Archive of Our Own

＊*•̩̩͙ 1 •̩̩͙*＊

All hockey players are weird about their equipment. That's a fact.

Players tend to stick with the same brand for each item of their gear. If you tell someone to switch from Bauer to CCM or vice versa, they'd hesitate. There's a chance that some players will try new gear to see if they like it, but more often than not they'll stick with what they know. That's just how it is.

Shane Hollander is weird about his equipment to the extreme.

He's eleven and in the middle of a growth spurt when it first clicked for him. His mom surprised him with new shoulder pads for the next season since his old ones were quickly being out grown. His old pads were CCM while these new ones were Bauer. Even at eleven, Shane wasn't sure about switching brands. He liked his old pads. His mother, however, was quick to tell him that it never hurts to try something new. If he didn't like the pads, they could switch back.

Shane begrudgingly started using the pads when the season started up. The fit was a little awkward at first, but Shane got used to them during the first few practices. Would he have preferred to keep using the same pads he had been using? Yeah, he would, but he found he didn't mind the new ones. They worked well enough.

Well, they worked until the first game Shane played in them. Early in the first period, Shane chased a deflected puck into the offensive zone. He picked it up. Pressured by a large defense man from the other team, he moved behind the net to pass off to his winger. The pass never made it off his stick. Shane was slammed into the boards and cried out in pain. A broken arm, forever connected in his brain to changing his gear to Bauer.

The connection to his shoulder pads doesn't exactly translate to all of his other gear, but still he's weary about it. His shin guards and elbow pads are also CCM and only get replaced if needed. His jock strap is far older than he'd like to admit, but it still works, so he hesitates to change it. There's something special about Shane's gear in his mind.

By the time Shane turns seventeen, he's pretty much fully grown. He won't have to worry about buying new gear because he's suddenly outgrown it. It soothes his mind that what he wears in juniors will be able to follow him into the NHL. Then Rozanov and the CCM commercial happens, and the gear on his back feels a little more sacred. The thought of changing his gear has always left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. It's worse now.

During the first All Star game of his professional career, Shane is forced to use the same gear as the rest of the team. He's still a rookie, and despite everyone talking about him and claiming he'll be the next generational talent, he has no input into the matter. A box full of gear arrives at his apartment a week before the game. At least the NHL is kind enough to give him time, even if it's only a few days, to break it in. Opening the box fills Shane with dread. Bauer gloves. Bauer helmet. He hates it.

He misses more passes than usual, and his stick handling isn't as neat in the practices he uses to get used to the new gloves. Everything is just a little off, and the little voice in the back of his head yells at him that he's going to get a concussion or break a finger because he's not in CCM. At least he has the luxury of still using his regular sticks and shoulder pads. When it comes down to it, the familiar flex and tape job on his stick gives Shane enough solace to break the record on the shot accuracy competition that Rozanov just set prior to him.

There's no concussion, no broken bones. Shane survives wearing Bauer with a healthy body and gets another night with Rozanov out of it. He knows better, though. One good game in Bauer won't magically make it alright in his head. He was still wearing the same CCM shoulder pads he's had since juniors. They must have counteracted the gloves and helmet. That has to be what happened.

The shoulder pads are keeping him safe. He performs well with them, points rising and rising with every game. Shane gets rookie of the year, becomes captain, wins back to back cups, and keeps seeing Rozanov all while wearing the same shoulder pads.

Sticks, on the other hand, break far too often for Shane to get attached to a single one. There are two aspects of his sticks, however, that Shane will never change unless forced to.

He won't budge from the brand, that's the first one. He's been using CCM sticks ever since he was little. Whenever the line he had been using got discontinued, he would treasure his sticks that remained and use them only for the moments that counted for something. Until all of his backup sticks broke, he'd spend time learning the quirks of the new line of sticks to seamlessly introduce them into his rotation.

The second is something that he has more control over. Tape. Shane would be far from the first hockey player to be weird and specific about their tape. It would probably be stranger if Shane wasn't weird about his tape.

