Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Wyatt Hayes, Zane Boodram, Evan Dykstra, Nick Chouinard, Luca Haas, Young (Game Changers), LaPointe (Game Changers), Holmberg (Game Changers), Troy Barrett, Harris Drover, Ottawa Centaurs Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Ottawa Centaurs WAGs Ensemble (Game Changers), Lisa Hayes (Game Changers), Selena Chouinard, Cassie Boodram, Caitlin Dykstra

Additional Tags:

Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, POV Outsider, POV Wyatt Hayes, Autistic Shane Hollander, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Shane Hollander Is a Menace, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Ottawa centaurs found family, Supportive Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Shane Hollander Calls Ilya Rozanov "Baby", Ottawa Centaurs as Family (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of stay with me, in our comfort crowd

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-04 Words: 7,385 Chapters: 1/1

and i saw forever, a beautiful time-lapse

Summary

And so, that brings Wyatt here, where he is sitting on a sofa with Lisa on his lap, in the living room of Ilya and Shane’s Ottawa home, watching Shane Hollander on The Tonight Show. A genuinely insane string of words that he would never have thought to put together just ten months ago.

But, Wyatt knows how to adapt, so here he is.

Or, Wyatt Hayes and his observations on Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.

Notes

okay so i've been wanting to write an outsider pov for SO long because i love them so much, and while i was writing the tonight show chapter of 'oh my god you should see your faces' i was suddenly struck with the fact that i NEEDED to write the cens watchparty scene LOL. and so here we are !!

i'm not gonna lie to you guys, this is wyatt thinking about shane and ilya's relationship for 7k, with a hint of humor thrown in. there are things that happen throughout that line up with chapter 12 of 'oh my god you should see your faces,' so i would recommend reading that first, but it's not absolutely required; this probably will still make sense for the most part without it !!

also usual disclaimer that no ai was used for writing this; there are an EGREGIOUS amount of em dashes in here, but that's all because of me and my writing style !!!

i had so much fun writing in wyatt's pov honestly, it's kinda rambly and chaotic, but i had a great time LOL, so hope you enjoy <3

Wyatt Hayes grew up playing hockey and was born in Canada. Both of those things combined really don’t mean that much, because truly, you can probably stand in any crowded area in the country and throw a rock and hit five people with both of those characteristics.

What it does mean, however, is that Wyatt is exceptionally familiar with Shane Hollander. To be fair, though, you couldn’t be entrenched in the hockey world and not know who Shane is. One of the top rookies of his draft, already lauded as one of the greatest hockey players of his generation, and of course all the medals and the awards and the cups. His name is almost synonymous with the sport, at this point.

But the other important thing about Shane Hollander and hockey, is that you can’t bring up Shane, without bringing up Ilya Rozanov.

Loud and brash, instead of polite. Loves clubs and girls and sports cars. Aggressive on the ice, uses chirps like they’re the sharp-edged weapons that they tend to be when it comes to him. (Wyatt eventually learns that some of these things are a front, a persona Ilya played up back then, but doesn’t that much anymore. He still enjoys clubbing and he’s still an asshole and aggressive when he needs to be, but—well, that’s not the point.)

Shane’s antithesis in every way except for the fact that he seems to be the only one able to keep up with Shane. They’re the kings of the gods—not that Wyatt is comparing hockey players to gods, because the truth is that most of them, especially in Toronto and Montreal, will never deserve that kind of label—foils on ice and also in life, the two conflicting sides of the same damn coin. Superman and Batman. Or Optimus Prime and Megatron.

So, yeah, Wyatt’s spent years following Shane and Ilya, because they’re the destination, the end goal of every hockey player. The moving target that every fucking player tries getting to, but all know it’s ultimately a hopeless ambition, because for every step forward they make, Shane and Ilya make five more. When Wyatt gets drafted, it’s a step forward. Unfortunately for him, it’s Toronto that takes him, and Shane and Ilya don’t even need to take five steps forward when Wyatt is pushed back ten himself.

But someone up there seems to finally get on Wyatt’s side, because somehow he ends up in Ottawa, on the same team as fucking Ilya Rozanov.

And then, if the universe hadn’t been running around throwing enough random shit at the wall and hoping it sticks—because really, the league hadn’t been this insane in, well, ever—Wyatt somehow finds himself in Ottawa, on the same team as Ilya Rozanov and fucking Shane Hollander.

It’s still a little heady, going to practice and seeing the two men that Wyatt had looked up to coming into the league, and then feared while he’d been in Toronto—not that it mattered that much, when he’d barely been on the ice anyway—and respected so much now, for what they’ve done for hockey. And for all the hockey players and fans out there that aren’t senile, white, homophobic, racist—Wyatt can probably keep going, but he’ll stop here—pieces of shit who would definitely fall flat on their asses if they try to do even a hundredth of what Shane and Ilya do on the ice.

