Chapter Text
The visitors’ locker room was a flurry of noise and activity as the Centaurs reveled in their incredible 4-1 victory over Detroit. Even with Evan Dykstra blasting his shitty playlist at full volume, Ilya couldn’t stop smiling. They hadn’t quite managed to officially clinch a spot in the playoffs just yet, but after that night’s win, damn, they were close. And Ilya had nothing but faith that his team would keep carrying them all the way to the playoffs… and to the Cup.
This would be their year. Ilya was so fucking sure of it. Especially now that he had Shane by his side – and not just because of the huge morale boost that came with having his husband around all the time. Shane also happened to be the best damn player in the whole league… Second best, Ilya would insist, if anyone ever asked him, of course. But deep inside, he knew the truth.
Sometimes Ilya could hardly believe how much the team had transformed over the past two years, even before his husband joined them. And now, things were better than ever – he and Shane were together, each leading their lines with the best wingers on either side of them, the best goalie protecting their net, the best coach guiding them… Somehow, the Centaurs had become the best fucking team in the whole league. And Ilya couldn’t be more proud.
Ilya’s mind was called back to the present at the feeling of a familiar arm wrapping around his waist. “What a fucking game!” his husband cried excitedly, craning his head up to press a quick kiss to Ilya’s cheek.
Ilya’s heart instantly burst with warmth at the unexpected display of affection. He and Shane worked hard to stay as professional as they could with one another during games and practices — especially when they were on the road. They both knew none of their teammates would mind, of course, but it still felt right to keep things focused on the game… And to be sensitive to the fact that being away from home meant that none of their teammates had their significant others with them. Both Shane and Ilya knew firsthand just how much that fucking hurt.
But of course, they’d also waited a long fucking time for the chance to finally be together like this, so it was impossible not to let themselves enjoy it every now and then. And Ilya loved it whenever they did.
“It is like I keep saying – this is our year, moye solnyshko,” Ilya replied, grinning at his husband. “After a game like tonight, no one can stop us.”
Ilya suddenly felt a strong hand clap against his shoulder. “Don’t get too cocky yet, Roz.” Bood had appeared on his other side. “We’ve been on fire lately… But so have Montreal and Toronto.”
Ilya felt an unpleasant heat in the pit of his stomach at the mention of the teams who had completely fucked over his husband and best friend, respectively. “Montreal and Toronto can fuck themselves,” he replied. “And not in a good way... Except Hayden and JJ, maybe. They have earned it,” Ilya added with a playful nudge toward his husband.
“You’re so fucking weird,” Shane muttered with a smile while Bood burst into hysterics.
Ilya simply shrugged, chuckling softly to himself as he finally went back to taking off the rest of his gear, and Shane and Bood went off to do the same. In fact, Ilya noticed as he glanced at the room around him, now that the press had finally cleared out, several of his teammates had gone off to the showers, while many others were already wearing their suits and were gathering up the last of their things before heading to the bus.
There was only one person who had barely taken off any of his gear yet, and it made him stick out like a sore thumb. Especially combined with what he was actually doing.
Ilya watched with a mixture of fascination and amusement as Troy Barrett held his cellphone an arm’s length out in front of him, stretched his lips into a frankly goofy looking grin, pressed his finger to the screen, and finally lowered his phone to peer down at it, his heavy brows furrowing slightly.
Then he lifted his phone and did it all over again.
And again. And again.
By the time Ilya was ready to go take a shower, he’d lost count of how many pictures he’d watched Troy take of himself. It wouldn’t take a genius to guess what Barrett was doing – or trying to do – and it was equal parts adorable and ridiculous.
It was nearly impossible for Ilya to contain his laughter at the sight, though he also felt a tinge of something else lurking beneath his amusement – something vaguely sad and unpleasant that Ilya couldn’t quite name at the moment. But whatever it was, it was this feeling that guided Ilya as he began striding confidently across the locker room toward his friend.