Shane's not sure when his started doing what is now his typical tape. He can't think of a time when he taped his sticks differently than he does now. The blade carefully wrapped in black and the butt end in white. It's simple, but it works, and that's all Shane needs. There's only ever been one change to his tape. When Shane first made Team Canada for juniors, he took a sharpie and penned 'Yuna' on the white tape. His dad might have been the one to play hockey in the past, but it's his mom who's the main reason Shane has gotten to the level he's at. She's been his biggest supporter from day one. It just felt right to pay homage to her. Each time he picks up his stick and takes the ice, he takes her strength and willpower with him. It calms the prickly anxiety he's sure comes from his dad.

His taping ritual is enough to settle Shane's brain for a few seasons of his professional career. Shane had hoped deep down that it would be enough to last his entire career; he rarely gets that luxury.

The air around the ice feels extra cold as Shane sits on the bench before an optional morning skate. He's alone, not even the coaches or press have yet to arrive. It's the way Shane likes to start his practices, just him and the ice. He's grabbed two rolls of tape out of the equipment trunk and has two of his sticks next to him. At the end of last night's game he had noticed a small bit of fraying tape. He figured he could use the time before practice starts to retape his sticks. Picking the first one up, Shane examines the tape. The white up top is fine, but the blade could use new tape.

He goes to unwrap the blade, however, his fingers can't seem to follow through with the task. The beating of his heart is suddenly audible and his breath catches in his throat. He twitches, tries to find the end of the tape, and fails. You scored twice last night with that tape, his brain supplies. Why would he change the tape when he's scoring with it?

Because it's fraying, Shane tries to remind himself. He needs to fix it. The puck always feels better coming off of a stick with a good tape job.

But he scored twice with this tape. Doesn't that mean something? Maybe the tape is special and is lucky. He should keep the tape on the stick until it tells him that it's done. When his shots start to go wide of the net or his passes fail, then he can change the tape.

The fraying bugs him, but the thought of taking off the tape that he scored twice with makes his stomach flip. It's totally nonsensical. Shane knows this. He does his best to smooth out the tape on the blade and returns the roll of tape to the trunk. It cools the burning thought in his head to embers.

During practice all of his pucks are on net, many of them making it past Drapeau, and his passes are clean. Shane knows he made the right decision. He'll change the tape when it starts to wrong him.

＊*•̩̩͙ 2 •̩̩͙*＊

The NHL requires all players to arrive to games in formal wear. For Shane who never puts much thought into what he wears, it's a blessing. Being able to rotate through a few different suits takes away decision making and allows him to focus on the game ahead of him. He keeps the colors simple — black or navy. Ties are something he'll play around with on occasion. Patterns are fine, but nothing too excessive. If he has a bad game or gets injured, the tie is retired from use.

His rookie season was met with jokes from the Voyageur vets that his entry level contract wasn't enough to let him buy more suits. Which, of course, was not the truth. Shane was earning more money at eighteen than he knew what to do with. With his NHL salary, bonuses, and brand deals from his mom combined, he was pulling in over a million dollars a year. If he wanted to spend excessive amounts of money on suits like some of his teammates, he could.

Shane honestly doesn't think that much about the suits he wears to games. It's just something he does. It's not until halfway through his fifth season with the Voyageurs that he even starts to give it some thought.

He gets to the Bell Centre three hours before puck drop like usual. He sets his stuff down and begins undressing. He pulls his tie off, and right as he goes to take off his jacket, Hayden Pike walks in.

"You know," he says, dropping his bag in his stall. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit that's not black or navy."

Shane side-eyes him as he continues to change. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Would it hurt to wear a color?"

"Navy is a color," Shane reminds Hayden. Black is a color to, if Shane is thinking of it in a general sense and not in the sense that it's considered to be the absence of light.

"Whatever man," Hayden scoffs. "I'm just saying, I could get you a tailor. You could have some cool captain suits."

Shane pauses. "Hayden, I have a tailor."

"You do?" He's more shocked then Shane expects him to be.

"Yes." He's pretty sure most players have a tailor, or have at least used one in the past. "There's no way I'm finding a suit off the rack that fits me."

"Huh, so why stick to black and navy?" Hayden wonders.

It stumps Shane. Why does he do it? It's what he's always done would be the simple answer. Hayden would certainly accept it, but something nags in the back of his mind that it's not the entire answer to his question. Shane sighs "I don't know. I guess it's… safe." He settles on it. He's worn black and navy for so long that attempting to connect either color to stats wouldn't make sense. There would be too much background noise. Introducing a new color of suit adds another variable that he hasn't yet tested.

