Work Text:
Ilya taps on the twitter link.
A post pops up.
hothockeyboys @hockeyhockeyhockey823
leaked 🔞 video of luca haas and unknown man
Ilya presses play, wanting to see how bad it is.
“Don’t watch it-,” Shane hisses, but he immediately settles in next to him.
“I will pause it if it’s bad.”
The video is short, only twenty-eight seconds.
Luca is sitting on a chair, being filmed from above. He’s in gray sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt, his legs slightly spread, his face turned up at whoever is filming. His blond hair is messy, looking like someone ran their hand through it. He’s smiling.
“You’re so hot,” a male voice says from behind the camera.
Ilya immediately recognizes the accent.
A hand reaches for Luca, running down his shoulder, squeezing his bicep, then moving to his right pec. Luca’s smile widens as he begins to squirm on the chair, biting his lip, letting out a little moan.
“Jesus,” Shane whispers next to Ilya.
Ilya doesn’t say it out loud, but it really, really reminds him of Shane.
The hand travels upward, cupping Luca’s chin briefly. He nuzzles into it, making puppy eyes at the man behind the camera, who is now dragging his thumb over Luca’s bottom lip. “Take off your shirt.” Luca leans back and eagerly pulls the tight t-shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He moves towards the camera, opening his mouth, playfully sticking out his tongue, whispering something in German. The video cuts off.
The silence in their bedroom is thick.
Ilya scrolls down to the comments. There are many, many fire and heart emojis under it, and a lot of comments about what the respective commenter would like to do to Luca.
scott hunter is my daddy @kelseythepup
can anyone translate what he says in the end?
tomas @gayeishockeyfan21
‘ich hab das so krass vermisst’ which basically means ‘i missed this so much’
scott hunter is my daddy @kelseythepup
omg that’s so cute thank you
People are posting gifs of the video, and photos which are zoomed in on Luca’s obvious clothed erection.
“Jesus!” Shane repeats, louder this time, and grabs his phone from Ilya’s hands. They look at each other for a second.
“Is not that bad,” Ilya says into the tense silence between them.
“Are you crazy?” Shane’s eyes are wide. “Fuck, poor Luca.” He stares down at his phone like it’s the culprit who posted the video.
“It’s not great, yes, but it’s also not so bad. Sex tape sounds like is him getting fucked or something.” Ilya still feels a stone deep in the pit of his stomach.
“It’s-” Shane gestures, and Ilya can tell he’s feeling slightly hysterical. “If a similar video of us had been leaked, it would have ruined our lives! Our careers!” Slightly quieter, he adds, “Our relationship!”
Ilya reaches out to him, grabbing his hand. “Hey, Shane. This isn’t about us, yes? This is different. Is different time now.”
Shane huffs; his eyes are wet from stress alone. “It’s still like… super private!”
“Yes, of course.” Ilya pulls Shane’s hand to his mouth, kissing it. He can feel it shake. “This isn’t great, but it’s also not as bad as the article makes it seem. Some players post worse things of themselves on their own instagram.”
Shane scoffs, but it’s joyless. He stares at Ilya for a moment, but Ilya can tell he’s looking through him, his brain probably going into Yuna-mode.
“We should prepare a statement in support of him. The team will definitely have to put one out as well, public conduct and all that- I wonder if Luca has a good agent,” Shane rattles off, his eyes still unfocused, his brows furrowed, “I’ll recommend him a lawyer-”
“Shane, breathe,” Ilya tells him gently, because Shane is spiraling. Ilya gets it. After everything they’ve been through, this is triggering.
Shane’s eyes finally focus on Ilya. His expression of concentration morphs into one of distress. “I hope he’s okay.”
Just as Ilya opens his mouth to reply, Shane looks down at his phone, which is vibrating in his palm. Scott Hunter, the caller ID says. Shane immediately answers.
“Scott?” Ilya can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but it’s pretty obvious why Scott is calling. Shane hums. “Yeah, we just saw it. …yes. It’s not… Ilya says it’s not terrible, but I think it’s pretty bad- …yeah.” He listens for a moment, nodding along. “For sure. …no, not yet.” More nodding. “That’s a great idea. Okay. Thank you. Okay. Bye.”
He hangs up.
“What did he want?” Ilya asks.
“He said he would call Luca. Or suggested we could FaceTime tomorrow, like, us, maybe Troy, and Scott. So Luca can feel supported.”