A small voice in the back of Ilya’s mind that sounded suspiciously like Shane told him to ignore that weird feeling and leave Troy alone. But an even louder voice that sounded something like Harris told him he needed to go put poor Troy out of his misery before the entire team headed back to the hotel without him.
And besides, Ilya’s own voice chimed in as he drew closer. The look on Barrett’s face when he sees me will be priceless.
Ilya wore a slight smirk on his face as he approached, waiting for Troy to notice him as he drew closer and closer. It wasn’t until he was less than three feet from his friend that Troy let out a loud cry of alarm and, to Ilya’s amusement, let go of his phone. It landed with a loud clatter on the locker room floor between them.
“Oops… Was I interrupting something?” Ilya grinned as he crouched down to retrieve Troy’s phone from the floor.
“What? No! No, I was… I was just, uh…” Troy left the sentence unfinished, looking positively terrified as he took the phone from Ilya’s outstretched hand.
“If you wanted a good picture, I hope you got one before you dropped your phone. Your face was perfect.”
Troy’s cheeks reddened instantly. It was kind of adorable. “I just wasn’t expecting you to sneak up on me like that,” he muttered. “Anyway, what do you want?” Almost as soon as the words had left Troy’s lips, Ilya saw a flash of panic in his eyes. “Shit. No, I don’t mean it like that,” Troy corrected himself quickly. “Just… Do you need something? Or…?”
“No, but clearly you do.” The smirk still hadn’t left Ilya’s lips. “I am here to help with the photoshoot.”
“The… what?”
Ilya let out a sigh. “This will be much easier if you stop playing dumb. Give me your phone.” He held out a hand expectantly as he spoke.
Troy hesitated, and, for a moment, almost looked as though he was going to argue. Instead, he handed over his cellphone. Ilya couldn’t help but notice the way his friend lowered his head in defeat as he did so.
Ilya immediately opened Troy’s photo gallery and began scrolling through the past several minutes’ worth of pictures. They were even worse than Ilya had been imagining. It was impossible to tell whether Troy was trying to look cute or sexy in the dozens of photos he’d taken of himself, because in most of them, he appeared anxious or in pain.
Clearly Troy needed even more help than Ilya had thought.
“Please tell me you did not send any of these to Harris,” Ilya said at last, handing Troy his phone back.
“Of course not,” Troy replied in a small voice, shaking his head. “But… how did you…?”
Ilya simply gave him a look.
“Yeah, sorry. Dumb question,” Troy admitted. It almost looked like he was going to smile, for a moment. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a slow breath and then continued. “I’ve been trying to take more pictures for him lately. When I’m away, I mean. Harris always sends me really good ones.” The flush in Troy’s cheeks deepened. “And I’m trying to get better at it, but I guess it’s not as easy as it looks.”
Ilya said nothing for a moment, then nodded to himself. “You are trying to show off your gear, yes?” he asked. “Like, to be sexy?”
“Yeah… Harris is pretty into it,” Troy admitted sheepishly.
“Oh, believe me, I know,” Ilya replied. “The whole team knows, probably. Your boyfriend is not subtle, Barrett.” Of course, neither was Troy, but Ilya supposed that was part of why he and Harris were so perfect for one another. “The phone needs to be higher,” he explained. “Will show off more.”
Troy’s brow furrowed a bit. “How much higher?” He held out the phone and slowly began raising and lowering his arm, peering up at the screen as he experimented with different angles.
“Depends how much you want to show.” Ilya shrugged. “But I think you should try to get your jock in it. Harris will love it.”
He watched in amusement as Troy hovered the camera up over his head for several moments before finally snapping a picture and turning his phone back toward Ilya. “Like this?”
Ilya looked down at the phone screen. The view of Troy’s body was certainly better than it had been before, but he still looked so stiff – and not in the way Harris would want to see. And he’d probably want to see a bit more too.