Hayden thankful lets the matter go and leaves Shane alone to finish getting ready for the game. In the end, they beat Philadelphia 4-2. Shane's only goal had been an empty netter in the last two minutes as Philly desperately tried to tie up the game, but he had two assists on the earlier goals. Overall, a good night in his eyes.

The next game is at the beginning of a short road trip against the Toronto Guardians. Shane can't help but examine everyone else's suits. Hayden is in beige, JJ gray, Mitty a weird pastel green that doesn't quite work, Drapeau tan, Comeau dark pinstripes, Andropov houndstooth. There's a smattering of different colors and textures on the rest of his team. Then there's Shane, in his typical navy.

They lose terribly. 5-1 Toronto. Hayden gets a puck to the face. Shane gets the only goal. The next day they play Buffalo. Shane examines suits again and is met with a similar array of colors and textures. It's an ugly game full of penalties and fights. They trail the entire game until Shane manages to tie it up with thirty seconds left on the clock with a rebound that rattles through Hayes's equipment and had no business finding the back of the net. Overtime isn't much better. Comeau takes a tripping penalty in the first minute and Buffalo takes advantage of the four on three, shooting the puck past Drapeau to take the two points.

The Voyageurs trickle into their locker as Shane preps for their upcoming game. It takes a few of his teammates for him to notice that most of them are in black or navy. He was joking when he sent that text to Hayden. He never expected anyone to actually listen.

JJ walks up to him with a big grin on his face. "Captaine! You like my suit?"

"It's navy," Shane says, smiling softly.

"For you, yes! I will block all the shots tonight. Jersey won't know what hit them."

They didn't. Shane can't be sure whether the suits made an actual different or not, but regardless, there was a fire underneath the voyageurs. Jersey had gotten an early lead, but Montreal quickly answered. From there, they didn't stop scoring until it was 6-1.

All Shane knows is he isn't going to stop wearing his suits.

＊*•̩̩͙ 3 •̩̩͙*＊

Warmups are a sacred time. It's the first time the players get the chance to get a feel of the ice and catch the vibe of the arena. By the time Shane skates out for warmups, there's already fans standing at the glass, signs in hand. He always surveys the crowd on his first lap around the their side of the ice. It reminds him of when he was young, hands pressed to the glass, dreaming that one day he'd be on the ice. Now that he is where he dreamed, Shane makes sure smile and wave at the fans, especially if he spots Hayden's or one of his teammate's kids.

It's a bit strange that tonight he doesn't spot the Pike kids. Hayden is sitting at 499 career points, and they're playing Ottawa at home. That 500th point is on its way — not that Shane would ever speak that out loud. Talking about milestones is a sure way to give a player the yips, just like how doctors and nurses are weird about saying a shift is quiet.

Shane drops down on the face off dot in the neutral zone and begins his stretches. It's one of the most important parts of his routine that he thinks too many other players skip. Stretching helps Shane understand what his body is feeling and how he might perform in the following game. If he's feeling tighter than usual, he knows he probably won't be as aggressive and any hits he takes will feel regretful the next day. Maybe there's a trip to the trainer in his future if he's tight. When his hips move without complaint, however, his expectations rise. As long as his team is behind him, he can expect to get at least a point during the game, multiple if he's lucky. Tonight, his stretches go smoothly. It should be a good game.

When he's done, Shane spots Hayden taking a sip of water at the bench. He skates up to him. "I don't see Jackie and the kids," he says. The upcoming milestone is left unsaid, but he "thought they were coming tonight."

Hayden scans the crowd, his face dropping slightly when he doesn't spot them. "Probably running late. Arthur has been a menace lately. It's impossible to get out of the house on time."

"Sucks," is all Shane says in response. He glides away, pulling a puck with his stick to finish off his warm up drills. He works the puck up and down the blue line, ensuring that it stays inside the line. Once he's satisfied with his stickhandling, he works through some passes with the team and helps Drapeau prep for the game by firing pucks at him. It's the same routine he always does, but it works. He's careful to avoid going into a game feeling ill-prepared. From film review to warmups, he's ready as long as no one messes with his routine.

