Hi again. This is a Sideblog to (@montrealjane) housing an independent portrayal of Hayden Pike from Heated Rivalry / Game Changers Series, following canon with room for headcanons and canon divergence.
OC and Crossover friendly, this blog is 21+ minors DNI
Mun goes by Luki, 30+, and I’ve been on this site for… honestly, way too many years at this point. I'm bilingual so I apologize for any mistakes made!
I always read the rules of RP blogs I interact with, but since this is a sideblog I can't follow back - Sorry! I’ll assume that if you follow or interact, you’ve read my rules as well.
I'm a little shy to approach people but please, feel free to message me anytime about anything, and if you have questions for either of my muses, send them in too!
Rules under the cut:
Mun
As mentioned above, my name is Lukas, he/him, queer toast, 25+ years old with over a decade of roleplay experience. Despite that I'm sometimes a little insecure and don't always know how to approach people but I don't bite, I promise!
Full time working at this point, so replies may be slow at times
diagnosed with autism and bilingual, so sorry for any mistakes made.
Please be honest with me, if I write something and you don't like it, let me know, we can figure it out, I will never be mad to adjust to make things work!
Please keep in mind I'm in UTC / CET timezone, so if I ever don't reply or don't react chances are I'm asleep :D
General
This is a drama-free zone. I can't stress this enough. Hate, callout culture, vague posting, ship hate, character bashing, or mun harassment will result in a block.
I’m not involved in fandom drama and plan to keep it that way - I’m here to write, have fun, and enjoy roleplay as my hobby
NSFW themes may occur. All content will be tagged appropriately.
Icons, formatting, and length do not matter to me as long as replies are readable and give me something to work with.
No godmodding, auto-hitting, or controlling my character’s thoughts or feelings. You can describe attempts and I’ll decide outcomes offering the same to you.
I’m fully caught up on canon (both books and the show). This blog is set post-show / during the last 2 episodes by default unless discussed and plotted otherwise.
Triggers & Content Warnings
Please tag:
Air raid sirens / tornado sirens
Major character death
Canon-typical content such as swearing, drinks and soft drugs, emotional conflict, trauma, adult themes, and sports-related injury may appear on this blog.
If you need anything tagged specifically, please let me know - I’m happy to accommodate where possible. ♡
To be fair, Shane would prefer for Hayden to knock their heads together to make his brain rattle a bit instead of...well, squeezing his hand.
But they're currently at a restaurant eating food, not inside the Hockey arena skating across a thin layer of ice. They're lacking their protective gear as well, which would cause a head-knock to feel rather uncomfortable, all things considered. Said hand-squeeze is certainly the more gentle option of the two to try and get Shane out of his stupid head, away from where a mild panic of sorts had attempted to click into place...
But, unfortunately so, said gesture is also a lot less bro than he would like for it to be. No, he's not exactly hating the physical connection between himself and his best friend - as a matter of fact, touch happens to be Shane's love language, he's just very selective with who he's offering said love language to - but they're out in public and actually talking about him being gay (which is a whole ass thing all by itself, something Shane is still struggling with even though he's long since accepted that part of his existence) and that definitely isn't helping---
...Neither is what the waitress is saying to them moments after. Or the awkward moment that follows. Or the fact that Hayden plays it off in the most embarrassing kinds of ways; Shane actually wants to die right now, feels his soul leaving his body, shame flooding him from his toes to the tip of his ears, and once the waitress is gone he groans as his forehead collides with the table in a cutlery-rattling thunk.
He loves Hayden. Platonically. But he loves him, truly does. It's just...
"...I fucking hate you sometimes." Resigned rather than heated, like Shane lifting the metaphorical while flag (annoyed nevertheless), he exhales something long and slow into the table cloth, eyes closed. He's vaguely aware of the fact that he must look utterly stupid now, possibly only managing to direct even more attention onto the two of them, so he breathes through one more time before he sits back up straight, shoulders low, gaze meeting Hayden's own. "Why don't you just--- go down on one knee and propose to me, to top it all off? ... Please don't do that, I will literally kill you if you do. Push my fork right into your throat and make you bleed out. I'm not kidding."
