Work Text:
Dr. Lisa Hayes considered herself a patient woman. She was a doctor, being a doctor required an astounding amount of patience. Frustration tolerance, ability to ignore assholes, an earth shattering amount of biting your tongue. So, you know, she was doing pretty fucking good.
But she was getting real fucking sick of people acting like her husband was some kind of…consolation prize.
He was a nerd, everyone knew that. But it wasn't like she wasn't literally as much of a nerd as he was. She didn't have his comic book collection, but the shelves of Blu-Ray and 4K discs that lined the walls opposite the comic books had been lovingly and carefully collected by her. She had strong opinions about Indiana Jones and Japanese sci-fi. She loved Excel spreadsheets and solid data analysis. Him being a nerd was a feature, not a fucking bug.
And yeah, he's weird. Of course he's fucking weird, he's a goalie. Goalies are weird. That's a statistical fact of life. But she buys one brand and one style of scrubs, has had the same model of stethoscope since she finished her white coat ceremony, and has 3 pairs of identical sneakers for work. She's not exactly winning any awards for Most Normal Person Alive.
He's goofy, and she loves the way he makes her laugh. He's observant and kind and respectful and hilarious and the day she fixed his broken collarbone was probably the best day of her life. Maybe even better than the day she married him. Hard to say.
So why the entire whole left footed fuck does she keep having to try to explain to people that she loves him? She adores him and she treasures him and he sends flowers to her hospital when he’s on a roadie longer than 3 days, and all the kids who see them are thrilled that she’s married to Wyatt fkn Hayes.
The nurses, they get it. The other WAGs understand. Most of the other doctors at the children's hospital, once they saw him interacting with kids in a backwards baseball cap and an Ottawa Centaurs t-shirt, kneeling on the floor in the pediatric oncology wing to hand a little girl a centaur stuffie, understood.
But far too often, she'd hear, “Hey, aren't you married to that hockey player? And you're like, a doctor? Why'd you marry him?” or “Really?? But he's so…weird.” or “But you're like, super hot. And smart. Why that guy? He's like, not even a famous hockey player.”
God, she was exhausted. She'd tried to explain it the nice way. He was weird, but he was her kind of weird. She loved how goofy he was, how much he made her laugh. She was a nerd, too. He was really, really smart, you have to be to be a goalie. Was kind and generous with his time and he was loving and adorable. She tried to be polite. To be PR appropriate. PR appropriate fucking sucked.
And if fucking Dr. Manson tried to hit on her one more god damn time she was going to fucking scream.
Why the entire fuck was the head of surgery at a children's hospital such an ass? Why did he think she cared how much he benched or the specs on his new fucking Lambo, or his vacation to Cabo? Why did he constantly try to make unsubtle digs at her husband like he wasn't a literal (incredibly rich and incredibly hot) professional athlete who could probably rip Dr. Manson in half, but was too kind and gentle to do so without serious provocation? Why did he think it was okay to slide up to Lisa at the nurses station when she got flowers delivered because Wyatt had been gone for four days in a row and try to tell her that she could have a little fun while her husband was gone? Like she didn't miss Wyatt like she would a limb? Like she didn't keep one eye on every single game he played, home or away, just to catch a glimpse of him being incredible?
Dr. Manson was a fucking asshole, and if he thought for a single solitary second he could stack up to Wyatt fucking Hayes in any way, he was an idiot.
--
Centaurs Cheering Squad
Dr. Lisa: Harris, please know that the only thing stopping me from posting a naked photo of my husband on Instagram is that I worry about the state of your blood pressure.
ACassie: Girl what the FUCK?????
Seren[e]: That shithole surgeon keeps trying to hit on Lisa by telling her that he's hotter than Wyatt and she should cheat on Wyatt with him.
ACassie: Oh, in that case, by all means.
PR Savior Harris: Wait, WHAT?
Dr. Lisa: Ugh, there's this dickhead who works in general surgery at the hospital who thinks he's hot shit, and he keeps trying to say I should sleep with him because he thinks he's hotter than Wyatt.
Dr. Lisa: It just sucks because I get this shit a lot. I mean, not a lot, a lot, but like….enough. If Wyatt posts a picture of me, or I post a picture of him, the comments are filled with people claiming I could do better or that I should be with somebody else. People say it to me in person, sometimes, too.