And every time that Wyatt has to defend the goal while the team practices the power play and he sees the two of them skating towards him like they’re on an actual mission to ruin his life, yeah, he’s a little scared. At least he’s not the one in goal against them during their real games.

Wyatt undeniably hates Montreal and the Voyageurs, but a part of him is still very, very thankful for them. After all, if they hadn’t catastrophically fumbled their generational talent of a center all because he’d fallen in love, he would be in the goal facing Shane Hollander. Which is somewhere Wyatt is not especially keen to be. So, you know, thanks Montreal.

But honestly, it’s intriguing, Shane and Ilya’s relationship. They’ve spent years hiding and savoring small moments in secret and passing each other by for so long, that Wyatt really doesn’t know what to expect when they’re out, married, and playing for the same team.

It’s a boatload of changes all at once, and Wyatt is perceptive enough to already know that Shane is not the best at handling that. And so, yeah, it’s an adjustment.

Wyatt knows all the lighthearted jokes the team makes about his goalie eyes, but truthfully, he sees a lot. He’d noticed the rigid set of Shane’s shoulders the first time he walked into the Centaurs’ locker room. The way Ilya’s hand had hovered just above Shane’s back, like he’d been reaching for a touch, but just barely held himself back. The way that even though Shane and Ilya’s stalls are right next to each other, they hadn’t touched at all, almost deliberately.

He sees the tension that had seemed to hold every limb of Shane upright when he interacted with the team, the way he’d braced slightly when Zane made an offhand comment about him and Ilya. He wonders if that had been the first time Shane had heard ‘you and Rozanov’ in a locker room with no accusation or hatred present in the words.

For all intents and purposes, for a good month into Shane joining the Cens, it’s hard to tell that he and Ilya are even married.

So, obviously, it's a slow start, to get Shane to acclimate to the Cens and their dynamic. Ilya, of course, helps, but he can’t solve all of Shane’s problems or snap away all of his fears instantly. Which Wyatt understands, coming from a team like Toronto. Understands the bone-deep urge to keep everything close to your chest and the flinch you can’t help when someone absentmindedly nudges you lightly on the ice and the stiffness in your shoulders that doesn’t seem to go away. He knows it all; so when Shane finally talks about his plans with Ilya on their days off and ruffles Luca’s hair after a stunning goal during practice and lets his shoulders drop in the locker room, Wyatt is immensely and intensely happy.

Now, it’s more often than not that the team gripes about Ilya and Shane being too touchy, than not being touchy at all. The latter is still a little funny in and of itself, because only the Centaurs would be annoyed at the hockey husbands not openly displaying the fact that they’re married.

But every time he sees Ilya grab Shane’s ass after a particularly sexy goal—and only with Shane Hollander is that a completely normal thing to say, because Shane’s had more of those than any other player Wyatt has gone up against—or give his shoulder a small little bite in the locker room after a shower or sees Shane running a hand through Ilya’s hair gently during Zane’s barbeques while they share a chair, Wyatt is struck by the melancholic thought that they hadn’t been able to have anything like this for over a decade.

In the context of that, in the frame of reference that Wyatt, for all his empathy, can’t even imagine what it would be like to fall in love in secret, for every meeting to be a clandestine sort of affair, for it to be illicit and forbidden and scary, well. Yes, the team pokes fun at Shane and Ilya’s PDA and inability to keep their hands off each other and their slight codependency, but Wyatt can never fault the two of them for any of it.

If anything, he believes, they’re holding back.

And so, that brings Wyatt here, where he is sitting on a sofa with Lisa on his lap, in the living room of Ilya and Shane’s Ottawa home, watching Shane Hollander on The Tonight Show. A genuinely insane string of words that he would never have thought to put together just ten months ago. But, Wyatt knows how to adapt, so here he is.

When Zane had first proposed the idea for doing a “watchparty” for Shane’s talk-show appearance, Wyatt honestly thought Shane would immediately shut it down. For as much as he had grown out of the closed-off shell he’d come to the Centaurs wrapped in, he’s still a pretty private person, and Wyatt hadn’t been sure he would be comfortable with the whole team watching him talk on national television in a non-hockey environment.

Turns out, he’d been worried for nothing. Because Shane and Ilya had simply turned to exchange a long look, doing their freaky mind-reading shit that everyone on the Cens jokingly complains about and that the rest of the league actually complains about, before Shane had given a little nod. Ilya’s entire face had lit up as he’d launched into an invitation for the team and their partners, lips immediately widening into a striking grin, in a way that Wyatt is still taken aback by, sometimes.

That’s a whole other thing, for Wyatt. He’d known, during Ilya’s first three years in Ottawa, that there was something wrong. Not certainly, not with any hard proof, but more like an abstract sort of theory, whenever he’d paid attention to the new captain. Ilya had not been the Ilya Rozanov that had haunted the rest of the league for the last eight years. He’d been…withdrawn in a despondent kind of way. Refused invitations to Zane’s barbecues and going out with the team after rough losses and even any sort of holiday party. For a man who’d built a reputation on a never-ending social battery and as a shameless partier, it had been—shocking, to say the least.