“Better…” Ilya said slowly. “Now try it again, but pull your jock and shorts down a little. With your thumb. Let him see more of your hips.” He was pretty sure that would do the trick – Show off some more skin and give Troy something to do with his free hand.
“Okay...”
Ilya watched impatiently as Troy hooked a thumb beneath his waistband and pushed down his shorts so painstakingly slowly and carefully, you’d almost think he was diffusing a bomb, rather than trying to look sexy for his boyfriend.
It wasn’t long before Ilya’s impatience took over. “Jesus, Barrett! You and Harris have fucked each other a million times, but you are still this terrified of showing him your hips?!”
“I’m not afraid!” Troy insisted. His cheeks were redder than ever now. “I’m just… not used to this.”
“Really? I had not noticed.”
“Oh, fuck you.” Troy rolled his eyes at Ilya and finally pushed his shorts and jock down below the well-defined jut of his hip bones, stopping just above his dick. He lifted his phone with his other hand and snapped another picture. “There. Better?” Troy asked hopefully as he showed Ilya his phone yet again.
Ilya almost managed to hold back his snort of laughter. Almost.
“What?!” Troy cried indignantly.
“Your body looks great, Barrett. Very sexy.” Despite the amusement in his voice, Ilya was sincere. “But your face looks like someone is holding a gun to your head.”
Troy threw both hands up in defeat. “Ugh! This is hopeless!”
“What if you send Harris a picture of me instead?” Ilya teased. “Not as good as seeing you, maybe, but it would still be very sexy for him, I think.”
“Ilya…” The way Troy was looking at him reminded Ilya so much of Shane that he almost laughed out loud again. Thankfully he was able to control himself a bit better this time.
“Barrett, I am joking,” Ilya assured him, giving him a brief clap on one of his shoulder pads. “It is very nice that you want to take perfect picture for Harris. And you are right – it is not as easy as it looks. It is about finding balance, yes? Between trying too hard and not trying hard enough.”
“Okay… But how am I supposed to figure out how to do that? Find the ‘balance’, or whatever?” Troy asked curiously.
Ilya shrugged. “It takes practice. Give me your phone.”
Troy hesitated. “You’re not really gonna take a picture for Harris, are you?”
Ilya grinned wickedly at him. “You will see…” He reached out and snatched Troy’s phone from his hand without warning.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” Troy cried indignantly.
“Shhh!” Ilya moved his fingers quickly over Troy’s phone screen, using his height to help keep the phone from his friend’s view until he was finished. “There. You can thank me later.” He held the phone out toward Troy, who quickly grabbed it back and pressed his face low over the screen to examine it.
“You sent it to Harris?!”
“Yes. With your face cropped out,” Ilya explained. “Like I said, your body was sexy. Your face was terrible. We will work on it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. In Columbus. I will come to your room after we check into the hotel.” That was what Ilya often did when he and Troy were on the road together, of course… But they both knew this would be a very different sort of visit. “Maybe I will even bring Shane with me. He is very good at sexy photos.”
“I, uh…” Troy looked so shocked and bewildered, you would almost think Ilya had smacked him across the face. “Okay. I guess. Sure.”
“Great!” Ilya grinned at him. “See you tomorrow!”
Without another word, Ilya turned away from his friend and headed off toward the showers. It was clear that poor Troy needed a lot of help if he wanted to take photos good enough to impress Harris.
What kind of friend and captain would Ilya be if he didn’t offer to share some of his expertise?
—
“Alright, watch and learn, Barrett.”
Troy eyed Ilya with a mixture of amusement and uncertainty as his friend leaned over the sink and stared into the mirror, his eyes darting between his own reflection and Troy’s, almost as though he expected Troy to chicken out and look away.
Once he seemed satisfied that he had a captive audience, Ilya’s expression slowly shifted — his eyes softened, his lips parted slightly, and the next thing Troy knew, his friend was making a series of sexy and seductive faces in the mirror across from them. It was really fucking weird, if Troy was being honest. A little hot too, sure. But also weird.
