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The new kid’s an omega, which has taken some adjusting to.
For starters, he’s huge, tall, muscle-bound. Not quite as huge as Marleau, sure, but you would never in a million years guess he wasn’t an alpha. They’re all on scent blockers, so it’s not like that gives it away either. He acts the alpha too, is the most aggressive rookie Marleau’s seen in his life. Normally they’re cocky little shits, but behind it you can see their knees knocking, two chirps and a high stick from pissing themselves. Not this one.
Then there’s the press, who have gone wild about it.
There have been omega players in hockey before. Not good ones. Not generational talents. Not Russian ones. Not in the MLH. They are obsessed with him, obsessed with his alleged rivalry with the new golden boy on the Metros and obsessed with whether he’s going to outplay his biology.
Finally, management, who have never exactly cared to think out of the conservative box, who are so paranoid about the rookie’s billet they briefly try to persuade the captain of the Boston women’s team to house him and get roundly told to fuck off by the PWHL.
‘Marly, you stupid fuck, who cares?’ Roz demands. ‘I go, I win, they can say what they like. I don’t give a fuck.’
*
Marleau gets over it pretty quick. Rozy is a demon on and off the ice, aggressive and exuberant mostly, sometimes coming over all Russian and brooding, but either way, the least omega-like omega Marleau’s ever met. Some of the older guys try to coddle, puffing out their chests and arguing with the team’s more sadistic minds about hazing. They drop that within a week, because Rozanov makes it impossible.
He lives up to the hype on the ice, which shuts management up at least.
Three months in, Marleau just thinks of him as one of the guys. Likes beer, likes chasing women, is about as sensitive as boiled leather, and puts more hours in on training than any of the other rookies. He’s a decent wingman, too, up until he decides he’s more interested in his own shot than Marly’s. Rozanov makes a beeline for the best-looking girl in the bar every time, no matter whether she’s alpha or omega. Mostly he gets her too. Marleau’s used to having hot women hanging off him – the minor fame of hockey players really does it for women, he’s found – but he’s never seen anybody with such a record of success as Roz.
Maybe it’s because he seems less threatening, because he’s an…?
Don’t go down that route, Cliff, he tells himself. Roz would put him through the nearest wall.
Case in point. There is no fight Rozy doesn’t want to pick. There is also no fight Rozy doesn’t think he can win, and while his success record is less consistent than with women, mostly he’s right. He specialises in baiting their opponents into throwing the first punch, then he’s all in, penalised – but not for starting it. Hollander’s the only player he’s never successfully baited into punching him the face, and everybody knows Hollzy’s never dropped gloves in his life.
The team gets over the whole thing pretty quickly too because Rozanov makes them. He’s a great player, great off the ice too, sharp and fun in the locker room. They like him. It’s hard not to; the kid’s on the world’s most aggressive charm offensive the moment his heels hit Boston. The alphas on the team – including Marleau, though in his defence it didn’t take him as long – quit trying to dom Roz or look after him, and just treat him like the rest.
When they make him captain, no one’s surprised.
*
Marleau is closest to Roz out of all the team. They gel pretty good on the ice, and off it Roz is an ideal hunting partner on the club scene – until he gets distracted by a pursuit of his own. They like the same stupid games and though Roz’s taste in movies and music is weird, for him Marleau will watch something with subtitles and not bitch too much about all the shitty Russian rap. At first Roz’s English is pretty hit-and-miss, and Marleau helps him with that too. Immersion style or whatever. He has all the important words – ‘deke’, ‘fuck’, ‘breakaway’, ‘moron’, ‘crosscheck’, ‘motherfucker’ and so on – down cold at least.
That doesn’t mean Marleau knows much about Roz beyond that. Close in hockey is not close like in life. And Roz for all that he runs his mouth is very fucking private. Plus, his family’s back in Russia, so it’s not like they’re going to see them turn up to games. Roz is always going to be a little bit of a mystery, even if Marleau hardly ever remembers he’s an omega these days.
There’s that line. The rest of the team know how Rozy is, aren’t going to start shit over it, but if Marleau’s visibly close to him, then they’re going to get so much shit on the ice from other teams. Roz dismisses it the one time it comes up (St-Simon, you stupid fuck, are you ever going to learn not to kick the elephant in the room in the balls? We all know it’s there, and now it’s groaning in pain and will probably stampede us all to death). I don’t care what people think.