PR Savior Harris: ….what the actual entire fuck?
Dr. Lisa: I try to be nice about it. When they say he's weird, I'm like “Yes. Correct. Also, me too.” When they say he's a nerd, I try to explain that I am also a nerd.
Caitlin: Hold on, hold on…I'm torn between being confused that people don't know Wyatt is literally like (and I say this with all the adoration in the world for Evan), the whole ENTIRE package of husband, and being confused that people don't realize you're a huge nerd. And then also a little confused as to why such a huge dick works at a children's hospital and is trying to get you to cheat on your adorable (and incredibly hot) husband.
Dr. Lisa: Yeah, well…People are notoriously stupid. Wyatt says he doesn't give a shit what people think about him. He knows who he is.
Caitlin: THAT, I am not confused about.
ACassie: I know, right? Chillest guy in the league.
PR Savior Harris: And like, great, good, love it, but like….do people not know your husband is sexy AND rich, in addition to being a huge adorable nerd? Like, no, listen, I love Troy, would not give him up for the world. But like, your husband is hot, Lis. Have you seen his warm up?
Dr. Lisa: HAVE I SEEN HIS WARM UP, HARRIS?
Dr. Lisa: HAVE I???
Dr. Lisa: DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THE POWER OF HIS FLEXIBILITY MAKES HIM CAPABLE OF???
Dr. Lisa: DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE?????
Dr. Lisa: …Okay, normally, I don't do this. I don't kiss and tell. But you get it. You're all with hockey players. You understand.
ACassie: 🍿
Dr. Lisa: That man is six feet and two inches of solid muscle with hands that very nearly span my entire waist. He has hip strength and flexibility that is utterly unrivaled. He can pick me up with one fucking arm. He has a stamina that I did not know was humanly possible. He is single-mindedly focused in a way that borders on obsession, and loves the things that he loves with utter reckless abandon. Have you ever been with a man with ADHD who’s hyper-focus is your pleasure, and who can literally do pushups in a split? Because I fucking have. I married him. I locked that shit DOWN. I share a bed with that man. AND I get to watch weird cold war era Eastern Bloc art house films with him. Why the FUCK would I want anyone else?
Seren[e]: 👏👏👏
Caitlin: Is it weird that I feel like Ilya would be proud of you? And also maybe Wyatt?
ACassie: No no. That seems very normal, given the circumstances. I think we should all send Wyatt flowers.
PR Savior Harris: …Lisa, I have an idea.
&&
Wyatt: Harris is in the locker room muttering to Rozy and they keep looking over at me and I feel like I should be afraid for my life. It's like having the Winter Soldier and for some reason Dick Grayson stare into my soul.
Lisa: …no comment, Hayes.
Wyatt: You know something, don't you?
Lisa: Maybe…it wasn't my idea…
Wyatt: Rozy looks angry.
Lisa: He may be, if Harris told him what I told Harris in a fit of fury
Wyatt: ...is Dr. Fuckface being a problem again?
Lisa: …maybe.
Wyatt: Lis. Babe.
Lisa: No, I know. But it's not just him. Every time it's all “You could do better,” “He's a fuckin dork!” “He's not even hot…”
Lisa: But you fucking ARE hot. You're a dork, but you're MY dork, and if people don't start appreciating your physique I may have to start bringing out diagrams of muscle anatomy to prove a point.
Wyatt: …is it wrong that I find that idea kinda hot?
Lisa: I have an anatomy textbook somewhere. Be nice to Harris and do his video and I'll find it for you. 😘
Wyatt: I'm so fucking glad I married you.
Lisa: Love you, too, babe
Wyatt: 💕💕💕
--
Rozanov’s voice echoed over the din of players dropping their shit into lockers and onto benches. “Some asshole in shit model Lamborghini thinks he is hotter than Hazy?”
Wyatt but his lip to keep from laughing. Every single head in the room turned to look at Rozy and Harris, except for Hollander, who just dropped his head into his hands.
“What!?” Bood looked offended. “Who's talking shit about my boy!?”
Wyatt hit his head back against the locker. Better to just bite the bullet and explain himself.
