"HAH! GOTCHA!" Hayden hollered, throwing his arms in the air as Luigi crossed the finish line after the last lap. He had beaten Ilya again and even though Hayden had to admit that he was impressed at how the russian menace never grew tired of challenging him, he never went easy on him either. He also had to admit that he noticed how Rozanov had steadily climbed the ranks from last place to sixth, to fourth, to second. He was getting better at this and it genuinely frightened him. Right now though, nothing could outshine Haydens shit eating grin. Rozanov was much less of a sore loser than he extected either. He fought like a beast, as if he was defending his honor - or maybe Shanes? Hayden was pretty sure that Rozanov didn't need to impress Shane anymore. As much as it pained him to admit, Hayden might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he has eyes and he can see how Shane looks at this man like he hung the moon in the sky. Well, well, well. If anyone told him a couple months ago, that he would be lounging on Shane Hollanders sofa, playing Mario Cart against Ilya fucking Rozanov, while said Hollander was rummaging through the kitchen like some mom preparing snacks, his past self wouldn't believe it. But here they are. "Heh, what do you say, Rasputin~ Care for another ass beating?" - "Be nice, Hayd-" - Shane called from the kitchen and Hayden just rolled his eyes. "I'm always nice, Hollander, even when I'm kicking your fiances ass!" - "Swear jar, Hayd." Shane again and Hayden groaned, eyes never leaving Rozanov.
Ilya’s eyes narrowed, laser‑focused on the screen as he tried to beat Hayden. His fingers were rigid on the joysticks, knuckles tight, his character skidding around the final corner with everything he had.
And of course--of fucking course--Hayden crossed the finish line a split second before him.
“Second Place” flashed across the screen, and Ilya glared at it like he could will it to change.
He hated losing. Hated it even more when the person beating him was Hayden Pike. Still… he’d never admit it out loud, but playing against the Montreal forward was more fun than he expected. The asshole was good.
At the taunting insult, Ilya's head snapped towards him before he let out a loud, offended huff. "'Rasputin'?" he echoed incredulously.
He thought the historical figure for a moment before a smirk curled over his lips. "Does this mean you're thinking of my cock?" he couldn't help but taunt. "You compare me to the one man who has legend about his dick size."
He could only imagine how Shane would react when he overheard this.
@captainswinged
