Chapter Text
“And, rook, don’t forget about stopping by PT on your way out.” Coach Wiebe’s voice echoed across the ice, bringing a flush to Luca’s face.
“Yes sir!” He called back, raising a thumbs up with his free hand as he slid to a stop after his final lap around the rink. It had been a fun practice? Whatever mood Ilya was in today had carried over to the rest of the team at practice and while Luca’s legs were screaming at him to sit down, the thrum of his blood soaring through him wanted him to keep going. To push himself harder. To be better. But that was a bit hard to do when he was the only one left on the ice.
Luca knew it was only his first season, but the Centaurs had been on such a hot streak lately, winning game after game. That paired with an immense boost in their captains mood, another wonder, had them pushing their absolute limits every practice. Riding high.
“And there he is! Can you believe it guys, our rookie does know how to walk on land!” Came the cheer from Evan as Luca pushed open the locker room door. The answering cheers definitely did not help the red on his face but Luca couldn’t help his answering smile. The guys had been teasing him all season about always being the last one off the ice and jokes like these had become a common ritual. The warm feeling that accompanied those moments were something Luca hoarded close to his chest for the not so good days.
It had been a dream come true to be drafted to an actual NHL team, but the way the Ottawa Centaurs had welcomed him with open arms still remained the unbelievable part. Not only was it impossible to believe Luca played on the same team as the Ilya Rozanov, and other top league players like Troy Barrett and Wyatt Hayes, but his teammates actually seemed to like him? Luca still fought the urge to pinch himself every morning when he parked his car in the team lot.
“How is knee?” Speaking of Ilya Rozanov, the accented English hit Luca’s ears just as he was pulling his practice jersey over his head. There was a long moment, Luca jumping at the words and his left arm getting temporarily stuck where his stomach dropped in mortification, but when he did finally manage to get his shirt off, Ilya was waiting patiently next to Luca’s locker, already changed and packed bag at his feet.
“Um, good. Really good.” Luca squeaked out, shifted his weight back and forth almost as if to prove that statement to himself.
“You are not pushing it too much?” Ilya’s gaze was sharp, focused on his right knee. Luca felt it twitch under the attention.
“No, no. It’s really good. Coach just has me seeing Avery for prevention now.”
It had been early on in their season, Luca’s first professional season, in a game against Montreal. Luca still dreamt of that game, waking up in a cold sweat. It had been a brutal loss, like most of their games had been at that point. But this game had been the worst. Luca remembered very little from the first period, but Ilya had been off even before the game. At one point, Wyatt had pulled Luca aside and had filled him in that this wasn’t the first time Ilya had gotten like this. Reassured it was just an off day for their captain and checked in on Luca with such care that had left Luca stumbling over his own words. And then they had gotten on the ice and Luca’s senses were assaulted with the negative energy radiating off Montreal. It was so bad, so weird, Luca almost forgot to be excited about playing his first game against Shane Hollander until the first face off. But even that exciting fact hadn’t helped. Luca had played rough games before. Seen how brutal hockey players could be, but this game had still been a shock to his system. Montreal, other than Shane Hollander, was playing dirty. And Ilya was matching them, beat for beat. Luca had counted blood on the ice three times before the third period. He’d tried to not let it get to him, but something must have thrown him off, and all came to a head three minutes into the third period when Luca connected with the pass from Troy seconds before the blue mass of Gilbert Cormeau came crashing into him. He barely remembered the hit, just the screaming of his knee and the matching hoarseness of his throat. Remembered the trip to Montreal General, a kind doctor discussing his MCL sprain to their team’s emergency physician as he held her hand. Two to four weeks off the ice and a dozen appointments with an appointed team physical trainer, Avery. A furious Ilya Rozanov followed by the most awkward meeting with Shane Hollander, the Montreal captain apologizing for his teammate.
But that had been weeks ago. Months, almost. It was sweet that Ilya was still asking, that Coach was still looking out for him. But Luca was fine. It hadn’t hurt in weeks.
