Chapter Text
Ten days left of the team Canada camp. The preliminary roster was hung in the locker room and sent to every player's email. Shane Hollander - captain. Centre of the first attack formation, Pike and Marleau on wings. Alternate captains will be rotated, based on the rest of the camp. The second attack…
Shane was happy. Hayden was happy. Marleau should have been happy.
Marleau didn't seem happy. Marleau was looking at Shane as if he had grown a second head. Staring. Apologising when Shane caught him. Returning to staring a minute later.
Shane wasn't sure what happened, or when. If he'd done something to piss Marleau off, but he didn't think he did. And besides, Marleau didn't look pissed. He looked… fascinated maybe?
If Shane wasn't sure that Marleau was straight — and Shane was sure because Ilya was sure and Ilya knew Marleau better than anyone — Shane would worry he might have said something to Marleau that could be perceived as flirting. But Marleau was straight. Shane had checked with Ilya. Twice. Ilya was certain that Marleau was straight. Yet he was staring.
'Gee, what's up with him?' Hayden noticed the staring. 'He didn't think they'd make him captain over you, did he?'
Shane considered it. It might explain the staring, but it didn't really sound like Marleau. Then again, what did he know about how Marleau sounded?
'Check this shit out!' a defenceman, originally from Toronto, shouted from his stall commanding everyone attention, him and the players around him hunched over a phone. Shane recognized the sports news site opened on his phone.
'The US roster is out. That faggot Hunter will be the captain again! Can you believe that?!'
Yeah, Shane could believe it. 'He's got two cups and an MVP. Show some respect,' Shane shut it down before anyone else could begin piling on the man. The defenceman shut up. Shane picked up his helmet, ready to hit the ice before the conversation resumed.
_______
The first attack hit the ice and Shane was in for a surprise. Marleau might not have said anything in the locker room, but he wasn't holding back on the ice. Shane watched as he let the puck pass between his skates and his stick, passing up on a prime shooting position, just to ram the Toronto defenceman into the boards.
Shane quickly skated over to try and break up the ensuing fight, but it was over before he got there. The defenceman was spitting blood. Marleau was muttering something about third-grade-defencemen as he skated to the bench.
The head coach threatened to bench Marleau for the rest of the practice. Hayden swore he saw him trip and Marleau tried to say that's what happened, except he couldn't make his face stop looking smug. Shane promised to handle it as the captain and the coach let it go, with a warning that it was just this once.
Shane dragged Marleau back into the tunnel. A captain having words with an unruly player, the talk that was normally reserved for rookies too hot and eager to watch their step, not Boston veterans with an MLH cup to their name. Marleau didn't protest. Didn't wipe the smirk of his face either.
'What the fuck is up with you today?' Shane asked, shoving him in deeper down the tunnel and towards the locker room.
'Sorry cap, won't happen again.' Marleau leaned against the wall of the tunnel where Shane pushed him, clearly unbothered about the very real prospect of getting on the coaches' bad side. At least he wasn't staring at Shane as if he were an alien anymore.
'Cool the fuck down and get your shit together,' Shane warned him before turning back towards the ice.
'My shit is right where it needs to be,' Marleau assured him with a smirk.
_______
Shane watched Marleau for the rest of the practice, and Marleau skated like a man with something to prove. He made it his mission to make fun of the second defensive pair every time their shifts met on the opposite sides of the rink. He managed to outsmart most of the defencemen sent against him that day, but the Toronto asshole, he was savouring him specifically while skating the line between being a dick and breaking the rules with the grace of a dancer.
After every goal, he grinned at Shane. It was a look Shane knew too well, signature of the Boston first line. The look said it doesn't matter how big of an asshole I am, no one will bench me when I play like this. The look was right. And it was very clearly the same as Ilya's.
_______
'Is being a piece of shit a requirement to play for Boston now? Or do you all just catch it from sucking Rozanov off?' The Toronto defenceman was pissed when they hit the locker rooms.
'How often do you think about sucking Rozanov's dick, Brown?' Hayden quipped right back before he even set his helmet down. He was always ready to jump into a fight, even though his choice of sides often seem arbitrary. 'And didn't you almost get traded to Boston last season? Is that why the deal fell off? They told you sucking the captain's dick was not included?'
Brown shouted something back, stepping from his bench towards Hayden. Shane knew he had to stop it, but fuck, what was he supposed to say? He almost yelled can we stop talking about Rozanov's dick before stopping himself. This wasn't about him, he knew that. But he also didn't know how not to make it about him. He gripped the shelf in his stall, thinking, fighting his face from turning red. His knuckles turned white. He was aware of Brown spitting his bullshit, directly across from him in the locker room. He had to say something. He was the captain, he had to say something.
Someone moved behind him, standing up barely two feet from Shane's back, facing Brown. A wall of person erected between him and the rest of the room. A wall that allowed him to let out a long breath stuck in his throat.