Somehow, Ilya made it look so effortless — like he was posing for a magazine cover or something, rather than standing in a tiny hotel bathroom in Columbus, Ohio. It was somehow both impressive and infuriating at the same time. How the hell was he so good at this?
At last, Ilya straightened, his face settling back into his usual cocky smile. “You see? Easy.”
“Sure…” Troy mumbled. It couldn't be that hard, could it?
He peered at his own reflection for a moment, took a deep breath, then tried his best to imitate the smoldering expressions he’d seen Ilya making just a few moments before.
Troy felt absolutely fucking ridiculous. And, if Ilya’s reaction was anything to go off of, he probably looked even worse than he felt.
Troy could still remember what Ilya had said to him on the night of Ottawa’s Pride game against Toronto last year — that it had felt like a Disney movie. And Troy couldn’t help but agree. It had been the most incredible night of his life, filled with so much joy and support and love from everyone. It was completely and utterly perfect — just like a Disney movie, as Ilya had said.
But today, Troy found himself feeling like he’d stumbled into a very different type of movie — one where Troy had been cast as the hopelessly awkward loser that his cooler, more experienced friend had decided to take under his wing. The kind of ridiculous, cliche buddy-comedy where the audience wasn’t sure whether they should be laughing or cringing.
And Ilya seemed to be facing the exact same dilemma.
“Barrett. I know you do not want to hear this.” Ilya’s voice was solemn, but there was a glint of playful amusement in his eyes. “But this is the worst tragedy I have ever seen.”
Troy turned away from the mirror to face Ilya directly. “What is?!” he demanded.
“Your face.”
Troy felt his cheeks bloom with heat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Ilya simply shrugged. “You were given such pretty eyes and pouty lips, but you have no idea how to use them. It is a terrible waste.”
“I can use them just fine!” Troy insisted.
“I am sure you can, for some things. But Harris is not here for you to use them that way.” Ilya winked at him before continuing. “You still look like you are being tortured.”
“Because I am!” Troy cried in frustration, though, to his surprise, he almost felt a bit of amusement creeping up beneath his irritation. This whole situation was so absurd, it was hard not to find it at least a little funny. But mostly it was super-fucking-annoying. “Tortured by my pushy team captain who thinks he’s an expert at being sexy.”
“I do not think I am an expert. I know,” Ilya corrected him.
“According to who? Shane?” Troy crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Doesn’t count. Biased opinion.”
“Not just Shane.” Ilya pulled his phone from his pocket and waved it in front of Troy’s face. “I have proof. Do you want to see the thirst tweets? I have taken many screenshots.”
Troy was so caught off guard that he fell silent for a moment. He blinked a few times as he tried to make sense of Ilya’s words. “Thirsty what?”
“Thirst tweets,” Ilya repeated slowly. “How has Harris not taught you this?”
Troy couldn’t lie – he was kind of curious. And very confused. He made a mental note to ask Harris about it later. There were more important things to worry about right now.
“Anyway, expert or not, this obviously isn’t working,” Troy admitted with a heavy sigh. It was impossible to ignore the awful feeling of shame and defeat that was bubbling up inside him. “I just look ridiculous.”
“Yes. I know.”
Troy ignored Ilya’s dig. “Maybe I should just go back to the pictures I was taking before?” he suggested. “I mean, Harris never seemed to have a problem with them...”
Or at least, he hadn’t told Troy that he did. He always seemed to like them… didn’t he? Troy couldn’t help but think of the excited reaction he’d gotten from Harris after he’d sent that picture from the locker room last night. The one Ilya had helped him with.
Troy had never seen Harris respond like that to any of his other pictures before… What if it was because Harris had secretly hated them? What if he’d just been pretending he liked them to make Troy feel better?
