Chapter Text
Shane
“How did you know you were gay?” Shane’s voice came out in a rough whisper as he cradled a steaming mug of black coffee, staring at Joe’s face just beyond the rim. He remembered yesterday’s careless chat with Vaughn in this same café, how one offhand remark had made him reel, imagining the dangers Joe might face in Russia, that he or Ilya might face. He’d felt foolish, blindsided by his own obliviousness.
Joe choked on a sip, sputtering on the foam of his latte. He yanked a napkin free and dabbed at his mouth. “What?” His voice cracked with surprise and what might be amusement.
Shane’s cheeks flamed scarlet. He dropped his gaze to the dark swirl of his own drink. “I mean—sorry. I thought—”
“No, no,” Joe said, waving him off and cutting in gently. “I’m gay. I’m very gay. It’s not like I tried to hide it.” He tapped the rim of his while he considered what to say next. “I guess I just never expected you—of all people—to ask that.” Joe chuckled, easing back. “Honestly, if I hadn’t already suspected, the massive crush I had on you all through high school would’ve been a giveaway.”
Shane’s breath caught. “Me?” He splashed coffee around as he set the cup down.
“Shane.” Joe sighed, deadpan. “I wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Shane cursed under his breath. “Oh.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. Okay.”
Joe tipped his head, pretending exasperation. “Wow, okay? You’re still as awkward as freshman year, despite all that fame and media training.” He took a slow sip. “But why now? What made you ask?”
Shane stared at the table, tracing a scratch in the lacquer. He’d asked to meet here after watching Joe skate yesterday, after running into Ilya. The knot of raw, confusing emotions he felt around Ilya had left him feeling like he caught an edge on the ice. He needed clarity but couldn’t bear to admit that even to himself. He licked his lips. “I think I’m maybe not… like, straight or whatever—”
Joe put his cup down so gently the saucer barely made a sound. He watched as Shane reached for a napkin and began tearing it into pieces, his eyes fixed on the café’s corner so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact.
“Shane, are you gay?” he asked softly, delicately, more gentle with Shane than he thought he had ever been with himself.
Shane’s chest felt thick, the air hot in his lungs. He swallowed. “I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I dated Jessica in high school—”
Joe snorted. “Sure, and you two were devastated when it ended.”
Shane jabbed Joe’s shin with his foot under the table. “We were fine, Joe. We were just growing apart. She had college, I had the MLH, it was never going to work.”
Joe’s grin softened. “I always thought you two split because you were a hockey-crazed homebody who wouldn’t party like she wanted.”
Shane laughed, the tension loosening. This he could talk through. A lot of his teammates felt the same way and teased him for it.
After a quiet pause, Joe asked, “Have you… been with a guy?”
Shane’s skin prickled. His throat tightened, but he managed a nod.
Joe exhaled a sigh of relief. “That is quite literally a check in the ‘not-straight’ box.”
Shane kicked him again, more gently this time, and Joe laughed. Shane felt something inside him unclench. That knot that was stuck suspended in his throat loosened and for the first time in hours he felt like he could really breathe.
“And was it better?” Joe tilted his head.
Shane frowned. “Better?”
“Than being with Jess.”
Shane’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Yeah. It was.” He tore off another piece of napkin and could feel exactly how red his cheeks were. He wished he could stop blushing. This conversation was uncomfortable enough without knowing that Joe could read every emotion on his face like it was written out in plain English on his cheekbones.
Joe reached across the table, closing the gap. He covered Shane’s hands with both of his. The café noises faded under the throb of Shane’s heartbeat. Joe squeezed, and Shane stilled, too stunned to pull away. His vision blurred and tears threatened. Not from pain, or true upset. This felt more like reluctant acceptance, like release.
“Let’s move,” Joe said quietly. “Take a walk.”
Shane nodded, rising with a scrape of chair legs. Joe drew back respectfully as they stepped onto the snow-packed path outside the Olympic Village. Afternoon light etched their breaths in the cold air.
Joe broke the hush. “Can I ask who it was?”
Shane shook his head, shoulders tight.
“Is he closeted?”
Shane’s shoulders dropped a fraction. He kicked at a snow drift. “Yeah,” he said.
Joe’s brow furrowed. “And you—will you stay closeted? I don’t know of any out hockey players.”
Shane let out a humorless snort. “None that I know.”
He paused, but the words tumbled out. “I don’t think I can come out. I’d lose everything. The team, my career—especially as one of the few Asian players.”
Joe winced. “That sucks. So what, you hide until retirement? Build a life in secret? That’s no life.”
Shane shrugged against the cold. “I don’t really have a choice.”
They passed between concrete dorms with not another soul in sight. Joe slipped his hand into Shane’s, stopped him mid-step, and pressed a soft kiss to Shane’s knuckles. Shane’s shoulders tightened, he looked up and down the alley between buildings and double checked that they were alone.
Joe’s voice was a hushed whisper. “My room’s empty. If you want help figuring things out…”
Shane froze, heart lodged in his throat. He thought of Joe’s lean strength, the way his muscles flexed under that tight skating suit. He hadn’t thought about him like that before, but now it was all he could think about. Shane closed his eyes, imagining what a kiss would taste like. His answer came in a choked mumble. “Okay.”
Joe’s grin flashed happily and he leaned in, brushing his lips against Shane’s. Soft at first, then sure. Shane trembled into him. When Joe pulled back, breathless, he said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Shane nodded again, scrambling to follow as Joe led him toward the entrance to the Canadian dorms.
Hours later, Shane lay in Joe’s bed, chest heaving, the ceiling a blur above him. Joe rested on his elbow beside him, sheets tangled at their waists.
“I think I’m gay.” Shane whispered into the quiet of the room.
Joe laughed, soft and fond. “I’d say that’s well-supported.” He leaned down to kiss Shane’s shoulder, then rested his head on Shane’s chest.
Shane closed his eyes. “I thought… maybe it was just him,” he said, meaning Ilya and everything he had felt with him that he struggled to feel with anyone else he had ever been with.
Joe shifted, curious. “The other guy?”
“Yeah. Like maybe I’d meet a girl someday and be—normal.”
Joe’s laugh came out hollow and weak. “Stop that. That’s toxic. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sat up, propped on an elbow. “We live in Canada. Gay marriage’s been legal since 2005. You deserve to be with someone you actually like.”
Shane rolled toward Joe, laughter bubbling up. He pushed Joe back gently, straddling him and pressing a fierce, hungry kiss to his lips. Then he rose, slipping into his clothes. He needed air and time to process.
“Hey,” Joe called softly, resting on his elbows. “It’ll be okay. Your career might complicate things, but there’s no way you’re alone in that.”
Shane met his gaze and pulled out his phone. “I don’t have your number anymore,” he said, a statement intonated like a question.
Joe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Shane’s phone, typed quickly, then handed it back. “This has to be a one-time thing, though,” he said, eyes serious. “I don’t date closeted men. Not my style. But text me. I don’t want you turning into your own worst enemy.”
“Okay,” Shane whispered, thumb hovering over the screen. “Thanks.”
Joe nodded and walked him to the door. Shane barely reached his own dorm before his phone buzzed.
Joe: Good luck in your game tomorrow!
Shane: Thanks, you too!