Chapter 2
A raucous roar that was half cheer, half laugher tore through the room at Coach's words and Braden found himself blinking back tears at the warm acceptance and understanding that flowed around him from his team, a team that didn't care that he was different, a team that
welcomed
the fact he was different.
A team that accepted him for all that he was both good and bad, with all of his intricacies and weird food habits, and with the 200-pound Karpathian man that was perpetually attached to his hip.
His team.
Not the team he was expecting, but the team he would forevermore choose if given the opportunity.
"Damn straight!" Gibs called out as Coach finished, fist pumping the air.
"These fuckers won't know what hit them!"
"You know, if they hate gay people so much," Sean added, sharing a soft look with Marcus across the room, Braden shifting to see the social media manager smiling back at him with pure adoration, "then I think we better make sure every gay person on this team scores a goal tonight.
Show them who's better or something."
"Yes, Fletcher!" A deep enthusiastic voice rumbled from the other side of the room, and Braden was already shaking his head with amusement before he looked up to see Maxim now standing in the middle of the room.
"A rainbow goal for you!
A rainbow goal for me!
A rainbow goal for Braden!
And a rainbow goal for whoever else of you perfect rainbow lovers want to score tonight and send Haverhill home crying!"
"A rainbow goal for me," Braden laughed under his breath amongst the cheers in the room, shaking his head with a fond smile as Maxim's words sunk in, still struggling to wrap his head around the fact he could be out and open—could be
himself
—without making anyone else around him uncomfortable.
"And if we lose?" Someone asked as Maxim strode towards Braden, pulling his husband to his feet and sliding a hand between his shoulder pads and the top of his hockey pants, the warmth of his touch exactly what Braden needed to settle himself down as he leaned his head onto Maxim's shoulder and stepped further into his embrace.
"Is not an option.
Tonight, we win." And with that, Maxim tucked a finger under Braden's chin, tilting his head back and kissing his husband passionately without a single care in the world.
"You're an idiot," Braden huffed once they pulled apart, his cheeks flaming red.
He was still getting used to being allowed to do that.
"Yes, but I am your idiot," Maxim replied with a wicked grin, planting a disgustingly wet kiss on Braden's cheek, the older man shoving his husband away and wiping at the skin to remove the excess spit there much to the enjoyment of the rest of the team and to Marcus who was most definitely recording this on his phone for the Blaze' socials later.
"A good luck kiss before the big game!
#GoBlazeGo #CallOrlovUnite #FuckTheMonarchs!"
(Okay, maybe not the last one, but a man could dream couldn't he?
Braden's head had barely cleared the tunnel before the boos began.
He knew the boos had been coming, had heard it happen dozens of times across his career as players changed teams, but never in a million years had he thought that he would ever be the target of such vitriol.
"Keep your head up," Maxim said quietly as he stepped onto the ice and skated past him, the team skating circles around their zone to get their legs warmed up, Braden realizing a moment too late that he had in fact dropped his head towards his chest, his shoulders pulled up high to drown out the sounds of the Haverhill home crowd.
Puffing out a frustrated breath of air, Braden pulled his shoulders back and raised his head up high, completing a lap before receiving a puck on his stick from Reed and rifling it into the back of the empty net with a decisive snap, taking another lap and repeating the action.
Skate.
Shoot.
BOOOOOO.
Skate.
"Fuck this city," Sean said as he pulled up to a stop beside him, the players forming two lines in the middle of the ice as Chase slid into the crease and began his preparations.
"Though I guess they aren't all bad."
"Hm?"
"Look left."
Swallowing heavily, Braden chanced a look towards the stands, his eyes landing on two young boys who couldn't be older than 15 with a yellow sign against the glass reading "Welcome Home Braden!
!" dripped in rainbows and a heart that had "24 + 81" in the middle.
Suddenly overcome with emotion, Braden willed the tears back into his eyes as he gave himself permission to face the crowd, drinking in the sights of all the signs pressed against the glass along the Blaze end of the ice.
"Captain my captain!
Haverhill loves you!"
"Forever a fan of #24!"
"#CallOrlov4Lyfe "
"Gays do it better "
"Maxim Orlov?
Luckiest man in the world!"
And Braden's personal favourite:
The best player ON the ice, the best husband OFF the ice."
Damn straight.
"Is nice, actually," Maxim mused thoughtfully from beside him, Braden taking a deep breath before turning to look at him, worried that he would burst into tears if he wasn't careful.
"Some people boo, but fuck them.
Some people cheer, thank you to them.
Is about what I expected.
"Yeah, I guess that's about what I expected too," Braden admitted after a moment and another scan of the glass, resisting the urge to step into Maxim's arms and bury his face in his strong chest.
"You have not even looked at other end of ice," Maxim pointed out astutely, his piercing gaze never leaving Braden's face as he analyzed every furrow and every frown on his features.
"I, uh...," Braden started, gulping loudly in the space between them before continuing.
"I don't really know what to expect if I do."
"Some glares," Maxim said easily, like it was simple and not something as soul crushing as how Braden currently felt.
"But not all bad.
Now that we are standing together most of them are looking at us, but this is probably because I am so hot and they are jealous I am your husband."
"Oh fuck off," Braden laughed sharply, pushing at Maxim and feeling the tension shrink back in his chest as the momentum pushed them both back a step, the matching grin on Maxim's face replacing the ugly emotions rearing up in Braden's mind with ones of warmth and love.
Fuck he loved his husband.
"Is true!" Maxim replied cheekily, his lips stretching even wider.
"Am very good catch, yes?
Great hockey player.
Great husband.
Great in bed.
Who would not want to be you, Braden Callahan?"
"I mean he has a point," Gibs said as he skated up to the pair, placing his hands on the top of his stick as he stopped beside Maxim.
"Both of you are unfortunately very hot and very talented.
It's honestly really fucking annoying."
"Is that jealousy I hear, Cole?" Maxim chirped, his grin turning feral.
"Do you want Braden and I to come show Jenna how it's done?
Only small fee I promise."
"Braden, leash your husband," Gibson said with a glare in Maxim's direction, not even bothering to respond to Maxim's comments, skating off to re-join the lines much to Braden's amusement.
They all knew Cole wasn't actually mad.