“There's a dickhead head of general surgery at Lisa's hospital who thinks he's hot shit and keeps trying to get Lisa to sleep with him because he thinks I'm…I actually don't even know? But I'm kind of known as a huge nerd and a bit of a dweeb, so Lisa gets a lot of comments about how she's too smart and too hot for me and with that, plus Dr. Fuckface in her business all the time, she's getting really fucking tired of it.”
Shane's head rocketed out of his hands. “What the FUCK?”
Then voices overlapped.
“No fuckin way!”
“Your wife is a huge nerd, too, man”
“Not actually helpful, Dykstra.”
“Shit man, I'm just saying…you can be hot and be a nerd. Like Hazy and his wife.”
“Actually kind of helpful, D.”
“And Hazy’s like, an amazing husband, apparently. That's what Serena keeps saying. He's the reason I send her flowers during roadies.”
“Plus, he's like, crazy fucking strong.”
“Hazy's the full package. Strong, thoughtful, and a huge fuckin dork.”
Wyatt did have to admit this felt nice. Weird, for sure. But nice.
Rozy whistled, sharp, silencing the room. “So we all agree, we must defend Hazy's honor as certified Wife Guy and Handsome, Sexy Man?”
“Who taught you what a Wife Guy was?” Hollzy looked at his husband in confusion.
“I have internet. Plus, Pike is original Wife Guy.”
Hollzy cocked his head to the side, smiling. “That is absolutely true. And sweet.”
“Pike has 3 redeeming factors: Good best friend to my love, good father to adorable children, original Wife Guy to perfect woman.”
“We're getting off topic here, fellas,” Bood interjected. “Plus, Rozy, you're also kinda a top tier Wife Guy. Sorry, Hollzy. But you get it. He's obsessed with you.”
Andddd, there went Shane's head, back into his hands.
Harris just rolled his eyes. “Okay, here's what we're going to do.”
Wyatt had a feeling he was NOT going to like this.
“Wyatt, take off your shirt and walk us through your warm up routine.”
Scratch that, he KNEW he wasn't going to like this.
But then he considered Lisa's smug, blissed out face, and the way she looked when she was showing him off, and imagined the expression on Dr. Fuckface’s face when he saw Dr. Lisa Hayes’ husband shirtless and muscled on social media.
Then he considered Lisa's anatomy textbooks.
With a sigh, he pulled his shirt off. Several whistles split through the locker room.
“Dr. Dumbass doesn't know what's gonna hit him, Hazy.”
“Compression leggings, gym shorts, no shirt. Weight room warm up.” Rozy was directing Wyatt with a pointed finger. “Let us show the world what a nerd in goalie gear looks like under the gear, yes?”
“I really don't know…”
Hollander cleared his throat. “In the least weird way possible, Hayes, you can do the splits. You can do push ups in the splits. You are really, really fit. Everyone on the internet is going to be thirsting after you. If you're doing this, you need to trust us.”
“Who is…us?” Wyatt asked, hesitant.
Troy stood up from the bench. “The gayest team in hockey. Put your hat on. Backwards.”
Haas piped up. “And he should do pull ups, too. Film him from the back doing the pull ups.”
Rozy pointed at him. “Yes. Correct. Good.”
Which was how, in perhaps the strangest practice of Wyatt Hayes’ life, he went about his warm up, his stretches, and his weight circuit being filmed and directed by, as they kept calling themselves, The Gay Avengers. Hollander and Harris looked at him like he was a specimen under a microscope, assessing the lighting and the angle of the camera with a level of focus that was almost alarming (and reminded Wyatt distinctly of Yuna Hollander, but he felt saying that aloud would not be well received). Barrett and Haas kept suggesting new poses, new camera angles, new exercises for Wyatt to try. And the captain of his team and recipient of an award created by Troy and Bood called the “Biggest Hoe Turned House Husband,” which was a joke Wyatt only sort of understood, Ilya Rozanov, would occasionally just reach out and push or pull or press Wyatt into a new position or to hold a specific position. He got told to speed up, or slow down, or fix his face about 600 more times and was dimly grateful that it was Rozanov and Hollander who got paid millions to be the face of Calvin Klein or Rolex or Ferrari, because he was not sure he was cut out for this life.
