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Shane sat down heavily onto the bench as he came off the ice. He was gassed. In a normal game, he could expect to play for about 25 total minutes, with each shift being about 45 seconds. It was grueling work but a pace he had trained for. He knew exactly how hard to push for each shift to ensure that he had enough gas left in the tank to get him through the third period. Today was not a normal game. Early in the first period Tanner Dillon had taken a cheap hit, sending him down the tunnel to receive medical attention. Shane was grateful that Tanner had gotten himself off the ice, he had seen other players take similar hits and leave the ice in much worse shape, taking a stretcher to the hospital. Shane was not, however, grateful for the extra workload that had been shifted onto the other Centaur players with the loss of one of their forwards.
The Centaur roster was already stretched thin. One of their defenders, Connor Allen, hadn't dressed for the game, with team management citing a personal matter. The media hadn't been given details, as the team wanted to give the Allen family privacy. Shane knew Connor's wife had gone into labor after a high risk twin pregnancy, and he was happy that his teammate had been given the time off to support his wife. Not all of the MLH teams provided their players with that level of respect for balance between team commitments and personal life events, and Shane was proud to be in part of an organization that saw the players as people first before hockey players.
Another Centaur forward, Anton Sokolov, was still out rehabbing an ACL sprain. Missing two of their offensive players, combined with the general exhaustion that came with being this late in the season meant that players were working overtime to finish the game out. They were up by one goal, but New York hadn't let up on the pressure. Shane glanced up at the Jumbotron, taking in the amount of time left in the game. 4 minutes and 25 seconds. In a sport like football where players have tricks to waste time on the clock, four minutes means the game is almost over. In hockey, four minutes was a lifetime.
Luca Haas leaned into Shane, allowing their helmets to bump against one another. Shane looked over at the younger player, knowing that Haas was looking for some inspiration to finish out the period. Shane bumped him back and kept his advice simple, 'Dig deep. Let's go'. Shane, Haas, and their left winger Morgan Knight vaulted over the boards to take the place of their first line forwards, Ilya Rosanov, Troy Barrett, and Zane Boodram.
New York had the puck behind their net, setting up to break out of their defensive zone. Shane could see the Admiral captain, Scott Hunter cutting across the ice looking for a breakout pass. The New York defender sent a rocket of a pass to Hunter, who caught the puck with ease, starting his race down center ice. Shane ducked his head and chased after Hunter. His speed allowed him to catch Scott as Hunter entered into the attacking zone, practically hearing Ilya's voice in his head making quips about Hunter being a slow old man. Shane pinned Hunter against the boards, using his skate to nudge the puck along while using his body to cage other players out from stealing the puck; this was a battle between him and Hunter and he didn't need his teammates getting caught up in the scrum. Shane knew that being up by one goal this late in the game required him to play smart hockey. Now wasn't the time to be a hero. It was time to run out the clock and prevent New York from gaining a scoring opportunity. Shane excelled at this style of play, his awareness on the ice made him a valuable player as he could keep a calm head through the last minutes of an intense game.
Scott Hunter let out a grunt as he shoved a sharp elbow back towards Shane's gut. Shane let out an oomph as the air was forced out of his stomach, but didn't let up on the puck. He saw a window of opportunity as Hunter pivoted his feet, Shane kicked the puck up towards the waiting stick of Morgan Knight. Knight took off like a rocket, making it almost to the center red line before Admirals player Cale Wagner stuck his stick out in desperation, taking Knight down and drawing a tripping penalty. Shane and Scott were still leaning against the boards behind the play, spent from the effort it had taken to go head to head.
'God DAMN it Wagner', Hunter muttered under his breath
Shane understood the frustrating of watching your teammate take a stupid penalty. He tapped his stick against Hunter's shin pad, giving him a cocky smile. 'Gotta teach your players better than that, eh Captain?'
Scott Hunter gave Shane's shoulder a shove, 'Watch yourself Hollander. Chirping after the play? Maybe your captain needs to teach you better than that.'
Shane's smile dropped off his face and he skated back to the bench before he found himself antagonized to the point of getting a penalty himself.
The centaur coach sent out the third line of forwards, giving Shane and Ilya's lines time to recover before the final push. Shane grabbed a water bottle from the bench, raising it a few inches from his mouth and giving it a squeeze. He took a few sips to replenish his hydration level, then squirted the bottle again to spray his face. The cold water felt heavenly dripping down his face, mixing with the beads of sweat finding paths along his skin. He looked to the side, seeing Ilya watching him, mouth unabashedly agape. Shane rolled his eyes, only Ilya could be distracted by Shane drinking water. Ilya winked, then turned his attention back to the ice. Shane was glad that the flush of his skin was indistinguishable from the look of an athlete working hard in a game. Shane's teammates knew that he and Ilya were together, but Shane did not need the entire MLH fanbase piecing it together from clips of the two on the bench.