The game breezes by. Ottawa is still stuck in the same rebuild that they've been in for years and it's no surprise when Hayden easily gets his 500th career point, and 501st as well. The locker room is a buzz after the win — it always is when a player hits a big milestone. Jackie and the kids stand in the doorway as Theriault hands Hayden the puck he hit 500 with, and Shane wastes no time calling them over to take a picture.

[Video posted by Montreal Voyageurs Twitter Account]

Hayden Pike stands with his two daughters Ruby and Jade in the Voyageurs locker room. He messes with Ruby's hair while Shane Hollander sits on the bench.

"Did you watch warmups?" Shane asks the twins. "I didn't see you there."

Jade shakes her head. "We weren't there."

"Were you late?"

"No, we didn't go," Ruby says like it's obvious while at the same time Jade says "I didn't want to go."

Hayden looks down at his daughters and scoffs in offense, "you didn't go? Why?"

"Every time we go he doesn't score," Ruby starts.

And Jade finishes "if we skip he scores."

Shane smiles wide. "You better keep that up."

[video ends]

The twins wander off towards Jackie, and Hayden gives Shane a look. "You're infecting my children with superstitions."

Shane can't help but laugh. He's watched Hayden take off his skates and put them back on because he accidentally put the right one on first instead of the left. He eats Haribos before every game for good luck. "As if you don't have any superstitions yourself that you could pass down? They are your children you know."

"Fuck off," Hayden replies. Shane keeps laughing.

＊*•̩̩͙ 4 •̩̩͙*＊

Shane really does love being on the Ottawa Centaurs, even if he never expected to actually join them in the first place. If everything had gone their way, Shane would have stayed in Montréal for his entire career. He helped build the team that won back to back cups. He could have brought them more. The drive to Ottawa sucked, but it was doable. They could have survived it. But everything, of course, did not go their way, and now Shane is in Ottawa with his husband. The team is nice. It almost weirds Shane out. He's never been a part of a team that's this chill. Maybe it's the environment, or maybe it's Ilya, but Shane settles into the team nicely.

Being on the second line might be the weirdest part of joining the Centaurs. The last time he was on his second line was his rookie season. He got promoted through the lines quickly, which when he was outscoring all the veteran players was bound to happen. Shane quickly finds that he doesn't mind being the second line center though. Luca Haas who is only in his second NHL season is incredible as his right wing. Boyle is decent on his left. And Shane still gets a chance to play with Ilya during power plays or if injuries force them to change the lines up.

Shane sits on the bench in front of his locker with his headphones in, listening to a shuffling playlist of classical music and movie soundtracks. It's not enough to drown out the awful country music Dykstra plays or the techno that Ilya loves, but Shane's been listening to instrumental music before games since he got his first mp3 player. He's not going to stop now.

"Hey Luca!" Ilya calls out. His target turns around with less vigor than usual. "Who pissed in your cheerios today?"

"Me," Luca says dejectedly.

Shane pops an earbud out and cocks his head to listen in.

"You?" Ilya clearly didn't expect that answer.

Haas frowns. "I accidentally put salt in my oats this morning instead of sugar."

It's Bood that takes the most offense to that. "How do you mix up sugar and salt?" He asks.

"Because he's a child!" Ilya, stepping forward to tousle Luca's hair, responds before anyone else can.

Luca flushes red and bats his arm away. "Fuck off. I'm twenty two, and it wasn't that bad."

As the scene unfolds in front of him, Shane can't help but smile. A year ago he was enduring the stiff Montréal locker room that would barely acknowledge him, and when they did it would likely be full of vitriol. Even before that the jokes would never be about salty oatmeal. They'd alway be — mean. Ottawa is different.

Ilya descends into laughter, full bodied, hands on his knees cackling. "YOU ATE IT?"

"I wasn't going to waste it." His hands fly up in defense. "If I didn't put fruit on top, it would have been fine, probably."

The laughter dies down and everyone eventually returns to getting ready for the game.

Brooklyn has been good this year. Their rookie defense man has been putting up points like it's nobody's business, and it's been clear since early in the season that they want in the playoffs. Ottawa is hungry this year as well. They got a taste of the playoffs last year before getting knocked out in round two and want more. Shane's been excited to go for his first run in a while with a team that cares about him. They treat every game like they're two points away from clinching — it's fun. Shane is having fun playing hockey again and god isn't it amazing.