Not that Wyatt had thought Ilya had been a bad captain, because Wyatt has never met a person more suited to be captain. Ilya knows hockey, that much as obvious, but he also knows people, in a manner Wyatt hadn’t quite expected. He knows when to push them past their limits during practice, or shift strategies when the team is getting frustrated with a certain drill. Knows how to tease and goof off, but then turn around and tell them they need to get their shit together when it’s time to focus. And his pre-game speeches are the perfect mix of chaos and screaming and hyping them up and cursing out the other team. If nothing else, it always gets the team pumped up, but also boosts their self-confidence in a way that Wyatt knows Ottawa hadn’t had before.

So, no, Ilya had not been a bad captain, by any means. He had, however, not been happy.

It hadn’t been obvious, truly. Ilya’s good at that, hiding his emotions behind a blank face and far-away stare. If Wyatt lets himself think about it, he gets sad, thinking about all the concealing that Ilya’s had to do over the years to make him that skilled at it. If he lets himself think about it even deeper, he wonders about Russia and the passing comments Ilya’s made about his father and brother. Speculates on an early childhood Ilya, and a teenage Ilya, and a young-adult Ilya, and all the years in between, and all the hurt he’s stowed away. Wyatt tries not to think about it too often though, because it’s really depressing, and he’s not sure Ilya would appreciate him wrapping him up in a tight hug and squeezing like he could somehow replace all the pain that lives within his body.

Shane probably wouldn’t appreciate it, either.

But, anyway, Ilya’s sadness hadn’t been overt in any way, but sometimes, Wyatt had felt like Ilya had carried it with him like a worn T-shirt. Always pressing down on his shoulders, old in the way that it was constant, comfortable in the way that it was achingly familiar. Like Ilya had spent so much time, maybe his entire life, letting it settle against his chest and his heart, that he couldn’t bear to let it go anymore. That it had been a strange kind of solace, but the kind that carves into skin and seeps into bone and throbs like a bruise that never heals.

Wyatt had observed it in the way Ilya’s eyes seemed to shift sometimes, going somewhere distant that none of them could reach. Seen it in the way he would decline the team’s invitations, like he’s holding back a grimace and a flinch and tears, all at once. Noticed it in the way Ilya’s smile had always been crooked. Lips pressed together, the right corner tilting up just a bit, as if even that motion was a struggle for his facial muscles.

But this had all just been a theory—one of those things that Wyatt’s brain likes to dissect and analyze from every possible angle even when he isn’t particularly keen on doing so—and so Wyatt hadn’t really understood it until the day Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander walked into the Cens locker room for the first time after Shane became a Centaur.

Ilya’s smile had been—radiant.

There really is no other word for it, honestly. And yeah, he’d been at their wedding, so he’d seen what Ilya looks like when he’s truly happy and emotional, but that had been a—a different environment. Too many new independent variables to confirm any sort of hypothesis. But the locker room, see, Wyatt knows Ilya in the locker room. Specifically, Wyatt knows Ilya in the locker room pre-Shane. Ilya in the locker room post-Shane is…well, he looks a little like he’d been running away his whole life and finally found his safe place to land.

And it had kind of made Wyatt want to cry, just a little. Over the years, despite Ilya keeping himself at a bit of distance from the team, he’d become a friend, and then something like family. And the grin that Ilya had on that day made it all suddenly click.

Luca had also had a theory, the season before, that Ilya seemed to be sad in the way Luca had been, when he’d been homesick and missed his mom and sister. The team had debated the merits of it, had considered the idea that maybe Ilya was homesick, missing Russia.

It turns out it had been true; Ilya had been homesick.

The part they’d all gotten wrong, though, was that that home is Shane.

It goes the other way too, because sure, Wyatt hadn’t personally known Shane when he was in Montreal, but he knows him now. Can see it in how Shane gets quiet sometimes in the locker room or at parties. Not in a downright rude way, more like everything suddenly got too loud, and so Shane makes himself quiet to combat it. And Wyatt’s seen some similar traits with his nephew, can probably take a well-educated guess about Shane, but he doesn’t need to. It’s not something Shane talks about, and so neither does Wyatt. But what he does do is observe, and what he observes is Ilya.

Ilya reaching down into Shane’s bag and grabbing a pair of noise-cancelling headphones in the locker room, handing them to his husband without a word. Or Ilya gently pushing Shane down into a seat when they’re all out at a bar and dropping his arms over Shane’s shoulders, in a way that his biceps press against Shane’s ears. It’s subtle, but prominent, either way. But that’s not all that surprising, given the way Ilya seems so attuned to Shane, their communication unlike anything Wyatt had ever seen—though given the fact that the two men had taken about eight years to move from a situationship to actually dating, he guesses that it hadn’t always been that way.