Oh, yeah, Shane means that. But at the same time tension is leaving him a little, has the corner of his mouth curl up in a contained half-smirk of sorts, as he untangles their fingers and forces them to separate. Enough with the damn squeezing, since Hayden has already turned them into a fucking couple in front of the waitress; Oh, Ilya would hate this - would literally maul Shane's best friend, tackle him to the ground, shred him apart like Shane had shreeded his piece of chicken.
---The thought astually amuses him and that smile of his widens, gaze trailing to the side, before Shane snorts to himself and then shakes his head, regards his food once again instead.
"---Yeah, I think I'll gift your kids an instrument each for Christmas. Gonna choose something really loud and obnoxious. ...That's entirely your fault, by the way. You just brought that onto yourself, Hayd."
...It makes him think back to what Hayd had said before, then - Maybe I'll tell them they can only use it whenever you two are babysitting. That... wow, okay, that actually hits him somewhere deep, the fact that his best friend is willingly accepting Ilya being there in such a very personal kind of way. Talks about them both babysitting his kids. Ilya and Shane. Together.
"...He's good with kids, by the way." A mutter under his breath, cheeks warm, as Shane cuts a piece of chicken and pushes it into his mouth. "...Ilya, I mean. He's... very good with kids. They loved him back in Tampa."
And Hayden, knowing that Shane doesn't hate this as much as he pretends to do, has the audacity to start chuckling behind one of his hands. It's the kind of low, restrained laugh that's clearly trying not to draw any more attention to them but probably does anyway, his shoulders trembling with the effort not to burst into full-blown laughter.
"I think your man would murder me first, you know," he manages in between. "Also, I'm pretty sure marrying more than one person is illegal over here."
But all jokes aside, Hayden can see Shane loosening up, if only a little. Seeing that tiny, genuine smile tugging at the corners of Shane's mouth makes something warm flutter in his chest. It makes him happy. Seeing Shane genuinely amused is such a rare sight on those freckled features, and Hayden loves it. Loves being able to bring it out of him every now and then.
"Listen, buddy-" he says after finally calming down, pointing his fork at Shane in return as if that helps his point. "I want to believe your man is a good guy. Kids and all. But I'm still fully convinced Rozanov has at least three mafia friends who could make my body disappear."
It's a joke. Mostly. Hayden still isn't sure what to make of Ilya Rozanov. Not yet. Which is exactly why he'd been so on the fence about... all of this. Shane isn't just his best friend. He is family. And if there was one thing Hayden takes seriously, it is his damn family. He'd fight a fucking grizzly bear (no pun intended) barehanded if it meant protecting the people he loved.
Maybe he'll change his mind someday. He wants to. As much as a stubborn part of him insists Rozanov hasn't earned that trust yet, another part reminds him that Shane has. And if Shane believes the Russian menace deserves a chance... then Hayden is willing to offer him the benefit of the doubt.
Now that Shane is finally—finally—actually eating instead of repeatedly stabbing his dinner—
TWENTY-EIGHT STAB WOUNDS.
Goddammit, Connor.
His own brain really isn't helping today- but now that Shane is eating, Hayden feels his own appetite return as well. Seeing Shane distressed will never fail to make him feel responsible too. Hayden would do anything for this dumbass. The same he would do anything for his kids. For his wife. For his sister and mother. Shane means the world to him and Hayden't isn't even sure if Shane is aware of that.
Hayden pokes at the noodles on his plate before shoveling them into his mouth, watching Shane do the same with his chicken. Somehow, seeing his best friend actually eat makes him feel a little better too. He smiles to himself when he adds: "You're the first real friend I've ever had Shane, did I ever tell you that?"
"No, I'll go." He owed his friends some time outside of practice and travel and games. JJ and Hayden were good friends, even if he was a stick in the mud most of the time. He enjoyed hanging out with them, but sometimes it was a lot. Loud places, clubs, big groups - he could handle it, but he hated it, and he wasn't quiet about it privately, though he tolerated it publicly. He was always being scrutinized, and he knew that, was hyper aware of it. So he would go out, would probably mostly have fun, because he did have fun when he pushed himself, sometimes.
"A distraction? From what?" He's been playing excellent hockey, as per usual, and they're out of town, a road trip, where they have a rare night off before a game the next day. "I'll go to the bar, don't worry. As long as you aren't speaking like a bad pirate all night."