The Centaurs take the ice to a cheering crowd. Shane watches dutifully as Ilya cleanly wins the opening face off. It's less than a minute later when he hops over the boards for his first shift. Coach Weibe always rolls the lines quickly in the first period. It's a great way to get a sense of how they match up against their opponents.

Brooklyn scores once, then twice, in the first eight minutes of the period. Hayes shakes his head after the second puck finds the back of the net off of a deflection. Down by two is never what a team wants, but if there's one thing the Centaurs know how to do, it's make a comeback. When LaPointe draws a tripping penalty on Brooklyn, Shane knows it's their time.

More than once when the Centaurs are sent to the power play has Shane heard the opposing team whisper fuck or shit as he takes the ice along with Ilya. Their first power play unit is a beast, how could it not be when it's comprised of him and Ilya, Haas, Young, and Dykstra. It comes by no surprise that they're ranked as one of the best power plays in the league.

Shane takes the face off, sending the puck back to the blue line. It's picked up by Dykstra, who holds it while they move into position. Pass to Rozanov. Back to Dykstra. To Shane. There's no open lane, so he sends the puck back to Rozanov who hits a one timer towards the net. The shot is blocked by a Brooklyn player. Haas finds the loose puck in the swarm of players. He chips it top shelf. Goal.

The horn blares through the arena that fills with cheers as they get on the board less than thirty seconds into the power play. Young has already engulfed Luca into a hug by the time Shane skates over to celebrate the goal. "Nice one," Shane says, tapping his helmet against Luca's. Rozanov and Dykstra, both cheering, slam into them right after. Luca leads the celebration line along the bench, and then they're back at the game.

Time continues to tick down towards the end of the first period. It feels as if it's been forever since the last whistle. Shane trudges off the ice for a change, the third line taking his place. He watches the play carefully and files each pass and shot into his brain to examine later. There is always film to review, but Shane likes to have the mental memory as well.

LaPointe breaks into the offensive zone, catching Brooklyn's D off guard. Brooklyn is fast enough to block his shot but can't stop them from getting set up. The puck tic tac toes between the Centaurs on the ice, gracefully avoiding the sticks of Brooklyn's players. It makes its way up to the point where Holmberg sends the puck towards the net. The horn blares as he gets his second goal of the season.

The score is tied up as the second period starts. Not even ten seconds in, Barrett sends a wrister flying to the back of Brooklyn's net. The crowd erupts as they lead for the first time tonight — 3-2.

Shane ends up in the box during his first shift of the second. A tripping penalty that he definitely deserved as he tried to steal the puck back to prevent a break away. From across the ice Ilya grins at him, and Shane just scoffs, shakes his head, and watches the penalty kill get underway. Brooklyn struggles to stay in zone, the PK unit continuously bats the puck down the ice, forcing them to regroup.

Chouinard intercepts the puck and goes to clear it. Brooklyn, however, have tried to short the zone and have no d-men on the blue line. They're too late to notice the puck ending up on Haas's stick, too slow to catch up as Luca tears down the ice. It's just him and the goalie. He swivels, the goalie drops, and Haas shoots it right into the open net.

Shane jumps to his feet in the box and pounds the glass with his fist. "Let's go," he cheers, but through the crowd, it's only heard by the attendant who gives him a look that he's seen enough times to know it means sit down. He complies, but only after Luca skates by with a smile and taps his stick on the glass.

There's less than a minute left on Shane's penalty. He watches the play to know where to jump in when he gets release. The seconds count down. The puck deflects out of their defensive zone right as his penalty expires. He leaps out of the box and takes advantage of this incredibly lucky moment that has just presented itself to him. Shane picks up the puck with practiced ease, dances around the chasing defense, and sends it five hole.

Just like that, the Centaurs are up 5-2. Then a few minutes later Ilya scores on a rebound to make it 6-2. The following shifts feel like Brooklyn has given up. It's far too easy to take pucks away from them and send them towards the net. The defense collapses under the gentle breeze that is Shane and Luca skating into the offensive zone together chasing a dumped puck. Shane rolls off a hit, sending the puck over to Luca on the half wall. For some ungodly reason everyone on Brooklyn seems to be focused on Shane and not Luca who already has two goals this game. They've left their goalie out for dry. Luca takes advantage of it. He spins off the one player who decides to follow the puck and backhands it past the goalie.

