Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Hayden Pike, Svetlana Vetrova, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Coming Out, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secret Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Original Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Hockey, incorrect hockey terminology, Jealous Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-12 Updated: 2026-01-24 Words: 12,343 Chapters: 3/?

Baby Bear

Summary

Shane Hollander is traded to the Boston Bears after back to back Stanley Cup victories, to the surprise of everyone. Most of all, Ilya Rozanov, Captain of the Bears and long-time situationship of Shane Hollander.

The 2016-2017 Season is going to be very interesting.

Notes

Inspired by a few fics where Shane joins the Bears to play alongside Ilya. I couldn't get out of my head the idea of of Shane being traded early and facing consequences outside of his control from his sexuality being exposed, which we know he all hates. I know nothing about hockey outside of what I've learned from Game Changers / Heated Rivalry and Shoresy and will not be making any great effort to learn more than that.

Chapter 1: WAG Gossip Mill

Breaking News: Voyagers Star Captain traded in secret deal to Boston Bears.

“Hey Roz, did you see this?”

Ilya had been running hard, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of him. He could only hear his footsteps beating against the treadmill and, behind that, his usual workout playlist cranked up loud enough to drown out the sound of his teammates chattering. Which meant he didn’t hear Keller when he first approached or when he started speaking. Didn’t even notice he was there at all. Everyone else had faded away. It wasn’t until a phone was waved in his face with a picture of Shane Hollander that he was forced to turn off the machine or risk falling on his face as his eyes crossed at the sight of familiar freckles.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ilya complained, pulling an earbud out. “What are you showing me?”

Even as he asked, Ilya reached out to snatch the phone straight out of Keller’s hand, ignoring the squawk of protest the rookie let out. His eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed over the short article. No one knew why Hollander, who had just led the Voyagers to back-to-back Stanley Cup victories, would be traded. But apparently someone had leaked the paperwork, and everything looked legit. Shane Hollander was officially going to be a Boston Bear. What the fuck.

Ilya just couldn’t figure out why. Why was Shane traded, and why hadn’t he told him it was going to happen. Why, why, why. He hated it.

“Do you think it’s true?” Keller asked, voice rambling conversationally, oblivious to Ilya’s growing distress. “I mean, he’s probably the best player in the league, and if we have both of you -"

Ilya cut Keller off by throwing the phone back at him. “Second best,” Iya said pointedly as he stepped off the treadmill. It was rare for him to leave a workout early, even in the off-season, and his sudden change in mood was garnering him a few concerned looks from the rest of the team. Not that Ilya cared. He hardly noticed. He needed to text Shane. He needed to talk to the Bears's coach. Ilya was the captain; he should know about these things.

The black mood he suddenly found himself in was at least enough to keep everyone away as he stormed out of the gym. Leaving a gaggle of other players who shared concerned looks, and who then immediately went to figuring out what had their captain tied up in knots by swarming Keller.

“Rosanov, you can’t just bust in here whenever you want,” Julien snapped, looking across his desk with a well-practiced scowl as the door to his office was thrown open so hard it bounced.

“Try walking in again,” he ordered. “Nicer this time.”

Ilya’s eyebrow twitched, a bitten-off curse on the tip of his tongue. Refusing to back down, he stood stubbornly in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, as he used every bit of his impressive height and bulk to show just how pissed off he was. “No.” The word spit out. “I am here for answer. Why do the gossip columns say Shane Hollander is joining my team?”

There were plenty of reasons to be upset. That his coach didn’t tell him, that Shane didn’t tell him, that he had no idea why the trade was even happening, and that Shane was moving teams in the first place and never mentioned it. It felt off, wrong. Ilya knew it couldn’t be something as simple as the contract running out. Any sane team would be dying to keep Hollander after the last two seasons. Which meant that there was something else happening, and the Bears were working to keep it a secret from him. That Shane was keeping it a secret from him. They weren’t anything, Ilya knew. Shane didn’t have to tell everything. But this was about their careers, and Shane hiding something from him like this felt wrong.

Or at least that’s what he told himself. That he was only upset because Shane was hiding things from him that would also affect his career. Just like his own team were hiding things from him that would affect his career.

Unfortunately for the team, they were the easier targets for his ire.

“Shit. How did they find out?” Julien rubbed the bridge of his nose, already looking more tired. “We were going to make a statement after discussing it further with Hollander…” He began, placing his hands on the desk with a ragged sigh.

“Listen, I know you two are rivals. But this is a rare opportunity; you two are the best players in the league, and Hollander wanted to stay in this division.” He spoke as though he was trying to soothe Ilya’s ego. As though that was the biggest issue at hand right now. “We had the funds for him after trading Price, and it just made sense to jump on it.”

“Then why keep it secret?” Ilya demanded, shoulders bunched up with stress. He gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip, tasting the coppery tang of blood. The pain did nothing to ground him.

“Part of the trade deal. Not to be announced to the public until after the awards, but, well, clearly it got out early,” Julie explained with a hapless shrug that did nothing but annoy Ilya more.

Ilya still didn’t understand. “Why? Is Hollander afraid Montreal fans will turn on him?” They were nearly as rabid as Boston’s fans. But Shane was their golden boy, especially now. To lose him now would probably not just mean Shane getting hate but the entire team. But he didn’t take Shane for a coward.

“Well….” Julien started, but he clearly stopped himself. “No, I can’t talk about it. Not yet. Not before clearing with Hollander.”

With a frustrated sound, Ilya threw his hands up into the air. “What is with all these secrets? It is a trade deal, yes? What is so secretive about that?” People were traded all of the time. Price’s trade now made far more sense when Ilya realized it was probably part of some larger play to get Hollander. But he still didn’t know why Hollander was up for grabs in the first place. It didn’t seem as though Julien was going to be the one to tell him either.

“Rozanov, I can’t give you any answers right now.” Julien’s tone was a warning; Ilya was pushing too hard.

“Why the fuck not?” Ilya’s voice rose sharply, pushing hard despite that. “I am Captain of team I do not even know members of. What the fuck is that?”

“Rozanov. Enough.” Julien’s eyes were narrowed, the dare to not argue anymore clear in his tone. “I can’t tell you. Not right now. You’ll find out as soon as it's cleared with legal and everyone else, got it?”

Ilya’s jaw clenched, the muscles visibly working under the skin. His eyes were alight with pure anger now, bright and wide. It was only well-practiced discipline that was practically beat into him as a child that stopped him from pushing against his coach more. Even as his mind desperately screamed that he needed to get those answers.

“When is he joining us officially?” If Julien wouldn’t give him the why, Ilya wanted to know when. He wanted to know if Hollander had intended to keep it from him until the day he showed up in Boston.

“We were going to announce him at the end of August.”

Ilya’s jaw flexed as he mulled over the idea that Shane was going to be kept a secret until right before the preseason. His suspicions only grew the more he learned, and what he learned so far wasn’t enough. With Julien being a successful roadblock, Ilya realized he needed to go right to the source.

“Great. Secret Hollander swooping in to save our season and help win us cup,” He rolled his eyes, his voice heavy with sarcasm and annoyance - but not the anger that Julien or anyone else might have expected. There was too much else going on to put up the front that the NHL’ favorite rivalry was as intense as they wanted to make it seem. “I am going back to gym. Let me know when we can have real information about the team and I can be captain again.” The comment was a low blow considering Julien was usually a pretty forthcoming coach. But being the last to learn about Hollander had made him feel petty and bitter.

Turning on his heel, Ilya stalked out of the head coach’s office. He let the man’s door shut with a slam, ignoring the shout of indignation that Julien threw at him as he left.