He knew, in a vague sort of way, that people might think he was good looking. Especially if they saw him without his hockey gear on. Goalie equipment left a LOT to the imagination. But he had all but one of his own teeth, by some miracle his nose had never been broken, and if Lisa was correct, he had abs you could grate cheddar on. Before Lisa, he had done okay in the dating-and-hook-up realm, but it wasn’t really his scene anyway. He knew Lisa thought he was hot. And handsome. She told him this often. So when his instagram comments, or hers, or random strangers she met at the grocery store, or some douchebag doctor in the hospital, made comments about how she was too hot for him, or too smart, or whatever, it didn’t bother him. He absolutely felt like he was somehow playing way out of his league with her, but she insisted he was it for her, and that’s what mattered to him. So now, having an entire team of deeply invested hockey players orchestrating a revenge thirst post for his wife was…a bit Pleasantville to him. A bit “this is the Upside Down.”
In addition to his squad of Gay Avengers, the entire team was cheering him on, hyping him up, and wolf whistling at his hip flexor stretches. It was enough to give a man a complex. It was also enough to make him want to burst out laughing while he did lat pull downs and the entire team was counting his reps.
Finally, he was done with his work out and the most ridiculous video/photoshoot he’d ever done, and he was freed to return to the locker room while the rest of the team finished their warm ups and they could get on the ice for practice before tomorrow’s home game. He had the locker room to himself, and in a fit of sheer, ridiculous, almost silly confidence, he adjusted his shorts and hat (Troy Barrett had taught him how to lay the waistband of his shorts for the idea “thirst pic,” and what the fuck even was that about), flexed subtly (Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander had taught him the art of subtle flexing and he really did not know how to process that particular fact) in the mirror of the locker room, smirked a little, and snapped the picture. Without thinking too hard, he sent it to Lisa.
Lisa: I will go find my anatomy textbook.
Wyatt: I adore you, doc.
Lisa: I adore you, more, Hazy.
&&
Harris had told her the instagram post would go up two hours before puck drop at the home game the day after he filmed it. Lisa had the day off. When Wyatt went to the stadium to prep for the game, Lisa put on her nicest skinny jeans, her favorite boots, and Wyatt’s spare jersey. It was ridiculously too large on her, but she tucked one side into the waistband of her pants, fixed her hair, and decided she looked incredible. She knew Wyatt would agree.
As she got into her car, her phone buzzed.
Centaurs Cheering Squad
PR Savior Harris: Video’s up. See you at the game.
Lisa had never moved so fast to watch a video in all her life. The bass beat of On The Floor by JLo and Pitbull started to play as the screen faded in. Wyatt in the lower half of his uniform, opening his hips on the ice. Wyatt in the middle of a game, fully butterflied in front of the goal, stretching to catch a puck. A close up video of Wyatt, helmet perched on the top of his head, winking at the camera with his mouth guard clenched between his teeth. The screen faded again and then came back with the words, “No Man Compares to an NHL Goalie. No Goalie Compares to Wyatt Hayes.” Wyatt, shirtless in compression leggings and gym shorts, Ottawa Centaurs baseball cap backwards over his hair, stretching in the team gym, arching his back in a way that looked practically obscene. The images flashed, slow and sped up and making her breathless. The Gay Avengers were good. Almost too good. Wyatt stretching, showing off his obliques in a way that was made to look accidental. Wyatt in a straddle split. Wyatt doing push ups, and then pull ups in slow motion. Wyatt at one of the machines, doing a lat pull down that showed off his entire back. Finally, the song faded and the screen asked her if she wanted to play it again.
Harris: I'm sending you an email of all the footage I have.
Lisa: You are my hero.
Centaurs Cheering Squad
ACassie: Lisa. Your man.
Caitlin: Fucking HELL, girl.
Seren[e]: Christ.
Dr. Lisa: It might be too good, right? Like I might need to go take my own blood pressure.
Caitlin: No. Get to the game. Jump his bones later.
She put her phone away and drove to the stadium.
&&
[Video of Wyatt Hayes’ warm up routine]
Caption: Nobody gives goalies enough love. Here's to our favorite one, the man, the myth, the legend, @wyatthayesofficial✔️. We asked Hazy to show us his goalie warm up routine, and he absolutely delivered.
@ottawahockeyfan1997 dr. lisa hayes I am so sorry I did not know your man's range
@meekameek it's a damn good day to be alive
@hockeynerdz sleeper build like fuck man, drop the gym routine!!! fellow buff nerds unite
@hazyhaze420 who knew hazy had it in him tho??????????