'You want to say something to me, say it to me.' The man behind Shane spoke. Marleau. He was suddenly everywhere. Everywhere that Shane was, that is. 'Or do you only have the balls to talk shit when the players are not here? I fucking dare you to say any of that to Roz's face. Same goes for you, Pike.'
Shane looked over his shoulder just to see Marleau step towards Brown, lifting the barrier between Shane and the rest of the room. Except now Shane had caught his breath and understood where was the position in the brewing mess that he as the captain had to take. He had this. Let them talk shit as long as that is all they do and be ready to intervene if the situation called for it.
Shane moved from his stall and took up that position. He pushed Hayden back into his stall, forcing him firmly back on his ass before the beef escalated. Hayden's presence would do that; he was a live fucking grenade.
Hayden considered loyalty a virtue that had to be proven at every opportunity and given freely without having to be earned. He was part of the first line and his loyalty to his line ranked just below his loyalty to the Metros themselves.
'Stay out of it,' Shane warned him, just that once. Hayden nodded. He knew to step back and not to escalate when Shane used that tone. That tone said Shane was ending this, now. Shane had worked on the tone since his first season as the Metros' captain. Hayden had worked on recognising and respecting the tone. Then on enforcing the respect for it among the team.
Shane got between Marleau and Brown just as first shoves landed. Sent them to different sides of the cabin. The tone doing its thing.
'Piece of shit.'
'Cocksucker.'
They separated into their stalls. The locker room stayed quiet after that.
_______
The head coached called Shane in to discuss that day's practice and what happened after, and by the time he finally got to take his shower, the locker room was almost empty.
Brown was gone, which was a relief. Marleau wasn't and he looked like he was waiting for Shane, which was the opposite of a relief — whatever that was called.
'You okay, cap?' Marleau stepped up to him on his way to the door, his bag slung over one shoulder.
'See you tomorrow, mes amis.' JJ passed them, hurrying out of the room to avoid the captain's lecture that no doubt should come after a scene like that, leaving just the two of them in the room. But honestly, Shane was tired and Marleau obviously didn't give a shit, so why should he bother?
'What does this have to do with me?' Shane turned to Marleau. He was not the one causing trouble and making enemies for himself. He also wasn't feeling completely like himself, but he had no reason not to and Marleau had no reason to suspect it.
The truth was, Shane had tried to put together the correct response to Marleau's behaviour, to both address the team breaking up into camps before it was even assembled and the fact that stuff like that should be stopped, but there was no correct answer. He couldn't tell Marleau to stop the fighting without saying to let bigots be bigots. He couldn't tell him good job without acknowledging how the atmosphere in the locker room was suffering for the conflict.
So he said nothing. Put his hand on Marleau's shoulder as he passed him on his way to his stall. Marleau could read in the gesture what he wanted without Shane needing to put it into words.
'Right,' Marleau said as a way of goodbye. 'Take care, man.'
_______
'Did you tell Marleau anything about us? Did he say something to you?'
Shane re-typed the message five times before hitting send. Should they have made up fake names for people around them as well? He was always careful not to let anyone peek at his phone when he was texting Ilya, but Hayden wouldn't stop trying. What if he saw them talking hockey and particular players — he'd realise Lily is not a random girl.
Should he think of a code name now? He tried replacing Marleau's name in the message to your best friend. It sounded weird. He changed it back. Then he changed it back again. And quickly hit send before the overthinking dragged him into an even deeper hole.
'Marley? No.' Ilya didn't waste words or time. 'He tells me nothing. Sent me a photo with you. Nothing else.'
Shane cursed. Marleau was acting weird, even though it was hard to be sure with how little Shane had to go on on what was Marleau's normal. He worried that maybe Ilya had let something slip. He was just being paranoid.
'Everything is okay?'
'Why?'
'You have many questions. Are you panicking?'
Ilya knew him too well. It was both validating and annoying, depending on whether he wanted to be seen or was trying to hide. Right now, being seen was scary, but there was no safety in hiding if the fears just climbed in with him.
'I'm good,' he texted back, because it was the truth. He was at home, in Montreal. He was the captain of Montreal Metros and Canada Olympic hockey team. He was talking — well texting — with a man that loved him. He took a deep breath in. Then let it out. He was good.
'Tell me what happened anyway.'
So Shane did. How Brown was being a dick about Scott Hunter and Marleau almost knocked his teeth out for it. How they almost got into it again in the locker room, dragging more players in. How there was too much discussion about Ilya's dick and he almost joined in. He actually found himself smiling, writing that one out. Talking to Ilya about things always helped.
'Is not true about Boston.'
'Which part?' Shane teased, the impulse returning as the panic began fading.
'About sucking my dick. I have high standards, Boston would have no players if that was required.'
'Would I make the cut?' Shane typed the message immediately. Then took a full minute deciding on the correct emoji.
