Chapter 2: Hayden, part 1
Notes:
Thank you for the birthday well wishes!Fun fact: This fic was originally going to be a oneshot pov outsider from Cliff Marleau's perspective.
Chapter Text
Hayden Pike frowned at the guy holding an iPad with his name on it at the airport. He knew he was traveling on little sleep (which he was actually a pro at, thank you very much), so he could be hallucinating, but he was pretty sure he was not and that the massive guy dressed in a suit and cabby hat was not actually a driver.
Judging by the dark hair peeking out from around the hat and trademark shit eating grin, Hayden was rather convinced it was actually Cliff fucking Marleau.
"You have got to be kidding me," he said, approaching warily, looking around for a camera. It'd be just his luck that they were recording it for social media or some shit.
"You're making that up."
Marleau turned on his heel, walking toward the exit with Hayden's bag. He called over his shoulder, "Rule two is that all rules are subject to change. Deal with it."
Hayden took a second to lament his life, curse his agent (even if he'd promised Hayden he'd make at least another one point five per year on the contract extension he was going to sign first thing tomorrow), then scuttled after him, shouting, "If you can just change the rules, shouldn't that be rule number one?"
"Your reputation precedes you," Marleau said as Hayden made it to his side, having had dodged a family pushing a cart loaded with bags, no less than three people not paying attention to their pets, and a man who stopped dead in front of him which Hayden had needed to squeeze between a sign and a barrier to prevent bowling over with his momentum because hockey player. "I didn't know Dad could be a personality."
"I have four kids!"
He made a show of looking Hayden up and down
" I can tell,"
"Fuck you."
"You should be so lucky," Marleau chirped, ushering him toward a nice looking Mercedes with its hazards on and opening the trunk. "Get in."
Marleau went over to the crossing guard and handed over what must have been a tip for not towing his car. They did what looked like a secret handshake Hayden would do with Jade and Ruby, which morphed into a one armed hug. It was incredibly wholesome. Hayden shook his head, muttered, "Cliff fucking Marleau picked me up from the fucking airport. How the fuck is this my life now," and got into the car.
—
Since Montreal, everything had been fine, so long as Hayden ignored the massive Shane Hollander shaped hole in his life. Prior to that, he'd been so focused on Jackie's pregnancy, because for once they'd managed to plan a baby that would come in the off-season, but then Amber had come early, and—
And when he and Jackie had finally made it out of the bubble that all parents fell into when a new addition came along, grateful that Amber was healthy despite her surprise arrival, it was June and Shane was gone. A ghost whose silence haunted every corner of Hayden's life. Shane's messages were pinned under Jackie's. They were each other's on-the-road emergency contacts. They had practically lived in each other's pockets for seven whole years.
The Metros wouldn't give him any details. They said, Shane is gone, the past is the past and we'll come out stronger than ever. Anyways, Hayden, we know you're a mess over this but cheer up! We're going to give you the C.
He'd told them he needed to think about it, walked directly to his car and called his agent, threatening to terminate his contract (a stupid decision, one Jackie and Seth, his agent, had rapidly talked him out of). Apparently, Montreal had decided Hayden failed their vibe check, so both sides settled for a trade that sent Hayden to a small market team.
Winnipeg was at least Canadian. It had been the best he could do at finding the bright side. He could've wound up in Buffalo. No scenery change would have stopped him from feeling like his best friend had died, because for all intents and purposes, he had. Shane's phone had been turned off, then disconnected, Hayden was pretty sure shane probably had to chuck it into Lake Ontario or something because he was not the kind of guy who let notifications pile up.
Still, Hayden had called Shane two hundred times in those early days. He'd tried from Jackie's phone, thinking surely he wouldn't block her, he'd be worried something happened to the kids. He'd tried his mother in law's, too, which really told you just how desperate the situation was.
And now, nearly four years on, Hayden Pike was a Boston Raider, and Shane had come back from the dead—
Er, Sweden. Same difference.
Arthur had been on a Lion King kick lately, so Hayden had started to think of Shane like he was Simba. The Metros could be Scar, and Hayden was like, what, Zazu or something?
Not important. The fact of the matter was that Shane was back, and he'd brought the truth with him.
"Brother, you're looking at the tv like Sportscenter's got the answers to the meaning of life or some shit."
Marleau, who had claimed the part Hayden's short-term roommate in this very fucked up, very much not Disney movie that was Hayden's life, came in from the kitchen with a beer. He went to sit down in his usual spot on the far end of the couch and froze, ass suspended above the cushion, eyes catching on the footage of Shane leaving a meeting with Montreal leadership and a fuckton of lawyers. "Shit, dude. Sorry."
"Oh, uh," Hayden winced. "It's okay. Just trying to keep up with the headlines."
Marleau, no, Cliff—they were teammates and would be for the next five years seeing as Hayden had signed the extension last week, best to get used to being friendly—said carefully, "You still haven't heard from him?"
"Nah. He read the Instagram message I sent him when the news dropped, but..." he shrugged helplessly.