"Holy shit!" Luca exclaims as Shane barrels into him. The hats rain down around them, and Shane grins as Luca's excitement seeps into him. There's nothing quite like getting your first professional hat trick. Shane remembers being able to feel his heart pounding in his chest for the rest of the game when he got his first.

As they skate back to the bench, Shane whispers to Luca "I think you have to keep eating salty oatmeal for breakfast. You're on fire tonight."

Luca laughs. "We're all on fire. 7-2 before the end of the second? Fucking insane."

[TV transcript: second intermission interview with Luca Haas]

Reporter: A goal in the first and two more in the second for your first career hat trick, how are you feeling?

Haas (breathing heavily, red in the face): Incredible. When you're on a team with Roz and Hollzy you don't expect to be the one getting a hatty but it's just crazy when it happens. (muttered) And now Hollzy going to make me eat salty oatmeal every game day.

Reporter: What?

Haas: (groans) I put salt instead of sugar in my oats this morning by accident and now Hollander is convinced its a good luck charm. Hate to admit I'm kinda compelled.

Reporter: (laughs) Sounds like Hollander. One more question, you're up 7-2 over Brooklyn going into the third, how do you keep up the energy?

Haas: We're playing good hockey. Just got to keep up the good work, get pucks to the net, keep Brooklyn out of our zone, and have a good time.

Reporter: All right. Thanks Luca.

[transcript end]

＊*•̩̩͙ +1 •̩̩͙*＊

Ilya has always thought Shane's little quirks and superstitions were cute. There's been times where Shane has told him to change his outfit before a game, or to stop doing something because he'll have a bad game, and Ilya does it for Shane. He never thought, however, that he would pick up a superstition of his own.

It's an accident the first time it happens. In the bustle of the team getting hyped to walk out for the game, Ilya turns and kisses Shane, just as if he was leaving their home to go run an errand. They both immediately freeze. This isn't something they do.

When Shane decided to sign with the Centaurs, the first rule they put in place is that when they're on the ice, whether it's a game or practice, or even in the locker room before or after either of those events, they're teammates first. PDA is to be kept to a minimum. They're professionals. Shane had even talked to Harris and the entire communications department about not referring to him and Ilya as husbands on any official posts. And as much as Ilya loves to be tied to Shane, and referred to as his husband, he gets it. There's a certain message that gets implied when they're referred to as their relationship to each other. While, yes, they are husbands, Shane exists outside of being Ilya's husband. The same with Ilya.

"Game," Ilya says, hoping to shift the focus.

Shane nods awkwardly. His cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink that, unfortunately, does make Ilya want to kiss him for hours instead of play hockey. He's somehow able to hold back the urge even if it gnaws at his heart, and in part at his dick.

Shit. Watching Shane on the ice is only going to make this feeling worse. He's so sexy on the ice. No, he can't think of that now, not when he's walking out on the ice himself. Fuck, he keeps looking down at Shane's ass in his hockey pants. This game needs to be over quick so that he can go home and fuck Shane until he can't feel his dick anymore.

The hockey gods grant his wish. The Centaurs dominate on ice. Ilya scores in the first, gets an assist on Shane's goal in the second, and gets to push a forward from San Francisco that was being annoying to the ground. All in, a wonderful game.

Shane pushes him against their boring SUV as they leave the arena together. "Why'd you kiss me before the game. We don't do that."

"Was accident," Ilya shrugs but speaks earnestly. He truly didn't mean to kiss Shane then. It was just instinct. "But I played good. We won. Maybe I should kiss you before every game." He wraps his fingers around Shane's hips, pulling him in closer, as a grin forms on his face.

His husband's brows furrow like an angry kitten; it's cute. "No," Shane says.

"Hmm, what about after games?" Ilya suggests, leaning forward into Shane.

"You drive a tough bargain." Shane's soft brown eyes stare into Ilya's — Ilya might melt away under his gaze. "I'll have to think about it."

"I'll add in sucking your dick."

Shane laughs, light and airy and full of joy. It's infectious to the point that Ilya can't help but giggle along. Shane gives him a quick peck on the lips as he recovers. "We should get going so we can close this deal then."

Ilya nods eagerly, and by the time they're home, the quick kiss before the game is no more than a distant memory.