"Nawww, c'mon, Shane. I never get to be a pirate, that's not fair. You can't just say stuff like that." but despite his complaints, the smile lingering on Hayden's lips was real. Genuine. If being a little ridiculous could distract his best friend from whatever had him so deep in his own head, then Hayden was more than willing to embarrass himself for the cause.
If only Shane didn't have the emotional expression range of a Roomba, it'd be so much easier to help him. If he just said what was going on inside that pretty head of his, Hayden could actually do something instead of blindly throwing jokes at the problem and hoping one of them stuck.
Instead, trying to figure Shane out sometimes felt like standing in front of one of those giant steel doors from a spy movie. No handle. No keyhole. Nothing. Well... maybe one of those tiny little sliding windows.
The ones where someone opens it just enough for you to see one eye staring back at you. Actually, wasn't that more of a mafia movie thing? Jackie would know. Anyway.
"Also-" Hayden pointed dramatically at Shane "I have to inform you, Mister Flying Dutchman, that I am an excellent pirate!"
Cliff was completely focused on the game, almost like he would be focused in any hockey game. It was one place he supposed where that particular focus came from. He knew that he absolutely shouldn’t lose to Pike. His little chirp brought him out of that focus, rolling his eyes for just a brief moment as he continued into lap two. Despite that, he kept throwing the banana peels. “It’s the only thing the damn boxes keep giving me!” He was getting a little frustrated.
“Don’t count me out yet!” he remarks, leaning forward as if that was going to help Waluigi go faster. He finally got three green shells, that was better than nothing. It could be something better but it was a start! “Ha!” The green shell got him thankfully for him. Which if he was being honest surprised him, but he was absolutely going to look like he intended on it.
And then it happened. Undefeated for twenty years. Three-time champion. The undisputed king of Mario Kart. No amount of training could've prepared him for such betrayal.
Hayden Pike was blindsided by a green shell. His kart spun. His hopes, dreams and legacy died on Rainbow Road. Somewhere in the distance, somewhere in his head, violins began to play, he could hear them even if Cliff couldn't.
"Noooooo..." He didn't even have time to cross the finish line before Cliff fucking Marleau rushed past him. With one hand, Hayden clutched dramatically at his chest. "Ladies and gentlemen..." he croaked. "We've just witnessed the end of an era."
"I... am..." He coughed dramatically before collapsing back onto the hotel bed they sat on. "...defeated."
Shane's movements come to a sudden halt when he's being called out by the other - gaze dropping to the, well, yes, well-perforated piece of chicken that's looking a lot worse now than it had moments before, basically gotten shredded at the edges. And said chicken almost seems to stare straight back up at him in return (without having any eyes, or a head, or a whole rest of a body, that is. Stupid, really), judging Shane for his overly-excessive fork usage in the very same way as Hayden does...
A swallow, with Shane clearing his throat as he reaches for his Ginger Ale, takes a sip - just to distract himself and his nerves, the ones that feel so raw it's bordering on becoming unbearable; He breathes through after, inhales, exhales, then sets his can back down while dark eyes find their way back to his best friend.
The one who admits to have felt hurt, but assures him nevertheless. Isn't hating nor despising him for being gay - and for having kept a whole ass boyfriend hidden for almost a decade at this point, on top of it all.
Jesus. It's a lot, truly.
---But a small smile does make it on top of Shane's lips anyways, tugs at the corners of his mouth as he blinks, then shrugs. "Thought about gifting them a violin, maybe a flute. How about a piano? Apparently it's beneficial for children to learn an instrument - musical education, that kind of stuff..."
Just some light banter in between what still feels too heavy, all things considered - which is why that hint of a smile soon vanishes again, accompanied by Shane's gaze flicking back to where his piece of chicken is still existing, mocking him. He pierces a piece of carrot with his fork then instead of the meat, puts it in between his teeth, chews.
"It's just..." Another deep breath, one that Shane holds inside his chest for way too long before he lets it go in a slow, measured act that takes forever. "...I lied to you, basically. Well, actually, you knew of Lily already, but---" One more shrug. "---I dunno. I even had that whole thing going with Rose and... it was just awful. Not because she's a bad person or anything - she's great, amazing, a very good friend, but... well, everything else... ---I don't have to explain any of it, do I? ... Anyways..."