Ilya's line went on the ice next, getting a few shots on goal that were easily stopped by the Admiral goaltender. While setting up for the last scoring attempt, the puck bounced over the stick of Centaur defender, Evan Dykstra, sliding past the blue line, requiring the Centaurs to leave the zone and reset before attempting to re-enter the attacking zone. When Dykstra sent a pass across the neutral zone ice to his linemate, Nick Chouinard, Admiral forward Carter Vaughn reached his stick out to tip and intercept the puck, sending it all the way down to the Centaur goalie, Wyatt Hayes. Hayes saw the Admirals rush down the ice towards him and was forced to cover the puck. The referees blew the whistle, indicating that there would be a face-off next to the Centaur goal.
Shane looked at the clock again. 15 seconds. That was just enough time for the Admirals to get a shot off and tie it up, sending the game into overtime. Shane's body ached at the prospect of going into overtime. He loved hockey, loved playing the game. But he wasn't a rookie anymore, and he knew extending the game would cause him to move stiffly for the next few days as he recovered.
The Centaur coach had come to the same conclusion as Shane, signaling to the referee that he wanted to take a time out. The Zamboni doors opened, allowing the ice maintenance team to skate out with their shovels and garbage cans so that they could remove excess snow accumulation of the ice surface while the play was stopped. The Centaurs gathered around their bench, watching their coach draw out a play on the whiteboard. Coach wanted to switch the lines up for the last few seconds of the game. Shane, Ilya, and Haas would be on the front line. Coach shot a look at Ilya Rosanov while reminding them that the objective was to prevent the Admirals from scoring, not to score themselves. Shane couldn't help but laugh at the indignant expression on Ilya's face.
'Coach! I am smart hockey player! I would never try to score goal at this time. You must be confusing me with Hollander. I hear he is selfish player.'
A ripple of laughter spread across their bench, no one believing Ilya's comment in the slightest.
The referee blew his whistle once, indicating that the timeout was over. Both teams began to skate towards the face off circle, ready to begin again. As Hayes approached his crease, he stumbled once, stopping and looking down at his right leg. He waved the referee over, having a quick discussion which prompted the referee to nod and blow his whistle again. Both captains Ilya Rozanov and Scott Hunter approached the referee to ask what had happened.
'Equipment issue. Hayes needs to have the equipment manager to swap his blade out'
Both captains nodded, likely appreciating the extra few minutes of rest they would gain while the skate blade was replaced.
Hayes had already made it back to the bench, dropping to his knees in front of the open bench door. The equipment managers at this level of hockey were quick, rivaling a pit crew in Formula 1, but replacing a goalie skate blade would take more than a few seconds to complete.
The fans were restless, noise building in the arena. Everyone was eager to see if the Centaurs would hold onto their lead and the win, or if New York would be able to come from behind at the last minute and send the game into overtime. All of a sudden, the environment shifted. Cheers erupted from the stands. Players glanced around, seeing that the newly invigorated cheering was due to the Jumbotron KissCam. It was rare for players to have any time to watch the Jumbotron. But the time out had given both teams enough time to hear and understand the plays that their coaches wanted them to execute. Everyone had time to re-hydrate. It was just a waiting game for Hayes to be ready to finish defending his net.
The Jumbotron camera panned around different couples around the rink. It was the usual suspects. Older white haired couples who shared a peck on the cheek, prompting 'awws'. Young couples clearly in the earliest stages of their relationship, leaning in questioningly to press their lips together. Pairs who looked horrified when the camera landed on them, miming gagging and mouthing 'THAT'S MY BROTHER!'.
Shane was leaning against the half-boards of the bench when he heard a roar of laughter fill the rink. He paid it no attention, continuing to focus on running through the play in his mind. His visualization was interrupted with his teammates, Knight and Chouinard punching him lightly on the shoulder pads. 'Look Hollzy! You're famous!'.
He glanced at the Jumbotron, absolutely horrified to see his face, the screen surrounded by a pink border of hearts. The cameraman must have panned out becuase all of a sudden his face was not the only one on the screen. With an expression conveying just as much shock and horror was Luca Haas.
