Chapter Text
Finally, it’s over.
Is what the entire Ottawa Centaurs locker room is saying after their game in Denver. It had been the longest road trip of the season spanning around two weeks. And to be completely honest, it sucked, it spanned Valentine’s Day, meaning that a lot of the team could not see their partners for the holiday.
The last game of this road trip can only be described as gritty. It was a 5-4 overtime win against the Colorado Peaks. The road trip included, Calgary, Vancouver, Seattle, Los Angeles, Anaheim, San Jose, and then finally ending with Denver. City by city, it all began to blur together. In a few short hours, they would be on their way back to Ottawa which everyone was so overjoyed with.
To celebrate the ending of the road trip from hell, everyone in the Ottawa locker room was acting like they had just won the Stanley Cup. Dykstra and Hazy were controlling the aux with some Imagine Dragons song that nobody under the age of thirty could parse through. Ilya and Bood were talking in the corner about logistics, it seemed like even though they were clearly laughing and having a good time. Everyone else was really in their own world either bopping to the beat or clearly ready to get the fuck out.
That left Luca.
He walked into the locker room slowly, since he was the last one coming from the showers. Normally, it would never take him that long in the showers, but he had a lot on his mind. Mainly, his play. He was playing well, but it did not feel enough. Most nights, whether on the road or at home, he would be at the rink until late. He did not just want to be good; he wanted to be great. Beyond that, his parents were having financial struggles at home, but would never show it, but one night his little sister slipped up and ever since he’s been a nervous wreck.
Snapped back to reality by Barrett and Hollander going up to him and shaking him out of excitement.
“Man, that was incredible!” Barrett exclaimed with a grin all over his face.
“That hat-trick was magnificent, take it easy on yourself,” Hollander reassured Hassy, who in many ways was just like him.
Yes, he scored a hat-trick. And yes, he was still being hard on himself.
Chatter began to ruminate around the room when all the sudden he saw Ilya grab a chair and stand on it. Shane gave him a look after the last time he did this he fell and had a glute strain for three weeks.
“Relax, I am fine! I wanted to…” Ilya was trying to think of the word for a moment. In times like these where energy was high it was not always the easiest thing in the world to remember the English word.
Shane mouthed him the word ‘congratulate’ to which Ilya instantly remembered. “Congratulate my favorite player on the team,” He got looks around the room immediately and
Troy spoke up, “You play with your husband?”
“Yes, but is not the same,” Ilya waved off Barrett. “Anyway, Haasy, congrats on the hat trick tonight. And to celebrate, we’re all going out!”
The room cheered for everyone but Shane and Luca, ever so practical.
“But we have a flight at six?” Shane reasoned.
“We can sleep on plane.” Ilya reasoned back and Shane decided not to argue further.
Normally, in the Uber or bus or whatever it may be to wherever, Luca would be present. But he was replaying his mistakes repeatedly in his head. In his notebook, he was sketching ways he could be better. Oftentimes, when he messed up, he draws out what he could have done. This time, he was drawing the pass he should have made to Rozanov that would have ended the game, so they did not have to go to overtime in the first place.
But as soon as he finished dwelling, his Uber with Young and LaPointe had arrived at the bar, they had all agreed on meeting at. He did not want to go out, honestly, he wanted to get some rest, but as he was replaying this all in his head LaPointe was giving him a speech, “You are only young once, so you need to live your life to fullest, maybe you’ll meet someone cute.”
Luca huffed softly at that. Someone cute was one way to put it. He was gay, and while he wasn’t embarrassed, especially not on a team that had been dubbed the ‘gayest in the league’, he preferred to keep that part of himself inward. If someone figured it out, he wouldn’t care, but it wasn’t something he offered up easily either. LaPointe and Young were the only ones who actually knew, though Luca had a feeling others suspected. Sometimes Barrett and Hollander gave him looks when the three of them hung out, a side effect of the Centaurs’ little brother-big brother system for players under five years in the league. He’d been matched with both of them, much to Ilya’s chagrin, but that was Ilya’s problem to deal with, not his.
The bar was so fucking crowded. Luca had to stop just inside the door, momentarily overwhelmed by the noise, the heat, the sheer number of bodies packed shoulder to shoulder. Music thumped through the space, bass-heavy and relentless, and for a second he considered turning right back around and calling it a night.
But then he noticed the athletes.
It wasn’t subtle. The posture, the builds, the way groups clustered with an easy familiarity looked, absurdly, like the Olympic Village had been dropped into the middle of Denver nightlife.
“There’s an Olympic training camp for swimmers in town,” LaPointe said, glancing down at his phone as if it had just told him the weather.