Now, Marly knows that isn’t true. Not nearly as true as Roz pretends. Russian politics are so far out of his wheelhouse he can’t see them with a pair of binoculars, but he does know they don’t like the gays there, and male omegas are probably not much more popular. Roz has a dad (obviously) and Marly thinks from a few things he’s said that his mom’s dead, but he’s not gonna poke the bear. That’s gotta factor in though.
It would be pretty fucking girly to go asking questions – it’s none of his business and honestly he’s not sure he wants to know – but it’s hard to miss all those phone calls, the way Roz’s face goes still and his voice gets harsh when he answers.
‘My brother,’ he says once, throwing his phone onto the couch. ‘Asshole.’
Marleau doesn’t have a brother. He has two sisters, who he gets on with okay, but they’re younger and bored by hockey, so there’s not a lot there, you know?
‘Huh,’ he settles for saying. Is he older? What did he want? Why is he an asshole?
Doesn’t ask.
*
Then there are other phone calls Roz takes that don’t turn him into a pissed-off ball of fury. ‘From a girl I like very much,’ he says once, rolling his eyes. ‘If you tell the boys, I kill you.’
Marleau isn’t stupid, so he doesn’t, and this eventually garners an invitation to meet some of Ilya’s friends outside of hockey, which is an opportunity some of the other guys are gagging for if only because Roz knows the hottest women, and which Marleau does his best not to seem phased by.
‘The girl I like very much’ turns out to be called Svetlana, and if she isn’t a model she should be.
‘Marly, stop drooling,’ Roz says, elbowing him hard in the ribs.
She’s an omega, which is another surprise. Marleau had expected an alpha girl. That’s what Rozanov needs, right?
But they seem pretty pally and not in that stereotypical omega way. There’s no purring, no rubbing up against each other (not that Roz goes in for that in general). Svetlana invades Roz’s space without a second thought, except more like in the way of somebody who knows she can do what she wants with him. Marleau is 100% sure they’ve fucked, just because of the way Roz talks about her, but apparently a fuck is all it is. For a moment a vision of Roz in bed with Svetlana, curled up the way omegas do, petting and purring and nuzzling and kissing, bodies twisting and her slim arms around his neck hovers before Marleau’s eye before he dispels it a shudder. Some things are just wrong to find hot.
They go clubbing, though Svetlana turns up her nose at Boston’s nightlife, and get sufficiently drunk on ‘the world’s shittiest vodka, fucking Christ, you Americans’ that Roz starts talking shit in Russian instead. Svetlana fires back with vigour, from the sounds of it, and then says something that is apparently so mean and so funny that Marleau has to hold him upright until he stops laughing. Now, that’s Marleau’s kind of woman.
Sadly, she is not interested in giving Marleau the time of day.
‘You just aren’t pretty enough for her,’ Roz says the next morning, shaking his head sadly. ‘She likes pretty men, clever men, but you have to have one, and after that third concussion…’
Marleau gets him in a headlock, and it’s a testament to their friendship that Rozanov lets him, because the fucker is usually too quick for him. He does bite the shit out of Marleau’s left hand, but Marleau guesses he was kind of asking for it.
*
If Roz has heats he keeps it quiet. Like really quiet. Marleau’s never had the nerve to ask. It’s not like Roz is going to settle down and have babies. Or play househusband for his woman, given that just because he’s an omega, doesn’t mean he’s a, y’know, he’s not rolling over for men. If he were, he wouldn’t be playing to begin with, would he? It’s not done. Never been a gay player, whatever the designation, has there?
It doesn’t matter how often Roz calls Scott Hunter a dinosaur, he’s gonna be a thousand times worse, they’ll to catch him in a net and shut him up in a cage before he stops playing. All that stereotypical shit, all that stuff everybody knows omegas want, need, it doesn’t seem to touch Roz at all.
*
Pity the girl who takes Roz on anyway. Even alpha girls with their lock-box pussies, they should think twice before deciding that they want to take that one for a ride. Marleau’s not so insecure he can’t admit that Roz is objectively very good looking, but as he’s not gay or a girl, he’ll pass, thanks.
A hook-up is one thing, but if any of those alpha girls get serious about Roz, they’re gonna have a hell of a time pinning him down long enough to submit. He’s a tricky son of a bitch.
Some of the guys like to speculate on what it would take, to crack Roz. Tying him up then down, plus a sedative, plus leaving the country afterwards to avoid reprisals, are the usual suggestions.
Yeah, they like him, yeah, they mostly respect, yeah, usually none of them think about their captain’s designation, but at the same time there’s always that edge, isn’t. They’re hockey players, they’re not in with the fucking woke festival. The little niggle at the back of the head, that says it’s just somehow not quite right for an omega to do what Rozy does, sometimes it speaks up.