****
Shane looked from the Jumbotron to his teammate and back again. He had no idea how to play this off. He knew that arenas would often include players in the KissCam becuase it pleased the fans to no end. However, he had never been on the receiving end of the joke. Shane pushed the rising panic down. He wasn't being targeted becuase he was a closeted gay man. He was being targeted because he was a star player. It could have been worse, he told himself. The camera could have focused on me and Ilya. That would have been a lot harder to play off. As he completed that train of thought, he glanced around looking to find Ilya. Ilya, who was glaring past him to bore holes into Luca's face. Jesus Christ.
****
Luca hadn't felt Ilya's eyes on him, and had finally moved past the initial shock of seeing himself on the screen paired with Shane Hollander. A smile broke across his face and he turned to Shane, 'So... whaddya say we give the people what they want?'
Shane choked on his own swallow, 'What the fuck?' he sputtered back
Luca smirked, 'C'mon Hollzy. You know I don't like you like that. But you can't deny that we have insane chemistry on the ice. Let's smooch'
Shane opened and closed his mouth, looking for a response to shut his teammate down, 'Rozy would kill you for even suggesting this. We're already down two forwards and I don't want to lose another one'
Quickly looking at the screen to confirm his hands were out of view of the camera, Haas wiggled his fingers, giving Ilya a cheeky wave. 'Nah, Rozanov likes me too much. I know he pretends not to, but I'm his second favorite after you'
Shane followed Luca's wave. Seeing Ilya's expression, he choked back a laugh. Ilya had steam coming from his ears, slowly shaking his head in warning to both of them. Shane thought about going home with Ilya after the game. He thought through their post-game routine. The press that they'd surely both have to do, the mediocre locker room showers, and finally returning to the safe haven of their apartment.
After so many years of having sex with Ilya Rozanov, Shane knew what got his man worked up. He knew Ilya was always insatiable after a game, somehow always finding a reserve of energy to fuck Shane with. He also knew that Ilya was a beast in the absolute best way when he was jealous. Their relationship was stable and steady, they'd been monogamous for years (with the exception of a few threesomes, but that was always planned and agreed on). Ilya knew that there was no reason to ever truly question Shane's loyalty to him, but it didn't stop him from experiencing the green monster of envy whenever other men flirted with Shane. On those nights, Ilya would press Shane into the mattress, growling possessively at Shane's back, reminding him of who he belonged to. Shane wasn't ashamed to admit how much he loved it. Loved the tight grip that Ilya would have on his body, the marks that Ilya would leave all up and down Shane's neck and hips.
With a final glance at the Jumbotron to ensure that he and Haas were still the stars of the show, Shane leaned in closely to his linemate. 'You sure about this Luca? I'm a catch, and you can't fall in love with me after this'
Luca swallowed hard, 'No promises Hollzy. Lay it on me.'
Their visors bumped as their faces came together, lips brushing ever so lightly. Shane pulled back, noticing Luca blink rapidly, stunned from the gentleness of the kiss. The arena erupted in screams, the boards vibrating with the volume of the cheers. Shane laughed, giving Haas a friendly shove. Hayes had finished his skate repair and was on his feet ready to head back to the net. The Centaurs followed their goalie to the face off dot to line up for the last puck drop, Ilya the last to arrive, moving slowly and looking shell shocked at what he had witnessed.
Moving on muscle memory, Ilya won the face off, saucing the puck to Shane. Hollander slung the puck around the boards, finding Luca's stick perfectly. New York had pulled their goalie to allow for an extra skater to give them an advantage to try to score in the last few seconds. Down by one, they had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Unfortunately since the Centaurs had won control of the puck and were rushing out of their defensive zone, it would now be a lot easier to score on an empty net.
Haas deked and stickhandled around the Admiral defender and was on a breakaway with the puck towards the New York net. Just as he was about to pull his stick back and flick it into the goal, his feet were taken out from underneath him and he slid across the ice. Luca looked up to see what Admiral player had tripped him, eyes widening to saucers as he saw his own teammate, Ilya Rozanov, now carrying the puck and dumping it easily into the net. The goal lamp lit up, followed quickly by the final horn indicating the end of the game. The Centaurs piled off the bench, skating to meet Ilya and fist bump him for the goal. Ilya dodged around the club of his teammates, instead barreling towards Luca, who was still sprawled on the ice.
'You do not kiss my man and then score. Only I, Ilya Rozanov, can kiss Shane Hollander and then score.'
Luca gawked up at the older player, 'Are you serious, captain?! You tripped me and took away my goal becuase of that?? HE KISSED ME!'
