Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It starts with an offhand comment from Rozanov. They’re out as a team for a dinner following a long day of training camp. Luca’s muscles sing in pain after a summer of not doing much, but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Coming off a cup win with the Centaurs, the bond with the team is incredible. Luca would say they’re like his family. No, they are his family, especially being so far away from his actual family in Zurich. He checks his watch; it’s not so late, but the day has been exhausting and they have to do it all again tomorrow.

“I probably should settle my bill,” he tells Rozanov, who glances up from his plate of chicken Parmesan.

“Not necessary,” he says. “Shane took care of it.”

“He what?” Luca says.

“He paid the bill,” Rozanov says. “And the bar tab for the rest of the night.” Luca looks around. Shane… isn’t here. He had a zoom call about some sort of brand collaboration and he had to beg off on dinner, much to everyone’s disappointment.

“When did he do that?” Rozanov shrugs.

“He texted me a few minutes ago, apologizing, wanted to let everyone know he will make the next night out and that tonight is on him.” Luca blinks. No one had begrudged Shane having to take a call, but he still wanted to do this for them.

“He didn’t have to do that,” Luca says. Ilya snorts.

“You should learn -- my husband is very clever and sneaky when he wants to be,” he says. “Just ask Barrett’s terrible ex.”

Luca blinks at him in surprise, but Ilya just grins and puts his finger up to his lips. “I have already said too much.”

Luca probably shouldn’t say anything, but… what did Rozanov mean?

It’s the same question Bood asks him when Luca approaches him at the bar to try and work through what the hell Rozanov meant. Bood’s eyebrows raise. 

“You didn’t ask him?” 

Luca shakes his head. “He said he already said too much,” he explains. Bood laughs and claps a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s Rozy, man,” Bood says. “Of course he’s going to tell you more if you ask. And you have to ask. Use your rookie powers for good.” Luca looks skeptically at him. “Good gossip, anyway. How is Hollzy related to the shit that went down with that dickhead? If you don’t get the answers, the world may never know.”

Luca blinks at him again, grasps his beer in his hands tightly as he turns back to look at Rozanov, who is grinning at the head of the table, gesturing animatedly as he talks. Rozanov looks over at them and gestures for him to come over. “Come on, Haasy. Harris found quiz, what MLH player we would be. I want to see if you will also be Ilya Rozanov.”

Luca feels his cheeks turn pink and he clears his throat, looking at Bood. Bood, to his credit, doesn’t make that much fun of him. “Okay, fine. But it can’t leave the team.”

“Of course not, Haasy,” Bood says with a nod.

Luca actually is, according to Buzzfeed, most like Shane Hollander. Rozanov asks Luca to send a screenshot of his results and when he does, immediately texts it to Shane. 

“I am telling him that his son is just like him,” Rozanov says. The smile he gets is slightly fond and Luca feels that familiar warmth in his chest. 

Yeah, this is the closest thing to a second family he could hope for. 

“He says I’m being ridiculous,” Rozanov says with a chuckle. “In sneaky husband speak, it means that he is probably blushing and very pleased that you are more like him.”

Luca doesn’t know what to say to that, certainly nothing that won’t make him at least tear up. Roz is distracted and a little buzzed and maybe this is the best time to press for more information.

“What did you mean earlier about Hollzy and Barrett’s ex?” Luca asks. Rozanov looks at him and then starts giggling like a child. An evil child. 

“Shane set up Google alerts and reached out to Rose Landry and her friends,” Rozanov says. “They got good gossip on the asshole and they spread it around Hollywood. Broke up his relationship.” Rozanov puffs out his cheeks and mimics a bomb exploding. Luca’s jaw drops open; he can’t believe that. It’s maniacal.. And Hollander did it?? 

“Hollzy did that?” Luca asks.

“I know! It’s brilliant!” Rozanov says gleefully. Luca isn’t sure he likes the level of schadenfreude Rozanov is getting from this, but he doesn’t let it show. 

“He never told us,” Luca says with a nod. Rozanov shakes his head. 

“He does not want a big deal made, but…” he grins. “He was so proud, standing up for a friend like Barrett.” He claps Luca on the shoulder. “He is a good man. Very sexy, too, when he is all evil-like.” For someone as tough and ruthless on the ice, it’s kind of fascinating to see the switch that gets flipped when he starts talking about Shane. 

“You can’t tell him I said anything.” Rozanov continues. “He wants to keep it quiet. Doesn’t want Barrett or Harris to know. In fact, don’t tell anyone.” 

Too late, Luca thinks. Rozanov leaves not long after and Luca bee-lines it to Bood to tell him what Rozanov said. It takes almost no time for the word to get out to the rest of the team

As requested, the team arrives early for practice. Once again, the white board has been pulled out, “Revenge list- part 2” written across the top.

“Okay, so here’s the game plan,” Bood says. “We need to come up with some ideas for how to get back at the Metros for Shane.” There’s some nodding, but everyone is silent. “Let’s have them.” 

Luca raises his hand. “What’s off limits?” He asks. All heads turn to Troy, who blows out a long breath.