His first stop was the locker room, where his phone was currently charging. With workouts not being mandatory, it was generally empty. Today was no different. Save for Keller, the rookie that had shown him the article standing awkwardly near his locker.

Ilya didn’t spare him a passing glance, instead unlocking his phone to scroll through the notifications. Most of them were trash, but nestled between them all was a text from Jane.

from jane:

call me please.

He scoffed, pettiness bubbling to the surface once more. So now Hollander wanted to talk to him about this? Now that it was big news? His face scrunched up into a scowl, trying to ignore the ache in his chest at the fact that Shane hadn’t been willing to tell him about any of this. Likely for months. His head was always so full of him, constantly harassing and texting the boring Canadian. Clearly, it wasn’t mutual.

“Uhm, Roz?” Keller’s voice was tentative but loud enough to have Ilya closing his texts and looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“What?” He wanted to call Shane, not to babysit. He’d feel bad about blowing Keller off later; right now all he had was anger and that hurt feeling that settled under his sternum.

“I was just wondering if you figured out why Hollander was transferring here? Everyone is talking about it.”

Ilya cursed under his breath. He shouldn’t be surprised that people were curious; this was a huge trade deal. But how quickly the gossip mill worked always surprised him. Did the players and WAGs not have anything better to do? From the constant vibration of his phone, Ilya was starting to accept that the answer was no.

“No.” He replied flatly. “Coach won’t say anything, so we just have to wait.”

“Oh.” Keller seemed disappointed, eyes turning towards the floor before slowly meeting Ilya’s once more. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Not that it really matters why he’s transferring. I mean, it’ll be great to have him on the team, right?”

Keller’s reaction caught him off guard, and Ily had a hard time figuring out why Keller was so disappointed. Either he was a huge gossip or a huge Shane Hollander fan. Ilya wasn’t sure which one was worse. Especially after Keller called Shane the best player in the league.

“Да.” He agreed. “Yes. Hollander is very good player. Montreal is stupid to let him go.”

“Yeah!” Keller agreed, brightening up instantly. “I’m really excited to play with him. Uhm, if you ever talk to him, can you let him know that the team is excited to have him?”

A part of Ilya panicked, wondering why Keller thought that he was in contact with Shane. It wouldn’t make sense for him to, they were so careful around each other. But nothing about today made sense. Giving Keller a careful once-over, Ilya didn’t see any signs of him reaching for answers or anything else nefarious. Just the wide, hopeful puppy dog eyes for a rookie. Definitely a Shane Hollander fan, then.

“You tell him yourself, he is coming here.” Ilya turned to grab the things he’d need for a shower. He’d need that time to figure out what he was even going to say to Shane. To wrestle down some of the anger until he could form a coherent sentence.

“Oh, right.” There was a long pause, and Ilya could feel that Keller wanted to say more. He turned to look at him, both eyebrows raised. He didn’t have the patience for this bumbling and second guessing of thoughts Keller was clearly having.

“I just…might have heard about why he was transferring from a buddy of mine. So I figured if he knew that we were excited to have him…it’d be better for him?”

“You know? Why not say before?” Ilya was on Keller, looming over him. He could see Keller wince, shrinking in on himself. Quite a feat for a defenseman who wasn’t actually small to begin with, but Keller made a good attempt at it.

His eyes hit the ground rather than meet Ilya’s, shoulders curled in. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. But apparently there are rumors that, uh, Hollander is gay and his team isn’t taking it well. There’s been some tension.”

It was so quiet after Keller finished speaking, Ilya could hear his blood rushing in his own ears.

“What?”

The word slips out before he can stop it. “You are sure?” His world felt like it was tilting on its axis. Ilya’s hands felt sweaty, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Not for any worry about their relationship being exposed—they were too careful—but because this is precisely what Shane always dreaded. That his interest in men would mean he wouldn’t be able to play hockey anymore. Now he was being proven right in the worst way possible. Traded from a team he was building a legacy with because of who he took to bed.

“Pretty sure,” Keller’s voice is muffled and far away. “I mean about the gay rumors, not that he is gay - I wouldn’t care if he was gay, you know. My older brother is too, so I’m totally fine with it.”

The rookie was rambling, clearly nervous and trying to fill the dead air where Ilya should be responding.

Ilya can’t bring himself to say anything at all.

“Do you care?” Keller asked, hesitant.

“Care?” Ilya repeated, snapping his gaze back to Keller, not quite comprehending what he meant.

“Do you care that Hollander might be gay?” It took a lot of bravery for this rookie to look up at him and ask that. A huge risk that most others wouldn’t dare to. So either Keller was stupidly brave, or Ilya looked more tolerant than most would give him credit for.

A small part of him really hoped it was the latter.

“I do not care who boring Shane Hollander has boring, missionary sex with,” he scoffed, blinking away memories of dark, wet eyes and a swollen pink mouth that was anything but boring. “Man, woman - who care? I only care that he is slow and has terrible backhand we will now have to fix.”

He watched as Keller’s posture relaxes in real time, his expression opening up to one of pure relief. Ilay realized that the rookie really did care about whether Shane would be accepted here. The guilt flooded in quickly. That is what he should have been worried about too. But all he could think about was his own selfish feelings about Shane not telling him first. He was such an asshole.

“Yeah, awesome. I figured Roz but you know it's just so hard to tell sometimes…”

Ilya nodded, a grimace stretching across his lips. He knew exactly what Keller meant. With the way slurs and gay jokes were thrown around, you could never really know who was taking the piss and who actually meant it.

“You are good kid,” Ilya reached out to pat Keller’s shoulder. “I will tell Hollander that we are glad to have him if we speak, and you can help show him ropes when he arrives.”

It was a lie; if Shane was really joining their team, then Ilya would be the one to do it. But it was worth lying to see Keller’s face light up. Ugh, truly a die-hard Hollander fan. It was just his luck. He made a mental note to encourage more of his fans to be recruited to the Bears in the future.

“Go finish workout, I will see you on ice tomorrow.” He dismissed Keller, waiting until the rookie left with the renewed bounce in his step. Ilya stood there, listening to make sure that no one else was in the cavernous locker rooms, before finally flipping his phone over.

A few calls from Svetlana. Texts from the Bears group chat as the news blew up. No more texts from Jane. Though, Ilya wasn’t too surprised. He imagined Shane sitting in the dark, staring at his phone - typing and retyping messages that he’d never send. A pang of fondness pulled the corner of his mouth up into nearly a smile. He was still pissed Shane hadn’t told him sooner, but at least now it was wrapped in the proper layer of concern for how he was doing.

to jane:

Leaving practice in fifteen. Call then.

Chapter 2: Welcome to Boston

Chapter Notes

Shane arrives in Boston. The tension of a yet unspoken conversation hangs between him and Ilya, threatening to drag down their interactions.

However, Ilya is not so easily deterred. Nor is he fully ready for the ramifications of having Shane in his city, where he can openly spend time with him.

“Hollander.” 

“Hey.” 

Shane’s voice sounded brittle on the other line, like he had just finished being scolded. They didn’t speak on the phone often, but everything about the greeting screamed wrong to Ilya. That wasn’t his Shane.

“Hollander,” his tone softened, becoming the coaxing voice he found himself often using around the prickly Canadian. “I am not calling to yell at you. Well, maybe yell at you a little bit—but mostly, I am confused.” 

The mixture between earnestness and playfulness at least dragged a half-hearted snort of laughter out of Shane. The sound was enough to make a smile tug at the corner of Ilya’s mouth. 