Their next game comes two days later. As previously promised, Ilya does not kiss Shane beforehand. The thought doesn't even cross his mind. Well, it does cross his mind, but not until after the second period when they're down 4-1. Dykstra has their only goal and Ilya sits pointless. Every shot attempt he made had gone wide of the net, caught the crossbar, or was blocked far before it could find its way through the screens. He's tired of it. His mind wanders back to the last game where he got two points. Why was that game so smooth, so fun? What happened differently just two days ago?

The answer, of course, hits him as he stares at Shane's ass as they walk out for the third period. He didn't kiss Shane. It's too late to try and correct it now, but next game he'll test his theory. If it works, then Ilya gets more kisses. A win win situation if you ask him. By the time the game ends, with a disappointing 6-2 loss, all that's on Ilya's mind is their game the next day against Winnipeg.

The next night as they prepare to step out on the ice for the first period, Ilya calls out "Hollander!" Shane turns towards him, and before he can say anything, Ilya plants his lips on his and steals a quick kiss.

"Ilya," Shane hisses.

Ilya smiles in response. "Good luck kiss."

Shane doesn't get a chance to respond. The rest of the team is moving, the game starting.

Good luck kiss indeed. Ilya gets a goal and picks up two assists through the night, and the Centaurs add another two points to their tally. It's pretty easy to decide that he should keep up the pregame kisses. Plus, seeing Shane get flustered by them is an added bonus to getting points and winning games.

Another game.

Another kiss.

Another win.

Game. Kiss. Win.

It's a solid strategy.

Shane corners Ilya in their kitchen a few games after he started the kisses. "I thought I told you to stop kissing me right before we play."

Oh, he's angry, and Ilya feels like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He could just apologize to Shane and stop the kisses, but something stirs inside him when he thinks about stopping. The theory started as almost a joke. There's no logical reason why kissing Shane right before a game would improve his ability to earn points. One quick pregame kiss cannot be more powerful than all of the other kisses Ilya gives, but for some reason it seems to be. "I can't," Ilya admits.

"Why?" Shane probes as if he can't possibly believe that Ilya has a reason for not being able to stop.

Ilya sighs "I play better when I kiss you right before we walk out." It sounds almost pathetic to admit, but it's true.

"No you don't."

"I do. Look at my stats."

Shane disappears and moments later returns with his iPad. He pulls up Ilya's player profile. "You started this with the San Francisco game last month, right?"

"Yes," Ilya nods. "That time was an accident, though. I promise."

Turning the iPad towards Ilya to show off the stats, Shane explains "there isn't that much of a difference between before and after you started. Nothing to say you play better."

"No, no." Ilya shakes his head. Shane's not looking at the glaring reason of why he can't stop. "Look at the game right after San Francisco."

"The one where we lost to Carolina?"

He sees it now. "Yes!"

Shane pulls up the game and examines the box score. "Huh, you didn't get any points."

"And I didn't kiss you."

"Huh," is all Shane says in response. He continues to scroll through Ilya's profile as if it holds the secrets to the universe. The rest of the Centaurs roster and the other teams' rosters are checked next. Scores, injuries, the weather, it's all checked.

Ilya waits until Shane turns off his iPad to say "see, I'm right. It's terrible, I must keep kissing you. You've infected me with your superstitions."

That gets a laugh out of Shane. "How?"

"Through sex," Ilya offers. "I fuck you and now my brain says I must kiss you before every game in order to play good."

"Superstitions are not a sexually transmitted disease, you asshole."

Ilya's pretty sure if they were on the couch or in bed for this conversation there would be a pillow coming his way. It's hot, takes Ilya back to the early days when everything was on the edge between hate and love. "They could be! How do you explain this?"

"I don't know." Shane throws his hands up in the air. "Everyone has superstitions. Hayden has superstitions."

"Don't bring Pike into this."

A menacing glare hits Ilya. "I'm just saying it's fine to have a superstition."

"So I can keep kissing you before games?" Ilya asks, smile growing wider. His inner monologue begs say yes, please say yes. He's not beyond voicing it if his wish is denied.

Shane sighs heavily and slowly blinks. "Okay, you can keep doing it, but if your stats fall off I'm reconsidering."

"Yes!" Ilya doesn't care that there's a caveat to being allowed to keep up his new tradition, he's just happy that Shane's okay with it. He pulls Shane in and kisses him with an audible mwah!