“Uh… That’s a good question.” He looks at Harris, who’s standing in the doorway, keeping an eye out for Hollander and Rozanov.

Harris sighs. “No mentioning kids, no parents, keep things above the belt, no slurs,” he says. There’s general noises of agreement. “Also, I think one broken up relationship in all this mess is enough. Let’s try not to do that, alright?” The room looks a little less enthusiastic. 

“Basically we want to piss them off, not… ruin their lives,” Troy adds. There’s some groans.

“I’m up for a little life-ruining,” Dillon says. 

“No!” Harris replies. Dillon pouts but doesn’t argue. “Oh, and don’t go after their pets,” Harris says with a grimace. “That’s just… that’s not nice. They don’t deserve it.” There’s a murmur of agreement amongst the group. 

“C’mon,” Bood says. “We only have 30 minutes. Ideas?”

“We could slash their tires,” Boyle offers. 

“Nothing criminal,” Harris interrupts. “That’s just bad PR, especially if anyone gets caught.” Another beat of silence as everyone thinks. 

“This is feeling less and less revengey by the moment,” Chouinard says with a sigh.

“We just need to break their spirits,” Troy replies. “A total fall from grace. Make the people says ‘ooh, they’re nothing without Shane Hollander.’”

“That already kind of happened,” Dillon offers. “They didn’t make the cup finals last year. We did.” 

“And with this, if we do this right,  they won’t even make the playoffs,” Troy says.

Luca raises his hand again. “Can they be last in the league?”

Troy grins wickedly. “Yeah, yeah, I like that.” Bood scribbles ‘fall from grace’ and ‘last in league’ on the board.

“Make it quick guys,” Bood says. “No ideas are bad ideas. It’s still twenty minutes before practice!” 

“And Shane usually gets here early,” Harris says, “So chop-chop.” Troy grins as he watches his teammates offer ideas (not all of them particularly sane or legal, but it’s the thought that counts) and they get jotted on the board. He really is humbled that Shane would do this for him without anything in return, just as his friend. 

Troy will make sure that he’s earned Shane’s friendship.

Chapter Text

The first idea that sticks is that they try and goad the Metros players into more penalties.

“That’s it?” Boyle asks, a little offended at the simplicity of the idea. 

“That’s the start,” Bood says. “We need to play mind games with them. We have to take the lead from our good Captain Rozanov and finesse our chirping.”

There are a lot of nods. “I think we can do that,” Dillon says. “But…”

“But what?”

“Some of us need work.” He not so subtly looks at Luca.

“What?” Luca says, looking between Dillon and Bood.

“Your chirps need work,” Bood agrees. 

“What?” Luca asks. “Why do I need to chirp anyone?”

“Because we’re trying to get in the Metros’ heads,” Bood says.

“But… we have to leave Pike and Boiseau out of it,” Troy adds. That earns a chorus of groans. “Non-negotiable. Hollzy would be furious if he found out that they got caught in the middle of this.”

“But Boiseau sucks!” Young whines, earning a few chuckles.  

“And Pike is a doofus,” Troy says, “but they’re his friends. No more chirping than you would to your friends.”

Luca raises his hand. “Sorry, I still don’t understand why I have to chirp anyone when all of you are going to do it.”

“United front,” Bood says. “We’re all in this together. 

“Also, if we got you really chirping, it would be even more unexpected,” Hayes chimes in. 

“So who’s going to teach him?” Dykstra asks. 

“If he needs to learn,” Troy says. “Might as well go to the best.”  He claps Luca on the shoulder. “Just don’t let him know why you’re asking, yeah?”

Luca swallows hard. “What do I tell him?”

“That you’re bad at chirping and want to be better,” Bood adds, the group dissolving into laughter. "Do you want me to ask him for you?"

Luca ends up asking Rozanov himself, because the last thing he’s going to do is have the others approach him about it like he’s a kid.

Rozy, unfortunately, doesn’t make him feel any better about it, because when Luca asks, he gets a laugh and a wide smile in return.

“Of course I will teach you how to chirp,” Rozanov says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Is good, you came to me about this. Your other dad has no idea how to do this. Got into a fight once with Hunter after his awful try.”

“I— I have a father,” Luca protests weakly. Rozanov just nods. 

“Of course, of course, hockey dad then,” Ilya says. He squeezes his shoulder before dropping his arm. “Your other hockey dad is very bad at chirping. Is like small kitten. You have come to the expert.”

“Am I going to regret this?” Luca asks.

Ilya’s grin just gets wider. “Maybe. But will be fun.” 

“Okay, first, know your opponent,” Rozanov says. They’re sitting in the arena on the second level, overlooking the empty rink as the zamboni smooths the ice post-practice. “Good chirps come with research. If you know things about the player, it is easier to be creative.” 

Luca frowns. “What if I don’t know the player?” 

“That is why I say research,” Roz says, tapping his temple. “Also, you know guys here who know other players. Ask around.” Luca nods. “Example – if we play Boston and I am facing Marly, I will say something like ‘Is your girl watching you tonight? She must be very proud of you.’ And I know that Marly is very single and very old. Also, old chirps, always good.” Luca takes out his phone and opens a new note. 