Mason (asshole) says ‘Nah, just wait until he’s in heat. You just need to get him on his back, he’ll be gagging for it then. The ones like Roz, they break the easiest. Under it all he’s desperate to be put in his place. Just needs a strong hand, that’s all, he’s nothing special. Still an omega.’
The guys shout him down, less because they disagree and more because if Roz looked too long at him, Mason’d probably piss himself.
‘It’s biology,’ Mason defends himself. ‘Science and shit.’
‘Like fuck,’ says Carmichael. ‘Rozanov does not follow the laws of nature, man. That thing is civilisation’s fuck-you to biology.’
Which probably means Carm’s been talking to his sister’s college friends again, what with the words over one syllable.
Roz is fucking scary, however big they like to talk, which is why these conversations only take place when he is far, far away doing press, arguing with Coach or texting his Montreal girl (closest thing to a consistent hook-up Roz has).
They respect Roz, they do, but just occasionally the conversation swings this way. When they need to blow off steam, or Roz has been more than ordinarily an asshole to them, or something’s come up to remind them that actually, Captain is nooooot an alpha. The idea that any of them could put him in his place soothes their egos, however delusional it might be.
Marleau tends to walk off. He’s not going to tell them to shut the fuck up because there’s no point, it’s a natural turn to the conversation, the usual kind of half-chirping half-serious gossip about someone who is objectively not standard-issue league material, and also at the end of the day an omega needs what biology says an omega does, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Beside, good fucking luck getting Roz on his back. You might get him to roll over for you, but not before he’d torn your throat out with his teeth.
Roz must know they talk about him like that behind his back. He’s never said or done anything about it, though, so Marleau leaves well enough alone.
*
Marleau’s a little afraid of alpha pussy himself. Most of the guys are.
‘Careful, she’ll snap your dick clean off,’ St-Simon tells the latest rookie when they spot him eyeing Kohn’s (alpha) sister.
Rozy snorts. ‘You are such a fucking coward, Si.’ He turns to the rook. ‘She will not snap your dick off, but Kohn will if he catches you sticking it in his sister.’
‘Find someone your own size, kid,’ Marleau chips in. Kohn’s sister is probably about Roz’s size, metaphorically or whatever, but even Roz is not going to do a brother dirty like that.
Rozy’s favourite target on-ice are the alphas. It’s probably, what do you call it, psychological or something, what was it Marly heard his own woman (who is, he’s aware, much smarter than him) say watching Roz at it, Freudian, right? Not that Marleau’s stupid enough to say that to him. Again, there is absolutely literally no fight Rozy will not pick, the bigger the better, and eventually Carmichael (enforcer) asks him plaintively if he can’t slow it down just a little? Before Carmy gets his jaw broken again?
No, of course not.
Alphas, that is, unless they’re playing the Metros. Then, all Roz wants to do is chase Hollander round the ice. He might be a little obsessed. It’s weird. Seems pretty unrequited, too. Hollander doesn’t seem any different with Roz than with the rest of the Raiders. Maybe more eager to beat him.
Marleau gets it, sort of. They’ve been playing up that rivalry since those two were juniors, and if you give it some thought (or have your girlfriend do it for you), it figures that Hollander, beta, is maybe a little bit the same as Mr Trailblazing Wunderkind Omega Rozanov. There are betas in the MLH, obviously, but not with that amount of press.
Roz plays best against the Metros, probably because he has to play harder, what with Hollander. Those two, Jesus fucking Christ. Marleau’s exhausted just thinking about keeping up with them.
It’s like watching a cat play with a mouse. Not that Marleau has ever seen a cat do that. They didn’t have pets growing up because Mom’s allergic. But Rozy really gets a kick out of Hollander in particular for whatever reason. The word Marleau’s girlfriend used is sublimation and when she finished explaining, all Marleau could say is Sublimating for what?
She gave him the look you give to a cat just before you have it put down. Presumably. Not that Marleau would know.
*
Roz doesn’t nest. Marly’s seen his bedroom, one drunken night which began watching the playoffs at Roz’s with the rest of the guys and descended into drowning-their-sorrows-and-debauchery pretty quickly. Downstairs bathroom occupied, Marleau staggered upstairs to invade Roz’s privacy in search of his ensuite and made this discovery. Huge bed, strangely soulless décor, no personal photographs, a fuck ton of hair stuff in the bathroom (but still not as much as Carmichael), everything put away with regimented neatness Marleau wouldn’t necessarily associate with Rozy. No softness. Vodka logic caused him to check the wardrobe and then the rest of the upstairs, but nope. No nest.
