Chapter Text
“Why do you want a tumblr?” her youngest daughter asked over the phone. Sylvie could see Colleen’s confused look, and no absolutely not was the Pike family matriarch going to explain that people on twitter had posted links to tumblr blogs about “Shayden”. All of her children had protested being her friend on Facebook afraid she’d stalk them, “did all the old ladies migrate to tumblr? Facebook got too boring?”
“Colleen Sophia,” Sylvie had never been the type of woman to shy away from age, but she didn’t appreciate her daughter’s “tude”, “and forget it I guess,”
“I will most certainly not be forgetting it,” Colleen said.
Of their children, Colleen was the one with the memory of an elephant. Hence the reason her grandma called her malen'kiy slon. Of the nicknames her mother-in-law bestowed upon her children, Little Elephant and Little Rabbit were two of the worst. Sylvie did love Nadezhda, but sometimes, it was just all a bit too much.
“Also, did you join twitter mom?”
“What…,” she’d only made one to follow the Shayden people. She had used the name spike87.
“You came up as recommended,” Colleen told her, “and you only follow three people. Your sister, our neighbor, and a person called Shayden4ever. Also you’ve retweeted the same tweet about Hayden’s goal twelve times. I did not need to be Miss. Marple to figure it out,”
Sylvie had truly thought the combination of her surname and first initial would be hidden enough. Spike? Volleyball? She found an excuse to hang up when the stove dinged. Lasagna ready!
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“I told Colleen,” Hayden admitted to Shane. They were both sitting on Hayden’s sofa, a paused game of Mario Party on the screen.
Shane’s eyebrows lifted, “Oh?”
“She said she already suspected…,” Hayden could feel his cheeks getting warmer. Colleen had not so nicely reminded him that he’d left finger prints all over her Pop Star magazines, on the male pop-stars, “and she’s cool with it,”
“Would you tell any of your other siblings?”
Hayden leaned back, thinking, “Misha probably. He lived in L.A. for a bit. Went to that liberal arts college in New York. He’d act cool about it. Make it about social justice somehow.”
Shane huffed. “He absolutely would.”
“And maybe Connor,” Hayden added, “His wife’s sister has a wife. So it wouldn’t be…foreign.”
“And have you thought about telling your parents?”
Nope. Hayden knew rationally that they might be shocked, but they’d never expressed any outward hate or dislike of gay people. And his Grandma who raised his dad had been nothing but supportive of him and Cliff. She had even added Cliff’s name to the board. He very proudly ranked fourth last week, and she had sent him sweets in the mail.
“You don’t have to tell them,” Shane said.
“And what let them think I’m some lonely loser forever?” Hayden crushed his snapple not meaning to, “on the last vacation I was put on a bunk bed with Liam and George because the other rooms were taken up by couples. My mom looked so worried for me,”
“Her baby,” Shane teased gently.
Hayden flipped him off automatically. “As if your mother isn’t involved.”
“She’s more involved,” Shane said solemnly.
“That’s because you’re her only one.”
“And at least she doesn’t call me ‘baby’ loud enough for my teammates to hear.”
“That was ONE time!”
“And JJ has never let you forget.”
Hayden groaned and covered his face. He truthfully never wanted her to stop calling him that. It was embarrassing but it was also nice. Before hockey took over his life, it was his niche. He was the baby.
“I think it would terrify him, but I’d love to bring Cliff to a BBQ with all of them…” Hayden was not so sure why he was admitting this aloud but he could see it in his head. He could see it so clearly it almost hurt his parents’ backyard in late July. Folding tables. His mother’s potato salad that somehow tasted better than anyone else’s. His father manning the grill like it was still 1998. His nieces and nephews tearing through the yard with water guns. The image settled in his chest like something fragile.And then, he blinked.Shane usually came to those with him.
Hayden shifted, suddenly aware of how that sounded. “You can come too. Still. Obviously. They like you. You’re basically adopted at this point.”
Shane arched a brow. “Basically?”
“My mom asks about you more than she asks about Laurent,” Hayden defended. There were really also too many people who came to these things that his mom probably wouldn’t even notice an additional guest.
“And maybe,” Hayden continued, pressing forward before he could overthink it, “maybe one day you can bring Rasputin.”
“Don’t call him that,”
His parents had been extremely confused by Rozanov being adopted by his grandma. And most of the Pikes had a field day when they were all shipped Rozanov jerseys. It had been the worst month of his life. Hayden was getting pictures of grandma, siblings, nieces and nephews in Rozanov jersey. A true nightmare.
“What does Marly think?” Shane asked. But before Hayden could respond, his phone had alerted him to someone at the driveway. He squinted at it, recognizing the beat up mini van that had shuttled him throughout most of his childhood. One of his siblings named it “The Green Machine”. It was a wonder that it was still running.
Shane leaned over his shoulder. “Oh.”
“Why is she here?” Hayden whispered, as if the Ring camera could hear him.
“Maybe she sensed you thinking about being gay.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
The doorbell rang.Not tentative.Authoritative.Hayden opened the door before she could ring it again.
“Hayden Mathew,” she began immediately, brushing past him like she owned the property, “what have I told you about leaving your shoes by the door? Someone will trip. You break your ankle. Then what? No hockey.”
She nudged his sneakers aside with her own foot, efficient and familiar.Then she noticed Shane.Her entire face rearranged itself.
