feel left out though. Troy is crushing on Shane—”
“I am not!” Troy argued, catching everyone’s attention.
“And Haasy—”
“Is now also crushing on my Shane,” Ilya said with a laugh. Luca went deep red, gaping like a fish. “Wyatt too, I think.”
Wyatt flashed a wink. “I mean, he’s right next to me. I can’t ignore the face, the hair, the traps? I mean…”
Ilya nodded. “I know. Now Shane will love you back. He has been waiting for someone to notice his new muscles this season. New workout.”
Shane pinned Ilya with a glare from over his shoulder. “Are you telling me you noticed and never said anything?” Ilya just grinned. “What a fucking asshole.”
“I want a work crush,” Bood grumbled.
“You can crush on me,” Ilya offered, patting Zane’s shoulder. “I am also hot. And great kisser. Just ask Shane.”
Shane groaned and ran a hand down his face, but Bood wasn’t paying attention to Ilya’s blushing husband. “No. I mean, someone who has a crush on me. I’m hot. I’m funny. I’m—”
“Devoted to your wife?” Ilya finished for him.
“I’ll be your work husband,” Evan offered.
“Not with this shit taste in music, you won’t,” Bood shot back, chucking a dirty sock at Evan’s face. Evan doubled over laughing. “Nick! Will you be my hockey husband?”
Nick shrugged. “I mean, I gotta ask Selena, but that works for me.”
Bood frowned and turned toward his station to grab his phone. “Yeah, I guess I better ask Cassie.”
“Please, let me,” Ilya said, delight bubbling up inside him. “I will pay you one thousand dollars if you let me face-call your wife, right now.”
“Fucking done.” Bood passed over his phone and Ilya’s grin was unstoppable. “Venmo me.”
“I’m texting Selena,” Nick said as Ilya listened to the phone ring.
“Hey baaaab—Ilya? Is Zane okay? No, Zane is definitely okay.” Cassie shook her head with a smile. “I know that face. Does Zane know you have his phone?”
“Of course, I would never use his phone without him knowing,” Ilya announced, then hushed his voice to a false whisper. “Was supposed to be our secret, Cassie.”
Cassie winked. “Oops.”
“What the fuck, Rozzy?” Zane asked.
Ilya shushed him and stepped out of Zane’s reach. “We have a team problem, though.”
“Okay… And you need my help?”
Ilya nodded vigorously. “Zane decided not enough people on this team have boyfriends and husbands. He would like a lover.”
Cassie’s face crumpled into a laugh. “Is this your way of telling me Zane’s leaving me for you and Shane? Is our kid about to have three millionaire dads? Where is the downside?”
“You know…” Ilya pretended to think about it. “That would be fun. Two husbands, Anya, a baby, and a Cassie? Shane, what do you think?”
The room flooded with laughter, and even Bood was grinning as he watched with folded arms.
“Nope,” Shane called out across the noisy room. He didn’t even look up from taping his stick to do it.
Ilya blew a raspberry. “Guess not. Also, Zane already proposed to Nick.” He turned so Cassie could see Nick, still shirtless, who waved cheerfully.
“Yeah, I think I need to know my duties though, first. What’s the story here, Bood? Do I like…smack your ass during line changes, or just stare at you while I put my socks on?” Nick wiggled his eyebrows at Troy.
“Fuck off,” Troy said, though there wasn’t any heat behind it. He threw a roll of tape at Nick. He scowled when Nick caught it effortlessly. “I wasn’t staring.”
“That was rhetorical, anyway. I already smack Bood’s ass during line changes.”
Cassie just laughed harder, her blue eyes sparkling. “Okay, Nick, I’ll make you a deal.”
Ilya left Bood and Troy behind so he could stand with Nick and fit both their faces in the frame for Cassie. “We are ready for terms. Go,” Ilya said.
“Okay. You can marry Zane at work.”
“Wait, wait. No deal. That is not terms,” Ilya coached her. “Ask for something outrageous. Ten thousand dollars. Nick’s next baby. A new car.”
“Hey!” Nick shoved Ilya’s shoulder. “Not helping.”
“I wasn’t done,” Cassie said with a dazzling smile. “Selena and I get a girl’s trip with the kids and two nannies. Somewhere warm. In February. I want to go snorkeling while Ottawa is five feet deep in snow.”