Anyway, what’s more important, Wyatt concludes, is Shane’s reactions.

Shane grabbing his headphones with a quiet ‘thanks’ when he first joined, and then eventually a murmured ‘thanks, baby.’ Turning towards Ilya as he puts them on, eyes with a slight sheen, glittering with a collection of emotions that seems to run deeper than Wyatt can parse through. Or at the bar, reaching up slightly to intertwine a hand with one of Ilya’s that rests on his chest, shoulders drooping as he leans back into his husband. Inhaling, letting his eyes close softly, but squeezing Ilya’s hand tight like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered at the moment.

So, yeah, Shane might be Ilya’s safe place to land, but Ilya is Shane’s, too.

And so now, Wyatt watches from the couch as Shane walks around the room, refilling the scattered bowls of popcorn and asking if anyone wants another drink. He can see the slight strain racketing through his movements, but as always, Ilya seems to always know.

Ilya grabs Shane’s hand as he walks past him sitting on the recliner, pulling him to a stop as he guides Shane’s body to face him. Wyatt can’t hear their conversation, spoken low enough that it’s practically inaudible in the loud, full room, but whatever Ilya says seems to have done the job.

Shane exhales out a quick breath, nodding once. Flicks his gaze around the room quickly—Wyatt hurriedly looks away; he doesn’t want Shane to think something is wrong when he’s already a little anxious—before slowly settling on the arm of the recliner.

Wyatt darts his eyes back because, well okay. He’s not weird, he swears, it’s just—there’s something about Shane and Ilya. A tension wrapped around their little bubble, a current running through every touch and every word. He’s not sure how people hadn’t put it together sooner, when they’re like this.

When there’s a weight to the hand that Ilya places on Shane’s thigh, and the hand that Shane places on top of it a moment later. It’s casual, but also not. Casual in the way that speaks to their quiet domesticity and comfort with each other, not casual in the way that illuminates the gravity of this moment—to be able to have that touch in a room full of professional hockey players and their families that all support them in every way.

When, as the minutes tick down to the start of the show, Shane slowly sinks further and further down almost automatically, until he’s practically half on Ilya’s lap. When his arm eventually slinks around behind Ilya’s neck, coming to a rest on the captain’s shoulder, and Shane's thumb gently glides back and forth on the strip of Ilya’s skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. When Ilya tilts his face to the side, pressing a quick kiss to Shane’s bicep, before leaning his head on it.

When every graze of a finger and every whisper of a word is this entrenched in meaning, in a tender sort of yearning and a delicate sort of devotion. It’s times like this when it really hits Wyatt, that they’ve been…this, for over ten years.

That they really did meet when they had just been rookies, young wide-eyed teenagers who didn’t know about the world yet, or even themselves. That they had sort of grown up with each other, evolved around each other’s intricacies and imperfections, sculpted their lives carefully to carve out a space for each other. That when people online make quips about ‘high-school sweethearts,’ it really is a little bit true, because Shane and Ilya have been hovering in each other’s orbits, trying not to violently collide and ruin everything, but desperately wishing for a way they could stay, since they’d been eighteen.

So, yeah, Wyatt isn’t sure how no one figured it out earlier, honestly.

He looks away when the show finally starts, glad that they get to have this now, surrounded by friends and family. Surrounded by a team that they both play for together.

Wyatt watches as Shane walks out onto the stage on screen, and the room explodes into cheers and whistles for the best hockey player in the league—sorry, Ilya, but Wyatt thinks that the stats don’t lie.

Shane, for his part, turns a little red. A fact that Ilya seems to enjoy, given the way he leans in and softly bites Shane’s cheek, right on his blush.

“Damn, where’d you get that suit Holzy?” Zane asks as the team settles a little, and Shane’s nose scrunches at the question.

“My stylist?” It’s more of a question than an answer, said after a few long seconds, like he’d been weighing his options in his mind. Shane’s voice is hesitant, not timid exactly, but something a little uncertain.

Zane nods, eyes flicking back to the TV in the front. Wyatt lets his gaze linger for just a moment longer on Shane, because he looks a little confused. His eyes are still on Zane, the hand that had been tracing Ilya’s skin now clenching his husband’s sleeve tightly. Almost like he’d been…oh.

Shane had been expecting to get mocked.

And that’s when Wyatt gets it, how much Shane is still affected by his former team. Because sure, Wyatt understands it to a certain degree, but he’d also been on the bench for all of his time in Toronto. He hadn’t been the star center, the one with all the pressure on his shoulders, the one that everybody looked at during every single game.

He hadn’t been the one that came out, and then had his relationship outed a while later, to a team filled with homophobic assholes who wouldn’t understand love even if Spider-Man himself walked up to them and slashed them in the face with it.