@goaliesdoitbetter see now I been trying to tell y'all and nobody listens to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
@frankietee614 I want to lick his back
@sarahsplace @frankietee614 he's for sure married
@frankietee614 @sarahsplace u think his wife can fight?
@drshawn lmao @ people wondering if @drlisahayes can fight. Girl. She's a doctor. No one would know how you died.
@drshawn but also, girl, your maaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnn
@hawkeyfan4lyfe do you think Ottawa drafts guys based on hotness, or????
@ilyarozanov81✔️ hockey stretches are very good for all kinds of physical activity. Good for hips.
@zaneboodramofficial✔️ @shanehollander24✔️ please tell your man to go away
@zaneboodramofficial✔️ but also, get it @wyatthayesofficial✔️ !! Proof that what you see is NOT always what you get. Fuckin’ amazing
@shanehollander24✔️ @zaneboodramofficial✔️ you think I have any control over him at all??
@nickchouinardhockey✔️ @shanehollander24✔️ yes
@tdillonofficial✔️ @shanehollander24✔️ yes
@evandykstrahockey✔️ @shanehollander24✔️ yes
@zaneboodramofficial✔️ @shanehollander24✔️ yes
@ilyarozanov81✔️ @shanehollander24✔️ absolutely yes.
---
Repost:
@drlisahayes Talk Nerdy to Me, baby 😍😍
[Video of Wyatt Hayes’ warm up routine]
Caption: Nobody gives goalies enough love. Here's to our favorite one, the man, the myth, the legend, @wyatthayesofficial✔️. We asked Hazy to show us his goalie warm up routine, and he absolutely delivered.
&&
“Eyyyyy, Dr. Hayes in the house!!!!” The new nurse on the floor cried when she walked in. “Congrats to the boys on the win last night!”
“Thanks, Charlie! Did you catch the game?” She knew her smile was maybe a little too broad.
“I even saw the video they posted on their Instagram before the game” Charlie waggled his eyebrows.
“What video?” Amanda, the charge nurse who was old enough to be Lisa's mom and who made the best shitty coffee, asked.
“Oo, pull it up!!!” Dr. Andrews, a petite pediatric general medicine doctor walked up.
Lisa grinned and pulled up Instagram. The other employees gathered around her.
If you go hard you gotta get on the floor
The smell of overpriced and shitty cologne wafted behind Lisa as the video transitioned from game footage to warm up footage.
“What's…” Dr. Manson started.
“Shut up.” Amanda cut him off.
He scoffed. The video was still mostly stretching, and the angle showed off Wyatt’s insane obliques in a stretching move that rolled his hips and looked absolutely pornographic.
“Respectfully, Doc, your husband fucks.” Charlie muttered.
Lisa swatted him with the back of her hand, zero heat. “I know, Charlie. Trust me. I know.”
She could feel Dr. Fuckface go completely still. They stood there watching, each new clip making Lisa flush redder and redder. The camera panned from the absolutely staggering amount of weight racked on the leg press machine, up Wyatt's long legs, up his muscled torso, and to his sharp, stunning jawline. He winked at the camera, locking the platform in place effortlessly and giving viewer (and probably Harris and the rest of the team) the dorkiest finger guns ever. The screen faded to black.
“Oh my god the finger guns.” Dr. Andrews gushed. “It's so adorable. It somehow makes the whole thing hotter.”
Lisa grinned foolishly. “I know. I freaking know. He's too cute, too hot, too attractive for words.”
“That's your husband?” Dr. Manson’s voice cracked slightly.
The full group turned to face him. Amanda spoke first.
“Yeah, that's Dr. Hayes’ husband. Really, the full package. Sweet, funny, kind, huge nerd, ridiculously rich, and incredibly fit.” She turned to Lisa, eyes sparkling with humor. She hated Dr. Manson. “I didn't realize they made muscles like that, Lisa.”
“Think they broke the mold when they made Wyatt, ‘Manda.”
“They must have.”
Dr. Manson turned on his heel and walked away, muttering under his breath. All four of them started cackling as he left.
“Please, please, please tell me they posted it because you told somebody about that fuckin’ dick.” Dr. Andrews muttered under her breath as the nurse's station started filling.
Lisa just winked.
Harris's flowers would be arriving to the stadium at lunchtime.