What could he say? It had been years, and he had been a part of the team that had fucked Shane over, even if he wasn't personally responsible. Shane's Instagram account was the only social media he had, the only place he could send a message. Hayden had sent him a handful of years—birthdays and holidays, times when he thought the lack of Shane in his life was worse than losing a limb. None of them had been read until recently. He really hoped Shane had read those messages and it wasn't Yuna or some lawyer or something.
Marleau seemed to get it. He handed over his beer, got up even though he'd just sat down, and went to the fridge to grab another one.
Living with Cliff Marleau was like the fucking twilight zone. Cliff had joked about living a bachelor lifestyle and reminding Hayden of how the other half lived for a bit since he and Jackie had decided not to uproot the kids this close to the end of the school year, and yet it was eight-thirty on a Friday night and here they were at home. He did go out sometimes, but mostly it was after games or to pick up some of the younger kids on the team when they went too hard.
Begrudgingly, Hayden had to admit Marleau was a damn good captain. He was always there when a guy needed him, and his strength seemed to come in handy, when wrangling the idiot kids on the squad. All three rookies on the Raiders roster were six-four or taller and built like brick shithouses and Cliff had yanked them off barstools and out clubs like they were featherweights. But more than that, Cliff was always there to lend an ear or a shoulder, and if someone fucked with one of his guys, he'd spend the night in the box. He wasn't captain because he was the best player on the ice. He was captain because he was the team's heart and soul.
Hayden respected him.
He'd admitted to Jackie after the Raiders' first win since his trade that it felt like healing or something. Something that had been broken since he'd left Montreal switching back on, like he'd forgotten what hockey was really like. He didn't really know his place yet and he had less than fifteen games left before playoffs to figure it out, but it felt good. Better than it had in a long time.
"It's so weird, all of this." Cliff propped his legs up on the coffee table and gestured with his beer to the tv. They were still going on about Shane, speculating about how successful his talks with the league were, if things would wrap prior to the playoffs. The same shit they always said, really. "If the league knew what was good for it they'd take their lumps, apologize, and get him back for next season."
Hayden shrugged.
"You don't have to tell me," He hedged, taking a pull from the bottle before cradling it to his chest, "But like, did Montreal—"
"Couldn't tell you. I'm sure it was all just business to them," he scoffed. "That's all it ever was." He slugged back a mouthful of Cliff's mediocre beer and scoffed. "They offered me the C in the same conversation as they told me he was gone. Why, I couldn't fucking tell you."
"Seems like they were probably trying to figure out whose side you were on."
"It wasn't a secret that he was my best friend," Hayden pointed out.
"Yeah, but maybe they thought they could buy it? Had a couple GMs like that. They didn't usually last. You meet Jim Crosby? Our CEO?"
"Yeah."
"He's all about culture. We don't do that shit here. We stand by our guys. If they go through shit, we go through it together."
"You think your guys would be okay with a gay man on the roster?"
"Who's to say we haven't had one, you know?"
"Might have to threaten to scramble a couple skulls if someone has a problem but," Cliff shrugged. "Only an idiot wouldn't ice Hollander because he's gay."
Hayden held out the neck of his beer. Cliff clinked their bottles together.
"B'sides," he continued, when they both were back to staring at the television, "Why the fuck do you think you're here, Pike? Hollander wouldn't be showing up to play ball with Crowell if he wasn't going to win. Our best chance at getting him involves dangling you in front of him like a carrot."
"Me? He hasn't spoken to me in four years."
Cliff shrugged. "I get the feeling Hollander didn't go no-contact for his own good. He's a little too loyal for that."
"And how would you know?"
Another shrug. They both drank their beer. "I don't. Rozanov's the one who said that way back when it happened. We thought it would be over in a couple months, he'd just, I don't know, reboot and go somewhere else, not, y'know."
Desperately searching for an out—he could dread/despair/hope through a reenactment of this conversation to Jackie later—Hayden took what he was given.
"Really? I always wondered why he wanted out."
He chuckled. "You trying to collect the hockey infinity stones or some shit?"
"Of course you're a Marvel guy."
"Don't act like you aren't either. I've seen your Blu-ray collection."
They exchanged a smirk. Despite playing against each other for years, with more than a couple fights and fractures between them, the chirping was light-hearted and fun in a way Hayden was pretty sure neither of them expected. Cliff was kind of a big ol' teddy bear. Not the smartest guy in the room, but would give a guy the shirt off his back. Hayden could relate.
Fuck, it was so weird to be a Boston Raider.
"Wouldn't that be something? Could you imagine getting Hollander and Rozanov on the same team? They'd be unstoppable. Roz could play wing or some shit and they'd just," he made an exploding sound, fist mimicking a blast.
"You got a plan to get him back, too?"
"Nah." Cliff shook his head. "Still try every time I see him. I think he's wasted in Ottawa."
Hayden swung an arm toward Cliff. "That's what I'm saying. Why the fuck would he go there?"
The side eye Cliff gave him would've been more frightening if Hayden hadn't spent enough time with the guy to learn it was actually his thinking face. Hayden waited.
"I don't know that he knows why he went, man," Cliff finally said.