Chapter Text
January 2017, two days before the Boston-Montreal game
The medical suite at the Bell Centre was always a few degrees warmer than the rest of the building, but an anticipatory shiver still rolled down Shane's spine as Dr. Farand sat back in his office chair and sucked in a deep breath. Projected across the double monitor in front of him was all the data that had been collected during Shane's most recent full physical exam.
'Your hormonal levels are spiking again,' Farand announced with a level of gloominess that most patients would have taken offence to. Shane, however, knew his disappointment was born of identifying a health issue that might put the team at a disadvantage during their next game. A disadvantage that could prove especially damning when their future spot in the play-offs hinged on Shane not being benched due to medical complications. 'We're going to have to dramatically lower your suppressant dosage to allow your body time to regulate them, perhaps stop taking them all-together for a few days.'
Shane shifted on the edge of the exam table, disliking the sensation of the crinkly paper sticking to the back of his bare thighs. 'We have about four days of downtime after we play Boston Saturday night,' he did the mental math. 'How long would it take for my suppressants to completely wear off if I quit taking them tomorrow morning?'
Farand pursed his lips, reluctant to immediately jump on Shane's risky proposal. 'The time between games should suffice for you to go through a heat, but the timing might get rough. Theoretically, the higher dosage you've been taking would take at least three days to fully leave your system, but there's never a way to predict how your body will react to going cold turkey rather than slowly lowering the dosage. Your symptoms might get more volatile.' His pinched look intensified. 'You might go into pre-heat on the ice.'
The part of Shane that had been steeped in competitive spirit his entire life wanted to protest that he'd managed to play and win games in the junior league while suffering from heat symptoms before. What that part conveniently forgot was that all those matches had taken place when Shane had still been a teen and his heats had been far less debilitating than they were now, halfway into his twenties. Once his body had achieved physical maturity they'd turned from a mild fever that lasted a couple of hours into three days of drawn-out agony as his body cursed him out for not fulfilling his potential to carry a pregnancy to term. For Shane, it was hardly the romantic and sexy event the popular media loved to depict it as.
Under normal circumstances, he would have gladly told Farand that he'd continue taking his suppressants until the team had a longer break, but that would most likely wind up interfering with their early play-off games.
As team captain, Shane needed to weigh his options carefully. 'What other side-effects should I take into account?'
'Well, we need to consider a variety of scenarios. In addition to going into heat earlier, the first symptoms could also hit you more aggressively. Disorientation, fever, loss of coordination,…' The doctor listed each possible symptom on a finger. In a sport where anti-omega prejudice was still thrown around behind closed doors, his frankness and objectivity was refreshing. There was no thinly veiled disgust at what the physical reality of being an omega entailed, nor any condescension towards Shane's perceived "weakness" as an omega. 'Inversely, your heat might start right at the expected time but last significantly longer, making you miss the next game instead.'
'The team can best Detroit without me, the same can't be said about Boston,' Shane argued calmly, allowing his natural scent to radiate the quiet confidence he was famous for. He was pleased when the stiff set of Farand's shoulders gradually relaxed under its influence. It was a dirty trick, but one that Shane played with a clear conscience.
'Mhm, we could have an EMT with specialised medications on stand-by just in case,' the doctor relented after a fashion, adding a few notes into Shane's medical file. 'And I'll need you to provide me with a list of trusted individuals that can escort you back home if an issue occurs.'
Here came the easy part: 'Not a problem. Rose is going to attend the game, she won't mind taking me home.'
Farand looked over at him, a sly smile playing around his lips. 'Good for you.'
Shane could make an educated guess at what the doctor imagined would be happening during his heat. He had to bite his lip to mask his own amusement. Because he and Rose shared the same secondary gender, there existed little to no shame between them, but their recent break-up had put a stop to all lacklustre sexual experimenting. The only moves Rose was going to pull were brewing him soothing cups of herbal tea and watching trash reality TV on his couch while Shane worked through his sexual frustration with the help of his toy collection.
Of course, Farand hadn't yet been informed that they'd broken up. Nobody apart from Rose, Shane, and their parents were aware that the fairytale romance had petered out following their mutual realisation that neither was satisfied with the state of their relationship.