Roz waits for a second until Luca looks up again. “And you can usually tell when a chirp lands or not. Like, if the comment about his girlfriend doesn’t work, I’ll move onto something like ‘Has Sveta called you back yet? She is so busy.’”

“Who is Sveta?” Luca asks. He’s starting to think maybe Roz won’t be as concise a teacher as he expected. 

Roz waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I am targeting Marly’s weak spots,” Roz continues. “And this is the key thing — the lower the insult, the more cheerful you have to be about it. Laugh, smile. It will piss them off more in the moment, but after, they will laugh. This is so you don’t come off like an asshole.” Luca frowns, confused.

“But everyone calls you an asshole?” 

“Yes, but they know I am happy asshole, not mean prick like Dallas Kent, yes?” Luca nods. He… thinks he gets it. 

“Ok, so target personal things,” he says as he jots it down in his phone.

“If you have time to look people up, yes,” Rozanov continues. “Now, a lot of chirps are done in an instant, so it’s good to have some ready to go for anyone.”

“Like…?”

“Like...” Ilya gestures vaguely. “‘Are you sure you’re not left-handed? Might want to check’ or ‘You can pick the hand I’m going to beat you with.’” Luca furiously types out chirps as Rozanov offers them up.

“I don’t think anyone would believe me saying these,” Luca mumbles.

“Most people wouldn’t believe you rap Kendrick Lamar at karaoke, but I have seen it,” Rozanov says. “I believe in you.” 

Luca smiles at him. “Did you ever chirp Hollander?” Luca asks, genuinely curious. 

“Oh yes, all the time,” Roz says with a wide grin. “Still do sometimes, because I like his grumpy face.” Luca snorts; he can believe that. “But with Shane, is not typical chirps. He doesn’t react to insults. With him, it is getting into his head. Psychological warfare. Break his confidence, break his game. Some players are like that.” Luca feels like he’s been handed the nuclear codes to Shane Hollander. He isn’t sure he wants that responsibility. 

“Okay, we practice on me,” Roz says. Luca raises his eyebrows. “I have been having bad game – impossible to imagine, I know, but pretend.” Rozanov winks at him. “You are going to chirp me. Go.”

“I wouldn’t chirp someone on my team!” 

Roz laughs. “We chirp all the time.”

“Not on the ice!”

He nods. “Okay, okay. Pretend it is alternate universe, where we chirp on the ice to each other like we would to the other team.” Luca just continues to stare at him. “Go.”

“That last backhand was weak,” Luca says. Rozanov stares at him, then points to his phone.

“Did you learn nothing? That is nothing chirp,” he says, shaking his head. “Try again.”

“I— you skate like a slow train,” Luca mumbles out.

Rozanov blinks at him for a second. “Better, but you sound like grandma trying to chirp for the first time,” Rozanov says. “Come on. You know me. Focus, what is really important to me?” Shane, Luca thinks, but he’d never chirp about him like that. “I miss a shot that is very easy, I should have made it. What do you say?”

Luca’s eyes drift to the ‘C’ on Ilya’s practice jersey for a second, before he looks up to an amused Rozy. He takes a deep breath, swallows hard. “I know you’ve been tired lately, but if you wanted us to choose a new captain, you just had to ask.”

There’s a flicker of surprise that crosses Ilya’s face. Luca’s eyes widen because maybe he went too far. “I’m so–” he starts, but is interrupted by Ilya laughing. He claps Luca on the shoulder.

“That was good one, Haasy,” Ilya says with a nod. “You go straight for captaincy, always a weak spot. Did not go for obvious…”

“I wasn’t going to chirp about Hollzy,” Luca interrupts.

Rozanov’s lips twitch in a smile. “You are good person,” he says. “I think that is enough lessons for one day. You can try in our next game, I will give tips.”

Their next game is against Toronto. Luca feels a little less guilty chirping these guys because, well, fuck them.

He asks Hayes and Barrett for details about the team that he might be able to focus on (aside from the obvious). Hayes mentions that Nilsson tore his groin a couple years ago and he couldn’t push when he shit. It’s funny, but Luca doesn’t think he can believably chirp someone about that.

“Aucoin is scared of the Teletubbies,” Barrett says. Both Luca and Hayes’ heads turn. 

“I beg your fucking pardon?” Hayes says, face lighting up. “What?”

Barrett nods. “Oh yeah, totally terrified of them,” he says. “Mentioned that they’re banned in his house. His kids aren’t allowed to watch them.”

“I think I can work with that,” Luca says. 

Luca isn’t sure how anyone could hate the Teletubbies, but perhaps he’s biased. Between them and LazyTown, they practically raised him when he was small. It delights him to no end to be quietly singing the theme song every time he skates by Aucoin. The rest of the team seems to pick up on it as well. By the end of the second period, Aucoin seems visibly stressed.

“Your defenseman seems like he’s having a rough day,” Luca tells his opponent in the face off. 

“Fuck you.”

Luca grins. “Maybe he needs a Big Hug!” 

He wins the face off easily and the Cens walk away with a 4-1 victory. Afterward, while they’re celebrating the win in their locker room, Rozanov claps Luca on the back.