Words are hard and Shane's doing his rambling-thing. He sighs, shakes his head at himself, stares into the distance while contemplating quite a few of his previously made life choices.
As a full-time husband, part-time hockey player and devoted father, Hayden has developed far more than just a sixth sense over the years. Somewhere between sense number six and, conservatively, twenty-three, an alarm bell goes off.
He shifts a little closer across the table and reaches across it the same way some remorseful rom-com protagonist would reach for the devastatingly bitchy female lead after saying something incredibly stupid. Not that Hayden is trying to be cheesy. He's trying to be helpful.
Knowing Shane as long as he has, he recognizes the signs immediately. Shane is panicking. Not loudly. Not dramatically. It's that quiet, contained version where everything is supposedly fine while absolutely nothing is fine.
It only ever happens when something falls outside the neat little rulebook Shane keeps in his head. Hockey never does that. Hockey has rules. Predictable ones. People...Not so much.
Now that he's thinking about it, Hayden's fairly convinced skates don't just make Shane taller (granted, they're both vertically challenged compared to most hockey players, so that's hardly an achievement, he has no room to talk) but somehow more confident, too. Like standing on the ice makes the rest of the world finally follow the same rules his brain expects it to.
Without making a big deal out of it, Hayden reaches for Shane's hand and if Shane lets him he'll provide a gentle squeeze. Nothing more, just meant to be grounding.
It's the exact same gesture he'd use after a bad shift, knocking their helmets together just hard enough to rattle Shane a little and bring him back into the game before he could spiral over yet another referee who apparently had money riding on Tampa or is blind on both eyes. Shane does not often look like he wants to throw hands, annoyed yes but that gets under his skin. The same as Rozanov always did and now another thing adds itself to Haydens thought process.
The same as Rozanov always did. Yeah- unfortunately that seems about right. Rozanov always rattled Shane and Hayden was there to catch him if anything. He takes a deep breath and pushes those thoughts aside because getting angry at Ilya fucking Rozanov when he's here to reassure Shane about Ilya fucking Rozanov does not seem very helpful.
Hayden's smile reaches all the way to his eyes. "I will absolutely murder you if you gift them an instrument. Unless it comes with industrial-grade noise-cancelling headphones."
He points a finger at Shane. "Maybe I'll tell them they can only use it whenever you two are babysitting." It's a joke. Mostly. But beneath it sits something else. A quiet reassurance.
Because yes, Hayden still wants Shane around his children, but more importantly, he won't say it but, Rozanov too. He can't stand the guy. Not yet, but he's willing to try. For Shane. He would do almost everything for this dumbass.
Hayden lets Shane talk again, nodding every so often, letting the silence exist where it needs to. It's only interrupted when the waitress returns with her usual bright smile. "Can I get you two lovebirds anything else?"
Hayden physically feels himself short-circuit for about half a second. His hand twitches but he keeps it where it is. Every instinct tells him to pull it away as though Shane had suddenly become radioactive.
But then he doesn't. Years of teaching, parenting and improvising wins. He flashes the waitress a charming grin. "Nah- we're good. Thanks." he says with a playful wink. "We'd just appreciate a little privacy."
Perfect. The waitress immediately blushes, mumbles something that might've been an apology and disappears far quicker than she'd arrived.
Hayden waits exactly three seconds. Then bites the inside of his cheek so hard it almost hurts. Because if he looks at Shane right now... He's absolutely going to start laughing.
If it was one thing Cliff did a lot growing up other than hockey, it was video games. In his heart, Hayden Pike didn’t stand a fucking chance. Growing up with his sisters, he constantly knew he had to be better at racing games, or at any games. His competitive streak starting super early in life. He wasn’t going to lose on Rainbow Road. His gaze intense as he was locked onto the TV, concentrating fully. It truthfully, had been a close race.
While in second, he had to talk trash about it. Pike had won the last one, which meant Cliff had to certainly win this one. Even though for items, he kept getting banana peels and that was getting him absolutely nowhere. “You do know you’re not THAT far ahead of me right? It’s only the first lap, come on.”