However, that didn't change the fact that they were both hugely popular public figures and considered role models for young omegas who wanted to succeed in their respective fields. They couldn't just call it quits overnight without major repercussions or inviting a ton of media scrutiny that was bound to give Shane nightmares. From there, it would only be a matter of time before their fanbases commenced slinging mud at one another, which they wished to avoid at all costs. Overall, it was better to phase their relationship out slowly in the public eye, so people could acclimate to the idea of them not being the perfect omegan power couple.
So, even if he was bound by his professional oath to keep Shane's sexual history private, it was better that Farand remained completely unaware that Shane was fully prepared to face his heat alone. Unless Shane could somehow pull off the impossible before Saturday's game and reconnect with a certain someone…
'As long as we take the necessary precautions, I'm fine with being part of the roster on Saturday,' Shane gave it one final shot. 'I'll wear a couple of scent masking patches and keep my distance from the other players when we're off the ice.' These are all the assurances Farand should want to hear, and yet for a brief moment worry clouded the doctor's expression.
'Can't say I like it, Shane, not as your physician and not as your biggest fan on staff, but ultimately, the decision is up to you.' Farand shrugged helplessly, torn between the desire to see his team get another chance at winning the cup and his professional obligation to protect Shane's health. 'Temporarily decreasing your dosage to the lowest acceptable standard might just be the easier route to take.'
'What if I ask coach Theriault to give me a separate room to change and take breaks in? Let Hayden entertain the press for once?' Shane struggled to keep the desperation out of his voice. Montreal needed a victory on Saturday, and Shane was the kind of captain who could give it to them in spite of his personal issues. Hell, he'd proven that he was capable of remaining professional the last game against Boston when Ilya's cold glares had registered like knives slipping between his ribs, and that had been far more of a challenge than soldiering through some mild physical discomfort would be. If he could handle an emotionally distant Ilya, he could handle this.
Farand's voice chased any thoughts of the alpha away: 'You know what, perhaps I'm being overly cautious. You obviously know the limits of your body and these are all great suggestions. I'll write you a note so Theriault won't give you too much shit about receiving the "princess treatment" on game night, but you'll have to be the one to break the news to him. I still remember him cursing me out for benching Thomas with a lightly sprained wrist.'
Shane almost slumped in relief. 'Does that mean I have the green light to stop taking my suppressants tomorrow?'
One last time, Farand critically eyed him up and down before giving him a curt nod. 'As long as you keep me posted on any withdrawal symptoms, I'm happy to sign off on you playing Boston with only minor inhibitors in place. We'll figure out the rest as your condition evolves.'
Shane was already slipping off the exam table and gathering up his clothes. 'Sounds great! You're a lifesaver, doctor. I'll pay for your celebration dinner after the game.'
The doctor turned back to the screens with a wistful smile. 'Just think of me when you win the cup, that will be thanks enough.'
Contrary to his reputation, Shane didn't make a point of staying behind after the rest of the team had long called it quits. It just so happened that he had exponentially more reasons to spend a few extra hours at the rink as Montreal's captain; there was always some small fire that required his presence to put it out. But more importantly than that, Shane had discovered fairly early on in his career that he regularly required some meditative quality time with the ice to maintain his mental equilibrium.
Once dismissed from the medical suite, Shane took his time wandering through the arena, collecting his skates and some minor padding from the locker room. Apart from some support and maintenance staff, the building was deserted, and Shane's footsteps echoed loudly as he walked down to the rink itself. He settled down on the benches that were usually occupied by the away team and set to lacing up his skates.
In just a few days, Ilya would be sitting in this spot, body drawn tight with adrenaline as he watched his team give the Metros hell. Only when it would be his turn to dominate the ice would the set of his shoulders relax and his natural musk gain that confident, earthy note that Shane could now freely admit that he loved. Its absence during their last few games had hit hard, especially since Shane had been all too aware that he wouldn't be able to bask in the scent in the privacy of a bedroom later. He missed to quiet moments of closeness after they'd wrung orgasms out of each other's bodies most of all.