“I don’t know how you fucked with their defense, but good job! Aucoin looked haunted by small Victorian child, like Hughes whenever we play Vancouver,” he says. "You are good student, A+."

Unfortunately, all of Ilya’s chirping lessons fall flat when they face off against Montreal. It doesn’t matter that the Centaurs are a better team at the moment, the Metros are still intimidating. 

It doesn’t help that they are playing at Centre Bell and the Montreal fans are vicious. The entire team seems to have it out for Shane and Ilya and the rest of the team is too focused on keeping them uninjured or taking back control of the puck to do any chirping (and Bood had a great one saved up for Comeau about hairline retreating faster than he can skate).

They win, but it’s in overtime and feels like a weak victory. Everyone is sore and bruised by the end of the night, and the bus trip back that evening feels brutal. 

Troy snorts and taps a thumbs up emoji on the comment. Across the aisle, Roz glances at him, eyebrow raised. Hollander naps on his shoulder and he raises a finger to his lips. 

“Sorry,” Troy whispers.

“Something very funny?” Roz asks softly, brow still raised. Troy shakes his head but he’s still smiling.

Troy looks over and sees Luca, face bright red, staring at his phone. He hearts Luca’s first message.

Many people really don’t understand how smart Ilya is. They know he knows hockey, obviously, but he’s not just hotness and muscles and a fantastic ass- he’s got brains, too. 

Most people hear the accent and the broken English and just assume he’s not that smart. That’s fine. He likes when people underestimate him. It makes it so much easier to beat them later on.

What’s frustrating, though, is when his team, his family for all intents and purposes, think they can pull the wool over his eyes.

As if he wouldn’t notice the entire team arriving to practice an hour earlier than Shane and him. The first time it happened, he assumed it was a fluke and maybe he and Shane missed the invite. Maybe they are planning a surprise party for their birthdays or something?

The second time, it seems like it’s a players’ meeting… without two key players. This makes Ilya uneasy.

It makes him feel like they’re trying to pick a new Captain. The Raiders had done the same thing to Fellers before Ilya had taken the C. 

Shane reassures him that they aren’t doing that – everyone on the team trusts him and his judgement implicitly, but Ilya can’t shake the feeling. 

Sometimes when he walks into the locker room, everyone quiets down, like they were talking about something he shouldn’t hear. Luca’s chirp – and it was good, Ilya is still impressed – echoes in his head.

I know you’ve been tired lately, but if you wanted us to choose a new captain, you just had to ask.

He wants them to just be honest and tell him they need a new, younger, sexier Captain. 

As if there is sexier… maybe Shane. 

Either way, if they’re not going to have the conversation with him, he’ll just have to make them talk.

He corners Bood one day after practice, when most of the others have filtered out. Shane is talking with Luca about improving his backhand, which Ilya thinks is ironic. He clears his throat as he leans against Bood’s locker. “Look,” he starts. Bood looks up at him. “I know you had a players meeting without me or Shane.” Bood opens his mouth to argue, but Ilya raises his hand. “It’s fine,” he continues. “But if you want to choose a new captain, I won’t fight it.” 

“What?” Bood asks, shaking his head. “No! We’re not choosing a new captain! You’re the best captain.” 

“Yes, I am,” Ilya says with a nod. “But you are having secret meeting without us. Is not hard to think it is because you are wanting a new captain.” 

Bood glances around guiltily. “It’s – look, I swear it’s not that, but I can’t tell you,” he says. Ilya raises a brow. “It’s a surprise. A good surprise, but we’re not sure if it’s going to work or not.”

“I do not like surprises,” Ilya says. It’s a lie. He loves surprises. Good surprises. 

“I promise, it’ll be really good if it works.” 

Ilya narrows his eyes. “Is it a new play?”

“… Sort of.”

Ilya frowns and considers Bood for a moment before nodding. “Okay, okay, I trust you,” he says. “But please… get better at hiding secret talks. You all would be very bad spies.”

Chapter Text

Everyone sets up fake social accounts. They decided to diversify a little with half making twitter accounts and the other half making Instagram. Luca is made the de facto lead on the effort simply due to him being the most familiar with the platform (“Chronically online” as Hazy had said, but whatever). 

They divide and attack, making comments on ESPN and TSN posts. 

Luca finds it’s not hard to act like an anonymous asshole fan online, which is kind of disconcerting. At least Roz seems to be enjoying the gossip. He picks up on it and reads out each tweet and comment loudly to Hollzy in the locker room. His glee at the shit talking around the Metros is authentic. Usually he retweets them or comments with his own chirps or emojis.  

“This girl, Luna, is very funny,” Roz says one day, nudging Shane. “Says Miity is too worried about problems with his girlfriend to focus on hockey. Very true.”

“Lay off, Miity,” Shane says. His ability to take the high road in most situations is admirable, but in this case he’s alone.

“He’s a piece of shit with a small dick,” Ilya counters. 

“You don’t know that,” Shane says.

Ilya raises an eyebrow. “Is wrong?” 