'I do not believe you. You are liar. Hollander would not kiss you. You have baby face. Hollander likes real men.'
Shane skated up to the pair, spraying snow on Ilya's socks as he came to a stop. 'Both of you shut the fuck up', he hissed, 'You know this league is crazy. There are fans that are going to rewatch this clip and lip-read to try and figure out what you are saying. Continue this conversation in the locker room. Or better yet, don't continue it at all'
Ilya looked Shane, anger being replaced with a smoldering heat. 'I will deal with you later, Hollander. For now let me finish yelling at Swiss baby player'.
Shane blushed and looked away, reaching down to grab Luca and help him to his feet.
Luca groaned, 'Are you serious Hollzy... Am I just a pawn in a game to make Rozanov jealous? I did not ask to be part of your foreplay. That's gross, you guys are like my dads.'
Shane tapped Luca's butt with his stick indicating that they should move to meet the rest of the team 'Let's go congratulate Hayes on a good game'.
Ilya pushed his way in between Luca and Shane, forcing distance between the two players as they skated across the ice.
Shane sighed but smiled as he made fun of Ilya, 'Seriously Ilya you can't prevent us from ever talking again. We literally skate on the same line, Luca is my winger.'
Ilya called over his shoulder, 'Yes, for now. Probably Luca will be traded to another worse team.'
Luca shot a panicked glance at Shane who comforted him, 'Haas, he's messing around. You aren't getting traded. He'll get over it tonight... He won't even remember you exist in a few hours. I have my ways', he finished with a wink
Luca shuddered. Gross.
****
Back in the locker room after finishing a few interviews in the press room, Shane picked up his phone, scanning through the texts. He skipped over the texts from his agent and his parents. He knew that his agent would be able to spin the story into a lighthearted joke about interacting with the fans. Shane opened his unread messages from his old teammate, Hayden Pike.
Hayden: Dude what the FUCK
Hayden: I mean I get it, Luca Haas is young and Jackie says he's a golden retriever, whatever that means
Hayden: But Shane what the fuck.
Hayden: Oh.
Hayden: Oh. My. God.
Hayden: One of the camera angles caught Ilya's face during that entire thing... you dirty dog Shane. Are you doing this to fuck with Rosanov?
Hayden: ...Welp. Just answered my own question. What other reason would Ilya Rosanov have to trip his own teammate to preventing him from scoring an empty net goal.
Hayden: I don't know how you two have stayed under the radar this long. You suck at hiding and you are both so obvious.
Hayden: And I kind of hate you for subjecting all of your friends, family, and fans to your weird foreplay. I respect it, but also I hate it. Keep your perfect happy relationship off my TV, it's sickening.
Hayden: JK... See you next week when we play you guys. Try not to kiss any of other your teammates during that game though, I don't want to be in the arena when Ilya commits homocide (...get it? HOMOcide? like homicide??)
Shane chuckles under his breath, starting to type a reply to his best friend. Before he can hit send, his phone is snatched out of his hands. He looks up to find Ilya standing way too close.
'We go home now'
Shane glances down at himself, still sweaty from the game. 'I haven't showered yet, gimme fifteen minutes'
Ilya frowns, 'No. This cannot wait fifteen minutes. You shower at home in our shower. With me. We will leave now, say goodbye to team.'
Shane knows a losing battle when he hears one, so he strips off the last pieces of gear, tossing on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, grimacing at the feeling of clothes on his dried sweat. 'Bye everyone, great game today. We've gotta rest up before we play Montreal in a few days, so take it easy tonight. I'll see you all at practice tomorrow'
He turns to find that Ilya has already gathered Shane's keys, phone, and wallet from his locker and is halfway out the door, not waiting for Shane to follow. Shane's team laughs as Shane hustles after Ilya.
'OOOOHHHH Shane's in trouble!'
'Shane's WHIPPED look at him run after Ilya'
'Take it easy tonight?? Shane, buddy! Take your own advice! Doesn't seem like anyone's taking it easy on you tonight!'
Their teammates' teasing comments follow Shane and Ilya down the hallway. Ilya opens the car door for Shane, allowing Shane to get in the passengers seat and buckle before he walks around to his side. Shane's gaze tracks Ilya, who is moving calmer than he anticipated.
Ilya starts the car then turns to face Shane, heat smoldering in his gaze, 'You are in trouble tonight Mr. KissCam'
Shane swallows hard, turning away to face the window to hide his expression of glee from Ilya. Perfect.