“Avery, good. Tell her hello from me.” And with a final grin, Ilya was gone, disappearing to wherever he went after practice.
Luca didn’t even bother showering, knowing if Avery had the same sadistic exercises as last month, he would be keeping up the sweaty look, and shoved a protein bar in his mouth as he made his way down the halls of the rink to the lower level.
Thankfully the hallway was empty when he unsuccessfully body slammed her door. He hadn’t even been trying, planning on just opening the swing of the door with his shoulder, but when he was met with sudden resistance in place of the usual creak of the hinges, the resounding boom of the rest of his body hitting the locked door was too loud. And it made his shoulder peak, unprotected from this self-inflicted hit. Ow.
Steadying himself back and glancing around quickly to make sure really no one saw, Luca finally took in the piece of paper taped to the door detailing Avery's sick absence and how all her appointments had been automatically transferred to the team’s second assistant trainer, Blayne Stickner.
Fuck.
Luca was sure he looked a little silly standing in front of the locked door, but he was personally fighting against the urge to smash his head against the door, so really this was the better of two outcomes.
Blayne Stickner? As in the guy he had absolutely smashed into at a family skate last week like he wasn’t a professional NHL player and didn’t know proper ice etiquette. Fuck, hadn’t he apparently given the man a concussion? Was he even safe to be working again?
The slam of a closing door down the hall shocked Luca out of his self pity spiral. After a quick look through his emails, he saw the confirmation email from Avery, along with a new room number a couple doors down for Blayne’s office. Thankfully far enough away that Luca hoped he hadn’t heard the door debacle.
It was still too little steps away to give Luca time to mentally prepare himself for another interaction with the man, especially when Blayne opened his door mere seconds after Luca finished knocking.
“Luca, hi! Looks like you got Avery’s email too. Come in, come in.” And fuck, how had Luca forgotten this is what he looked like in one short week? Luca stumbled in behind him, nearly collapsing into the free chair Blayne gestured to before closing the door behind them. “Sorry to switch things up on you mid season, but given Avery’s pneumonia diagnosis, it’s looking like I may be kind of in charge here the next couple weeks so we figured a temporary shift might be better than rescheduling.” He paused, his brown eyes catching Luca’s for the entire second Luca managed to hold his gaze. All Luca managed was a grunt in agreement before Blayne sat down in his mirroring chair, his laptop propped up on the treatment table. “Cool. So, given that this is our first appointment with each other, I figured it would make sense to go over what we’re working with here, no? Let’s see, right knee, boof. Yeah. I remember that hit. Fucking Cormeau.” Luca looked up at that just in time to catch the smirk Blayne shot at him. “That’s my professional opinion there.” He waited, as if seeing if Luca would laugh, but also didn’t seem to slow down when he didn’t. “Recovery progress looks good though. Avery’s left a list of exercises you’re supposed to do, how are those going?”
Luca knew he needed to actually produce words here, pushing out a “Good.” from the absolute mess of his brain. Which was so ridiculous. Things were going fine. Good, even. He had chatted Avery’s ear off last time in thanks but suddenly faced with Blayne in front of him and suddenly Luca’s brain did not want to get with the program? Was he really this worked up over what happened last week?
That was a good point. He should probably apologize for that again. Those were some words he knew.
But Blayne was snapping his laptop shut and standing, “Up we go. I find it best to just get into it, can see where you’re at better that way.”
And that’s when it hit Luca what physical therapy meant, really. Oh my god, Blayne was going to put his hands on him? He really should have showered. He was disgusting, not even fully changed out of his workout gear from practice. Did he want to know what he smelled like? Oh my god, this was so rude of him.
Not that he had ever had these thoughts with Avery, but that was Avery! He knew Avery. She liked him. They were good. This was Blayne, the man he had nearly put in the hospital last week. Jesus Christ.
“Um, if you want, I could go change first? Before I get your space all-” Luca stood too but hesitated.