“The counsel of queer hockey players?” Ilya asks, and immediately realizes he sounds like an asshole when Shane gives him an exasperated look. “Sorry. Yes. Is good idea.”
He reaches for his own phone, and sees a bunch of unread messages.
baby centaurs + responsible adults 🦫
Holmberg: haasy why is my girlfriend showing me porn of you
Young: what?!
LaPointe: ????
Bolduc: tf?!
Bood: ok that’s not good… what happened?
Luca: somebody leaked a video which was stolen from my phone :/
A hysterical laugh escapes Ilya at the used emoji.
Holmberg: sorry man
Young: fuck, that sucks. sorry dude… was your phone stolen?
LaPointe: this month is cursed
Luca: maybe yeah
Luca: no not stolen, i think someone took it at a party i went to and went through my photos and videos
Luca: i keep my private stuff in a pw protected album usually but forgot about this one
Young: your many nudes and sex videos?
Luca: just private stuff
Bolduc: your nudes? lol
Holmberg: ok dude i gotta say……… i’m not gay but you look hot af in that video
Ilya blinks at the screen, unable to process what he’s reading. Next to him, Shane is furiously tapping away on his own phone.
Young: link pls
LaPointe: wow
Bolduc: *twitter link*
Luca: guys haha
Young: wowwwww haasy 🥵
LaPointe: who’s the guy behind the camera hmmmmm???
Bolduc: boyfriend alert!!!
Luca: 🤐
Young: it’s always the quiet ones
Bolduc: you could launch a side hustle
LaPointe: yes, onklyfans when????
Bood: Guys. Enough. Luca, are you ok?
Luca: mostly yeah
Holmberg: fuck whoever leaked that
Ilya types out a message.
Roz: your video made it all the way to ny. scott hunter just called us.
Bolduc: uh oh
Young: the dads are mad
Ilya feels a probably uncalled-for surge of anger.
Roz: this isn’t as funny as you all seem to think it is.
Bood: this is what gets you a public conduct reprimand
Bolduc: that’s unfair, it wasn’t Luca who posted it
Roz: they don’t care
A moment later, Ilya’s phone rings. It’s Luca.
Ilya picks up; the other end of the line is quiet for a second, before a shaky voice says, “Sorry.”
“This is why you never, ever leave your phone unattended anywhere,” Ilya scolds, recognizing the gruffness in his own voice. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t-,” Luca starts haltingly, “...I haven’t processed it yet I think.” His voice is shaky. “I feel stupid, mostly. Embarrassed.”
And all of a sudden, Ilya realizes that Luca is probably feeling humiliated, embarrassed or betrayed. But he’s not fearing for his career, or his livelihood.
Next to him, Shane looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.
“I am putting you on speakerphone, Shane is listening,” Ilya tells Luca, and then does.
“Luca, hi. Listen, do you need help putting out a statement? And I’ll text you our lawyer’s number, she’s great-”
“Uh, hi Shane. Thank you.” Luca sounds overwhelmed. “Um, I’ll think about it.” After a brief moment, he adds, “Do you know what would expect me, regarding the misconduct?” He sounds small and scared now, and Ilya’s heart is breaking.
“I’m not sure,” Shane says honestly. His tone is flat and professional, reminding Ilya of Yuna. “I know that we, and Troy, were contacted and pressured by Crowell.”
“Oh.” Luca audibly swallows on the other end of the line.
“But he’s not the commissioner anymore,” Ilya says quickly, “And this is different. Our situations were… way more public. And complicated.”
“Management will probably be relatively okay about it, as long as you post a statement. You should focus on the fact that this was illegally taken from your phone,” Shane explains, “and that your privacy was breached.”
Luca is quiet. Then, sounding miserable and small, he finally says, “Is this how you guys felt all the time?” and Ilya feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.
-
They drive into work early the next morning after a very short night.
As they walk in from the parking lot, they see Luca standing outside the entrance door, looking pale. Next to him are Troy and Harris. Harris is talking to Luca, gently rubbing his shoulder in a comforting way.
“Hey,” Shane says when they walk up to them, and all three of them turn. Luca is very, very pale, and Shane can see the smudge on his glasses from here.
“Morning,” Ilya says. Shane knows Ilya hasn’t slept well, probably even less than he has. This is bothering them both in different ways.
“How are you?” Shane asks, concern obvious in his voice.
Luca swallows. “I’ve been better. I was on the phone with my sister for hours last night. And, um, Yannick is flying in to support me.”
“Was him in the video, yes?” Ilya asks gruffly.