Shane took a deep breath, acknowledging the elevation in his heartbeat that signalled the early onset of a panic attack. The thought of never having the alpha's scent enveloping him again was excruciating, and yet he still hadn't sent Ilya a single text about his break up with Rose. Every time he opened their text thread, his fingers refused to type out the words that would grant him relief, that would signal to the alpha that Shane was finally ready to run back into his arms.
Perhaps, Shane had thought optimistically, it was for the best that he couldn't communicate his longing for the alpha over text. It would be entirely too impersonal, and Ilya deserved to hear Shane's full apology in person. Still, now the opportunity to talk things out was close at hand, Shane could sense the old fear creeping back in, smothering his courage.
As per usual, he fought it back by spending the next few minutes letting his blades cut complicated patterns and concentric circles into the frosty top layer of the ice. The motions loosened the hold his anxiety had on him, and allowed him to sort through the underlying causes.
Logically, the issue at the forefront of his mind was his approaching heat. It added another layer of complication to his desire to reconcile with Ilya, because there was no feasible plan in which they would be able to meet after the game to talk in private. Shane would definitely be experiencing the first symptoms of pre-heat by then, and it would be exceedingly unfair to expose the alpha to pheromones that might cloud his judgement. Moreover, he didn't want Ilya to think that Shane wanted him in a purely physical sense either.
So, what could he do? Ask Ilya to meet him before their afternoon game and run the risk of the alpha declining the invitation before Shane could put forward all the reasons why resuming their regular trysts was an excellent idea? Ilya had already proven himself reluctant to socially engage with Shane after the first images of Rose and him hit the tabloids, so he'd likely ignore any attempts on Shane's part to initiate conversation while under the false impression that the relationship was still going strong.
Technically, he could postpone meeting with Ilya until after he'd publicly separated from Rose, but that made him feel like a dirty liar and he wasn't too sure that he could muster the patience to wait that long, either. As an omega, his wants and needs manifested just as strongly as any alpha's, and the break up had given him a newfound determination to not deny himself anymore.
Raking a hand through his hair in frustration, Shane skated back to the boards to grab his phone and dialled the number he'd saved at the top of his favourites. Rose picked up after the second ring.
'This a good time to talk?' Shane kept his voice low, knowing the echo could carry his words farther and wider than he'd like them to be. 'If you're not alone, I can call back later but I'm kind of—'
'Hello to you, too,' Rose interrupted him mid-tangent. 'And yes, I'm alone, so you can tell me what has got you spiralling this morning. Let me just grab something to drink first, though. Something tells me I'm going to need it.'
'It better not be wine,' Shane ribbed her right back. 'It's barely past nine.'
Her laughter came through loud and clear. 'My body operates on California time, Shane, I'm just grabbing coffee.'
They exchanged further pleasantries as Rose went about making her preferred latte and Shane hopped onto the boards, kicking his legs a little as he enjoyed just listening to her ramble about the red-eye flight she'd taken two nights before. Conversations between them always flowed easily and, romantically involved or not, Rose had become the closest thing he had to a confidant, the one person aside from Ilya that he felt comfortable revealing the inner workings of his mind to.
'So, why the freakout at this ungodly hour?' Rose eventually prompted after taking a long slurp from her morning coffee. 'I'm ready to face all your drama now.'
Shane let out a deep sigh, playing it up for her in a way that he knew would make her smile. 'Doc says I have to quit taking my suppressants for a bit.'
'Like right now?'
He nodded absently. 'Yeah, the hope is that we can cram my heat between Boston and Detroit. It sucks, obviously, but I have to think about how my health might impact the team in the long run if I don't schedule some downtime now.'
'And it's also good practice to put your own health first,' Rose tacked on. The clinical way he approached his heat cycle had been one of the things she'd actively disliked about him while they were dating. Rose was always pushing him to be gentler with himself, his body, his designation, but there was a lot of baggage there. 'It's a shame we won't get to properly hang out after the game, then.'
'About that… I need to declare a list of people I'd be comfortable with escorting me home in case my heat hits early,' Shane finally broached the topic that had driven him to call. 'Since my mom has business in Ottawa, I wondered if you could stand in as my emergency contact, just in case my heat winds up interfering with play.'