“Yeah, I…I was going to talk to you before the official announcement.” The stutter of Shane’s voice gave away how nervous he was. “I didn’t expect it to be leaked.” The sound of defeat in his voice was unfamiliar. Even after lost games against him, Shane never sounded this beat down. 

“I was bit angry that somehow I was the last to know you were transferring,” Ilya admitted. He swallowed hard, not willing to open up about why he was upset. It wasn’t just about his team; if he were to be honest with himself, it wasn’t ever really about the team. It was about Shane and how he couldn’t imagine keeping something like this a secret from him. Yet Shane had managed to do it so easily. As though he couldn’t trust Ilya and he hated that.

The silence hung heavy on the line between them. Just the sound of their breathing took up space as Shane clearly struggled with what to say. “I didn’t know how to explain it, its so….stupid and embarrassing.” Shane sounded on the verge of tears. It made Ilya’s hackles rise. 

“No no, is not stupid - and nothing you did is stupid,” Ilya assured, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried to figure out how to make any of this better. “I want to know everything.” He confessed, not sure if it would help the situation at all. Shane didn’t seem eager to talk about it. Whether it was because they were over the phone or was just not ready for it, Ilya couldn’t say.

“Where are you right now?” He blurted out, shifting his phone to rest between his ear. 

“At my cottage,” Shane mumbled, it sounded as though the phone was against a pillow or couch cushion. “I didn’t kow where else to go.” 

Ilya knew of the secluded cottage thanks to the ESPN special. It was good for hiding out in. But he didn’t think that this was the time for hiding. 

“Well, since cat is out of the sack, why don’t you come to Boston?” He offered, tone light as he tried to gauge Shane’s reaction. 

To his surprise, he got a weak laugh. “Cat is out of the bag.” Shane corrected.

“That is what I said!”

“No you - nevermind. I don’t know if coming to Boston is the best idea…I’d have to take a plane and people might recognize me.”

“Hollander, people will always recognize you, you are second best hockey player in the world.” Ilya scolded. “Being traded to the much cooler and sexier Boston Bears is nothing to be ashamed of, so why act like it?” 

“Technically, I am the best -”

“Technically, whatever. You are boring and slow, you cannot be the best.” Ilya was grinning now, as he tried to bait Shane the way he always did. Teasing and riling him up always came naturally. Usually it provoked a sort of response out of Shane that got both of their blood pumping. Today, well, Ilya just hoped it brought some life back into him.  “Come on, Hollander, if you hide away, you will look more ashamed, and being traded is nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice was a low coo as he coaxed Shane into doing something he didn't want to, or had convinced himself he wouldn't like. Ilya was very good at coaxing Shane into doing things that he'd like, but was too in his head about. Years of sleeping together and trying every manner of thing in bed, would do that to a relationship.

There was another long pause, one that Ilya let linger since he hoped it meant that Shane was considering his suggestion. He could practically see the gears working in Shane’s head, the way that he always overthought everything. 

“I guess I don’t….” Shane agreed with some reluctance. “I do want to meet your team, and I’ll need to find a place to live.” 

The offer for Shane to live with him was on the tip of his tongue, but Ilya swallowed it down. It was too much, he knew. He wasn’t even trusted to know why Shane was transferring before it hit. Ilya knew there was no chance that Shane would agree to live with him now that the gay rumors were out. But god, the ache in Ilya’s chest at the idea of having Shane life with him was impossible to ignore. 

“Is our team now,” Ilya teased. “I can introduce you to team and help drive you around to find place to stay.” He was excited about that. He wanted to show Shane the legacy he’d been building here too, the city that loved him. Not just the hotel rooms close to the stadium that they usually shared. He wanted Shane to visit his house. He wanted Shane to sleep in his bed, overnight. Ilya swallowed down that thought. It was too much, too soon. But his mind was fixated on the idea of Shane in his bed, soft and unbothered by flights or his team wondering where he went. Ilya wouldn't go so far as imagining the team knowing that they went home together, but it wouldn't be all that odd for them to come to practice together sometime. Or to go out to dinner. It was almost hard to breath, how much he wanted that. 

“Plus, maybe will be…easier to talk in person?” He offered, still dying to know exactly what happened but also needing to distract himself from his own traitrous thoughts. 

There was an audible swallow on the other end of the line. “Yeah. Yeah I think it’ll be easier to talk about in person,” Shane agreed, voice small but not nearly as defeated as at the start of the call. 

“Good. Book ticket, as soon as possible,” Ilya urged. “Right now actually I know you own computer.” 

Shane’s laugh was less brittle, closer to the exasperated huffs that Ilya was used to. “Yes I own a computer Rozanov fuck off,” he huffed, and the sound of rustling made it clear that he was sitting up. “When should I fly in?”

“Tomorrow?” Ilya suggested, a cheeky grin stretching across his face.

“That’s crazy, I can’t just fly out tomorrow,” Shane shot down immediately. 

“Yes you can,” he insisted. “What, do you not have money? All those crazy brand deals cannot pay for a last minute ticket to Boston? We are so close.” Ilya’s voice took on a whining quality, like a child not quite getting his way.

“Oh my god,” Shane groaned, the sound of his fingers tapping on a keyboard a soft, soothing sound behind his voice. “There’s a flight that gets me in at Boston at ten a.m., the day after tomorrow?” 

“Book it,” Ilya insisted. “I will pay, even. Splurge on first class so you know what its like, prepare you for your new fancy life here.”

“I’ve flown first class before,” Shane scoffed. the typing grew a bit louder now, likely as Shane got worked up over the teasing. Ilya could practically see his mouse hovering over the first-class button, torn about whether or not it was worth the money. 

“Oooh yes, I forgot. Mr. Landlord makes lots of money and has flown first class often. But won’t buy a ticket to see his new team for tomorrow,” he was grinning easier now, his shoulders relaxing as the tension on the call seemed to drain away.

Shane’s laughter was like a balm to his soul. “You are such an asshole!” Still, Ilya could hear him typing. 

“Day after tomorrow,” Shane said finally. “It will give me time to pack and call up the team so the coaches and staff know i’m coming. I’m sure that there’s a lot to talk about.” 

Ilya hummed, listening to Shane speak but not caring much beyond the fact that Shane was coming out to Boston in two days. He’d dreamt of times like this, of Shane coming out to visit him specifically and not just for a game. This was about as close to that dream as he’d been able to manage. 

“I will pick you up from airport, we can go to training arena together, and I will act as uh…how do you say…” 

“Liason?” Shane offered, sounding unsure.

“Liason! Buffer. I will be there to make things easier.” Ilya agreed, tone perking up as he figured out the correct word.

There was silence again, and Ilya worried for a moment that he’d said the wrong thing. But then he heard Shane swallow on the other line. “I’d appreciate that a lot, actually.” His tone was so soft and so grateful, Ilya wanted to fall to his knees. He’d do anything for this man. Acting like a buffer for any awkward conversations was the least of it. 

“Perfect, text me your flight details.” Iya’s own voice softened, the affection he felt for Shane impossible to keep out of his voice. “And Hollander?”

“Yeah?” 

“Welcome to the team.” 

There was a faint sniffle on the other end, and some rustling of fabric against the phone. “Thank you.” It was clear that Shane was getting choked up, close to crying, if he hadn’t been already. But maybe they were good tears, Ilya wondered. Sometimes people needed to cry, and Ilya knew he teared up when he was drafted by the Bears all those years ago. Maybe this would be Shane's draft, to the team that actually wanted and deserved him. 

Ilya wished he was there with him. He should have been there with him. But he would have to content himself with the fact that Shane would be with him soon.

“I will see you soon, Hollander. “

“Bye, Rozanov.” 