Luca blushes and nods. „He feels terrible about it.“
“I really don’t think the video itself was too bad,” Harris says, his tone gentle. “It’s very short, and there’s not really anything too explicit in it.”
“This is what I said,” Ilya agrees. Shane crosses his arms and shifts on his feet, feeling uncomfortable.
“They don’t even prosecute half of the cases of alleged sexual abuse,” Troy says bitterly, “If they prosecute this, you can probably sue them.” He looks deeply pissed off, which is kind of a scary look on him, reminding Shane of pre-Centaur Troy.
“Much worse sex tapes have leaked,” Shane says. He did his research last night, and it led him down paths he otherwise wouldn’t go with a gun.
Luca looks down at his feet and nods. Shane is, frankly, surprised he’s not crying. He surely would be crying if this happened to him. “I’m just… pissed at myself. Yannick is usually in New York or in Germany most of the time, so we…” He blushes, but keeps talking, “Y’know. Send videos. Or take pics and stuff, together.” Shane feels his heart pull apart. It’s so innocent, something he and Ilya might have done, had they been just a tad less paranoid. “We always either delete them, or put them in password protected albums. He was here a week ago, and we went to a party together, just at someone’s house. It was a good party, but I think I got a bit too drunk, and I must have left my phone somewhere, unlocked, I think.”
“And someone went through it?” Harris prompts. For how loud he usually is, his demeanor is oddly soothing now.
Luca nods. “Someone must have, and sent it to themself.”
“Do you have an idea who?” Ilya asks, and truly looks like he might murder whoever did this.
Luca shakes his head. “No, there were so many people at the party.”
Across the group, Troy catches Shane’s eyes, and Shane knows they are thinking the same thing, remembering the conversation they had in New York.
“Okay, listen.” Shane reaches out, and places his hand on Luca’s shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting touch. “You are going to hear out what admin says, but remember you don’t have to say anything without a lawyer present. If you’re unsure, you say nothing. It’s possible they’ve been contacted by an MHL representative.” Luca looks at Shane with wide, scared eyes.
“They did when my stuff happened,” Troy supplies for context. “Asked the team to reprimand me.”
Luca’s eyes grow even wider now.
“Coach didn’t do it, of course,” Troy quickly adds, “But they told him to.”
“You’re going to promise to make a public statement about how your data was stolen and posted without your consent, okay? You’re not at fault here, whoever posted it is.” Shane can hear his own mother in his voice now. But he’s on a roll. “Legally, this should be foolproof. You didn’t make or distribute the video, and the content of the video is suggestive at best.” There’s something coming alive inside him; it comes from the same place recording that conversation with Crowell came from ages ago.
Luca licks his dry lips. “All of this because of a video?” he asks, voice thin.
“If it was a girl in the video with you, it wouldn’t even be half as big of an ordeal, buddy,” Harris tells him gently.
Luca huffs, clearly frustrated and stressed. “This… sucks,” he says, and finally starts crying. Ilya shoulders past them, and wraps his arms around Luca, crushing him in a hug. Luca sniffles against his shoulder, burying his face in it, and Shane feels his own throat close up. This feels too familiar.
“Can you come to the meeting with me?” Luca asks after a moment of composing himself, after Ilya has let go of him. He’s looking up at Ilya with pleading eyes, and Shane’s heart clenches again. Ilya’s eyes flicker to Shane, and Shane knows what he’s thinking: of how his English failed him when they were in front of Crowell, and how he hasn’t had to fight and go through even half the shit Shane had to with the Voyageurs.
“Just for… emotional support,” Luca clarifies, and Ilya’s expression softens.
“Of course.”
-
Shane and Troy end up in their gear on the ice, shooting drills at the net to distract themselves and each other. Harris sits behind the glass, typing away on his phone, probably working.
After a long stretch of silence, Troy eventually says, “This whole thing is really…”
“Triggering?” Shane asks, not looking at him. Troy just nods.
“It’s fucked that this is still such a struggle,” he says, eyes on the puck he’s pushing back and forth.
“I almost had a panic attack when I saw it,” Shane confesses, “What happened to Luca was my worst nightmare for so many years.”
“He’s taking it really well.” Troy hits the puck into the net with devastating accuracy. “I think… I think maybe we did really make it kind of better for these young guys.”
Shane is quiet for a moment, tapping his stick on the ice. “Yeah. Hopefully.”
There’s movement, and they both turn. Ilya and Luca are joining them on the ice, both of them in their gear as well, which feels oddly relieving.
