Shane signs autographs as S. Hollander. He signs legal documents as Shane R. Hollander. The Centaurs get to watch him sign contracts on his first official day with the team and realize that nobody knew he had a middle name. Guessing what it is becomes the team’s favorite pastime.
Chaos, of course, ensues.
“Really Good At Hockey,” Wyatt theorizes jokingly. “Because Mama and Papa Hollander knew the power they created.”
“I’m going with Ridiculously Talented,” Luca pipes up. “Because he’s good at pretty much everything.”
“Down, fanboy,” Bood teases, grinning when the rookie squawks indignantly. “I’d put money on Robin. Shane seems like a Robin.”
Shane crosses his arms and sighs—amused, but just a little frustrated.
“Guys,” he grouses over the arguing. “I can just tell you. It’s R—“
Shane goes wide-eyed and holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay then. Guessing’s more fun, got it. But you only have until Ilya comes back.”
Ilya chooses that moment to return to the locker room, dressed for a pre-planned date night and holding a bouquet of flowers almost as big as he is.
“Shane, our reservation is in 45 minutes,” he sing-songs behind a sea of red and white roses. “And we will need at least 10 minutes to strap your flowers into the back seat. If a single one is ruined before we take pictures tonight, I will light things on fire. Sexily, but still.”
The team’s arguing over Shane’s middle name briefly turns into oooh’s and awww’s. Shane absolutely does not go all gooey-eyed at the flowers. Ilya absolutely does not blush in response.
“Nope,” Troy calls out over the rest of the guys. “Nobody leaves until we figure this shit out.”
Wyatt nods along. “Matters of great importance, Cap. You understand.”
Ilya’s expression goes from lovesick to thunderous in milliseconds.
“I planned this date for weeks,” he hisses. “Weeks, you fucking—“
“Cap,” Luca interjects, tone serious. “We need to figure out Shane’s middle name.”
Ilya takes a beat and then, much to Shane’s chagrin, takes a seat on the bench next to him.
“You put me in a difficult position, boys, but I can give you 5 minutes. Work quickly.”
Shane rolls his eyes and silently accepts the flowers as his husband passes them (more like heaves them; Jesus, this is a shitload of flowers) his way.
“Can I at least give a hint? Otherwise, we’ll be here forever.”
Dykstra throws out Robert. LaPointe thinks it’s Randall. Harris, who promised he wouldn’t get involved, picks Rick.
Ilya chuckles as Shane rolls his eyes again. In the middle of his eye-roll, though, he notices that Ilya’s got 4 fingers up. Then 3. Then 2. And just as he counts down to 1, Ilya winks, grabs Shane’s hand, and shouts over the debate.
“It’s Ren! It’s Japanese for ‘love’!”
The couple cackle uncontrollably as they make a run for it, pointedly ignoring the socks, balled up papers, and boo’s thrown their way.
“Oh my god,” Bood groans. “His name literally means ‘love’ and he’s playing on the same team as his husband. He spends his workdays with Cap making heart eyes at him. This is the greed they talk about in the Bible!”