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He sat in his stall then, watching Zee interact with everyone. Watching him grin and joke around, fitting right in. He was filled with an odd sense of pride, as though it were his doing, even as he felt a little pang.
It wasn’t jealousy or envy. It was just the knowledge that this room wasn’t completely his anymore. He’d share it with Zee, and Zee would outshine him. He wasn’t sad or happy about that, but a chimaera of both.
Eventually, Zee bounded towards him, collapsing onto the bench by his side, warm and happy and glowing with it even though his stall was on the other side of the room.
“Good?” Ishir asked quietly.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah,” Ishir said, and he wasn’t even lying.
**********
Training camp went well. It wasn’t that Ishir had forgotten how much he loved his team, but he felt the affection starkly when everybody came together again.
It felt good to be put through his paces. Even his least favourite drills made his heart sing. He could taste the upcoming season in the air as though he were scenting blood, readying for the hunt. Everything seemed to align as he clicked with the rest of the Cats, finding his feet, settling into old dynamics and routines.
Camp started off with Ishir and Bergy on the same line. Bergy had been his defensive partner since Ishir’s sixth month in the league, currently on the second line. They’d clicked from the start, Bergy’s larger body complimenting Ishir’s smaller frame. Bergy would force people off the puck, battling against the boards, and Ishir would use his speed and agility to get it out of their defensive zone.
After a few days, though, coach shook the lines up, trying different combinations to see what worked.
Ishir remembered the first time he’d gotten a tailored suit. What it had felt like to put it on, to think,Holy fuck. This is what clothes are supposed to feel like.Pants tended to be tight on his thighs and ass while gaping a little around his waist. Wearing something that actuallyfitwas a revelation.
That was what it was like to play with Zee. Even after all the years of not being on the same team, they fit together perfectly. Ishir was so familiar with the way Zee moved, the way he thought, that he could anticipate exactly where he’d be without having to look.
Even Bergy was impressed. Ishir caught him after practice one day, stopping him from leaving the locker room. “I think coach might put Zee and me together.”
Bergy snorted. “Yeah, dumb not to. He’s gonna move you up to the first line.”
“There’s no way Lovey and Fabio are getting moved from Orion’s line. They’ve been playing there since the cups.”
Orion had revitalised the Brooklyn Cats franchise when he’d been drafted twelve years ago. Along with Corona, Orion’s right wing, he’d had Fabio and Lovey by his side as he was made captain and then won two cups, the last one gotten before Ishir’s time.
They were the core the Cats revolved around.
“Don’t be an idiot. The old guard has to be replaced at some point, man. It’s how things go. Having people come up the ranks and take their place is what makes teams good.”
Obviously, Ishir knew that. He’d just never seen himself as the one to do the replacing.
Bergy’s prediction turned out to be accurate. The coach didn’t waste time, bumping Ishir and Zee up to the first line and keeping them there during preseason games.
Everything was suddenly absurdly easy on the ice. It wasoffit that was the trouble.
Ishir blinked sleepily at the scene in his kitchen. Zee was shimmying, his broad, bare back exposed, a whole fucking field of dark skin over muscle. The thinnest pair of shorts Ishir had ever seen in his life were cupping his ass perfectly.
Ishir saw Zee undressed regularly. They shared a locker room, after all. Seeing that much of him in his home, though, was going to be an adjustment.
“Are you seriously cooking naked?” Ishir asked in exasperation. “You’re going to fry your dick off.”
Zee peered over his shoulder and pointed at his shorts. “I’m dressed.”
“You’re right, those look impenetrable.”
Zee stuck his tongue out at him because he was a literal toddler. “See if I make you eggs again.”
Ishir snorted, manoeuvring around the kitchen to make coffee. Zee had insisted they buy a fancy coffee press even though it was Ishir who drank it regularly, and the routine of loading it, of letting it steep and then pressing it down, was something Ishir had come to love.
He put someparathaflatbread in the oven and doctored their coffees while that heated up, setting it all on the counter as Zee finished up with the food.