Wyatt doesn’t know the specifics, he’s not sure anyone but Ilya, and probably Hayden since he’d likely actually been there, does. But anyone with eyes—no, nevermind, anyone with goalie eyes—can see that there are lasting effects from Shane’s time in Montreal.

And this seems to be one of them. Expecting to get mocked for something that isn’t all that crazy, because what kind of person doesn’t want to look good on national TV? Or even just in general? Wyatt can imagine, though, that the shitheads on the Voyageurs probably would’ve given Shane so much grief for it.

He remembers when People finally came out with their Sexiest Man Alive about a month ago, and it had been none other than Shane fucking Hollander. Which, you know, Wyatt is not disagreeing with in any way, because he has eyes. But he also remembers Shane coming into practice the day after, an almost wary expression on his face, eyes roaming the locker room like he’d been waiting for something. He was reminded then that Shane had been named #1 Hottest Man in the MLH years ago by Cosmopolitan—another statement Wyatt firmly agreed with, back then too—when he’d still been a Voyageur.

And none of the Cens had a problem talking about the fact that they all, to a certain extent, think Shane is hot. As shown by the Cens group chat from the day before, when the magazine cover dropped. But it seems like a part of Shane had thought it was all a way to ridicule him, like the way—Wyatt assumes—the Voyageurs did all those years ago.

Ilya lifts his hand and tangles his fingers in Shane’s hair, and Wyatt can see how he slowly starts to relax. Fingers unclenching from Ilya’s shirt, a subtle nod in Ilya’s direction, and quiet words that nobody else is privy to.

Lisa readjusts on his lap, and Wyatt is pulled away from his observing.

“Good?” Wyatt questions under his breath, and Lisa hums in response as she settles again in a slightly different position. She pushes some of her hair off her shoulders, and the smell of her shampoo hits him, an intoxicating combination of green apple and pear that suddenly makes him want to stand up and carry her out to their car. He hears the quiet snort Lisa lets out, because he’s sure she can feel what just the fucking smell of her shampoo did to him under her.

Sue him, okay, he loves his wife.

So, he’s not exactly paying attention to the show all that much when he hears muffled laughter echoing around the room, and he glances at the TV to see a closer-up shot of Shane, a small smirk painting his lips.

And, well. It’s not often that Shane lets his ego show, except when he’s bickering with his own husband. Not often that Shane is…cocky, but that’s really the only way Wyatt can think to describe the smirk on Shane’s face.

Cocky and smug, like he knows exactly what everyone is thinking, and he’s trying not to acknowledge it out loud.

“It’s going really well,” Shane states on-screen, and combined with the way his lips twitch the slightest bit, Wyatt can hazard a guess to exactly what he’s not saying. The certain Voyageur-shaped elephant in the room that he knows is probably on Shane’s don’t-ask list. “And you know, I get to play with my husban—”

Shane is cut off by screams and cheers from the audience, and the audience currently in the room breaks out into groans and laughs.

“You really let out your Rozanov for this interview, didn’t you Holzy,” Evan declares more than asks, and Ilya’s lips tilt up into a wicked smirk. Shane, on the other hand, flips off Evan with a deadpan look, and flicks Ilya with a finger at the same time.

“World needs to know he is married, yes?” Ilya counters, eyes glistening playfully.

Wyatt snorts. “The world is well fucking aware he is married, Roz. Mostly because of you.”

The show cuts to commercials, and he can already see a lot of the team pulling out their phones. Knows they’re probably scrolling through social media, because the public’s reactions to all of Ilya and Shane’s interviews so far have truly been priceless. The internet is a slightly terrifying place, but Wyatt’s knowledgeable in a way most of the team isn’t. Though he does have a sneaking suspicion about Luca.

Zane tells the fans about the watchparty, and Evan tells them about Ilya and Shane having their phones. Which, when he thinks about it, is probably a disaster waiting to happen, given what Shane looks like on-screen in that suit. He’s proven right a minute later, seeing all the tweets thirsting over Shane already. Hopes Ilya doesn’t, but that’s probably a pipe dream.

As the show continues, the team continues splitting their attention between what Shane is actually doing on the talk show and gleefully monitoring the tweets coming in.

At one point, Wyatt sees Shane respond to a tweet wrongfully speculating that hockey and Ilya hold the same place in Shane’s life with a curt, succinct “No.”

And, well, yeah, because how can anyone see Shane and Ilya, and think Ilya doesn’t mean everything to Shane? Think that he isn’t just as in love, that this one thing isn’t a competition between them?

Because Wyatt sees how Ilya gets sad sometimes, and even though Ilya isn’t exactly open about everything, the team knows that he goes to therapy. He sees how sometimes, Ilya’s steps seem heavier; his whole body seems heavier, like he’s being slowly crushed down to the ground by an invisible weight. Sees how Shane is right there next to him on those days especially, with a casual brush of knuckles against Ilya’s hand. Or a purposeful glide of his hand down Ilya’s spine, one that seems to hit Ilya exactly where he needs it to.

