Chapter Text
Chapter 1: I am driven to distraction
Shane had just been drafted to his hometown team: the Ottawa Centaurs. It was the best case scenario for him. He got to stay close to home, play for his and his parents’ favorite team, and meet the players he had looked up to for years. His parents were pouring champagne, Yuna alight with excitement. This was everything Shane had ever wanted, which is why he felt a small pull of guilt at his disappointment.
He was happy about Ottawa, he truly was. What he couldn’t wrap his brain around was that the Centaurs had traded their first line right winger to ensure they could bring on two high end prospects during this draft: Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.
He and Rozanov had spent their entire hockey careers so far being compared to one another. They were each the best players in their league: Rozanov untouchable in the KLH and Shane dominating in the AHL. No one was surprised when they had been drafted, but everyone was surprised that they had been drafted together. Shane had been looking forward to finally playing against Rozanov. After the first article came out comparing the two, both teetering on 30 goals for the season at the time, he had put an alert on his phone for updates about him. He had followed Rozanov’s games closely, anticipating the day he’d finally meet someone on the ice that challenged him. He wanted to beat him, to come out on top, to prove that he really was the best. Now, though, their only true competition would be for captain, with smaller competitions of most goals, assists, and awards. It felt bittersweet.
Shane sat down to his celebratory dinner with his parents, smiling as his mom rattled off all of the brands he could potentially work with. His dad smiled sympathetically, as if to say, ‘forgive her, she’s just excited’, but he was excited, too. He shoved down his feelings about Rozanov and forced himself to be present in this moment: the joy, the pride, the possibilities, they were all in front of him now. He’d make captain and he’d lead his team to the cup - something the Centaurs had struggled to achieve for years. That would be his only focus going forward.
***
The locker room was full of chatter. Shane had begun his humiliation ritual: introducing himself to the veteran players and networking. Shane had shaken more hands than he could count and his cheeks hurt from the polite smile he had plastered on his face. He expected Rozanov to be doing the same, but instead he was seated on one of the benches, arms crossed, silently watching as everyone else interacted. He looked concentrated, but not interested in participating. Shane shook his head. Rozanov was living up to his asshole reputation.
Out on the ice, though, Rozanov played so well that he didn’t need rapport. If Shane wasn’t so focused on making a good first impression at practice, he’d stare in awe of it. Rozanov moved aggressively, but fluidly. It was rare he ever lost the puck.
What really caught him off guard was how in sync he and Rozanov were - it both terrified and exhilarated him. It was like he knew Shane’s movements before he made them, and Shane felt an invisible string pulling him towards Rozanov when it mattered most. He’d never been able to read a teammate this well before on the ice and it gave him hope that they really had a shot at the cup. Shane felt invincible.
The veterans clapped them on the backs after practice, congratulating them on their teamwork. Shane felt a deep seeded pride and skated off the ice with a smile on his face.
In the locker room, he turned to Rozanov, “good plays out there.”
“Yes. I am very good,” Rozanov nodded. Shane blinked a few times and shook his head. This guy was a dick.
***
Shane and Hayden sat tucked at the back of the bus on their way to one of their games against Montreal. Shane had been adopted by Hayden, who had joined the Centaurs during last year’s draft as a second line left winger, on his very first day. He introduced himself to Shane as soon as he arrived in the locker room and they had been inseparable since.
Hayden was talkative and excitable, the opposite of Shane. But Hayden never seemed to mind that he had to carry the conversation. Shane loved that about him, how easy it was to be his friend because Hayden never had any expectations of him, and was happy to fill in the silence if Shane couldn’t. It also helped to have someone who knew the ropes and could help him navigate through this new experience: he was a good hockey player, and a good teammate, but integrating into new social situations was his worst nightmare. Hayden eased him into it, pulling him along to eat lunch with the guys, introducing him to anyone he hadn’t met yet. Shane was grateful to have him.
Rozanov, despite his standoffish behavior on the first day, had become friendly with most of the team already. He made it seem effortless, the way he chirped his own teammates in a way that made them laugh instead of leaving them angry. Despite his reputation as a brutal player and stoic person, he was surprisingly approachable, and any time Shane looked in his direction he was engaged in conversation with one teammate or another. Shane felt a pang of jealousy, but bit it down. He knew he’d find his rhythm soon enough. And maybe, when he did, he’d manage to be as close to Rozanov as the rest of the team seemed to be.
During a lull in their conversation on the bus, Shane could hear the vets making bets up front.
“I’m putting $2,000 on Hollander being the best in the league within a year.”
“Nah, my bets are on Roz.”
“I’m putting $4,000 on Hollzy!”
“My wife is gonna kill me, but I’m throwing $10,000 on Rozanov.”
Hayden shifted next to Shane, bumping his shoulder and smiling proudly. Another thing he loved about Hayden was that he never got jealous over Shane’s accomplishments. He was the first person in his corner to cheer, aside from his parents, and he never got bored of bragging about Shane’s goals for the season. He leaned in and whispered, “Rozanov doesn’t have a shot against you, Shane, don’t worry.”
And, as if summoned whenever his name was even briefly mentioned, Rozanov popped up from one of the seats in front of them. He turned to them, hand gripping the back of his seat, and leaned in.
“Is not true. Pike is bad hockey player, so he cannot tell, but I will be best in the league. I will sign jersey for you, Hollander. You can wear to bed,” He smiled slyly at Shane.
Shane rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the blush that creeped across his cheeks. Hayden was glaring at Rozanov, but Rozanov simply winked at Shane and ducked back down.
***
They won the game that night. Shane had scored two goals, and Rozanov had scored the winning goal. The veteran players insisted on going out to eat after, even though Shane wanted to go home and sleep so he could practice early the next morning. He had scored the most goals, sure, but Rozanov still skated circles around him. He didn’t want to lose his edge.
“It’s just dinner, Shane, come on.” Hayden rolled his eyes when Shane told him he wished they could just head home.
They settled on hibachi, because it could fit the whole team across two grills in one dining room. They packed in, shoulder to shoulder. Rozanov sat directly across from Shane. He was dressed nicely, in a black leather jacket, tight black t-shirt and tight jeans. His hair looked clean and soft, the opposite of the sweaty unfurled curls he saw in the locker room. The guys ordered a round of drinks and Shane settled for ginger ale. Rozanov’s eyes had focused on him when he ordered it, but it didn’t seem judgemental. He almost looked curious.
The chef wheeled his cart of ingredients to the center of the table and began cooking. His teammates started whooping and cheering, rosy cheeked from inebriation after the couple rounds of sake they had while waiting for the show to begin. The chef began to toss zucchini into the guys’ mouths. Most of it ended up on the floor. Shane watched as the chef turned to Rozanov, who had an arm on the back of his seat as he leaned back. The chef raised the spatula and Rozanov gave a confirming shrug. The chef flicked the zucchini to Rozanov, which he caught with ease. As soon as it landed in his mouth, he made eye contact with Shane. Shane felt himself blush, but couldn’t pull his gaze away. Rozanov licked his lower lip, then swiped it clean with his thumb and gave a small but wicked smile. Shane quickly averted his gaze, pushing around the rice on his plate instead. Rozanov was such an asshole.
The chef ended his performance with an onion volcano and when Shane looked up at it, he met Rozanov’s eyes through the flames. He didn’t look away this time. The heat from the flames and the heat in his chest made him feel like he was on fire.
“Hey Roz, are you gonna eat that shrimp?” Hayes asked, making Rozanov finally break eye contact.
Shane let out a breath and focused his attention back to Hayden, who was telling him a story.