'Not sure. You must fly out to Boston to try out. Preferably today.'
'Miss me already?'
'Of course.'
The picture that followed made Shane glad he was alone in the locker room.
_______
Brown arrived for the next morning practice with a black eye and no desire to discuss its provenance or the US Olympic roster. Shane knew better than to ask.
Marleau was already on ice, working off however many laps he earned from coaches for yesterday. Most senior players would be pissed, fighting the punishment usually reserved for rookies with too much energy to burn. The perceived humiliation was an integral part of it. But Marleau skated with intensity of someone who after all the years still loved the sport just as much as when he started. Someone who saw no humiliation in doing what he loved. Shane respected that.
'You and Brown should be there with him,' Shane told Hayden as they hopped on ice for warm ups.
'And get in the way of his showing off? Nah men, those Boston players are freaks.'
Shane had to turn away so Hayden wouldn't see his smile. But he could only agree with the assessment.
They practised power-play drills that day. Both Shane and Marleau placed on the first power-play formation for now. They ran the drill three times. Grouped around the coach for feedback. Then three more. On the last try, Shane got the puck into the net eighteen seconds after Marleau won the face-off. The coach timed it. Marleau skated to him, offering a fist bump.
'Молодец,' Marleau commended him, in Russian, without stopping his stride or acknowledging the fact that he did. Shane almost swallowed his mouthguard. He's heard Ilya say that phrase so many time, he picked it up and Marleau must have too during all those years Ilya's been his captain. It was an innocent phrase, meaning good job or something like that.
Except Shane didn't pick it up from Ilya on ice, and he had to finish his whole water bottle before his face stopped matching the Canadian jersey.
_______
'He knows!' Shane texted Ilya before the whole team was in the locker room. Hayden tried and failed to peek over his shoulder.
'Who?' The response was immediate. 'Knows what?'
Shane had to leave the room to text the full explanation.
'Say hi to Lily for us!' Hayden shouted after him.
'Better be good to Lily!' Marleau joined in, to the delight of both Hayden and JJ. Marleau was teasing him about Lily now. He must know.
'He doesn't know,' Ilya texted when Shane managed to type out the whole story.
'He spoke Russian to me.'
'All Boston players speak some Russian. Nice to know is more than swearwords.'
Shane wasn't convinced.
_______
'Don't take this the wrong way, but I think Marleau has a crush on you.' Hayden waited for Shane in front of the stadium. They often walked from practice together, comparing notes, identifying what both the team and themselves needed to work on. Shane would give anything to go back to discussing those things. Fuck, he'd be grateful for another signature Hayden monologue on the quality of children's programming.
'No way,' he forced a laugh. He knew it wasn't true, except he couldn't really tell Hayden his own theory.
'Dude, he's been following you like a fucking duckling,' Hayden wouldn't let it go. 'And is really no one going to talk about Brown's black eye — which by the way, pretty funny. And ironic'
Shane shot Hayden a confused look. 'What does Brown's black eye' — he had to admit it sounded funny — 'have to do with me?'
Hayden stared at him, giving him time for the dots to connect. Shane stared back. The dots remained blissfully unconnected.
'He beat him up for saying homophobic shit?' Hayden's voice slowly turned to a whisper, 'which, like, good for him, but also kind of a tell, don't you think?'
Shane didn't think. Shane was enjoying, for a brief moment, living in a world where a person didn't have to be gay to want to stand up to a homophobe. He was quickly reminded very few people lived there with him.
'Trust me, Marleau is not… he's just not, okay?' Shane couldn't bring himself to actually say the word gay, not to Hayden.
'I mean, you never kn—'
'He's not,' Shane repeated with emphasis he hoped would end the discussion.
'If you say so…'
They walked in silence for the rest of the block before Hayden tried it again.
'How do you know that, though? I mean, did you talk about that…'
'Why would we talk about that?'
'I don't know, man, you just said he's not like you know?'
Shane said nothing, because there was nothing he could say. Yeah, he was sure he knew. His boyfriend — which already was something he wasn't ready to bring up to Hayden —who was Marleau's friend and captain for the last five years — another great topic for them to discuss — swore Marleau is a hundred percent straight when Shane asked him the same thing a day ago.
Hayden remained silent, which was scary. Hayden spoke without thinking and thought without speaking. Hayden loved conspiracies and drama. Hayden had to be stopped.
'Hayden, new topic. What do we do to make this mess in the locker room stop?' They did have a real problem to solve, a locker room with players who forgot they were playing on the same team.
Should they have another team building? Or would that just make things worse? Should they force them to talk it out or switch up the practice schedule so that everyone could cool down on their own time?
'You mean Marleau's crush on you?' Hayden either missed, or chose to miss the point. Or chose to be annoying on purpose.
'I mean the fighting in the team. There's no crush. No one. On anyone.' Shane considered adding except your wife's crush on me but it would have been a low blow.
'Whatever you say, pal.'