It makes sense, in that Rozanov has never exhibited one single omega-like behaviour in all the time Marleau’s known him, but also really, really does not. Who ever heard of an omega that doesn’t nest? What would even cause an omega not to?
Marleau’s not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. Not even in his mind. The whole things screams DANGER DANGER ABORT. Scratch putting him through the wall, Rozy would cut off his balls and make him wash them down with that evil, evil bad-ideas inducing vodka.
Anyhow, trying to work out Roz’s deal would be fucking weird. Nosy. Intrusive. Plenty of the other guys are a little fucky in the head when you look for it, and Marleau’s never been moved to try and figure out the source of their issues.
*
Blonde alpha in Dallas, tall, thin, sharp, blew Rozy in the bathroom. Brunette omega in Pittsburgh, small, curvy, giggly, let Rozy take her back to his hotel room. Light brown haired omega in Toronto, medium height, pretty eyes, Roz fingered her in a corner and then she took Rozy back to hers. Redheaded alpha girl at home, real stereotype, direct, aggressive, Marleau crashed at Roz’s place that night and the fucking sounded more like fighting. Pink haired girl in New York, but Rozy backed out of that one before Marleau could work out her designation.
Never the same girl twice. Never the same type of girl in a row. It’s indiscriminate. Oh, apart from the betas, but that’s not much of a challenge. Why would Roz bother with a beta? It does nothing for him. No scent, no clamp for a cunt (pardon his French). Male omega with female omega tells everyone not to fuck with Roz, male omega with female alpha, either natural or (given Roz’s usual personality) fucking impressive to watch him take charge.
Impressive, or was initially, but recently it’s felt slightly concerning. Just, the sheer onslaught. Woman after woman. None of them stay to breakfast. It’s better than that patch where Roz was so clearly miserable and refusing to admit to it, but not by much.
What does Roz even like, anyway? What does he need? He must need something. Not because he’s an omega, even, but because he’s human (direct quote from Marleau’s girl).
Marleau’s semi-domesticated now himself and it’s pretty sweet. The devastating psychological takedowns over the breakfast table aside.
If Roz seemed happy Marly wouldn’t care, but he’s not, is he?
Might be about Montreal girl, who appears to have departed from Rozy’s life, given that he’s no longer glued to his phone. Or maybe he’s finding it’s not as fun as it used to be, out all night, surrounded by pussy desperate to fuck you, but so fucking hollow inside (more wisdom from Marleau’s woman). Marleau isn’t up for it these days himself. Yeah, Roz is that much younger, but he’s not a stupid nineteen year old anymore. He’s had offers. Hell, he could have any girl he likes, alpha, omega, whatever.
Marleau wishes he would. He worries, okay? He would rather cut off his own dick than admit it, but you can’t be around a guy like Roz for as long as Marleau has without caring about him (yeah, yeah, real feminine shit). They won the fucking Cup together. Roz needs somebody at home to – don’t say it, don’t say it – look after him. Not in that way. Marleau knows better. It just must be lonely, right? Marleau would be lonely if he were still banging a different chick each night, if he hadn’t settled down, bit and been bitten.
Maybe that’s the issue. Roz is weird about his neck. Always wears that cross, yeah, but doesn’t like anyone to touch him there, not even to sling a friendly arm around it, not if it’s too tight. And whatever with Mason’s bunk biology-psychology, Roz is not going down without a fight and given his record with fights, that probably means he’s not going down at all. Alpha women are strong, but Roz is still a man, still hopped up on testosterone.
An omega girl, then. Roz needs to do the running, that’s the solution. Except Roz is never interested in them for longer than it takes to get them into bed.
Svetlana? Marleau asks about her, and Roz, amused, says ‘I think your girlfriend will not like to hear you asking that, Marly.’ Doesn’t sound jealous. Mentions, casually, that she’s mostly in Moscow these day.
A delicate inquiry into the state of affairs between Roz and Montreal girl somehow results in Marleau and Marleau alone skating suicides the whole of the morning. Marleau’s not sure how Roz managed that one, but he did, and the rest of the team thought it was fucking hilarious.
Marleau does what he should have done before, and appeals to his girlfriend. Isabel gives him that sorry-to-say-we’re-putting-you-down look again, and makes Marleau drag Rozy home for the world’s worst dinner party.