Rose made a noise that was part acceptance, but left room open for negotiation. 'If you need me, I'll be right there, crashing on your couch and feeding you yoghurt and fruit, but Shane… Don't shoot me for asking: isn't there someone who you'd rather spend your heat with? What about the alpha you told me about? You still like him, don't you?'
Shane swallowed and tried to speak past the small lump that appeared lodged in his throat whenever veiled references to Ilya came up in conversation. 'Yeah, I like him. I haven't gotten back in touch yet.'
'Why the fuck not?' There was a rustle of fabric as if she were jumping up from the couch. 'You were head over heels for that guy. Still are somewhere deep down, I think. Take a chance and ask him already!'
'It's not that simple, okay?' Shane snapped back, immediately wanting to erase the harshness from his tone. He glanced around the rink, nervously checking if anybody had heard his outburst. 'Believe me that I've tried to work on it, but I— I just can't seem to bridge the distance.'
Rose couldn't understand what was keeping him and Ilya apart. She had all these romantic notions about long-term entanglements that Shane frankly didn't want to entertain because they only succeeded at fracturing his heart even further. She would see his heat as an opportunity to pin his elusive alpha down while Shane was horrified by the idea of weaponizing his biology against Ilya. It seemed an unforgivable offence, even more than walking out on him in a moment of mutual vulnerability two months ago.
'Love is hard,' Rose commiserated with him, and Shane bit down his instinctual reaction to correct her choice of words. 'But you deserve to spend a heat with somebody you actually like after all these years of denying yourself, and I would be a terrible friend if I didn't support your search for the knot to become the perfect peg to your hole.'
Shane spluttered. 'Rose!'
'What? It is the truth!' There was a pause and Shane imagined she was taking a long, pensive sip of her latte. 'Look, I'll make you a deal: you don't put your alpha's name on the official list, because I know you've got hang ups about that, but you share that information with me. Over text on the day of the game if need be. Only in case of emergency.'
Shane buried his face in his free hand, struggling with the prospect of sharing the burden of secrecy with the woman who'd shown she had his back in all aspects of his life.
'You don't have to, Shane,' Rose said carefully. 'I'll understand if you don't feel comfortable opening up to me about that yet.'
'No, no.' He shook his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. A persistent ache was beginning to form beneath his brow bone. 'I think it would be a good thing, you know, unburdening myself a little. I trust you.'
'I trust you, too,' Rose returned the sentiment without hesitation, and Shane allowed himself a long moment to bask in the warmth of their mutual affection. If only all his relationships came this effortlessly.
'I hate this,' he confessed in the quiet. 'Not being able to see him and talk to him without the fear of being discovered pressing down on me. When I do invite him to share my heat, I don't want him to feel obliged to help me out of pity. I don't want to feel like I have to give him back to the world after it.'
Rose crooned in sympathy. 'That's so beautiful, Shane. I think he would appreciate it if you told him that instead of little old me.'
'I'll try,' Shane conceded quietly. He would have to if he wanted to remain sane for the remainder of his career. Heck, his life, probably.
The rest of their conversation turned to more lighthearted topics like the new film franchise that was trying to reel Rose in as one of its main cast and the new foods that Shane had tried to incorporate into his performance diet since they'd last seen each other. It was perfectly mundane chatter and it did wonders to stabilise Shane's mood. They agreed to grab lunch before the game and then Shane hung up to complete his short workout on the ice.
About an hour later, after he'd put all of his equipment away and showered, he picked up his phone again and scrolled back to his text thread with Rose. His fingers shook a little as he typed the name that could never make it to his doctor's official list.
Ilya Rozanov.
Staring down at his screen, Shane took a deep breath, released it, and then sent the text.
Rose's reply was instantaneous. Holy shit, is this for real?
Do you think I joke around about this kind of stuff?
No! Just wow! It makes a ridiculous amount of sense. Thank you for sharing! <3
Thanks for being my friend. <3
Feeling approximately a metric ton lighter, Shane slipped from the locker room and made his way back home. He had a heat to make preparations for.