(I don't totally know what this is yet, but this came to me fully formed this morning:)
Shane looked up from helping Luca search for his spare skate laces when he heard raised voices making their way toward the locker room. He and Luca exchanged a glance when they saw it was Ilya and Troy arguing. Bood was sort of walking next to them, putting himself between them. Shane knew Ilya would never try to hurt Troy and he doubted Troy would do anything either. He caught Bood’s eye and came over to them. Bood rolled his eyes a little at the other two.
“Hey,” he said quietly to Troy. “Let’s take a walk, ok?” He looked over at Bood and Ilya. Ilya had turned away and was taking some deep breaths. Shane brushed his hand over Ilya’s back as he walked out with a still pissed off Troy. They walked in huffy silence for a minute, until Shane led Troy into the Physical Therapy room. The massage table was folded in a corner and the other equipment was put away. There wasn’t really anywhere to sit so they both leaned against the desk. It was easier that way anyway, when they were both in full gear. “What’s wrong?” Shane asked once the door was closed.
“I fucked up the play. Osbourne got that goal because of me,’ Troy bit out.
Shane had seen the play; they all did. He knew Ilya would be upset that they missed the opportunity but he also knew his husband didn’t hold a grudge. At least, not about making a mistake in a game. That could happen to anyone. Troy was one of their top players. He rarely made mistakes like that. “Yeah,” said Shane mildly. “That sucks.”
“You’re not mad?” Troy asked.
Shane shrugged. “We only played the first period. We’ll get it back.”
“Probably not with me though. I’m playing like shit today,” Troy muttered, his self loathing evident.
Shane didn’t respond right away. “Did something happen?”
“Yeah…I missed the pass-”
“No,” Shane clarified. “Off the ice.”
“Oh,” Troy said. “Me and Harris had a fight,” he mumbled. “It was stupid.”
“That sucks,” Shane said. He also knew that it was hard sometimes to compartmentalize what happened off the ice until the game was over.
“We like…don’t even fight that much,” Troy said, fidgeting with the gloves he’d taken off.
Shane wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he said something he was sure Ilya had heard at therapy; he’d heard Ilya repeating it to himself a few times. “Being angry doesn’t mean the other person doesn’t love you.”
Troy was quiet for a moment. “Yeah.”
“Do you…want to try meditating or something?” Unlike most of the other guys, Troy didn’t look at Shane like he was crazy. “It might help you focus.”
Troy sat there for another minute. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”
Shane glanced at his phone. “We have maybe ten minutes left. Do you want me to stay or go?”
Troy thought for a moment. “I can stay alone.”
“Ok. I’ll come get you before we line up.”
“Thanks, Shane.” Troy said.
Back in the locker room, Ilya had calmed down and was retaping his stick, something that Shane could tell was to help ground himself. “You ok?” he asked, sitting down next to his husband.
Ilya sighed. “I’ll be fine.”
“Ok,” Shane said quietly. He looked over at Luca. “You found the laces?”
“Yeah,” he replied, tapping his skate. “Should be good now.”
Shane nodded. Ilya leaned against him. Shane returned the gesture. “Where is Barrett?”
“He wanted to be alone for a few minutes,” Shane said. “I’ll go get him before the second period starts.”
“Ok.” Ilya said. “You’re trying to steal my job, huh?”
Shane chuckled. “Fuck off,” he said. But then he caught an unreadable expression on Ilya’s face. “I’m not, ok? But if I can help…I’ll help.”
“Yes. Yes, I know,” Ilya said, tangling their fingers together for a moment.
Coach poked his head into the locker room. “Let’s go, everyone.”
Troy was waiting in the hallway as the team trooped out. “I’m sorry, Ilya,” he said gruffly.
“It’s ok,” Ilya said. “We’ll get it back. Osbourne got lucky but he won’t again.”