Ilya’s voice called Troy back from his spiral. “Of course he does not have a problem with them. He misses you. He would be happy with a picture of your elbow.”
Troy knew Ilya was probably right. “So… why are we even doing this then?” he asked. “I mean, I get that you wanna help,” Troy assured his friend, hoping he didn’t sound ungrateful. “But what is it they always say? If it’s not broken, don’t fix it? Or something?” He gave an uncomfortable shrug.
Ilya stared wordlessly at him for a moment or two, and Troy felt himself feeling rather anxious under the other man’s intense gaze. “How the hell did you become one of the best players in the league with that attitude?” Ilya asked. “‘Good enough’ is fine for some things, yes. But not for this. Not for Harris!” he insisted. “He deserves the best, yes?”
“Of course he does! That’s not what I’m saying!” Troy cried desperately. He was no stranger to Ilya’s usual playful jabs and painfully blunt way of putting things, but for whatever reason, it was really starting to get under Troy’s skin today. “This is just…really fucking hard for me, okay?! I’ve never done this type of thing before,” he admitted, the heat in his cheeks burning hotter than ever.
He and Adrian had always been way too fucking careful about that sort of thing. They’d jerked off together over FaceTime plenty of times, sure. But they never sent each other photos or videos… nothing that could be saved. Nothing that anyone else might accidentally see.
For the first time in his life, Troy could try and do the whole ‘long distance’ thing properly when he and Harris were apart. Except Troy was learning the hard way that he fucking sucked at it.
“Yes, I thought this might be new for you,” Ilya replied softly, nodding. “And like I said last night, I know it is not always as easy as it looks. Unless you are me, of course.” The edge of Ilya’s lip twitched slightly for just a moment, but the smile vanished just as quickly as it had come. He took a slow breath before finally speaking again. “I am sorry, Barrett. You know how much I love fucking with you… But maybe this time was a little too much,” he admitted seriously.
Troy blinked in surprise, but was grateful for the apology. “Thanks,” he muttered a bit awkwardly. “And yeah… it’s… kind of a lot, I guess. But for the record, I really do appreciate it. And I want to get better at this. Really. It’s just not easy for me.”
“I know. But we can keep working on it, if you want.” Ilya reached out and clapped Troy on the shoulder. “And I will try to be less of a dick this time.”
Troy raised an eyebrow, his lips pulling up into a slight smile. “But you’re always a dick.”
“Yes. That is why I said less,” Ilya replied with a smirk.
Troy’s snort of laughter echoed against the bathroom walls around them. Which reminded him of the fact that he and Ilya were having this conversation inside a tiny hotel bathroom in the first place. Which in itself was so fucking ridiculous, it simply made him laugh again, louder this time.
“Alright, ‘less of a dick’ is probably as good as it’s gonna get with you, so… I’ll take it,” Troy said, still chuckling a bit. “Do you think we could at least take a break though? Like maybe til Shane gets here?” he asked.
“Sure,” Ilya agreed. “Let’s go find something to watch.”
After some begging (and, Troy suspected, maybe a little bribery) from Ilya, Shane had left the hotel a little while ago to pick up food for the three of them and bring it back to Troy’s room. It had become something of a tradition for Troy and Ilya to spend their days off together during their road trips, and much as Troy loved it, he often felt a bit guilty too, like he was keeping Ilya from his husband.
“No, no, this is good for him,” Ilya had insisted the one time Troy had tried bringing it up. “Shane hates sitting alone in the hotel room all day. Without me there, he has no choice but to go hang out with the team. And if I am not there, he HAS to talk to them. This is the only way he will make friends, you see?”
Troy had to admit, it was kind of clever. But he still felt bad about it sometimes, so he was glad when Ilya had told him Shane would be joining them. And it was even better knowing Shane would be showing up with food – Apparently making a total ass of yourself in front of a bathroom mirror was a great way to work up an appetite.
As Troy led the way out of the bathroom, he noticed Ilya rapidly typing something on his phone. “Asking Shane for an update?” he guessed.