Shane shrugs. “I don’t know.” Ilya’s eyebrow raises higher. “Maybe.”

Ilya grins. “I knew, I can tell. He— uh, overcompensates.” Shane snorts. There’s the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. It’s nice to see that Shane is also a little amused by all of this. 

“Barrett!” Ilya calls out. “We should tell Harris to find this Luna and give her tickets to our games. Best seats in the house.”

Luca sits in front of his cubby, refocusing very hard on wrapping his stick, feeling his cheeks flush. He should’ve known better than to just change one letter on his name. They’re going to figure it out. 

“Don’t worry,” Barrett mumbles, as he stands next to Luca. “I’ll just lie to Ilya and say she never reached out to Harris.”

“Thanks,” Luca mumbles. 

(They know the plan is working when the comments become rumors and the rumors make it onto Man in the Crease right before the next Ottawa/Montreal game. It feels perfectly on time

”Obviously the Metros have been struggling with a Hollander-Shaped hole in their roster.” 

“Now, Mike that’s not fair. Carter is-“ 

“A fucking joke! It’s like he gets dizzy watching the puck. It will be a miracle if the Metros make it to the playoffs this year.”)

The whole team is flying high going into the game and it finally feels like their efforts are bearing fruit. At least a few players on the Metros must’ve listened to the show, because they were definitely making some sloppy decisions and playing like they were second guessing themselves. 

Ottawa walks away with a 4-2 win and you would’ve thought they’d won the cup by the way they were celebrating after. 

Troy spots Roz and Hollzy sitting side by side in the locker room, the smile on Shane’s face very pleased and maybe just a tiny bit vindicated.

It’s a good start, but there’s more that they can do.

Chapter Text

Shane frowns at his phone. The Metros are set up in a hotel not far from the arena. It’s not that he and Hayden don’t hang out, but on game days often they’re both too exhausted to do much more than go to bed. 

There are three dots for a while, appearing and disappearing, before a message comes through. 

Shane’s blood runs cold at that. Hayden has made a lot of mistakes over the course of his and Ilya’s relationship, but he’s always had Shane’s back, always supporting him when it came to the rest of the team. He hates that he might be paying for it now. He sends a quick reply, telling him to come over whenever, before he shoves his phone in his pocket. He walks into the living room, collapsing next to Ilya on the couch. 

“Hayden is coming over,” Shane tells Ilya, resting his head on Ilya’s shoulder. 

Ilya glances up from his phone, free arm coming instinctively around his shoulder. “For what? Does he want advice on how to win games.”

“Don’t start,” Shane says flatly. He sighs. “Sounds like he needs to talk.” Ilya doesn’t push further, which Shane is grateful for. He never understood Ilya’s issues with Hayden (which seemed to start long before he’d ever really met the man). Rose says he’s probably jealous that Hayden was his friend first. Shane thinks it’s a silly thing to be jealous of. 

Hayden arrives in an Uber about twenty minutes later with a packed duffel. From the second he steps inside the house, it’s clear to Shane he’s not doing well. He’s got a tight smile on his face as he walks in the front door, slipping off his shoes.

“Hey bud,” Shane says. He typically wouldn’t, but Hayden looks so… not good, that he opens his arms for a hug. Hayden takes the invitation gratefully. He squeezes him in a tight hug for a moment before pulling back. “Are you doing ok? What’s going on?” 

Hayden just shakes his head. He crashes down on the couch when Shane leads him into the living room. Shane meets Ilya’s eye where he’s standing in the kitchen.  

“Thank you for letting me come over,” Hayden says. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Tonight was bad.”

“It was a rough game,” Ilya agrees. 

Hayden shakes his head. “It’s more than that,” he says “Theriault’s on a tear.” 

Shane’s frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

Hayden sighs again, shaking his head. “He basically ripped JJ apart until he was crying tonight.” Shane’s eyes widen. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen JJ cry, not even when he busted his ankle,” Hayden says. “And Coach was merciless.”

“What did he say?” Ilya asks seriously. 

Hayden shakes his head, blowing out a long breath. “Nothing I feel comfortable repeating,” Hayden says. “Everyone is miserable and they’re all being assholes because of it.” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “I thought it was bad when they were giving me the silent treatment-“

“They were giving you the silent treatment?” Shane asks. He and Ilya join him, Shane sitting closer and Ilya in an adjacent armchair. 

Hayden just nods. “At the beginning of the season,” he says. “Now it’s like we’re in the goddamn trenches.” His voice cracks and his rubs at the bridge of his nose. Hayden looks up at Shane and clearly sees something that he doesn’t like, because his brow furrows. “It’s not your fault,” Hayden says. “Neither of you. Fuck, I’m glad you’re not here for this Shane.” It’s like Hayden can’t stop talking, now that the dam has burst. “It’s just one thing after another now. Every time I think I can breathe again, something else happens,” Hayden continues. “And after Minnesota–”

Shane meets Ilya’s eyes, his face marked with equal concern.  “What happened in Minnesota?” Shane asks. 

Hayden stills like he realizes he said something he shouldn’t have. He shakes his head. “Nothing. More bullshit. I think I just want to call Jackie and go to bed.” 