Wyatt’s even seen it once at one of Zane’s barbecues, when the captain had been sitting slumped at a bar stool in the kitchen, with Shane standing next to him, chatting with Cassie and Selena. Even while continuing to talk, he’d seen how Shane’s gaze had flickered over to his husband, cataloging something that only he seemed to know. Seen how he’d nonchalantly shifted, moving his body closer to Ilya, while placing one of his hands at the base of his neck. Ilya hadn’t exactly jolted, but he had tensed a little, eyes moving over to Shane for a second before returning to staring at the marble countertop in front of him.

When there’d been a short break in the conversation as one of the rooks had come bounding in for another one of Selena’s god-tier scones, Wyatt had heard Shane say something to Ilya in Russian quietly. Obviously, he hadn’t known what it was exactly, but Ilya responded, and Shane’s lips had drooped into a frown, eyes wandering over Ilya’s face carefully.

After that, he’d almost been certain that the two were gearing up to leave the party early. Instead, Shane had shuffled even closer, wrapped his arm around Ilya’s shoulders and tugged gently. By the time the conversation had picked up again, Ilya’s head was resting on Shane’s stomach, one of Ilya’s arms wrapped around his husband’s back.

No one had said anything, of course, because they’d all come to realize how much the two of them seem to need each other’s touch sometimes. It’d been normal, honestly, and even as Shane continued talking and softly chuckling, his fingers had raked through Ilya’s curls. Ilya himself had seemed content to be the quieter one for once, eyelids fluttering closed against Shane’s hoodie.

The utterly fond expression on Shane’s face when he’d glanced down at his husband had said everything, even in that hushed moment.

So, Wyatt really doesn’t get it when people presume that somehow, Ilya loves Shane more than Shane loves him. He can only assume that they’re not actually looking.

Pictures of Shane with Arthur Pike roll in from Jackie, and Ilya’s slightly heated look over at Shane when he sees them makes Wyatt immediately look away. He does not want to know. Doesn’t want to even think about it, thank you very much.

But then, loud shrieks pierce the room from the TV, and stunned laughs ring through Shane and Ilya’s living room.

“Oh my god,” Cory chokes out from the other side of the room. That seems to be the general consensus as more remarks fly around the room.

“Holy shit.” Nick.

“No fucking way.” Zane.

“Damn, Shane.” Lisa.

“Oh…” Luca.

“Fuck yeah, get it, Hollander.” Selena.

Ilya just snickers, hold tightening around Shane.

Because on the TV, right there in front of Jimmy Fallon, Shane is on the floor on his hands and knees.

Demonstrating a particular hockey stretch, sure.

It doesn’t change the fact that Shane fucking Hollander is practically arching on the floor on national television.

Wyatt is already afraid of what the internet is saying.

“Shut up,” Shane grumbles as the teasing and lighthearted jokes start, but at least he seems to not be bracing for a personal attack like he’d been earlier.

“Huh, that’s hot,” Harris voices, and Shane reddens. Troy playfully nips at his fiance’s ear in response, but he, Wyatt notes, doesn’t seem to be objecting.

There’s a chorus of yeahs and yeses coming from single and taken people alike, and Wyatt watches as Ilya’s eyes narrow, darting from person to person.

Shane flips the room off, and Wyatt slyly takes a picture, and then tweets it. Ilya’s response to it half a minute later makes him grin, the Russian so obviously trying not to go batshit crazy online again while still reminding the internet—and the team, for that matter—who Shane is.

“Is just hockey stretch,” Ilya mutters as the team pays close attention to the show, and Shane’s eyes seem to light up a little, embarrassment morphing into…delight? His lips spasm, and Wyatt can tell that now, he’s certainly holding back a smirk.

“Yeah, baby,” Shane almost hums, a devilish sort of glee in his hushed voice, “Just a hockey stretch.”

It still takes Wyatt by surprise sometimes, hearing Shane so casually call Ilya ‘baby.’ He’s definitely used to all the pet names—nearly all in Russian—that Ilya calls Shane, a neverending rotating list of words that either make Shane roll his eyes or flush or smack Ilya.

Shane, however, seems to stick to Ilya most of the time, or Rozanov when he’s annoyed, or arguing, or fighting, or flirting, which all seem to be the same thing for those two. But lately, Wyatt’s noticed the pet name slipping out more, and it’s almost as if Shane is well-past comfortable saying it, just not consciously preventing it from leaving his lips anymore.

The first time he hears it is on the ice, as they’d been wrapping up practicing a penalty kill. The intensity of practice had slowly started to fade, and Wyatt had pulled off his helmet, shaking out his hair as he absentmindedly listened to the boys talking about their plans for the weekend.

