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Ilya’s knee was bouncing up and down.
Takeoff nerves, Shane thought at first.
Most of the time Ilya was fine on planes, but sometimes there was turbulence, or bad weather, and Ilya’s knee would bounce until Shane covered it with his palm and put Ilya’s hand on his chest until Ilya matched his breaths.
“Thinking of the Tampa flight?”
Shane’s question seems to shake Ilya out of his thoughts.
“Tampa flight? Oh, ah, no.”
Shane paused. He ran through a quick checklist in his head of what could have Ilya wound so tightly.
Ilya didn’t get nervous before games. Especially not against Philadelphia, where Ottawa had won the past two times they played. The fans there were only slightly more obnoxious than any other city, and not in a malicious way, so Shane didn’t think it they were the cause of Ilya’s knee bounce either.
Anya was staying with his parents, and they had just gotten a picture of her napping with her stuffed loon right before they boarded.
Nobody was out injured on the team, which was nothing short of a miracle this late in the season.
They had also just come back from three consecutive days off, and had made the most of taking their time to relax at home.
For all intents and purposes, everything was fine.
“Then, what?”
Ilya tracked Shane’s look towards his bouncing knee and stopped it, at least for a few seconds.
“Is nothing. I’m fine.”
“Ilya.” Shane said it with the clear subtext of don’t bullshit me.
“Shane.” Ilya matched his tone.
Shane turned his whole body towards him and stared at his face, tracking his eyes down to his lips and back up. Ilya stared back, chin jutted out defiantly.
“You don’t want to tell me, fine.”
“Fine?” Ilya asked dubiously.
“Yeah, fine.”
Ilya searched Shane’s face and waited. He knew Shane wasn’t done talking about this, and he was right. Sometimes Ilya hated being right.
Shane sighed. “I mean, I only packed that new thing you had ordered so we could try it out tonight, but… if you don’t feel like talking…” Shane trailed off.
Ilya’s back straightened. “Hollander,” he said, his voice low, “You did not tell me that arrived.”
“Hm, guess I forgot,” Shane shrugged and moved to put his headphones back on.
Ilya’s hand shot out to grip Shane’s forearm.
“He’s seven feet tall, Shane. Is unnatural.”
“Who is?” Shane mentally flipped through his rolodex of Philly players, bewildered. “No one is seven feet tall.”
Ilya’s jaw flexed. He murmured something so quietly Shane had to lean in closer.
“Ilya, I can’t hear you.” Shane shook his head.
“GRITTY,” Ilya said loudly, then cleared his throat as Troy and Harris glanced backwards from the seats in front of them.
“Gritty- the- the mascot?” Shane asked, even more bewildered.
“Did you see their post last night?” Ilya demanded.
“Gritty’s post?” Shane asked faintly, still trying to come to terms that his husband, his absolute brick wall, menace on the ice, feared by most if not all of the MLH, husband, was unnerved by… an overgrown muppet?
“Yes, he has his own Instagram. Is verified. Gritty was holding a sign and staring into camera that said ‘Soon.’ Soon, what, Shane? Soon, what??”
“Ilya.” Shane shook his head. “It’s a guy in a costume.”
Ilya’s eyebrows rose up. “Oh, just a guy in a costume? Why are the eyes like that, Shane? Like… like Mona Lisa? No matter where you go he is watching you. We cannot hide from Gritty.”
“Oh, are you guys talking about Gritty?” Harris fully turned around from his seat. “I’m so jealous of their social media person, he’s really hitting his stride.”
“Oh, his stride is making threats? Harris, do not respond to them on social media. Is bait, yes? Do you know what happens when we take bait? No, I do not want to find out.” Ilya leans back, shaking his head.
Harris doesn’t move, but looks at Shane, eyes wide.
“I-“ Shane gives up trying to find words and shrugs, throwing his hands up.
“No beef with Gritty, got it,” Harris is nodding seriously.
“Thank you, Harris. I don’t need to watch my back for devil monster while I’m on the ice.”
Harris turned back around.
Shane laced his fingers with Ilya’s, and bit back a smile. “Your hands are actually clammy.”
“Shane, you know how you have Spidey sense sometimes? I have Gritty sense. Trust me, moy lyubov,” he sighed. “He is out for blood.”
During warm ups, Gritty is on the Jumbotron, wielding an extra large stuffed beaver mascot by its neck, much to the delight of Philly fans.
“Why is our mascot an beaver when we’re the Centaurs?” Luca asked loudly to no one in particular.
“Nobody wants a stuffy of a half man, half horse, Haas,” Wyatt admonished.
“Oh man, Rozy, the beaver’s got your jersey on,” Troy laughed as he elbowed Ilya.
Ilya allowed himself to look up to the level where Gritty was, eyes widening as he took in Gritty holding the beaver over the railing in a threatening manner.
“Bozhe moy,” he whispered. His eyes shot to Shane. “I told you,” he said hoarsely. “Gritty sense.”
Ilya hates being right.
“That thing is my sleep paralysis demon,” Bood says, aghast, eyes on Gritty.
“THANK YOU,” Ilya says loudly, pointing to Bood as he looks at Shane.
The crowd erupts in cheers as Gritty body slams the stuffed beaver to the ground before triumphantly holding its limp body over his head.
“Is that allowed?” Luca asks incredulously.
Shane skated over and stopped right in front of Ilya. “Rozanov. Look at me. You are not going to let a shaggy muppet get in your head tonight.”
He leaned in closer until Ilya’s wide eyes focused on his face.
“You are going to do your job, and do it perfectly. You will make assists. You will make goals. You will keep your eyes on the prize. We will win, and then, after this game is over,” Shane lowers his voice, “You will help me find my new favorite setting on that special delivery.”
“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya’s voice cracks as his eyes track Shane as he skates backwards, looking every bit an apex predator.
“Eyes on the prize,” Shane echoes, and he knows exactly what he’s doing as he winks at Ilya.
Shane’s speech, of course, works perfectly.
Ilya’s single focus is to win, and then get the fuck out of there.
They win 4-2, and Ilya is elated to not only get off the ice and away from Philly and their godforsaken mascot, but also get back to the hotel and into his husband’s pants.
He and Shane are the first ones back on the bus, Ilya whispering in Shane’s ear and Shane’s tips of his ears are turning red, and Luca is loudly begging anyone who will listen to please, for the love of god, trade him rooms, because he had the room next to them last time, and he is not even a rookie anymore, but this is definitely rookie hazing.
Up near the rafters, Gritty tracked the players leaving the ice. Soon was not today, but that is okay.
He is nothing if not patient.