Hayden could shamelessly admit that, despite his best efforts, Cliff was probably the first person besides his sister who had actually managed to provide him with a real challenge. Growing up he had learned early on that losing was not really an option. Not in racing games. Not in anything. If he wanted to keep up, he had to get better.
He kept the cocky grin firmly pinned on his features but deep down this felt so much more serious than it had any right to be. He was genuinely sweating bullets about keeping up his first place. The NPCs didn't matter to him but Cliff Marelau was breathing down his neck.
One way or another, it made him forget why he was here. For the first time in what felt like forever, Hayden wasn't thinking about Montreal. Not about Hockey in general. For a moment he could forget about the utter mess his life had turned into.
"Catch me if you can, Mister Marleau." The terrible fake French accent slips out before Hayden can stop himself, and he immediately snorts. "Not getting anywhere with your banana peels, pal."
✘ ♕ ✘ "Mr. Dipsy," Ilya echoed, appraised the very worn and clearly loved stuffed animal in his hand. "A gentleman, I see." he smirked and set it aside at the end of the couch, placing it down almost reverently. Arthur always seemed to have the most interesting fixations. Ilya couldn't wait until the kid was talking. He wanted to hear what curious thoughts were clearly going through his fascinating mind.
Then Hayden gave the unexpected animal fact and Ilya snorted in amusement. "Wow. So... educational," he teased, taking another sip of his beer. "Russia is very big and Moscow is no where near the ocean," he added with a little shrug. "Is this what happens when you become parent? You just... know things and give facts all the time? You sound like Shane's parents."
Hayden huffs to himself, but it's much more amused than offended. "Yes, that is absolutely what's going to happen when you become a parent." And he means that. "Everyone can make a child. That's the easy part. Raising one is not. And making a child doesn't automatically make you a parent."
He pauses, leaning back slightly, not even realizing he's started rambling again. "You have to remember so many things. Birthdays. The names of a dozen other kids you never asked for. The tragic backstory of every stuffed animal in the house."
A small grin appears. "And you would be surprised by the amount of serious drama children can get themselves into."
At Ilya comparing him to the Hollanders, Hayden simply snorts. "I'll take that as a compliment - again. That's the second one already, you're getting soft Rozanov." he teases but then shrugs it off.
He's heard one thing or another about the other man's family situation too, and for a brief moment he wonders if maybe he shouldn't have started talking about this. Is it uncomfortable for Ilya? The last thing Hayden wants is to make this harder. He wants to make this work. For Shane. For the record. Not because he might actually start liking Rozanov as a person. Absolutely not. That would be ridiculous. Not gonna happen. Probably.
"What's your favorite animal?" he blurts out, the question leaving his mouth suddenly, a desperate attempt to steer the conversation back toward safer territory. Trivia questions. Random facts. Things that don't involve complicated family history. It is, objectively, a terrible transition but Hayden decides to that. If anything he'll worry about that another time.
@captainswinged sent:
❛ you've been my best friend for years, what made you think it would change now? ❜ - captainswinged für Shane hehe :D
From my meme tag || always accepting
"Well..."
A soft breath escapes Shane, one he'd been holding onto for way too long; He exhales it in a long slow motion as the fork he's currently handling pokes holes into the piece of chicken breast still sitting on his plate, mostly untouched, with the rice that came as a side having cooled down significantly by now.
It's just hard for him to eat while... doing this. Talking to Hayden about---
"---We've never really... you know. I never told you about... that." About Shane being gay, is what he means. Another set of holes is poked into his chicken and Shane breathes through, his gaze finally lifting away from his food to glance over at his best friend - only managing to do so for a second and a half, however, his attention returning to where he's still unable to finish his lunch.
"And, uhm... you know, me and Rozanov being... --- yeah, it just... happened out of nowhere after all, at least from your point of perspective. For us it has been nine years..."
An awful long amount of time, really. Shane swallows, reaches for his Ginger Ale, takes a sip.
"Buddy, could you please stop perforating your chicken? That's almost post-mortem animal cruelty." Hayden tries to lighten the mood, but it probably doesn't land the way he intended.
Mostly because he knows Shane. Something is bothering him. Something that has been sitting there for a while, and Hayden really wants to make it better. He always does. He loves this man in a way that's difficult to explain. Somewhere between best friend and family, maybe even beyond that. The label doesn't really matter. The fact that Shane matters does.