“Yeah, of course. I set up the spare room you guys typically stay in,” Shane says. Hayden rises off the couch and Shane goes to do the same, but Hayden waves him off.

“I’m good,” Hayden says. He grabs the duffel he’d dumped near the entrance. “Thanks again, guys.” Shane and Ilya watch Hayden retreat toward the guest room. Ilya glances at Shane once more.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Shane says, answering some unasked question. 

“Theriault is an asshole, that’s what’s going on,” Ilya replies, a look of badly disguised disgust on his face.

“I’ve never seen Hayden like that before,” Shane says. Hayden was always the the most upbeat guy in the locker room. “He’s…” Shane starts, but shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe he’ll talk in the morning,” Ilya offers. Shane nods, staring at where Hayden disappeared down the hallway.

"I hope so."

It’s not much better in the morning, though. Hayden has that mask of positivity pulled back up, thanking Shane and Ilya for dealing with his breakdown and inviting them for dinner next time they’re in Montreal. Shane doesn’t have a chance to ask him what’s happening with the Metros before he’s leaving, saying he needs to get back to Jackie. 

“He’ll be okay,” Ilya says. Shane hopes he’s right, but there's a twisting feeling in his gut.

Getting information from the wives takes a bit longer, but Lisa and Caitlin are able to get some details. 

“Lisa and Marlena Drapeau have been chatting,” Hayes tells the guys. “The entire team is ready to mutiny,” Hayes says.

“Caitlin’s been talking with Grazia Russo, Boiziau's girlfriend. Says that Thierault threatened to take the C from Boiziau for no fucking reason,” Dykstra adds. He looks to Hayes. “Maybe our better halves should team up, Hazy?”

Hayes grins, nodding. “That sounds like a great idea. Wonder if we can get one of them to punch their coach.”

The rest of them quiet for a second. “Is the plan to make their coach miserable?” Luca asks finally.

“It’s not the worst idea,” Bood says. “Theriault is the one who could hold them all accountable, if he really wanted to.” 

“Lisa heard that Theriault is pissed that Shane came out,” Hayes says. “Apparently it ‘ruined’ Hollzy as a player.” There are more grumblings around the group.

“Ok, yeah, let’s nail this guy to the wall,” Dillon says. “Uh… metaphorically.” 

The mood in the locker room is dour the next day when Hayes and Dykstra share the information with the rest of the guys. Troy stares at the floor, willing himself not to be sick. After everything that happened with Dallas Kent, stumbling upon another sexually abusive asshole in the league – a Coach even – makes his skin crawl. 

“We’ve got to report it,” he says. 

“We have no evidence,” Dykstra points out. He lifts up his phone. “This is all… uh.. What’s the word?”

“Hearsay,” Hayes says.

“Hearsay,” Dykstra says with a nod. “This isn’t enough to report stuff to the league. They won’t do jack shit about it. They tried to protect Crowell even after Hollzy’s recording.”

The locker room falls silent again. There’s a loud bang and the team startles, looking towards Troy, whose fist has connected with the side of his locker as he banged on it loudly. “Well, we can’t do nothing!” Troy replies angrily. “This isn’t funny. This isn’t a joke. This is… criminal.” 

Harris walks over and puts a hand on Troy’s shoulder. “You’re right, it is.” he says. There are murmurings of agreement.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Bood asks

‘This is maybe something for an investigative reporter,” Luca offers. He’s met with questioning looks. “I mean… They might be better suited for this than a bunch of hockey players.” 

It’s not the answer Troy wants, but it’s better than nothing at all. Troy looks at Harris. “Do you have a contact?” 

Harris grins at him, patting his cheek before leaning in for a chaste kiss. “Oh. Do I have a contact? I love when you underestimate me.”

Chapter Text

Because Harris is Harris, he has contacts all over Ottawa, one of them being a friend from High School who now works for the Montreal Gazette. 

“Do you think this will work?” Troy asks when Harris texts Sonya. “What if she doesn’t care?”

“She’s going to care,” Harris says. “She lives for stories like this.” 

“But what if the WAGs don’t want to talk?” Troy says. “Or what if the league buries this?”

“That is why we are going straight to the media and skipping the league.”

“But what if it doesn’t matter and-“ Harris wraps his hands around Troy’s wrists.

“Baby, I know you’re freaking out,” he says. “All this Kent stuff has you thinking no one will ever get their comeuppance, but I swear to you, we will scream it from the rooftops. If I have to personally buy a billboard that says “Gerard Theriault is a sexual predator” and put it on the border between Ontario and Quebec, I will.” Troy gives him a worried frown, but Harris just grasps his cheeks and presses a kiss to his lips. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then trust when I say I’ve got this.”

2 weeks later

Shane is at home, Anya’s head on his lap, scrolling through the news when an alert pops up. His eyes widen as he reads. “Holy Fuck!” 

“What?” Ilya asks from where he’s dozing at the other end of the couch. “What happened?” 

Shane can’t find the words. “Um… Theriault…” 

“What about that asshole?” Ilya sits up. Shane hands him the phone. 