Troy and Shane immediately skate over to them. Under his helmet, Luca is smiling, his face lax and relieved, and Shane can see in Ilya’s posture that the conversation must have gone well.
“How was it?” Troy asks, his voice tinged with anxiousness.
“Good. Legal was there,” Luca smiles. “They really just told me to get my own lawyer, and then we drafted statements for me, and for the team.”
Shane waits for more, but there isn’t more. Ilya gives him a look that says, yes, I was surprised, too.
“That’s it?” he asks incredulously.
“Yeah,” Luca nods. “Of course they told me off a little bit, Coach mostly. But it was more about, being careful with my phone and stuff.”
Shane feels weird, like he’s spent the past twelve hours blowing a bubble in his head, only for it to deflate instead of pop. “Wow.”
“They asked if I wanted to make an official coming-out post, and I said no, and they said it’s fine.”
“No contact from MLH,” Ilya adds, “No official reprimand.”
“Wow,” both Shane and Troy say at the same time.
“Of course people on social media are all over it, but they kind of said to ignore that for the most part,” Luca says. He sounds almost sheepish.
Shane swallows, suddenly feeling bad. “...sorry we scared you for nothing.”
“No, I get it.” Luca shifts on his feet. “You guys… you lived through so much shit. I can’t even imagine how it was for you. I know I’ve said it before, but thank you. You really made it easier for me. And everyone else.”
“Everyone else?!” Shane hears his own voice jump.
Luca blushes but says nothing; Ilya gives Shane a meaningful look.
“Can we play hockey now?” Luca asks.
They play a few quick two against two scrimmages, just having fun.
Eventually, Shane drifts towards the gate. “I should call Scott. I’m sure he’s waiting for news.”
“I’ll come with you.” Ilya accompanies him to the locker room where Shane’s phone waits for him. Before he can pick it up, Ilya crowds him against his stall and kisses him.
“What was that for?” Shane asks breathlessly once their kiss breaks.
“Just because I can,” Ilya smirks, “And because you were so hot when you were talking about all the planning and serious stuff.”
“Fat load of good it did,” Shane rolls his eyes, “It just scared him.”
“No.” Ilya shakes his head, “I think it showed him he can rely on us when there is problems. That we can handle them.”
Shane exhales, then nods. He pulls Ilya in, hugging him tightly. “This whole thing has stressed me out so badly.”
“Me, too,” Ilya admits. “Fucking horrible. I’m glad it went so well.” Before he can say anything else, Shane’s phone vibrates. He untangles himself from Ilya, and answers it. Scott’s face pops up, all serious.
“How did it go?”
“Well,” Ilya says before Shane can say anything, “They’re benching him but, y’know.”
“Ilya,” Shane scolds. “They’re not, he’s talking shit. Literally nothing happened.”
Scott looks confused, in the same way Shane himself probably did earlier. “What?”
They tell him the whole story, and Scott’s eyes grow wider and wider as they talk. By the end, all he can say is “Woah.”
“The biggest ordeal is going to be removing the video from as many platforms as possible,” Shane concludes.
Scott is silent, his mouth hanging open slightly. Eventually, he collects himself. “This is not what I expected.”
“Not what we expected either, but is good,” Ilya says.
“I have three pages of legal stuff prepared,” Scott admits, and Shane laughs. “Welcome to the club. Apparently, times have changed.”
A smile spreads on Scott’s face. “Well, good.”
They chat for another minute before hanging up.
“You know what was really interesting?” Ilya says idly when Shane stuffs his phone back into his stall.
“Hm?”
“When we were walking back from the meeting, Luca showed me, on his instagram. He has gotten so many DMs.” Ilya smirks.
Shane rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”
“No,” Ilya says, his smirk widening, “So many DMs from guys in the league.”
“Giving him grief?” Shane asks, furrowing his brows in distrust.
“No,” Ilya repeats, and then says nothing else.
Shane freezes. “Wait. What?” Ilya nods, grins. “Seriously?”
Ilya gestures, and puts on a voice. “Oh, Haas, can I buy you a drink next time you come to Anaheim! And, You are so sexy, please let me fuck you when you come to Nashville! My wife doesn’t have to know.”
Shane’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open. “Seriously?! Guys in the league?”
“Yes! Was crazy!” Ilya crosses his arms with a smirk. “Everybody is gay these days.”
Shane snorts. “Wow. Truly different times.”
“Different times, indeed,” Ilya echoes.