Ilya nodded, smiling. “Yes. Good terms. Quick learning. You are now my favorite wife.”
“You don’t have a wife,” Shane called across the room. He sounded exasperated. That was going to be fun later. Ilya tossed Shane a wink over his shoulder.
“Hey, no leaving the country with my baby without me,” Zane said, shoving his head between Ilya’s and Nick’s.
Cassie shrugged. “Well, we’re not snorkeling in Vancouver, so… Take it or leave it.”
“Counter offer: two nights at an all inclusive spa in the province when we’re not on the road, and Nick and I watch all the kids at our house.”
“And Ilya,” Nick added.
Cassie squealed. “Really?”
“How did I become the nanny?” Ilya asked.
“You were the one who told her to set terms,” Nick grumbled, flicking Ilya’s ear.
“Ah, well, kids love me. I will keep your house standing and children happy and fed,” Ilya assured Cassie.
“Done! Have fun with your proposal!” Cassie blew them all a kiss.
Bood snatched the phone out of Ilya’s hand and headed for the hallway where they could finish their phone call in peace. Ilya slapped a hand on Nick’s shoulder with a grin. “I am like Cupid. Troy and Harris, you and Bood, Evan and Bood’s sock.”
“Fuck you!” Evan said, still laughing. He threw the offending sock at Ilya.
“You fucking are not Cupid,” Nick said with a grin. He already had his phone out, probably texting his wife. “Get out of here. I’m holding you and Shane to helping us babysit.”
“What? Now I’m roped into this, too?” Shane asked. Ilya met his gaze, and despite the fake-glare, Shane’s eyes were soft and happy.
“Is not babysitting when it’s your own fucking kids,” Ilya told Nick. “But yes, I am best babysitter. Shane is second.”
Shane flipped him off and Ilya sent him the biggest smile yet. Wyatt pulled Shane back into conversation, and Ilya’s heart felt so full and heavy, like it had just eaten a five course meal and dessert. He loved seeing Shane so happy with their team.
Loved that the Centaurs felt like family.
He went back to his station, where Troy was slipping on his pads.
“Okay, Troy?” Ilya asked quietly as he pulled on his undershirt. “Not too much?”
“Nah,” Troy shook his head with a small smile. “You’re all fucking assholes, but for some reason I still like you.”
“Is strange,” Ilya agreed.
“Thanks for deflecting to Bood, though,” Troy murmured, bumping their shoulders together.
Ilya patted Troy’s shoulder. “Is nothing.”
Ilya’s phone buzzed as he pulled on his own pads, and he pulled it from the shelf to find a text from his favorite person.
Shane: Already eager to settle down with a kid?
Ilya: Unless you give better option
Shane: We’d have to schedule sex around them.
Ilya: No. I am good without for now. We can have kids later
Ilya heard Shane laugh from his own station, and Ilya’s heart ballooned even more. He rubbed a gentle circle over his sternum. Over his mother’s crucifix. Could he have ever imagined this five years ago? Texting Shane from the same dressing room? Having a family with not just one person, or three, like the Hollanders, but with twenty-five people?
A whole team with players and staff and coaches that knew him. That knew Shane. That loved both of them together and teased them and had dinners together and children who called him Uncle Ilya. And when the game was over, and the team went home, it would be him and Shane and Anya unwinding. The three of them piled in their bed—hopefully after sex, but not always—snoring softly in the dark. The scent of Shane’s hair in his nose.
Ilya: Are you happy as I am right now?
Ilya watched as the dots danced across the screen, then disappeared. He frowned at his phone, suddenly uncertain.
Warm arms wrapped around him, and Shane pressed a brief kiss to Ilya’s hair.
“The happiest,” Shane whispered, and then he was gone. But the warmth of him stayed, impressed upon Ilya’s back like a fingerprint on clay.
Ilya: I love you
Ilya: We don’t have a child, so…
Ilya: I want your clothes off five seconds after we walk in the front door
Shane: Fucking make me, Rozanov.
Ilya: Most goals scored tonight gets to make the rules
Shane: Deal
Ilya grinned and tucked his phone away. This was going to be the best fucking game of his life.