Theriault accusations: misconduct, abuse, coverups! What this means for Montreal.

“Fuck …” Ilya says as he scans the article. 

“It’s not good,” Shane says. 

“Did you know about any of this?” 

Shane shrugs and shakes his head. “I mean… you hear a lot of stuff about people on the teams, but the coaches aren’t really part of everything.” Ilya hands the phone back to Shane. He reads through and his mouth drops open. “They… fuck, they don’t name names, but they’re definitely talking about Hayd and Jackie here… fuck.” 

Sources say Theriault propositioned one of his player’s wives, who was attending with their four children, while at an away game this season, leading to a near physical altercation. Said player was benched and Theriault was allegedly ‘spoken to’ by Metros management.

“I need to call him,” Shane says, getting to his feet. He had no idea about any of this. Hayden hadn’t said a word. He steps away to step onto their patio, dialing Hayden. 

“Hey, man,” Hayden answers. Shane’s not the best at cues, but he thinks Hayden sounds tired. 

“Hey,” Shane says. “I… uh, I saw an article, about Theriault.” 

Hayden chuckles but it sounds hollow. “Oh, yeah,” Hayden says. “Kind of a shit show right now.” 

“Was that Jackie, who…” 

“Yeah, man,” Hayden says with a sigh. “Fuck, I didn’t want you to find out.” 

Shane frowns, frustration blooming in his chest, because why. “What do you mean?” 

Hayden huffs out a laugh. “You’ve been going through a lot. The Metros fucking burned you. You didn’t need to hear more shit.”

“Hayden…” Shane can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m your friend. If you’re going through something, I’m here for you.” 

“I know you are, but…” 

“But what? Jesus, man! Are you ok? Is Jackie ok??” 

“We’re fine,” Hayden sounds clipped. “The situation is complicated, ok? It happened right after it was announced you were joining the Centaurs. You had so much on your plate and… fuck, man, everything was bad. Jackie and I just agreed to stay quiet about it. I was already getting the third degree from Theriault.”

“Because of me?” Shane asks after a moment. 

Hayden lets out a heavy breath. “It’s not your fault,” he says, which is as much of a ‘yes’ as Shane’s ever heard. Shane is getting really fuckign tired of being told something isn’t his fault when it clearly is. “I try not to bring any of the drama here up with you because… it feels like the club earned it. Karma and shit.”

Shane frowns. “You didn’t deserve it,” Shane says. There’s a longer pause than Shane would like. “You don’t.” 

“Well you don’t need to hear about the bullshit going down here,” Hayden says. “Jack and I are okay.” There’s a beat of silence. 

“Hayd?” 

“We’re okay, really. Had some rough times there in the beginning, but only because she was mad I was this close to punching Theriault. Said I was putting our livelihoods at risk.” He huffs out an empty laugh. “Didn’t care much when he was feeling her up what I was doing.”

“I wish you had punched him,” Shane says. 

“So do I,” Hayden says bitterly. There’s another long pause. “My contract is up at the end of the year.” 

“Really?” Shane asks. 

“Yeah, um… I’m going to ask for Edmonton or Minnesota,” Hayden says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to come to Ottawa, but you guys don’t need me, clearly.” It hurts to hear; Shane needs him. He would give anything to have Hayden on his line once more. “We just need to get out of Montreal,” Hayden continues. “JJ wants to leave too, but he still has another year on his contract.”

Shane shakes his head. As angry as he’s been at the Metros, he feels like his heart is breaking a little

He’s quiet the rest of the night, curling up next to Ilya as they watch some crime procedural show that neither of them is really paying attention to. 

“What did Hayden say?” Ilya asks

“Things are bad there,” Shane says. “Really bad.” 

Ilya kisses his forehead. “I’m sorry. I know we hate the team, but I’m sorry your friends are dealing with all of it.”

Shane shakes his head. “I’m sad Hayden felt like he couldn’t tell me. Fuck, we’ve been over to their house and they didn’t say anything.” he sighs. “I just wish…” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know. Hayden says he’s a free agent at the end of the year.” 

“He wants Ottawa?” 

“He says we don’t need him,” Shane frowns as he says it. “He said he’s asking for Edmonton or Minnesota.”

“We could make room for him,” Ilya says. 

Shane shakes his head. “We really can’t afford him,” he looks up at Ilya. “Despite what you say about him, he’s an excellent player and his salary reflects that.” 

Ilya hums. “He could do Calgary as well.” 

Shane nods. “Am I a bad friend?” He asks. 

“No, no you’re not. Sometimes… people think they are protecting people by not sharing what they are going through.” Shane curls closer to Ilya. 

“Yeah.”

Shane dreads going to practice the next day. He loves his team, but he doesn’t want to be faced with a bunch of questions about Theriault and Hayden and just… the Metros in general.

Thankfully, none of them bring it up. Which is… weird. They’re all very quiet and it’s a little too familiar of his last few days at Montreal. He doesn’t say anything, but his mind goes wild. 

What if they all think he knew about this shit with Theriault and didn’t say anything?