Marleau’s never been to a dinner party in his life. Not something his folks went in for. And the domestication process has been slow, and Isabel doesn’t have many friends in Boston, so it’s not like they’ve been entertaining before this.
Roz probably has, but you would not know it with his attitude that night. The other guests are two of the older guys (married, kids) whose wives were game to help Isabel out in her (Marleau’s) matchmaking machinations, and three single women from wildly different backgrounds Isabel founds who the fuck knows where. They run the gamut in terms of education and career and intelligence but all are pretty, all are eager to get to know Mr Bigshot Hockey Star, who flirts first with one, then another, and leaves early without taking any of their numbers.
Marleau gives up.
Roz stays resolutely on the hunt instead.
*
And then suddenly, for no reason any of them can ever figure out, the pussy parade comes to a screeching halt. Roz still drinks and smokes and chats shit whenever anybody’s stupid enough to leave him an opening and sometimes even when they’re not, but he’s not taking anybody home. He’s not fingerbanging them in the bathroom either, or getting sucked off in an alley, Marleau’s been keeping tabs.
Not like that. Just to check whether Roz is indeed not getting any. If Captain’s down, whole team’s down, he excuses himself. The best player they have, better make sure he stays in the right headspace.
Rozy eventually cheers up, but does not revert to type. Later, after the news filters through, Marleau wonders whether it had something to do with his dad. He was sick before he died, Marleau is vaguely aware. He wouldn’t feel like fucking his way through the roster if his dad were sick either.
After that, Marleau has less time for worrying – NOT worrying, just thinking in a totally reasonable, good teammate way (again, Marleau’s girlfriend is so smart and good at putting things in the right light) – about Roz. What with playoffs (disaster) and accidentally practically crippling Hollander (not a great feeling) and then Roz vanishes for a good chunk of the summer and comes back for the pre-season in terrifyingly high spirits. When they won the cup, that’s the only time Marleau’s seen him like that. On top of the fucking world, for no reason, despite the fact he’s not going out and getting any, despite the fact they’ve just been traded the world’s worst defenseman and have to compensate for it.
*
Ottawa, when it comes, is such a fucking mindfuck. What the fuck is going on in Roz’s tiny peabrain?
The locker room is pissed. What the fuck, Rozanov? Talk gets ugly fast, that ungrateful fucking piece of shit, what he can’t hack it with the big boys, he’s running to Ottawa because it’s too much of him, probably going to get railed by the whole team, won’t play anymore, just wait in the locker room for them to get off the ice, mouth open, legs wide and then – Fucking omegas, man.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Kohn says. Marleau knows apart from the alpha sister, there is also an omega brother Kohn keeps very fucking quiet. ‘His girl’s in Montreal, right? I think you geniuses can do the math.’
‘Montreal girl!’ Carmichael shouts. ‘Is she an alpha? Has Roz finally been taken down?’
Then the rest of the boys are piling in, hooting with laughter. They’re still raging, but it’s come down a notch. Of course an omega, even Rozy, should move to his alpha. Of course he should submit. Of course he’ll play for a shitty team that will demand less of him so he can focus on setting up home with his girl. Probably retire in the next year or two, take it easy, stay at home like he should have from the start.
‘Anyone checked for a mark? Marly?’
No, because Marleau is not suicidal, thank you very much.
He doesn’t blame Kohn. That kind of talk about Roz, Roz who is their brother even if he’s bailed on them, Roz who plays better than any of them, chirps harder, hits harder, is never, ever not there when needed and is top of Marleau’s list to call if there were ever a problem, like with his family or something, Roz who isn’t like other omegas – Marleau doesn’t like it. Might be true, you don’t have to say it.
And they’re fucking wrong. Marleau can’t prove it but he knows they’re wrong. Roz sink his career to play trophy wife? Roz retire early just for his girl? Like fuck. Delusional morons.
Catch Roz submitting. Catch Roz being whipped.
*
Enlightenment only settles around his shoulders the better part of two years later, when he’s sitting in bed with his girlfriend, trying to muster the urge to get up, and a link lands in the Raiders group chat.
What the fuck, guys?
It’s the Metros guy, whatshisname, the one with eight million kids and terrible stamina. Some boring ass birthday message for some guy or something.
Marleau is rolling his eyes up until he clocks the figures in the background. There’s Roz, for some insane reason, making time with – someone – wait, what the fuck?
Hollander. Shane Hollander, because it has to be. Who is a beta.
Well. Roz is definitely doing the running on that one.