“Sort of.” Ilya smiled at Troy as he dropped down onto the bed beside him. He looked back at the phone and began typing another message, still staring at the screen as he spoke this time. “You will see.”
A few minutes later, Troy had just turned on the TV when he heard a buzzing from Ilya’s phone, which now lay on the bed between them. “Ah! Here we go.” Ilya lifted his phone and looked down at the screen. After a moment, he let out a loud huff of laughter. “Nevermind. I should have known.”
“What?”
Ilya held the phone in Troy’s direction. He had it open to his text conversation with Shane.
Ilya: Send me a picture
Shane: Of what?
Shane: I’m still waiting for the food.
Ilya: Of you. Something sexy.
Shane: What??? I’m at a restaurant.
Ilya: Do they have a washroom?
Shane: Are you serious right now?
Ilya: It is for education purposes.
Shane had replied with a photo of his middle finger.
Troy burst into hysterics at the exchange. “Wow… That’s how an ‘expert’ asks his husband for a sexy selfie?”
Ilya shrugged. “I am out of practice,” he admitted. “And so is he, apparently.” Ilya gestured in disappointment toward the photo of Shane flipping him off. “What is this angle? Terrible.”
Troy let out a laugh. “Oh, so you’re an expert at angry selfies now too?”
“Yes.”
“I see…” Troy eyed his friend skeptically for a moment. “Is there anything you’re not an expert at?”
Ilya didn’t even hesitate before giving a shrug and a small shake of his head. “I cannot think of anything.”
“What about… Being modest?” Troy teased. “And humble?”
“Mmm, no. Sorry. I am an expert in these things too.” Ilya winked at him.
Troy let out a snort of amusement, then grabbed one of the pillows from the bed beside him and threw it right at Ilya’s laughing face. “Yup – you are definitely still a dick.”
—
Troy was still bursting with excitement and adrenaline as he stripped off his gear in the locker room after their game against Columbus. It had been another incredible win — another step closer to making the playoffs for the second year in a row. And Troy had played his ass off that night, scoring one of Ottawa’s three goals and setting Ilya up for his with a pretty fucking beautiful pass, if Troy said so himself.
As usual, the locker room had been a loud and chaotic celebration since the moment they stepped off the ice, and only now that he was getting ready to head to the showers did Troy finally have a chance to check his phone.
His heart burst with warmth the moment he opened his messages, just as he knew it would. Troy could always count on finding long strings of excited texts from both his mom and Harris when he got back to the locker room, both of them screaming excitedly about all the highlights of each game.
Smiling softly to himself, Troy sent his mom a heart emoji, then went back to scroll through Harris’ messages again.
YES! What a save! Go Hazy!!!!
Are these refs for real?! How was that not interference?!
YESSSSSSSS!!!!! Holy shit, babe! That was BEAUTIFUL!
Have I mentioned how happy I am we’ve got Shane on the team now???
The messages went on and on, and Troy’s smile grew wider and wider as he read through each one. He found himself replaying the game in his mind, and imagining all the adorable faces Harris was probably making as he watched. God, Troy loved him so much. And he missed him like hell.
Before he even realized what he was doing, Troy found his gaze drifting over toward the other side of the locker room, where Shane and Ilya were busy taking off their own gear. He could tell by the gestures they were making that they were doing their own recap of the game, laughing and pretty obviously flirting with one another the entire time. Just like they did after most games.
Troy turned his eyes away, trying his best to ignore the familiar jealousy creeping up within his chest at the sight. Instead, he turned his attention back to his phone.
‘That goal was for you, by the way,’ Troy typed, adding a heart emoji before he hit send.
Harris began writing back right away. ‘Aw, thanks babe.’ There was a brief pause, and then a trio of dots popped up onscreen for a few moments. ‘But… aren’t ALL your goals for me?’ Harris punctuated his second message with one of those little emojis that was winking and sticking out its tongue at the same time.