Ilya and his bright blue BMW M3 stuck out like a sore thumb in the pickup lane at Boston-Logan International. He didn’t help matters by standing outside of the car, arms crossed over his chest and eyes fixed on the doors leading from the airport. His resting expression was grim enough to scare away most people. All morning Shane had been diligently—if anxiously—texting him about his flight. So he at least knew the other man had landed. Waiting for him to make it out of the terminal now was excruciating. 

Eventually, Ilya saw him. A dull, boring grey hoodie and his hockey bag of all things. He couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. He should have known that Shane Hollander wouldn’t have shown up ready to skate.

“Oh, are you moving in?” Ilya teased, rounding to the trunk to lift it open for Shane.

“Shut up,” Shane muttered, face flushing. “If I’m meeting the team, I want to skate with them.” He carefully placed his hockey bag in the trunk and only then looked up to meet Ilya’s eyes. He averted them almost immediately. Ilya shouldn't have been surprised. He was going to drag Shane to the rink, anyways. He had just been looking forward to shoving Shane into his spare gear and making him skate around in that. It was a dream dashed, but, Ilya couldn't bring himself to be too upset. 

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Is no problem, you would have likely been swindled by taxi service otherwise.” Ilya threw him a cheeky grin before moving towards the driver’s side door. His palms itched with the urge to reach out and touch Shane. Ignoring it felt like ignoring the urge to breathe. He was slowly suffocating, not being able to. 

Once they were in the car, though, Ilya did not resist. The windows were tinted, and his hand reached out to curl around Shane’s thigh. He felt him tense and stay tense for a long moment. So long, Ilya considered pulling away. But incrementally, he could feel Shane relax. Likely as he went through the seven stages of grief about being slightly gay outside the confines of a hotel room. 

“So, are you hungry? Want to see any sights?” The second question was mostly a joke. Ilya did not want to do any dumb, touristy things. He wanted to take Shane to his house, to his rink. 

“Well, I did kind of want to see the Freedom Trail and maybe Fenway Hall?” The shy but earnest smile on Shane’s face almost made Ilya cave.

Almost.

“Oh my god Hollander, those are tourist traps,” Ilya groaned, squeezing his thigh as he sped out of the picking up. “You really want to spend your time in Boston following bricks?” 

“Hey, those bricks are a very important part of history,” Shane mumbled, tucking his chin in his chest. “And I like baseball.” 

“We can go to Red Sox game, not boring museum.” Ilya scoffed, giving a small shake of his head in disbelief. It was going to take a lot of training to get Shane to be the proper Boston athlete the rest of the team was. The Bears were going to delight in it. Iya couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

“Really?” Shane asked, voice tinged with hope and surprise.

“Yes, really. You think we cannot get tickets? We can get tickets.” He loved being able to proudly say that. Though, he realized he’d need to check when the Red Sox were playing at home next. He’d also need to figure out how long Shane was even staying for. He’d neglected to ask that between insisting that Shane come out to Boston immediately.

There hadn’t been a lot of planning. Coach Julien had put his head in his hands when Ilya called him to tell him Shane was coming into town, apparently that set off a marathon of phone calls and meetings that Ilya wanted nothing to do with. The team was going to gather together the next morning at the rink to greet Shane and get him on the ice. They had all thought they’d catch him off guard. The fact that he brought his gear proved otherwise. 

“So, are you hungry?” Ilya asked, turning to look at Shane when they stopped at a light. “Figure, I take you to grab food somewhere cool and hip in town so people might see you and then see a few sights before heading home.” 

There was a look of actual relief on Shane’s face at the mention of food, that quickly transformed into worry. “In public?” He asked, gnawing at his bottom lip. 

“Yes, we are teammates - we can eat lunch in public.” Despite saying that, Ilya knew what Shane was thinking. The gay rumors were already out there, and them being alone in public wouldn’t help. Though, a selfish part of Ilya didn’t hate the idea of people thinking Shane was with him. The larger part knew that having those rumors out about him could be far more detrimental considering Russai’s stance. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive, Hollander. It will be very, how do you say - bro-y lunch, promise.” He’d not pick anywhere romantic, or fancy. Just somewhere he’d take Marlow or any of the other guys when they were in town. 

“Bro-y? When did you start saying that?” Shane let out a snort of laughter, shoulders loosening slightly. 

Ilya rolled his eyes, revving the engine of the car as he sped away from the light. “Since, whenever. I am very up on the current lingo.” Svetlana and the rookies who poured in each year helped, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Shane now.

“Unless you would rather we go to my home and talk first,” Ilya offered, knowing that there was an elephant in the room that was impossible to ignore. 

The silence in the car was excruciatingly loud and stretched on for too long. Ilya kept stealing glances at Shane whenever he could, desperately trying to read the profile of his face. His hand tightened on the steering wheel as he waited for an answer that he worried might never come. 

“No, let’s do lunch and some sightseeing first. I want to have fun while I’m here.” Shane finally met his gaze, eyes watery, but there were no tears. There was also a quiet resilience there, some determination that Ilya hadn’t expected to see.

It was such a relief. Shane was so strong. He wasn’t sure there was anyone in the entire league that had the sort of fortitude that Shane had, the diligence. To see him crumble apart made Ilya’s skin itch with how wrong it was. Even though he knew a lot of little things could bother Shane, he was rarely rattled by the big ones. Apparently, this was finally the big one to do it.

“Okay.” Ilya agreed, forcing himself to look back at the road. “Okay, we will get lunch and then see a few sights first.” 

“Okay.” Shane parroted back, and then a long pause before he reached down and covered the hand on his thigh with one of his own. Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand gently, and in return, Ilya squeezed the thigh under his palm. 

He hoped that Shane could understand that everything was going to be alright. Ilya was going to make sure of it. 

Lunch was a predictable affair at a high-end sports bar, which many athletes in Boston favored. The staff were more discreet than most, and the owner was a former Red Sox player who understood the value of privacy. Of course, Ilya fully expected people to take pictures. Whether the staff or other patrons, they wouldn’t know until later. But he flirted with the waitress and cracked jokes at Shane, grinning when he managed to get a few very inelegant snorts of laughter out of him in the process. 

It was, all in all, a very normal lunch.

Ilya’s palms were still sweaty the entire time. His focus was almost entirely on not reaching under the table to hook their ankles together, just in case some psychopath decided to look under their booth. It almost felt like a real date, despite that. Especially when Ilya slapped Shane’s hand away, throwing down a credit card as he insisted on paying. 

“You are not signed yet, very poor, I will pay.” Ilya insisted, even as Shane grappled for the check.

“Oh my god Rozanov I am not poor.” Shane snapped at him, trying to tug it away. “I made more than you before.”

“Before, not now!” Ilya exclaimed, as though he had somehow gotten Shane. 

Instead, all he got was a roll of the other man’s eyes. But Ilya still paid, so he counted it as a victory. 

“Okay, first sight seeing spot - very popular with the kids.” Ilya announced as he led Shane through the streets of Boston. He could feel how uncomfortable he was, but Ilya pressed on. If he let Shane hide away inside and only come out to play hockey, then he would never get over whatever was going on and everyone would know that the rumors were true, whatever they were. 

So Ilya treated it like when Sveltana came to visit, he made Shane have fun.

The first stop was at the Boston Commons. People sat on blankets, picnicking or playing games in the park. Children around around, screaming and laughing. No one was looking at them, everyone was caught up in their own lives. Maybe someone recognized them, but if they did no one came up to them. Shane's sunglasses and sweatshirt made him look like any other college student. While Ilya was a bit less low-key in almost all black, but he was hardly the only one there dressed like that.