That explained it. Mostly.
Luca nodded, weaved his way toward the bar, and ordered a vodka cranberry. He winced internally at how obvious it was but decided he’d earned it. When the glass was pressed into his hand, cool and sweating, he finally let his shoulders relax.
That was when he saw him.
The guy was standing a few feet away, half-turned toward a small group, laughing easily. He was taller than Luca, noticeably so with dark brown skin and short hair that somehow made him look even more put together. There was a confidence about him that wasn’t loud or demanding, just… present. The kind that made space for itself without trying.
Luca hadn’t even met him and already felt it, that small, traitorous flip in his chest.
He took a sip of his drink, pretending to be very invested in the condensation on the glass, and risked another glance. The guy looked back at the exact same moment.
Their eyes met.
The guy smiled first, open and bright, like it came naturally to him. Luca felt heat rush to his face before he could stop it. He smiled back: smaller, instinctive and then looked away, suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat.
When he looked up again, the guy was walking toward him.
“Hey,” he said easily, sliding onto the empty stool beside Luca like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m Aiden.”
Luca swallowed, then smiled, a little shy but real. “I’m Luca.”
And just like that, the road trip, the noise, the constant self-critique all of it faded into the background.
“Nice to meet you, Luca,” Aiden said, like he meant it, already grinning a little wider. He gestured vaguely around them with his drink. “This place is… a lot. I feel like I’ve said ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ more times in the last five minutes than I have in my entire life.”
Luca let out a small laugh before he could stop himself. “Yeah. I almost turned around at the door.”
“Same,” Aiden said immediately, relieved. “But my friends were like, no, we’re celebrating, and then suddenly I was here and someone handed me a drink and I forgot how to say no even though I was the one who asked for it.” He paused, eyes flicking to Luca’s glass. “Vodka cranberry?”
Luca glanced down at it, then back up, sheepish. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little,” Aiden said, smiling, not unkind. “But in a good way. It feels very… intentional.”
Luca wasn’t sure what that meant, but it made his chest warm anyway.
Aiden leaned back slightly, turning his body fully toward him like Luca already had his complete attention. “So, are you here for the swimmer chaos, or did you just accidentally walk into the Olympic Village like the rest of us?”
“Accidentally,” Luca said. “Definitely accidentally.”
Aiden laughed, bright and unrestrained. “Okay, good. I was worried I’d have to start explaining things, and I get way too excited about swimming. Like, aggressively so.”
Luca smiled. “You’re a swimmer?”
“Unfortunately,” Aiden said, deadpan, then broke into another grin. “Yeah. Training camp. Long days, early mornings, a lot of pretending my shoulders don’t hurt.” He tilted his head. “You don’t look like you’re here for that.”
“No,” Luca said. “I play hockey.”
Aiden’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait really?”
Luca nodded, suddenly shy again.
“That’s so cool,” Aiden said immediately. “I mean, I know nothing about hockey except that it looks exhausting and everyone has great legs, but still. That’s wow.” He shook his head like he was recalibrating. “Okay, I’m glad I came out tonight.”
Luca laughed, softer this time, and took another sip of his drink. For the first time all night, he wasn’t replaying the game in his head. He wasn’t thinking about what he could’ve done better.
He was just here and talking to Aiden.
And when Aiden smiled at him again, easy and warm, like he already knew him a little, Luca had the strange, quiet thought that maybe LaPointe had been right after all.
Aiden tilted his head, studying Luca with open curiosity, like he’d decided something and was pleased about it. “You know,” he said, voice lowering just enough to feel personal, “I’m really glad I wandered over here.”
Luca’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Aiden said easily. “You’ve got this… calm thing going on. It’s nice. Feels like the opposite of whatever’s happening everywhere else in this bar.” He gestured vaguely behind him before looking back at Luca, eyes bright. “Plus, you actually laugh at my jokes, which I’m choosing to take as a very good sign.”
Luca smiled, cheeks warm. “They’re funny.”
Aiden beamed at that, completely unguarded. “See? Excellent taste.”
He launched into another story: this one about music, about how he couldn’t train without something playing and how he judged playlists like it was a moral responsibility. Luca found himself chiming in more than he expected, the conversation slipping into easy teasing, shared humor, the kind that didn’t need explaining.
At some point, Aiden admitted, a little sheepish, that he spent his downtime building Legos: elaborate sets, complicated ones, the kind that took hours. He waited for Luca’s reaction like he was bracing for impact.
“That’s actually really cool,” Luca said. “I’d probably mess it up immediately.”
Aiden laughed, soft and delighted. “I’d teach you.”