Sure, he felt a lot of things when he first found out about Rozanov and Shane. Hurt. Betrayal. And then he felt ashamed, mostly because apparently Shane had felt like he needed to hide this from him when he never should have had to.
Because Shane had carried all of that alone for years. The thought of it still twists something uncomfortable in Hayden's stomach. Knowing his best friend had been scared enough to keep something this important to himself. Knowing how lonely that must have been.
He lets out a quiet sigh and puts his own fork down. "Shane."
"Believe me or not, yes. I was hurt. For a lot of reasons, actually, but-" He pauses briefly, looking down at his plate for a moment before his eyes return to Shane. "There is nothing you could say or do that would make me think any less of you."
A small smile pulls at his lipsand it's genuine. Not the artificial class clown smile. A real one. "Unless you decide to gift either of my kids a drum set and a bass guitar."
@captainswinged said:
[Text: Buddy]: Hey, theoretically spoken...
[Text: Buddy]: If someone you love very much (like me) has some absolutely terrifying school teacher thingy talk scheduled for this afternoon
[Text: Buddy]: Possibly because the theoretical kids were assuming about have been suspended...
[Text: Buddy]: and maybe his wife is sick and unable to go with him to face down a mob of angry teaching staff
[Text: Buddy]: Would his best friend maybe go with him? Please?
[Text: Buddy]: Just in theory of course...
[Text: Buddy]: Those theoretical twins would love to see their second favorite uncle for sure if that helps?
-Captainswinged (xD <3)
Oh Jesus christ.
Shane sighs as he stares at his phone, absently chewing on the drawstrings of his hoodie while reading the texts over. Since when did he become Hayden's backup spouse? Isn't this Hayden's job as a dad? Right?
Then again, Shane is better at arguing than him. Though he thinks of it less like arguing and more like debating when it comes to authority figures. Arguing implies that he would be yelling, which he rarely does, and, well, Hayden is...not the best at debating, either.
[TXT Hayden]: Okay fine.
[TXT Hayden]: What time is it at? Are you sure I'm allowed to be there?
Well, he knows he's on the designated pick up list, but still-
Hayden walks up and down the length of their kitchen watching as the messages appear to have been read and waits. As a hockey player waiting is not the challenge here, but hoping- praying that his ridiculously busy best friend is not in fact ridiculously busy today or otherwise occupied by his oversized menace of a man.
As the replies come in, Hayden silently bumps his fist into the air. With his wife asleep their bedroom upstairs he really doesn't want to disturb her.
[Text: Buddy]: My beloved Hollander, I owe you whatever you want
He would do anything for this man, literally and hopefully Shane knows that too. He types out a reply with a small grin on his face, intentionally obnoxious and overdramatic about it. He is genuinely relieved though. He wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't serious.
[Text: Buddy]: Thank you, man. Seriously.
[Text: Buddy]: Ill pick you up at four, Ill be on time, I promise.
Not because Hayden is usually late, because he knows Shane gets intensely stressed by people being late. He's been late once and still regrets it to this day. So, it's exactly seven minutes till four when he pulls up in front of Shanes driveway. He kills the engine and waits again, thumbs drumming on the steering wheel. Now that the first hurdle has been cleared, the second is gonna be explaining the whole debacle to Shane.
what is your favourite thing about the best hockey player in the world, Ilya Rozanov? 🤔
Hayden blinks. Once. Then immediately huffs, looking offended. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the best hockey player in the world would be Shane Hollander."
The answer comes so quickly it almost sounds rehearsed. Which, honestly, it kind of is. Hayden practically preens because this is his best friend they're talking about. After all he has spent years listening to people argue about rankings and trophies and statistics and his Shane is simply the best. Everyone knows that. Everyone should know that.
"So your question was already nonsense." He nods once, entirely satisfied with that assessment. "But if you're asking about Rozanov specifically..." Hayden trails off, pretending to think about it, a little smirk appearing on his features.
"He's pretty good too, I guess." he adds with a shrug, as if the man hadn't spent the last decade terrorizing goaltenders across North America and made them shake in their skates. Not that he will admit that out loud.