Eventually, Shane realized that. Ilya watched him unclench. First his shoulders, then his hands, and finally the rest of his body followed. He pointed out part of the Freedom Trail excitedly; even though neither of them were American, Ilya did listen as he explained the importance of it. Realizing that, maybe, his earlier teasing about it being boring was a bit harsh. 

He even took a picture for Shane to send to his mother, probably, grinning as he took a few where he had blinked or looked away just for the hell of it. 

They walked by the pond, where Ilya happily announced that there was ice skating in the winter.

“Don’t you have a whole rink inside to play on in the winter?” Shane asked, laughter making his voice breathless.

“No, Hollander, don’t tell me you never skated outside? You are Canadian, you must have!” Ilya continued to led them to the edge of the pond, which was filled with ducks being fed by children in the middle of the summer.

Shane shot him a disgruntled look, eyes narrowed. “Of course I did, asshole.” 

Ilya felt his heart soar; now that was his Shane. 

“Just checking, you seemed sooo offended by idea of skating outside,” Ilya chirped back, grin stretching across his face.

They argued back and forth regarding who played outside more as a kid. Shane noted neighborhood boys and winters playing with his dad. Ilya argued that every time he went outside in the wintertime, it was practically ice skating with how slick and icy the streets of Russia were. In the end, neither would back down. In the end, both were grinning widely.  

The only other stop that Ilya insisted they make, was at a sporting goods store that he knew would sell Boston Bears merchandise. It was obvious that Shane had no idea what Ilya’s plan was, not until he marched into the store and right over the wall of jerseys, pulling down one with the word ‘Rozanov’ and ‘81’ stamped on the back just like the real thing.

“No, absolutely not,” Shane’s face scrunched up and he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You are so boring,” Ilya pushed the jersey at him, trying to shove it into his tightly clenched hands. All while Shane fought him on it. They definitely made a scene, Ilya could feel the employees eyes on him. He didn’t care, he was determined to get this picture no matter how much Shane decided to fight him on it. 

In the end, Shane agreed to put on a Boston Bear’s baseball cap and a Sergei Vetrov jersey. Ilya knew that Sveltana was going to be insufferable about this when she saw it. But the shy, slowly widening smile on Shane’s face as he replaced his sweatshirt with the jersey and pulled on the cap was all of the convincing that Ilya needed to let him wear whatever jersey he was comfortable with. 

They took a few pictures, some of Shane standing awkwardly, both thumbs up in the air with his cap pulled down far enough to show the logo. Others with his back facing Ilya, showing off the jersey that he wore. 

“You should post on Instagram,” Ilya insisted as Shane paid for the jersey and cap he’d been posing in. He’d quite literally body-checked Ilya when he offered to pay for them, slamming his card down on the counter so fast the employee’s head spun. 

There was a beat of hesitation as Shane watched the transaction go through. “I should check with my agent.” The news was out, though officially the announcement had yet to be made.

“Everyone already knows,” Ilya insisted. “I promise, as someone who has many, many more followers than you - you should post these.” 

Shane didn’t answer him right away. He didn’t respond to the idea at all until they were back in Ilya’s car, getting ready to drive to his house.

“What do I even write?” Shane asked, and it took Ilya a moment to figure out what he was even talking about.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Ilya squinted as he stared out at the windshield. “Give me phone,” he insisted, holding out his hand.

“Fuck no, who knows what you’ll put.” Shane’s grip around his phone tightened possessively, holding it to his chest.

“Oh my god, Hollander, I won’t post it without your approval. It is just easier for me to type than say it - the words come easier.” Ilya held out his hand, making a ‘give me motion’.  There was a long, tense silence, before Shane finally ( and reluctantly ) handed over his phone. 

It still took him a few minutes to craft the caption and hashtags. Ilya knew that all of them were very important, not just to get the right people to see but to send the right message. Shane was a Bear now. He was one of them, and he needed that support behind him now more than ever. Even if Ilya didn’t know exactly what the Metros had done, he didn’t need to. It was easy enough to guess. He’d make sure the Bears didn’t make the same mistake.

“There!” Ilya dropped the phone back into Shane’s waiting hands. “Perfect message, go ahead and post.”

Shane’s eyes scanned the screen a few times, his eyebrows furrowed together in worry. But the more he read, the more they relaxed. His entire expression softening. He licked his lips, thumb hovering over the screen for a long moment, before he softly touched it.

“Yeah, that was….that was really good Rozanov, thanks.” His gratitude was genuine, and he looked over at Ilya with wide, soft eyes. The kind that Ilya usually only saw after sex. It made his heart beat too hard in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with all of these looks and all of his affection when he wasn’t trying to carve a spot into Shane’s body. 

“Of course is good, I am good at social media. Great at it.” He was, actually. He had the most followers on the team and the best engagement. Even if sometimes his agent and other people at the Bears told him that he toed the line too much. Ilya thought it was perfect. He’d not try to be anything but himself. 

“Ready to go home? I am sure you want a shower - you stink.”  He could feel the lingering look at Shane shot him, though he couldn’t figure out for what. Ilya figured it was just another Hollander thing, or he was dreading the talk that they’d inevitably need to have tonight. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Shane agreed, tucking his phone back into his backpack. This time, when Ilya put his hand on Shane’s thigh, he was much quicker to cover it with his hand. 

shane_hollander posted 4:47 PM 

[ Two pictures of Shane Hollander. The first he wears a Boston Bears cap, his head tilted down to show off the logo and the front of a jersey. The second, Shane Hollander from behind, pointing at the legendary name and number of Boston Bears Legend Sergei Vetrov ] 

Excited to join the #BostonBears ! Lets get Stanley Cup ✌️ boys ! @Sergei_Vetrov @nhlbears @nhl

Chapter End Notes

So I made a friend of mine that lives in Boston go to the Boston Slide to tell me what it was like going down it, in order to be able to write about Ilya tricking Shane onto it. However, I was heartbroken to realize that the slide wasn't installed until 2022. So, expected a stand-alone ficlet about just that later since I have a lot of hands on experience and wrote half the scene already.

Chapter 3: Confessions

Chapter Summary

Shane reveals how he was outed and Montreal's reaction.

Meanwhile Ilya struggles with his affections towards Shane and his disgust towards his former team, and how they treated Shane.

“By the time we got back from our games and started practicing at home again, everyone knew.” Hayden and JJ had assured him it didn’t change anything, and that they were fine with it. But everyone else on the team. Shane shuddered at the memory. “They wouldn’t listen to me, they wouldn’t even fucking change in the same locker room as me anymore. They acted like I was diseased, like I was going to do something to them!”

Chapter Notes

This chapter is from Shane's POV as that seemed easier for Shane to tell his own story. Future chapters will likely flip back and forth, depending on who the moment is focused on.

Content warning for sex, the fic begins to get its E rating now.

Also does anyone want to beta read, I hate checking for spelling and grammar errors haha

It wasn’t the first time Shane had been to Ilya’s penthouse. Far from it, actually. In the last year they’d begun to hook up there instead of in hotels filled with other players. This was a place that Shane usually felt safe to be himself. Too bad he just didn’t quite feel like himself lately.

“Do you want drink?” Ilya called out from the kitchen as Shane mechanically lowered himself onto the couch. He couldn’t even relax into the plush cushions or tease Ilya about having hockey video games displayed  like he usually did.

“Yes please.” 

A few moments later, an icy cold can was pressed to the side of his neck, and Shane jumped in surprise. “What the fuck.” He snapped, batting away the can and the hand attached to it, whipping his head around to glare at Ilya, who was chuckling. 