A snort of laughter cut him off. “Nah man, it’s no problem. Things might get sweaty here anyway.” Like that didn't shock the mess in his brain even further.
Luca managed a nod before gingerly hoisting himself up and on to his back. He wiggled slightly into place before turning to find Blayne standing still right next to his head, the man’s gaze focused further down his body. There was a slight dusting of pink to his cheeks and Luca had the wild thought that he wanted to lick that before it fully registered and he pushed that thought deep, deep down. This was absolutely not the moment to be thirsting over his coworker. God, how inappropriate was he being?
Thankfully Blayne started asking more questions before Luca could spiral more, feeling out his knee, making Luca bend in countless various angles. It had been a shock, the first feeling on Blayne’s hands on him, and Luca knew the man had noticed the jolt of his leg when it happened but thankfully he didn’t bring it up. Let Luca focus on the stain on the ceiling and pretend the trails of heat left on his leg were from the stretching.
The next hour passed in a blur of familiar exercises and increased frustration when Luca still barely managed to get more than a word out, but Blayne remained friendly and professional throughout. And before Luca knew it, he was sitting back on the treatment table, accepting a bottle of water from Blayne and wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt.
The clatter of Blayne’s water bottle hitting the floor had Luca looking up, but Blayne had his back to him as he crouched down. His shirt rode up a few centimeters on his back. Which Luca did not let himself think about here.
“I think that’s going to be it, for today.” Blayne started, moving around to pack or fold away various things. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll stay on the right track.”
Oh. Luca was supposed to go now. You know, the usual thing you did when an appointment was over.
He made himself stand, legs still shaky. He could keep this short. Say thanks and walk out of here and get out of here. Finally grab some dinner for his growling stomach.
“I’m sorry.” Was what came out instead, echoing in the air between them. He watched Blayne freeze, a breath passing before curious eyes turned to meet his. “For last week. I know I said sorry then too, but that was really stupid of me. I still don’t really know how it happened, I really was trying to watch out, but, well, that’s not what I’m trying to say.”
“It’s ok.” Blayne’s voice was quiet, smaller than it’d been all appointment, but Luca felt the words just the same. “I’m ok, really. Was a minor concussion. I barely had a headache the next day.”
Luca felt something in his stomach unclench at that. “Oh, good. That’s good. I’m still sorry though. And now, with Avery out, I’m sure this was more work for you today, with me of all people too, and this was great, really, thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.” Which was stupid. Luca knew he probably did. That was literally Blayne’s job description.
But it had Blayne smiling, a soft look on his face that had Luca’s heart rate picking up. “It was an accident, Luca.” God, there he goes. Saying his name again. “Probably the universe's payback for all the shit I’ve pulled on the ice over the years.”
“Do you play hockey?” Luca could picture it so perfectly, Blayne was a bit shorter than him but he would still fill out a hockey uniform nicely. You know, if Luca was noticing things like that.
“Just for fun. I used to play in school, then a beer league in college. Nothing like what you do.”
“Oh. Um, well, actually, I’m-”
“A professional NHL player.” Blayne cut him off with gentle words. “A freaking good one too. We’re lucky to have you.”
And whoops. There went all Luca’s English capabilities again. He knew he was blushing again but hoped his face was still red enough from before to hide it.
As if sensing Luca’s struggles, Blayne smiled again, this time with a tilt of his head that imprinted itself in Luca’s brain. “And the most important part of keeping up the good work is proper rest. Make sure you eat good tonight. Practice looked like a doozy today.” Fuck, he was watching their practices? Luca hadn’t seen him, not that he had known to look.
“Ok.” There. An English word he knew.
“I’ll see you around.”
It didn’t hit Luca until he was toweling off from his shower that Blayne had echoed his own words back to him. Which definitely didn’t make him blush. Nope. That was just leftover heat from the shower. This was fine.
Again, he was ignoring the traces of heat he could still feel on his skin. Didn’t let himself trace over the finger prints that lingered on his hip. That was something he couldn't let himself do.
A good dinner and rest. He could do that.