After 10 minutes, Shane can’t take it. He turns and faces the locker room. “Look, I know you have questions so just… fucking ask them, ok?” The room falls even more silent, if that’s possible. 

“Are you okay?” Troy asks, finally. 

Shane lets out a laugh that borders on hysterical. “No, dude, I’m not!” He says. “I am so fucking oblivious that I had no idea my best friend was going through his own shit. I didn’t know that my coach was doing some absolutely depraved shit. I feel… I feel…” it doesn’t matter how he feels, he realizes. It’s always about how he feels. “I’m an asshole.” The words come out with a heavy breath.

“No you’re not,” Bood says. Shane collapses onto the bench. “Hollzy, you’re not.”

Troy looks pained as he makes eye contact with Shane. “You’re not,” Troy repeats. He shifts in his spot on the opposite bench. “You’ve been going through a lot…” 

“It doesn’t give me a fucking excuse to be a shit friend,” Shane says miserably.

“He didn’t tell you,” Ilya reminds him. “Purposefully didn’t tell you.”

“I should’ve known. I should’ve… just…” Shane squeezes his eyes to keep the tears at bay. He feels someone sit on the bench beside him and put a hand on his back. 

“You’re an awesome friend, Shane,” Troy says. “You’re also human. Cut yourself some slack.”

Shane sighs. It’s something Ilya tells him often. 

“What does Harris say? ‘You can’t pour from an empty cup,’” Hayes says. The team murmurs in agreement. “Your cup was pretty empty there, Shane.” Shane feels tears come to his eyes again and squeezes them shut.

“My friends shouldn’t have to look for other teams because Montreal is so shitty,” Shane says miserably. He can feel Barrett’s hand tense on his back.

“Who’s looking at another team?” 

“Hayden Pike. Probably JJ, too, eventually.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You guys don’t need this.” 

“You are trying to do the same thing Hayden did,” Ilya says. “What is the saying? Pot and kettle?” 

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Hayes supplies. “And yeah, sounds like it.”

Shane takes a deep breath. “I’m fine. It’s just been a lot.”

Troy pats him on the back once. “Yeah, it has.” There’s a pause. “I’m sorry, if it’s been too much.” 

Shane shakes his head. “No, it’s… Theriault did this stuff, he deserves all this. It’s just hard.”

There’s a pregnant pause and when Shane looks up, the rest of the team are all giving each other guilty looks. “What?”

He looks to Ilya, who looks just as confused. “What is it?” Ilya asks again, when no one speaks up. “You are clearly very badly trying to hide something.”

Troy blows out a long breath. “Don’t be mad.” 

“Don’t be mad about what?” Shane says and fuck, he sounds like his mom! 

“We found out you about you… getting revenge on Barrett’s ex,” Bood says. Shane’s head whips around to glare at Ilya. 

“What?? I didn’t tell them.” 

“You told me,” Luca says. 

“I did not!” Ilya argues.

“You did,” Luca says, a bit reluctantly. “You may have been drinking at the time.” 

Ilya’s mouth hangs open. 

“Fucking A, Ilya,” Shane groans. 

“What? It was Luca. I thought he could be trusted!” He says, shooting daggers at Luca. 

“I was really grateful,” Troy says. “Really, truly. No one has ever had my back like that before.

Shane feels his annoyance falter for a moment at the admission. “Yeah, it’s- he was shitty to you. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“Anyways, it was… I really appreciated it, so I…” Troy pauses. “I just suggested that maybe we find ways to pay it back.” 

Shane frowns. “You didn’t make Theriault…” 

“No, but we asked Lisa to talk to the Montreal WAGs,” Wyatt says.

Shane’s brows fly up. “You did?” 

Hayes shrugs. “She was cool with it.” 

“That’s how we found out about Pike’s wife and Theriault,” Bood says. “And… we might’ve mentioned it to a reporter.” 

Shane blinks rapidly. “Jesus.”

“I am so proud of all of you,” Ilya says with genuine joy, hands clasped in front of his face. 

“Ilya, you’re not helping.” Shane mutters

“This is truly incredible,” Ilya continues. “You infiltrate WAGs, expose abuser…” 

“Luca also did a lot of stuff on socials,” Bood volunteers. Luca’s cheeks are bright red and he shakes his head. 

“Was nothing.”

“Wait…” Ilya narrows his eyes. “Are you Luna?” 

“…yes,” Luca admits. 

“What actually was your plan at the start of this?” Shane asks, still unpacking all of this. 

“To ruin the Metros,” Bood says. “Except for Pike and JJ… um, sorry about that.”

Shane takes a deep breath. He can’t decide if he wants to hug these idiots or slap them.

“We didn’t think it through well enough,” Troy says. Shane looks over at him and he looks extremely guilty. “We didn’t want to like… ruin their careers, but just take most of them down a peg.”

Shane gives him a half smile. “Theriault ruined his own career,” he says. “You just pointed it out.” He looks around the room. “Guys, I’m very grateful that you wanted to do this for me, but can we please put all of this revenge shit to bed. Please?”

Ilya gives him a side eye look, which Shane returns. 

“Oh, they are so good at it though.” Ilya says.

“No, no more. And please put the white board back.”