“You were staring like zombie, wasn’t sure how else to get your attention,” Ilya teased, grinning as he held out the can of ginger ale. That was when Shane realized that Ilya hadn’t even asked what he wanted to drink, he’d just gone and grabbed it automatically. He’d just had it in his fridge already, too. 

He stared up at Ilya, wide-eyed and really feeling as though he saw him for the first time today. Which was silly, since Ilya hadn’t been out of his line of sight since eleven. But he’d been doing this all day, Shane realized. Hovering nearby and being exactly whatever it was that Shane needed. A pep talk, a distraction, just someone who cared. Ilya was upset that he didn’t tell him that he was joining the Bears, and Shane got that. He’d be pissed if he were in Ilya’s shoes. Probably a lot more so than Ilya was right now. But it hit him all at once: Ilya wasn’t upset that he was on the team.

Unlike Montreal, who had thrown him away like he was diseased. 

Shane felt his face crumple, and he could see the surprise flash across Ilya’s face in response.

“Sorry, shit - sorry this is so stupid,” Shane apologized, turning his head away as he blinked back the emotion. “Thank you.” 

The couch dips beside him, and he can feel the warmth of Ilya against his thigh and the back of his shoulders where his arm has stretched out. “Knew you could not go day without your precious drink.” The smugness in Ilya’s tone isn’t as grating as it usually is. If anything, it is a familiar and welcome distraction from everything else.

“Shut up, not all of us can handle the tooth-rotting sweetness like you,” Shane huffed, relaxing back into the arm and Ilya’s side.

“Coke is delicious, you take that back about her.” Ilya scolded, nudging Shane’s knee with his own.

“Oh sorry, I forgot that you two have a special relationship.” Shane rolled his eyes.

Both of them devolved into chuckles after that; the conversation was so unserious compared to the mood right before it that neither could keep a straight face. As their laughter died down, Shane relaxed more onto the couch. His eyes fixed on the can in his hands, and as the quiet settled between them, far less heavy than before, he contemplated how to even have this conversation. 

“I don’t know how much you know,” Shane started, looking at Ilya from the corner of his eyes. “There are a thousand dumb rumors online.” Unfortunately, he’d read every one of them. Too fearful of the real reason getting out to stop himself. His mother had told him not to do it, that it would wreck him. She was right, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. 

Ilya shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. “Didn’t check online,” he let out a sigh that made it clear that there was more to it than just that. “But…”

“But?” Shane asked, heart rate kicking up in response.

“But…we have rookie on team, good kid. Shane Hollander fan,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Said one of his buddies heard there was rumor that you were gay.” 

Ilya looked at him then, held his gaze with a steady, even expression. Shane knew he didn’t have to say anything, that his expression gave him away. His face scrunched, looking as though he’d just taken a punch to the gut.  The shame was hot and roiling in his gut, and suddenly his earlier lunch threatened to make a reappearance. 

“Did they find out, Hollander?” 

Shane could only nod, staring blankly ahead. His jaw was clenched too tightly together to properly answer. He felt Ilya shift, and then his hand squeezed the back of his neck. The skin on skin contact was warm, grounding. 

It made Shane close his eyes and take a deep breath, focusing on just the points of contact between them. Not on his racing heart or facing thoughts. But just Ilya, steady and strong beside him. 

“What did they find out?” Ilya coaxed, squeezing the back of his neck gently. 

He knew that Ilya was probably worried about being found out too. Not that Shane ever risked keeping anything incriminating on his phone. Even the dick pic that Ilya had sent him had been deleted pretty soon after the fact. But considering everything they had on the line, Shane couldn’t blame him.

“I roomed with someone other than Hayden - Pike - a few months back and left my phone on my bed when I went to shower,” he stared, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “He picked it up, to - I don’t know, and I had…..porn up from the night before.” His face blazed red at the memory of what it was too. It hadn’t even been something he could easily explain away.

“Of two men.” Ilya guessed immediately.

“Yeah, of two men. When I came out of the shower, he was just staring at my phone and then he asked me….he asked me what the hell I was watching,” Shane dragged in a deep and ragged inhale. “I didn’t know what to say, and the look on his face—he was just so disgusted by it.” 

Ilya leaned in closer, rubbing his thumb against the column of Shane’s throat and just up and underneath his ear. But he didn’t interrupt or try to tell Shane he was overreacting, he just sat there and listened. 

“By the time we got back from our games and started practicing at home again, everyone knew.” Hayden and JJ had assured him it didn’t change anything, and that they were fine with it. But everyone else on the team. Shane shuddered at the memory. “They wouldn’t listen to me, they wouldn’t even fucking change in the same locker room as me anymore. They acted like I was diseased, like I was going to do something to them!”

He let out a disgusted bark of laughter. It was so ridiculous in hindsight. “It was like I wasn’t the same guy who led them these last few years, as though knowing I like….I like men somehow made me less than what I was before.” His hands were shaking so badly now that he had to place the can between his thighs for fear of dropping it altogether. He hadn't said that out loud before, that he liked men.

“I tried so hard to make it work - I gave them everything.” He got them in playoff contention, again. For a second year in a row. “But off the ice, they wanted nothing to do with me.” 

Shane couldn’t say if it was his agent or the team who decided that he should be traded, but he knew that the talks began as soon as he told Farrah what had happened. She and his mother had worked fast. “So during the playoffs, trade talks began. I knew they were happening, but I also hoped that maybe if I could just prove I was still able to win that they wouldn’t…” He had joined the Voyageurs thinking he’d be with them for the rest of his career. Only for it to fall apart after a few years because of something he couldn’t control. 

“That they wouldn’t get rid of me.” Shane could feel the first tear slip down his cheek. 

Ilya muttered something in Russian didn’t understand, reaching out to wipe the dampness from his cheek. Shane leaned into the touch, leaned into him. The arm around him pulled him into a hug, and Shane gladly took the opportunity to turn his face to hide it in the crook of Ilya’s neck. Now, partially hidden, the tears welled up even faster. He’d never been this vulnerable around Ilya before. But he didn’t think anyone else in the world would understand what he was going through right now but him. 

“My contract had me staying in the Eastern Conference, and apparently everyone was keeping it tight-lipped about why I was being traded.” His mother had guessed it was because the Voyageurs didn’t want the idea of blatant homophobia to stain their reputation, but Shane wondered if it was because they didn’t think anyone else would take him if they knew what he was and why he was being traded. 

“But Boston was interested?” Ilya asked, his hand rubbing a soothing path up and down his spine. The motion was methodical and with just enough pressure to bleed some of the tension out of Shane’s back.

Shane nodded from where he was hiding in Ilya’s neck. “Apparently, they didn’t blink when Farrah negotiated when the announcement would be made and why I was being traded.” It had been part of why Shane hadn’t just broken contract in hopes of finding some team that had no idea what had happened to him or what he was.

“They know?” The surprise and alarm in Ilya’s voice made his chest clench. 

“About me, yeah.” Shane admitted, voice sounding so small in his ears. “But they said it didn’t matter, that they wanted me as a player and nothing else mattered to them.” Shane didn't know if it was true, but it had been nice to hear in the moment.  

There was a long pause, a silence that could either be good or bad. Slowly, Shane pulled back to look up at Ilya, wary and scared of what he might see. But instead of angry or worried, Ilya just looked pensive. 

“Boston is….rough, at times,” Ilya conceded as though he was not the roughest of all of them. “But, they are good men. Good coaches and staff, I think that if they say they do not care…then they do not care.” 

Something loosened in Shane’s chest to hear that. Anyone could say that when trying to recruit the best player in the league onto their team - and Shane would stand by that he was the best stat-wise and Stanley Cup-wise. But to follow through was an entirely different ordeal. 