“Oh! Hello, Shane.”Her accent thickened slightly the way it always did when she got animated. More French Canadian. And she knew he spoke French so sometimes she’d just switch into it,“Great goal the other night. Very strong on the forecheck. It is too bad about playoffs, no? But next year. We pray.”
Shane stood up immediately, polite as always. “Hi, Mrs. Pike. Thank you. We’ll try again.”
“We always try again,” she said firmly, patting his arm like she was blessing him. “You look thin. Are you eating?”
“Mom,” Hayden muttered.
She ignored him.
“Sit, sit. Why are you both standing? I brought food.” She held up a foil-covered tray triumphantly. “Lasagna.”
Shane shot Hayden a look.Lasagna.Unscheduled visit.This was either a kindness or an omen.
“Mom,” Hayden said carefully, trying to sound normal, casual, not at all like he had just been discussing coming out to her ten seconds ago, “what are you doing here?”
“What? I cannot visit my son?”
“You absolutely can, just usually you text.”
“I did text.”
Hayden checked his phone.Three missed texts.Are you home?I made extra.I am five minutes away.
“…Oh.”
She clucked her tongue and moved toward the kitchen like a general surveying territory.
“And you,” she said over her shoulder to Shane, “you can come for dinner Sunday? Is your mother working again?”
Shane smiled faintly. “I think she is, yeah.”
“Then you come. You should not eat alone. Bring your Dad. He can talk to Joe about his job and distract him or something,”
Hayden and Shane shared a brief glance.The timing of this felt cosmic.Or threatening.Or both.His mom set the lasagna down and turned, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing slightly at Hayden.
“You look… tense,” she observed.
“I’m not tense.”
“You are crushing that snapple bottle like it insulted you.”
Hayden glanced down.He absolutely was.
Shane, traitor that he was, said mildly, “We were just talking.”
“Oh?” she said, interested immediately. “About hockey?”
Hayden’s stomach flipped.Shane looked at him.Hayden looked at Shane.There it was.The moment hovering between them like a live wire.
“Just stuff,” Hayden said quickly.
She studied him.Really studied him.Mothers of nine developed a kind of supernatural radar. She told them when they were kids that she could tell if they were lying by them sticking out their tongue. It took Hayden longer than he wanted to admit to realize the ruse.
“Hmm,” she hummed, unconvinced but not pressing. Not yet.She reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt like he was still seventeen.
“You know,” she said softly, “you can tell me things.”
It wasn’t dramatic.It wasn’t suspicious.It was simple.Hayden felt his throat tighten instantly.Shane went very still beside him.
“I know,” Hayden managed.
She nodded once, satisfied for now, and turned back toward the kitchen, “So. You both stay. I make tea.”
As she disappeared into the other room, Hayden exhaled slowly.Shane leaned closer and murmured under his breath,“Well.”
Hayden swallowed,“Don’t,” he warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say,” Shane replied, barely suppressing a smile, “that the universe has a sick sense of humor.”
Hayden dragged both hands down his face.Part of him wondered if this was divine intervention. Or punishment. Or both.He could tell Shane to leave. He could do this properly. Alone. Like an adult son having a serious conversation with his mother in the kitchen over tea. Or,maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have someone else present in case she fainted.Or he fainted.
“Are you…,” Shane seemed incapable of forming a sentence, “should I leave?”
Hayden shook his head, “I don’t know. Please, just stay,”
The Montreal Metros found his mother already puttering about. She had the kettle going, and was already fretting over the state of the kitchen.She paused in front of his fridge.Opened it.Closed it.Opened it again, as if perhaps groceries would manifest under scrutiny.
“Honestly,” she declared, “sometimes I wonder if a pack of wolves raised you.”
“I’m not that feral, Mom!”
She turned slowly, eyebrows lifting,“Oh really?”
Hayden did not like the way her eyes zeroed in on the spot between his collarbone and neck. If he had known she was coming, he might have worn a jacket or something to attempt to cover it. Shane never commented on the bruises just as Hayden never commented on the scratches on his back.
“Tell that to the bruises peeking out of your cardigan, dear,” she said calmly, rising onto her tiptoes to poke at his neck with scandalous precision. “You must tell Emily Elizabeth to be more gentle.”
Shane made a choking sound that could not legally be classified as human. Hayden’s brain fully left his body. Surely, he must have heard her wrong.
“Did you-
“Emily Elizabeth, yes,” his mother poured the tea into three mugs, “you’re too old to have lovebites sweetheart,”
Hayden would have to process that later. His mind was still stuck on Emily Elizabeth, “how do you know about Emily?”
“Liam,”
“My nephew?”
His mother fixed him a long look, “no the gardener Liam. Yes your nephew,”
“How?”
“Liam,” she repeated, turning back to put the lasagna in the oven, “You left your phone on the coffee table the last time you were both over. He was playing with it. Calling people.”
Hayden felt his soul separate from his body, “He called… people?”
“Oh yes,” she said pleasantly. “Your other brothers and sisters. At least three of them. And someone saved as ‘Emily Elizabeth’,” and his mother’s face was beat red. Had Cliff talked to Liam? Why hadn’t he said anything? As if reading his mind, his mother filled in with, “I only heard “hello”,”
There was something she wasn’t saying. And why did she keep looking at Shane as if expecting him to say something? When Shane said nothing, his mother turned to him, “Would you like another ginger ale, Emily Elizabeth?”
The noise Hayden made sounded more like an owl than human.