‘No.’ Troy let his reply hang for just a few seconds before he followed it up with, ‘Half are for Chiron.’
Harris responded with a laughing emoji followed by a dimly-lit photo of Chiron laying on the end of the bed by his feet. Troy could see that Harris was wearing his favorite pair of fuzzy apple socks, and Troy felt an unexpected rush of emotion at the sight of them.
‘I miss you,’ he typed quickly. ‘Chiron too, obviously. But… mostly you.’
‘I miss you too,’ Harris replied back. ‘I wish I was there with you right now.’
‘Me too,’ Troy replied, his eyes subconsciously darting back toward Ilya and Shane for a moment… Only to discover that both of them had already been looking at him. Troy turned away quickly, completely mortified. Had they noticed him staring before?
His panicked thoughts were interrupted by another text from Harris. ‘... Are you still in the locker room?’ he’d asked, followed by an emoji of two giant eyes peering sideways.
Troy smiled. ‘Yup.’
‘Damn. Now I REALLY wish I was there…’ This time, Harris ended with a kissing emoji, and a smiling little devil.
Troy’s stomach was suddenly a flurry of excitement and anticipation. Oh shit. This was his chance, wasn’t it? He took a breath, forcing himself not to look back over at his friends again. If he knew they were watching, Troy was almost certain he’d lose his nerve.
He quickly opened his camera app and angled the phone above his head – not too high, as Ilya had shown him, but high enough to show off his bare chest and the curve of his dick beneath the fabric of his shorts. Unlike last time, Troy had stripped completely down to nothing but his underwear. And, unlike the boxers he usually preferred off the ice, the tight athletic shorts he typically wore beneath his jock didn’t leave too much to the imagination.
He used a thumb to pull down the waistband just a little, then paused to take another breath. Alright. Time to show off what he’d learned.
To Troy’s surprise, it hadn’t been Ilya who’d helped him finally figure out what to do with his face in these kinds of photos. Once he’d arrived at Troy’s hotel room the evening before with their poké bowls, Shane had decided to chime in with some advice of his own.
“Much as it pains me to agree with Ilya…” Shane had begun, earning a smug smile from his husband. “I think you’re trying way too hard. Or overthinking it, maybe. You should try just… thinking about Harris. Pretend you’re looking at HIM, not the camera,” he’d suggested. “That always used to work for me.”
“Mmm, and it DID work,” Ilya had agreed. “Incredibly well.”
And so, as he held his phone above his head, Troy thought about Harris’ adorable little apple socks, and tried to imagine the rest of him – Harris laying back against his usual pile of pillows, his eyes glinting playfully, his hair a little tousled, his soft belly peeking out beneath his t-shirt, his lips curved into a sexy smile…
With that vision in his mind, Troy looked up at the camera and snapped a picture. And then, before he could second-guess himself, he sent it to Harris.
“Ha! You see?! I told you he would do it!” An excited cry came from the other side of the locker room.
The next thing Troy knew, Ilya was heading toward him, grinning widely and dragging an uncomfortable-looking Shane along with him by the hand. Both of them were also wearing nothing but their underwear at this point, which would have been super fucking weird in literally any other situation, but Troy had long since gotten used to having locker room conversations with his teammates while wearing next to nothing.
“Sorry,” Shane muttered as they got closer, though Troy was almost certain he caught a hint of amusement beneath his discomfort. “I told him we should leave you alone, but…” He shrugged helplessly.
“And you seriously thought he’d listen?” Troy asked skeptically.
“Hey, there’s a first time for everything.”
Troy’s chuckle was interrupted by loud shushing from Ilya. “Shhh! Enough talking! Let me see your phone!”
“What? Why?”
“You are my student, yes?” Ilya asked impatiently, already reaching for Troy’s cellphone. “I am here to check your homework.”