“Do you think the guys will be okay with it?” That was what Shane feared most: another team that would shun and discard him once they found out. Because they would find out, eventually. Even if the Voyageurs did their best to keep it locked down, it had gotten out once, and it would get out again. Shane knew that the clock was ticking, and eventually it would get out again, bigger and messier than before. 

Ilya nodded, his hand stilling. “Yes, and if they are not, then I will knock sense into them until they are.” He said it so confidently, as though he was not talking about knocking around his own team.

“You will not,” Shane huffed, resting his forehead back on Ilya’s shoulder. 

“Will too,” Ilya argued. “I will fistfight every one of them, I will not….we will not be the Voyageurs, Hollander. I swear that.” 

Shane could feel the sob well up in his throat, and he fought to swallow it down. This was already embarrassing enough. He’d already cried on Ilya’s shoulder enough; he didn’t need to start doing it again. “I’m sorry for not telling you,” he whispered instead. “I was scared of how you’d react, and I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t want me on the team.”

If Ilya hadn’t wanted him, he wouldn’t have come. He couldn’t have. Having to look at Ilya and see hatred in his eyes every day would have broken him far more than the disgust the Voyageurs had for him ever did. He liked Ilya, despite every reason to the contrary and every bit of common sense he had. Shane didn’t know how to exist in a world where they weren’t something beyond rivals anymore, either. 

“Hollander, that is stupid. We are two best players in league, of course I want you on the team.” When Ilya said it like that, it sounded so simple. So simple that Shane felt foolish for even believing otherwise. “I was just…surprised. Surprised that you did not trust me enough to tell me when everything happened.” There was obvious hurt in Ilya’s voice now, hurt that Shane hadn’t expected. 

“No, it wasn’t trust; I just - I was so embarrassed, Ilya.” He sat up, running a hand over his face. “I was caught in such a stupid way, and I didn’t want you to stop meeting up with me or talking to me because of it. And I didn’t want you to pity me, either.” 

It was selfish, in hindsight. Ilya had deserved to know for so many reasons. Shane had just shut down when everything happened and tried to keep everything as internalized as possible. “Obviously I trust you,” he muttered, shyly looking up at Ilya through his lashes. “I thought I had more time to tell you, and part of me wanted to do it in person because I thought it would be easier.” Or rather, he didn’t think he could chicken out like he did so many nights, typing and deleting the same message to Ilya over and over again. 

Ilya didn’t respond, at least not how Shane expected. Instead, a strong, calloused hand grasped his chin and lifted it so that Ilya could kiss him fiercely. A tongue slid against his bottom lip and Shane groaned, parting his mouth easily so that Ilya could deepen the kiss. His hands reached out, fisting in Ilya’s t-shirt as they kissed. 

It usually went like this, he melted under the slightest insistence from Ilya. The warmth of his hands, the persistent heat of his mouth. Shane felt like he was drowning in them, but he had no desire to resist. Even the urge to breathe disappeared when Ilya slid their tongues together in a way that made his knees shake. 

The kiss breaks, and Shane found himself chasing Ilya’s mouth. “Rozanov,” he murmured, lips brushing against the stubbly skin of Ilya’s cheek. 

“We do not…” Ilya tightened his grip on him, eyes squeezing shut. “I did not kiss you hoping for more than that, Hollander.” He brushed his nose over the curve of Shane’s cheek down to his jaw, the touch sensual enough to send a shiver down Shane’s spine. It wasn’t a very convincing argument. 

“What if I want more?” 

Ilya pulls back, eyes darkened with only public as he searched Shane’s face. “You have had a hard day,” he muttered, lifting his hand to slide his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Hard months, maybe.” 

It was true. Shane had a very hard few months. To finally hear someone outside his parents acknowledge that sent a fresh wave of emotion through him. Hard enough to make his eyes water. “But I want you.” He did really want Ilya. He wanted Ilya to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him - to do whatever it took to make him forget why he was here in the first place. 

“Of course you do,” Ilya grinned at him, expression lightening.

“Shut up,” Shane huffed, leaning forward to capture Ilya’s mouth again. He doesn’t run this time. He lets Shane lead the kiss, one that starts soft and exploratory, and he takes his mind off everything else. But quickly grows filthy, Shane sucking on Ilya’s tongue like it were his cock. No subtlety about  what he wants. 

“Hollander,” Ilya groaned, their lips brushing. “I was meant to be comforting you.” 

Humming, Shane squirmed until Ilya’s arms loosened around him and he could slide down his couch onto the floor. The wood was cool beneath his knees, but he didn’t care. “You did,” he assured, looking up at Ilya. “I just…don’t want to think about it anymore. I want to do something else.” His hands slid up the length of Ilya’s powerful thighs. What he wanted was obvious. 

Despite the conflicted look on his face, Ilya spread his legs far enough for Shane to settle between them. The front of his pants were already tented, a testament that he wasn’t unaffected by the kissing either. 

Shane wanted to do this; he was good at this. It was easy to forget everything else and lose himself in sucking Ilya’s cock. 

Deftly, Shane opened the button and zipper, ghosting his fingers over the bulge through Ilya’s boxers. He hissed above him but didn’t move. Though Shane could feel eyes boring intently down on him. Lately, being stared at made him squirm. When Ilya did it, it made him feel more confident. 

Licking his lips, Shane tugged down Ilya’s jeans and boxers. The position proved to be unwieldy, and with laugh they both pulled apart enough for Ilya to kick both layers off. Shane wasted no time in settling back between those strong thighs. 

He kissed a path up the inside of Ilya’s thigh. The skin was warm and smelled like soap and skin, Shane nuzzled into it, smiling at the way the downy hairs there brushed against his cheek. 

“Hollander.” 

Above him, Ilya’s voice sounded reverent. Though he didn’t reach out to touch him. When Shane looked up, he could see Ilya gripping the back of the couch with both hands. The sight made him smirk.

“Stay like that,” he urged, leaning forward to press his lips under the head of Ilya’s cock. Both of his hands stayed on his thighs at first, squeezing them as he ran his lips and tongue over the length as it rapidly hardened. Shane could feel it grow hot and heavy against his lips, long before he swallowed a single inch of Ilya’s cock down his throat. The power to do that sent a thrill down his spine. 

“You were made for this,” Ilya groaned. “So pretty. So perfect.” 

A part of him squirmed at the idea. He still wasn’t fully content with the notion that he was gay. But right now, right here - it was difficult to ignore. But rather than focus on that, Shane shifted so he could wrap his lips around Ilya’s cock and swallow him down as far as he could go in one movement.

“Fuck! Hollander.” The words sounded punched out of Ilya, like he was wounded. 

Shane hummed in response, pleased. He could feel Ilya’s thighs quake under his hands. Ilya’s cock was hot and heavy against his tongue, pulsing with the man’s heartbeat. All of it for him, because of him. This was exactly what he needed. 

There was no desire to draw this out or tease Ilya. Shane wanted to make him come. He wanted to do something, to feel in control. One of his hands shifted to wrap around the base of Ilya’s cock as he bobbed his head. The flat of Shane’s tongue slid against the underside of Ilya’s cock with every movement. 

He pushed himself down so far that his eyes watered when the head of Ilya’s cock hit the back of his throat. But he didn’t pull back, instead Shane stayed there. Even as he could hear Ilya calling out for him, sounding far away.

“Hollander, Hollander please - am coming, am going to come.” Fingers slid through his hair finally, stroking and tugging gently, but not pulling.