"My favorite thing about him though?" Hayden repeats and his grin widens immediately. "When he shuts the fuck up."
"Second favorite is how much it pisses him off that Shane is still better than him. Absolute cinema." admittedly, him and Roz have come quite a way ever since he learnt about him and Shane, but no one needs to know that. They jab at each other all the time. It's kinda their thing? It's good and Hayden doesn't hate it as much as he pretends to do. Doesn't hate him anymore either, but that's another thing the public doesn't need to know about.
Ilya had a rather tense expression on his face as he walked over to Hayden. During a game against Detroit, some asshole had called Shane a word that he hadn't ever heard before.
He'd seen Shane's reaction to it. It was barely even a flinch, but there was exhaustion in his husband's eyes. He could've only assumed it was something bad.
"Hayden, I need to know what this word means. What is a 'gook'?"
Depending on the answer, it determined how hard Ilya was going to punch the defenseman the next time he saw him.
Several seconds passed in which Hayden's expression sobered almost immediately. The easy-going smile disappeared from his face as if someone had flipped a switch. "Who said that?"
The question came out calm. Too calm. Because Hayden knew that word. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what it meant. He knew what people used it for and he hated everything about it.
For a brief second he found himself hoping there had been some misunderstanding. That maybe he'd misheard Ilya but-
Hayden already knew the answer.
His jaw tightened as he rubbed a hand across his face and let out a slow breath, buying himself a second. The problem wasn't that he didn't know how to explain it. The problem was that he knew exactly how much worse things were going to get once he did.
"When and where?" he demanded, even though technically it didn't matter. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, trying to ground himself because if there was even the smallest chance of delaying the inevitable for another thirty seconds, he was going to take it.
If somebody had called Shane that to his face, Hayden was going to need several very compelling reasons not to commit a felony. And judging by the look on Ilya's face, the answer to that question was currently standing between one unfortunate defenseman and a very expensive dental bill too.
@rivaledmuses didn't ask but gets one anyway ;D <3
Hayden has struggled to take his mind off the mess that is his life at the moment.
After the whole fallout and everything that happened with Shane, he'd been traded to a place he was convinced would be hell. He'd been certain the decision had been made by design. Montreal had tried to fuck him over.
Hayden was about ninety-eight percent sure this locker room was going to shred him to confetti the moment he stepped through the door.
But none of that happened.
Sure, his life was still a mess right now, but if that was the consequence of defending his all-time best friend against some bigoted assholes, then so be it.
What he hadn't expected was the almost comically warm welcome he'd received instead. Word had spread surprisingly fast about why he'd been shipped out of Montreal despite spending practically his entire career committed to the franchise. Apparently standing up for your friends still counted for something.
It was also the reason why he was currently perched on top of a hotel bed next to none other than Cliff fucking Marleau, one half of a pair of Switch controllers in his hands as both men stared at the television with deadly seriousness, fully committed to beating each other's asses.
Things were fucked up right now. But this? This was okay.
And if he had to spend the rest of his hockey career like this—playing video games in hotel rooms, surrounded by teammates who actually seemed happy to have him around—until he became a free agent or eventually retired?
Shane couldn't hate Hayden for this. It was a real and genuine accident, no matter how much Ilya pissed and moaned about it otherwise. Shane just didn't expect the backlash. The support is nice, it's there, he knows it's there because he's fucking seen it, but it sometimes feels like the hate, the spite, the anger drowns out everything else. Over the course of his life, it feels like he's been called everything under the sun. You just have to learn how to move on from it, right? Because if you hold onto it, it'll fucking eat you alive.
Case in point: Shane sobbing in Hayden's arms currently. He appreciates that he's trying to make him feel better, but Shane can't really tell how much it's working. He stays there in his arms when he finally stops crying, just exhausted from it all. It already feels like he's reaching his breaking point, burnout and overstimulation threatening to hit him like a fucking train, but what can he do but move on? Or at least try to?
"I hope you're right because this is fucking insanity," he mutters after a few moments of silence, letting out a shaky breath and lifting a hand to wipe at his eyes. "I don't know what I would do without you. I mean, I have Ilya, obviously, but...he's just as stressed about it as I am. I don't want to unload all of it on him, I guess. Sometimes you still know how to handle me better." Shane snorts, giving Hayden a squeeze before letting go. "I just...wanna go home."