The words hung there, gentle and unmistakable. Aiden didn’t look away, didn’t rush to cover them up. His attention stayed locked on Luca, like there was no one else in the room worth noticing.
Luca felt himself flush, heat creeping up his neck, but he didn’t feel awkward, just pleasantly off-balance. He took another sip of his drink, steadying himself, and when he looked back up, Aiden was smiling at him again, just as warm as before.
“Hey, hey,” Wyatt said, suddenly too close, his voice pitched low but vibrating with something that made Luca tense. When Luca turned, Wyatt was already holding his phone like evidence, eyes darting between the screen and the bar behind them.
Luca immediately excused himself from his conversation with Aiden and took Wyatt over to a corner of the bar. “Okay, I need you to not freak out.”
Luca frowned. “Wyatt, you’re actively making it worse.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Wyatt whispered, swiping furiously. “But I just, okay. That guy you’re talking to? Aiden?” He turned the screen toward Luca, barely containing himself.
“That’s Aiden Moreira. Five-time Olympic gold medalist. American swimmer. Like, the American swimmer.”
For a second, Luca didn’t process it. The name felt too big for the man who had been laughing with him about playlists and Legos. Then the image on Wyatt’s phone sharpened, Aiden on a podium, flag draped around his shoulders, grin unmistakably the same.
“Oh,” Luca breathed. “Well, I already knew he was a swimmer, but I didn’t know all of that.” He emphasized the word that.
Everything inside seemed to shrink at once. The bar felt louder, tighter. He became aware of his accent again, the way he softened his consonants when he was nervous. He thought of how easily Aiden had spoken, how confident and open he’d been, and suddenly it all felt lopsided.
“I’m sorry,” Wyatt said quickly, already regretting it. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just, recognized him and had to check.”
“It’s fine,” Luca said automatically, though it didn’t feel like it. He nodded, once, like that would steady him. “Really. It’s just unexpected. Wait you’re also into Swimming?”
“Yeah, I have an uncle who was an Olympic Swimmer. I never stop having odd hobbies, do I?”
Luca laughed, “Never change, Wyatt Hayes.”
When he looked back toward the bar, Aiden was already watching him. Not in a curious way, not distracted, just aware. Like he’d felt the moment Luca’s energy shifted, even from across the room.
Aiden excused himself from the group he was with without fuss and crossed the space between them. “Hey,” he said softly, concern woven into the word. “You disappear for a second. Everything okay?”
Luca hesitated. He could have lied. He almost did. Instead, he swallowed and gestured vaguely toward the door. “Do you… want to step outside? Just for a minute.”
Aiden’s expression gentled. “Yeah,” he said immediately. “Of course.”
The cold hit Luca the moment they stepped onto the sidewalk, sharp and grounding. He dragged in a breath, hands curling into the sleeves of his jacket. Aiden stood beside him, close enough to be reassuring without pressing, giving him space without pulling away.
“I’m not very good at… this part,” Luca admitted quietly. “I’m Swiss. I play hockey. I’m used to being background.”
Aiden glanced at him, then smiled, small and sincere. “I’m American,” he said. “I swim. And I’m still just a guy standing outside a bar with you. But I have to tell you, I know very little about Hockey. It’s not really all that popular in Montana.”
Luca smiled, out of necessity, trying not to seem stupid and asking what Montana was. He had to look that up later. “Well, I don’t know much about Swimming. So hello, American Aiden who does not know much about hockey,” he said softly, smiling ear to ear.
Aiden blushed, “Nice to meet you. Hello, Swiss Luca, who does not know much about swimming.” He matched the expression that Luca had on his face.
The simplicity of it eased something in Luca’s chest.
Aiden bumped his shoulder lightly with Luca’s, easy and familiar. “I liked talking to you. I still do. That hasn’t changed in the last five minutes.”
Luca laughed softly, more out of relief than humor. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Aiden echoed, hopeful.
“Okay,” Luca said again, firmer this time.
They stood there a moment longer, the noise of the bar muffled behind them, the city quieting the rest of the world. When Aiden pulled out his phone, it wasn’t with ceremony.
“Can I get your number?” he asked. “I’d really like to see you again.”
Luca nodded, heart racing as they traded phones, fingers brushing briefly. When Aiden handed his back, he squeezed Luca’s arm once, warm and grounding.
Luca left a few minutes later, convinced it had been a perfect, strange collision of worlds, something he’d remember fondly and then let go. A one-night anomaly. Aiden would probably forget in the midst of preparing for the 2024 Paris Olympics coming up next year.
He didn’t see Aiden step back toward the bar, Luca’s name already saved and Aiden’s name saved in his, a smile lingering like a promise.