Through tear-filled lashes, Shane looked up at Ilya. His eyebrows were pulled together in determination, and he swallowed against the head of Ilya’s cock. Watching as it punched a moan out of him. Usually he didn’t swallow, but he wanted to now. He wanted to savor every moment of this, to savor having control of the situation. 

Ilya either figured it out, or couldn’t hold it back any longer. His hand stayed in Shane’s hair, gripping but just for something to hold on to, as his cock twitched and he came against the back of Shane’s throat. 

He swallowed it. Over and over until there was nothing else. Breathing through his nose, Shane kept Ilya in his mouth even as his orgasm stopped. 

“Is enough,” Ilya said from above, carding his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Cannot take anymore, you will kill me - I will be dead.” 

The joke was enough for Shane to stop. Pulling back, he blinked away the wetness gathered in his eyes. Hastily reaching up to wipe the tears that fell instead. His throat hurt and his jaw ached, but there was a deep sense of satisfaction there too. Enough to bring a smirk to his face. 

Before he could say something sassy to Ilya, strong hands were hauling him up into his lap. Ilya was far less gentle as he unbuttoned Shane’s own jeans and pulled his cock out. He’d gotten hard from sucking Ilya off, that was no surprise. He always did. But as he looked down between their bodies, he was a little embarrassed to see how flushed red and dripping wet he was. Heat settled over Shane’s face and down his neck.

“Fuck, Hollander. You don’t even know what you do to me,” Ilya groaned, using the wetness from the tip of Shane’s cock to make jerking him off easier. He knew exactly where to touch and how hard to squeeze. “Your perfect mouth and the way your throat is just made for fucking, thank god we are on same side of ice now I do not think I would resist getting hard at next face off.” 

Ilya is rambling now, but it is working for Shane. He wrapped his arms around Ilya’s shoulders and pressed their foreheads together. “Ilya,” he breathed out, still not fully aware of what he had done. Of what he was doing to Ilya. 

“Fuuuck, Shane.” His hand sped up, his other hand reaching down to cup and squeeze Shane’s balls. “I want you to come on me. All over me.” 

It wasn’t exactly a difficult order to fulfill. A few more thrusts of Ilya’s hand, and he was coming messily between them, ropes of cum landing on Ilya’s shirt, staining the black fabric immediately.  Shane collapsed against him, uncaring of the fact that now both of their shirts were disgusting. All he cared about was fucking his face into the crook of Ilya’s neck and inhaling the warm scent of soap, skin and the spicy tobacco-vanilla scent of Ilya’s cologne. 

“Shouldn’t smoke, is bad for you.” Shane slurred, rubbing his nose into Ilya’s skin.

“What are you? Blood dog? How did you know?” Uncaring of how gross it was, Ilya curled his hands around Shane’s waist and pulled him in even closer.

Turning his head to try and look up at Ilya, Shane’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Blood dog?” He asked, completely lost.

“Yes, you know - the dog that can sniff out people and animals?” 

“A blood hound.”

“Is what I said!” Ilya insisted, squeezing Shane tighter around the waist. “Why have two words for dog, mean same thing, yes?”

He paused, thinking about it for a moment. “I mean, yeah. I guess you are right.” He conceded, letting out an exasperated laugh.

“Of course I am right, I am very smart, and English is very dumb language.” Ilya had been saying that for years. Shane was starting to think he was right. It also made him wonder just how much smarter Ilya was in Russian. One day, he’d ask him.

“Whatever.” 

Shane let himself lie boneless against Ilya for a long time. Even as his skin cooled and the cum on them dried into a gross, sticky mess. Usually he was quick to jump into the shower, but he couldn’t pull himself away from Ilya. Not until he could start to see the sun setting through the large windows of Ilya’s apartment. 

“Can I borrow your shower?” He asked, pushing himself off of Ilya and wincing at the pain in his thighs from having knelt for too long. 

“Of course. Can get you fresh clothes too.” Ilay followed him up and off of the couch, grimacing as he looked at his shirt and then pulled it from his body. “Can join you, too.” 

Shane’s eyes were caught on the bare expanse of Ilya’s chest. On his stupid bear tattoo, on the meat of his pecs and the perfectly sculpted abs. He was easily the most beautiful man Shane had ever seen. It surprised him sometimes that he got to hook up with Ilya, the man that everyone wanted.

“We’ll never get clean then,” he argued, turning to walk towards the shower. “Plus, I need to go check into my hotel room before they give it away.” 

There was a pause behind him, and then hurried footsteps. Shane had only just managed to pull off his own shirt when Ilya’s naked body pressed up against his own.

“No, stay here.” Ilya nuzzled into the back of his neck, unfairly kissing at the sensitive skin of his nape. “My bed and shower are nicer, and we are closer to arena for practice.” There was a clear hint of a whine in his voice.

“I can’t.” Shane insisted, even as he tilted his head back to lean against Ilya’s frame.

“Why not?” He could practically hear the pout in Ilya’s voice.

“What will everyone think? What if someone finds out that I didn’t stay in a hotel?” What if people thought Ilya was gay, too.

Behind him, Ilya snorted. “All of Boston already knows I took you on sightseeing tour. Us arriving to practice is not so crazy - and friends stay at each other’s houses all of the time.” 

Now, Shane twisted in Ilya’s arms, breaking the hold he had on him. “Friends?” He asked warily, eyebrows furrowered together.

“Is not so crazy. We are same age, recruitment year, we’ve known each other long time. Rivalry has to die sometime now that we are on same team.”

Ilya had a good point. It wouldn’t be very easy to keep up fa rivalry when they were both working together on the same team. At best they could keep track of goals and assists, but it wouldn’t be anything more than for bragging points. “But with the rumors about me…are you sure you want to attach yourself to that?” Shane had to ask, he had to make sure that Ilya knew exactly what he was getting into.

In front of him, the stubborn set of Ilya’s jaw was obvious. “I fuck many women Hollander, I do not think people will assume I am gay.” Hanging out with Shane was a risk, they both knew that. But apparently Ilya didn’t care, or wasn’t as scared as Hollander would have been in his position. 

Shane searched his face for something, a sign of doubt or hesitation. But he didn’t find any there. Some worry, sure, but he couldnt’ blame him for that. They both had a lot riding on this secret. But Ilya was willing to extend a hand to him, to show not only Boston but the entire NHL that one of the best players in hockey didn’t care if his rival was gay. It was enough to make Shane’s breath catch in his throat. 

“If you’re sure…” He had to swallow hard, to get the lump in his throat down.

“Very sure, have thought about it.” Ilya insisted as he walked forward to corral Shane towards the shower. Either to make the conversation stop or because Shane stunk. Unfortunately, he figured it was probably a mixture of both. 

With a sigh, Shane allowed himself to be pushed forward. “Fine, but I am going to look for apartments and you’re going to drive me to look at them.” He kicked off his pants and boxers the rest of the way once they were in the bathroom.

“Oh yes Mr. Landlord, figured you would want to buy fancy new real estate. Will be your personal driver.” Ilya mocked, bumping their shoulders together. “You will not have anything specially built?”

“Shut up,” Shane laughed, shoving Ilya away to go and turn on the shower. “You’re just worried my place will be nicer than yours.” 

Ilya scoffed, making a big show of rolling his eyes as he turned on the shower. “Is impossible, you are too boring to have cooler house than me. We can find you spot in old people’s retirement community, you will fit right in.” 

“I hate you so much.” Shane groaned as he stepped into the shower.

“No, no, you missed me. You are so glad to be in Boston with me.” Ilya teased as he followed.

Shane couldn’t respond. Because he couldn’t deny it. He was glad to be here in Boston, all because he was glad to be with Ilya.