Shane had been near the neutral zone, discussing something probably hockey-related with Luca and Jacob. Ilya had been just a few feet away with Zane and Troy, listening to Troy describe the dog park that he and Harris had found last week and taken Chiron to. The captain’s eyes had widened with elation with every word, and he’d called out to his husband.

Ilya hadn’t even tried to hide his pout, like he’d been trying to use every weapon in his arsenal against Shane. “Let’s take Anya to dog park tomorrow.”

And Wyatt knows that Shane has his routines, even on the weekend, so he hadn’t expected the way Shane had simply looked over at Ilya for barely more than two seconds, huffed out a quiet laugh, and agreed with an easy, “Sure, baby,” before turning his attention back to the two rookies.

Wyatt wants to preface that he is not an outwardly dramatic person. Neither is the team, normally. Normally, being the key word, because all of a sudden the rink had gone quiet, spines straightening and eyes snapping to Shane so quickly that Wyatt had been sure at least one person would trip.

It had taken a couple of moments for Shane to notice, but when he did, it had mostly been because of Ilya’s snort, which had pretty much echoed given the silence.

Shane had been noticeably confused, until Ilya glided over to him and flung an arm around his shoulder. “Sure, baby,” Ilya had repeated with a wild smile, dragging out the second word in that tone that the team had learned just screams Ilya.

“Oh,” Shane had finally said when he realized, and Wyatt’s shoulders had stilled under his goalie gear, suddenly scared that Shane was scared, at letting that slip.

Instead, Shane had looked around the ice, one brow rising as he did. A little obnoxiously; a little like Ilya. “You guys do know Ilya’s my husband, right?”

That had broken whatever spell the team had been under, and while the rest of the team had started off with gripes and snickers, Wyatt had just been glad Shane had started to relax around them like this, making jokes at times he’d have retreated before.

Since then, though, Wyatt’s heard it more and more. It’s never been strange, really, because at the end of the day, Shane and Ilya are just another married couple, and married couples have pet names for each other sometimes.

It’s more that it—speaks to an intimacy that Wyatt isn’t sure Shane and Ilya let people see, most of the time. Maybe because he’s sure that before Shane started saying it in front of them, the only times he’d said it were when they’d been alone.

And, so yeah, it still tugs at Wyatt’s brain a little when he hears it, but right now, it’s not as intimate as it is provoking. It’s kind of hilarious, how funny Shane really is, once he lets people in. The league and hockey world have been calling him a robot and polite and ‘golden boy’ for nearly his whole career, that Wyatt thinks it really would shock them to death if they found out how much of a menace he can be sometimes. Mostly to his husband.

“Yeah, right, Holzy,” Troy snorts, as his gaze drifts over to Ilya, who is, unsurprisingly, staring at Shane in mock offense. “You should see what they’re saying about you on Twitter right now, man.”

“No thanks,” Shane says plainly, while Ilya starts to pick up his phone until, for the third time now, everyone’s attention is pulled back to the TV because of loud screaming.

And Wyatt is once again startled, only this time it’s because Ilya Rozanov is now on the stage.

Shane rolls his eyes, and even though Ilya is really only there for not more than 20 seconds, it’s clear that no one saw it coming. It’s a tweet that he sees a minute later that makes him ask Shane about it, one that claims Shane himself hadn’t known.

“Wait, did you know?”

“I had a feeling,” Shane replies, shaking his head in faked exasperation while Ilya beams. "I know him. Which is why I—”

More shrieks.

And looking back at the screen, well. Wyatt understands. The rest of the team seems to too, if the raised eyebrows and too-long stares are anything to go by.

“Which is why I had those,” Shane finishes, self-satisfaction in his voice as he’s shown on screen again, this time with glasses perched on his nose.

The internet seems to be losing it over Shane Hollander in glasses—which Wyatt expects, with how everyone reacted to the Sexiest Man Alive photos—and Ilya is simultaneously losing it, here in the room.

There’s an exaggerated pout on his face, and he cuddles closer to Shane, dropping his head onto the crook between his husband’s shoulder and neck. Connor seems to find it funny, and tweets it, but gasps out a shocked laugh a few seconds later.

“Shane, you might wanna check your husband’s tweets,” he says, cackling. Wyatt—and everyone else, because this is Ilya Rozanov that they’re talking about—makes his way to Ilya’s profile as fast as he can and can’t stop the loud laugh that leaves his lungs when he sees it.

Lisa giggles when he turns the phone towards her and she reads it, and he can tell the instant that Shane finds it, because there’s a distinct smacking noise.

“Ilya!” Shane hisses out, slapping his chest again while Ilya just shrugs, amusement all over his face. “Delete it.”

“Is true!”

“Delete it.”

Ilya looks like he’s about to keep arguing just for the sake of arguing—which seems to be a thing for both of them, if he’s being honest—but then Shane lowers his voice, says something in Russian that Wyatt can’t comprehend.