Hayden's expression softened immediately at that, one hand still rubbing slow circles against Shane's back even after he'd stopped crying.
"Yeah, well..." he muttered quietly. "Someone had to figure out how your brain works eventually." The joke was gentle. Careful around the edges. Hayden knew better than to push too hard right now. Shane already looked exhausted enough to collapse straight through the floor.
"And for the record?" he added after a second, glancing down at him properly. "This is fucking insane, you are fucking valid for being upset, but I promise you, it's going to get better."
His jaw tightened slightly afterward and he meant it. He would personally fight everyone who dared to give Shane a hard time about this. Because honestly? Hayden was angry too. Furious, actually. Not at Shane. Never at Shane. At the people who somehow looked at one of the kindest guys Hayden had ever known and still decided to treat him like shit over who he loved. It made him want to start swinging sometimes. Instead Hayden just sighed quietly and bumped his shoulder lightly against Shane's.
"C'mon. Let's get you home then." he said, offering one of his arms for Shane to lean against him if he wanted to. "And before you say you're fine enough to drive, absolutely the fuck not."
Hayden pointed at him immediately afterward, smile widening again. "You cried so hard you probably almost threw up like ten minutes ago. You're banned from operating heavy machinery for the evening."
And before Shane could protest he added: "How about we stop at that zero bullshit smoothie store that you like? You know the one where they actually just put fruit and vegetables in the blender? Not even sugar? Just the gross stuff?"
In the beginning, Wyatt hadn't really known what to make of Hayden. He'd wanted to impress him, to make sure that he knew he would never hurt Lisa. However, at the end of the day, he's just Some Guy. His word didn't mean much in the beginning.
He likes to think he's proven himself now, though. Wyatt has done his best to make Lisa happy. Granted, he wishes he could do more sometimes - Like his current goal is to get a better house for them - But he's always made sure that she's his top priority.
"It's good." Wyatt slides into a seat at the kitchen table, twisting his beer bottle around in his hand. "It's taking some getting used to. I miss Pricey. But everyone's been good to me."
"The coach is different to anyone else I've had before. He's -" Wyatt clicks his tongue, trying to think of the right word. "Laid back, I guess? He tries to encourage the love of hockey rather than winning. Which is weird because in Toronto, it felt so much more competitive."
He takes a drink before nodding at Hayden. "What about you? How's everything over in Montreal? You guys had a good game last week, Lees and I watched it."
Hayden's expression softened a little at that, shoulders visibly relaxing as he leaned back in his chair. It still caught him off guard sometimes - hearing someone talk about Lisa like this. Carefully. Like she mattered more than appearances or obligations. She'd had her fair share of unbearable exes over the years and Hayden had punched more than one of them, swearing to protect her from the next bad decision. Thank god Wyatt was one of the good ones. He really had proven himself after all.
"Yeah?" Hayden hummed with a small grin. "Honestly, that sounds a lot like Ottawa." He reached for his drink before continuing.
"Wait- You did?!" For a tiny moment he looked genuinely flattered. Sure, he knew Lisa tried to watch as many of his games as possible, but hearing it said out loud still made him feel like he'd suddenly grown a couple inches taller. Then his thoughts drifted back toward the locker room and he shifted slightly in his seat.
"Montreal's kinda intense sometimes." which was putting it lightly. "Everything feels bigger there. Louder. You win three games straight and people treat you like gods. Lose two and suddenly the entire city's planning your funeral."
He tried not to think too hard about how tense things had felt around the team lately. Ever since Shane had come out to them as gay, some of the guys had been weird in ways Hayden still wasn't entirely sure how to deal with. Maybe people just needed time. Hopefully those thoughts hadn't shown too clearly on his face because Hayden quickly shook his head a little, trying to brush it off. "I'm glad to hear Ottawa's treating you well though. Really. I've heard miserable things about Toronto—"
He paused briefly, considering Wyatt for a second before adding with complete sincerity: "Fuck, Kent is such an obnoxious asshole."
Hayden's grin widened immediately afterward. "Now that you're not playing there anymore I can finally say that out loud."
"That's three times for the swear jar" @captainswinged - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