Troy could already feel himself blushing as he held his phone out toward Ilya. He knew there was no point in trying to argue. And, well, if he was being honest, he was kind of curious to see what kind of feedback he’d get from his friend.
He chewed his lip nervously as he watched Ilya stare down at the phone screen. Ilya was silent for several moments, and Troy felt himself beginning to panic. Oh shit… Is it really THAT bad? Is that why Harris hasn’t written back yet?!
All of a sudden, a bright burst of delighted laughter filled the air. “Holy shit, Barrett!” Ilya cried. “This is amazing!”
Troy’s eyes widened a bit. “Yeah?” he asked hopefully, despite the rising warmth in his cheeks.
Ilya nodded, grinning ear to ear as he leaned in close to Troy. “If I was Harris and you sent me that picture, I would be on the way to the airport right now. In fact, I would not be surprised if he shows up at the hotel in Nashville tomorrow,” he teased.
“I wish…” Troy muttered. He felt his smile falter for just a moment at the thought of just how amazing – and impossible – that would be.
Troy wondered whether Ilya had noticed the change in his expression. There was a brief flash of… something in the other man’s eyes for a moment, and Troy thought he saw Ilya’s smile flicker too, but it was back again before he could be sure.
Ilya reached out to clap him on the shoulder. “Seriously, Troy, you look hot as fuck.”
“Um, I’m standing right here, you know,” Shane teased, giving his husband a playful punch on his arm as he spoke.
“What? I am telling the truth! Look!”
Shane hesitated for just a moment, then leaned in to glance down at Troy’s phone, which Ilya still clutched in one of his large hands. “Oh, wow,” Shane said softly, suddenly looking almost half as embarrassed as Troy currently felt. “Yeah… Harris is definitely gonna love that.”
Troy’s neck and face felt like they could burst into flames at any minute. “Um, thanks. I hope so,” he replied awkwardly. “He still hasn’t said anything…”
“Probably because he is too busy picking up his jaw from the floor,” Ilya replied, smirking at him. “Trust me, he will love it.” His eyes flicked back down toward Troy’s phone screen for a moment, then suddenly went wide. “Oh, shit.” Ilya let out a loud snort of laughter. “He really loved it.”
Oh no. Troy’s stomach twisted nervously as he reached out to snatch his phone from Ilya’s grasp.
Just as he’d feared, Harris had replied with a picture of his own… Though mercifully he’d kept his clothes on for it. Still, there was no missing the fact that he was pitching a very noticeable tent beneath his pajama pants. Troy felt oddly grateful for the fact that his friends were standing just a few feet away (one of whom was currently doubled over in hysterics). It was probably the only thing keeping him from getting turned on himself, and Troy wasn’t sure he could survive feeling any more embarrassed than he already did.
And yet… he felt oddly proud too. Ilya and Shane both thought he looked sexy. Harris had gotten a hard-on just from that one picture! Maybe this sexy selfie thing wasn’t as impossible as Troy had thought.
“Too bad for Harris we are going straight to the airport tonight.” Ilya’s laughter had finally died down enough that he could speak again. “Oh well… Incredible work, Barrett. A-plus!”
Troy let out a weak laugh of his own, still torn between mortification and pride. “Thanks,” he muttered, glancing back down to admire Harris’ picture.
“In fact, you are ready for the final lesson, I think,” Ilya continued.
“The what?!” Shane and Troy both asked in unison.
Ilya just smiled. “You will see tomorrow,” he assured both of them. “Come on, Hollander. I think Barrett might need a little privacy.” He shot Troy a quick wink, then turned away, gesturing for his husband to follow.
Once he was alone again, Troy let out a heavy sigh. He had no idea whether he should be excited or terrified about whatever Ilya’s ‘final lesson’ might be, but he tried his best not to worry about it for now. Instead, Troy smiled fondly yet again at the picture of his boyfriend, then got to work figuring out the perfect string of suggestive emojis to send him in reply.