Whatever it is, it first makes Ilya’s brow tilt up, but not even a split-second later, he straightens up and grabs his phone. A moment later, Wyatt sees the ‘This Tweet has been deleted’ message, and coughs to disguise his laugh.

Everybody else seems to be in a similar state, amused grins and knowing smirks directed at the couple on the recliner.

“So, Ilya, what did Shane threaten to ta—”

Ilya doesn’t let Caitlin finish the question, glaring at her so viciously that she snickers but cuts herself off, raising her hands in surrender from next to Evan. The room collapses into chuckles and Wyatt notices the way Shane bites the inside of his cheek too, even as he starts tracing random patterns onto Ilya’s arm with a finger. It seems to be unconscious, another wayward touch that’s affectionate just for the sake of being affectionate.

“I am captain,” Ilya warns, tone a little miffed, though Wyatt knows it’s for show. “I will make you all do bag skates.”

“Oh, then we’re good,” Selena quips, Nick turning his head towards her in betrayal.

“Next WAGs party, you will get no wine,” Ilya says, and Shane rolls his lips together, clearly to stop a smile. “And I will tell Jackie you all cannot know new update on Lyra’s parents.“ Ilya’s smirk is devious, reminding Wyatt distinctly of an Ilya Rozanov from his early rookie days. “And is very…interesting update.”

Selena gasps loudly, pointing a finger at Ilya with narrowed eyes, while Cassie chimes in with, “Hell no.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Ilya just shrugs, pleased now that his threats seem to have done the job. Wyatt hears every new piece of drama with the Pike twins’ best friend’s parents from Lisa, so he knows the power in this specific threat. And if he’s being honest, he’s a little too invested in it too, though he will never tell Ilya that.

But, see, Wyatt, at his core, is a younger brother. And so, accordingly, he loves stirring shit up. A hobby he likes to indulge in from time to time, if you will.

“Shane, you should wear your glasses more,” Wyatt says, voice light as he tries to hide the laughter in it. “Maybe for post-game press. Think we’d bring in a lot more fans.”

“Yeah, man, they look good on you,” Zane adds, thumb scrolling on his phone. “There’s so many pictures of it already.”

“You guys didn’t realize this when Sexiest Man Alive came out?” Cory asks in disbelief, head cocked at an angle as he drapes Isabelle’s legs over his lap. “Dudes, c’mon.”

“If—”

Ilya is cut off by Connor. “Yeah, guys, Shane’s slutty glasses have been trending for weeks.”

A strangled noise comes from Shane’s direction, and Ilya aims a glare at the rookie.

“My what?”

“Oh, that’s what the internet calls those kinda glasses, apparently,” Jacob explains helpfully, and Wyatt’s younger-sibling-heart is cackling in his chest at Ilya’s jealous expression. “Turns out people really like when guys wear them.”

“Huh,” Troy states—as Shane’s mouth parts slightly in disbelief—a wicked glint in his eyes as he subtly turns his attention to Ilya. “Yeah, I can see it. Holzy looks hot.”

“Like he doesn’t always,” Evan replies, and Wyatt holds back a snort at Cassie and Selena’s evil smiles, both of them typing on their phones. He’s nearly one hundred percent sure they’re tweeting something about Ilya, especially when Cassie pointedly looks at the popcorn bowl sitting in between them and Selena grins.

“You will all shut up now,” Ilya announces, grabbing onto Shane like he’s somehow going to disappear or be taken from him, which is just—well, impossible. It’s unmistakable, how much Shane is right where he wants to be. How much he loves Ilya despite, or maybe because of, their petty arguments and Ilya’s ragebaiting (a new word that he learned from the rookies last week, and one that describes their captain so perfectly). The tiny, warm grin on Shane’s face only serves to back that up more as he lets Ilya squeeze him tight. “No more talking about my husband.”

Wyatt hears a snort, and tilts his head as Luca pipes up. “What if it’s about both of you?”

Both Ilya and Shane share matching intrigued expressions, though Shane has a little apprehension laced into his. “Why?” Shane asks warily.

“They’re calling you guys the league’s ‘sleep paralysis demon duo,’” Luca reads from his phone, cheek twitching slightly. “It’s trending.”

And, honestly? Wyatt thinks that’s a pretty accurate statement to make about the two top players in the league. Especially for all the goalies. He would send out a silent prayer for them, but Wyatt would really like to win the cup this season, so. Sucks to suck, he guesses.

As anticipated by literally everybody in the room, Ilya loves their new couple nickname, immediately tweeting it along with an old picture of him and Shane, with a smile stretching out his lips. Shane rolls his eyes for the hundredth time tonight, but does absolutely nothing to stop his husband, because he’s just as crazy as Ilya sometimes. And Wyatt knows that tomorrow, or during their next game, this might come back to haunt them. Give other teams prime chirping material, maybe.

But at least they have their sleep paralysis demon duo to help them score some goals.

And if not, well, Wyatt knows Shane and Ilya’s fists can do the talking too.