Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

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

Additional Tags:

Gender Non-Conforming Ilya Rozanov, Nonbinary Character, masculinity issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, Yearning for your situationship and yearning for said situationship to call you by your pretty name, gender euphoria, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Most of this takes place across the show then we get scenes from during and after the long game

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of flower language

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-26 Words: 6,983 Chapters: 1/1

pretty boy anthem

Summary

Ilya is not pretty. This is a fact.

Hollander calls him Lily, but that doesn't mean anything.

He does not think about either of those things, and he does not want anything, until he does.

---
Ilya's pov for 'a lily by any other name'

Notes

Listen, I really did try to come up with a poetic name for this, and not a line from gigolo by bbno$, but I couldn't help it. It's an Ilya song to me.

Also I STRONGLY recommend reading 'a lily by any other name' before this. It won't make sense otherwise.

Anyways, for the past week, I have been trying to figure out what the hell Ilya is thinking throughout ‘a lily by any other name’. This whole time, Lily has been humming along to gigolo in a bathroom at the back of my brain, putting on eyeliner. I know I wrote the thing, but throughout so much of that fic, I had no idea what Ilya was thinking. After posting it, I kept going, “The tie… WHAT WAS HE THINKING?” Then I found while trying to write this that most of it was Ilya going “I am not going to think about this” while I cocked a gun and said, “think again.”

So yes, Ilya is in fact mostly operating off vibes and repression while playing 4d gender chess. Same permission as last time to headcanon Ilya as trans/nonbinary throughout this. It's definitely got more straight up nonbinary vibes so I am putting that tag on this one.

I hope you enjoy Lily as much as I do. <3

“You look pretty.”

“Shut up, you're wearing makeup too.”

“Yes, but I am not pretty.”

Ilya knew it was true. At 19, he was already tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. Between his curt, accented speech and his growing notoriety for aggression on the ice and arrogance on camera, he was the picture of Russian masculinity. At least North Americans thought so. His father and Alexei certainly disagreed.

To pair the word pretty with him would be a mistake. A laughable one at that. He was Ilya Rozanov, the monster sent from Russia to terrorize NHL ice. He would never be pretty.

❀༉

He puts himself in Hollander’s phone as Lily. A few clicks later, Hollander is Jane.

There are so few names like Ilya's over here. Given the soft vowels, if he was not so infamously Rozanov, he is sure some would try to mock him by saying his name is too feminine. So there are not many options that sound anything like Ilya, and the point is for it to be feminine anyways so he picks Lily.

It was his mother's favorite flower and its English counterpart is not pronounced too differently to the Russian name, something he figured out the first time he was trying to navigate coordinating a bouquet delivery to her grave from abroad. It works well that it is also used as a girl's name here, and it allows for Ilya to make a joke no one else will ever understand, not even Hollander. After all, if he was putting his name into Hollander's phone as the Russian name, as Liliya, then it would be pronounced almost the same way everyone here mispronounces Ilya, 'lee-lee-yah' instead of 'eee-lee-yah'. Said aloud to someone who does not understand Russian, they may miss the change and think that the person was saying Ilya, not Liliya. Hidden in plain sight, just like Ilya was.

His invisible joke on the non-Russians aside, perhaps he should feel odd giving something even slightly linked to his mother as his fake name for arranging hookups. But in the moment he is just trying to quickly pick a non-Russian woman's name that sounds even remotely like his own, and Lily comes to mind. It is a sweet, pretty thing, which should go a long way for keeping others from connecting the Lily who sends hotel room numbers to Hollander with Rozanov, Hollander's male rival who boards him at least once a game.

❀༉

The first time it happens, or maybe the second time depending on what you choose to count, Ilya was definitely not thinking too much about it. He was more focused on the moans Hollander was letting out, and the small trembles he could feel under him as he fucked into Hollander. He didn't want to get outed because he was fucking Hollander too good, but he also absolutely did not want Hollander to stop making those noises.

The clear solution here, and the admittedly very sexy one, was to stick something in Hollander’s mouth to muffle it. The other obvious solution was to set himself up for more of what Ilya could privately admit was turning out to be the best head of his life and slyly suggest Shane could do something else with his mouth. Maybe next time. Right now, Ilya couldn’t stop fucking Hollander if Crowell himself burst through the door, and he didn't want him to be quiet because the sound of his name on Hollander's lips felt almost as good as holding the Cup.

Actually, Ilya had an idea or at the least a joke he could make to get Hollander swearing at him again. He could keep Hollander saying his name or something close to it, and making those beautiful noises, but it wouldn't be Rozanov (and it certainly wouldn't be Ilya, it never would be Ilya). Ilya felt like it was more likely that Shane would call him an asshole then call him Lily, but he suggested it all the same. After all, he was an asshole, and he loved to tease and harass Shane and see the way his face scrunches in offense. Even though that face was currently buried into the bedsheets where he couldn't see it.

So he makes his suggestion, but he doesn't actually think Shane will do it.

Then he does.

“Lily, ah, Lily-”

Ilya freezes. Apparently there is something that can get him to stop fucking Hollander, if only because it feels like he has been electrocuted, or more accurately like a switch just flipped somewhere deep inside him.

The pause makes Hollander let out a pleading moan. There were better things to do right now then think about how hearing Lily made him feel, not that he really should think about it. There really wasn't anything to think about. He heard Hollander yell Lily again and again that night, so he had plenty to not think about later.

❀༉

Afterwards, Ilya convinces himself it was really hot because obviously Hollander was very hot when he was moaning and gasping in that voice of his. He convinces himself that his feelings on being called Lily were specifically sex related. Afterall, he was already a pervert both in the general sense, and also as the least of what Russia would call him for fucking men. This was a sex thing, as many, many other things to do with Ilya are.

And because Hollander is still so fun to rile up and mess with, he plays around with it more.

Lily:
So cruel to your Lily after I am so generous to you. :(

Seeing it typed out brought that strange feeling fluttering up again. The ‘your’ was definitely going too far, but Ilya knew that was the best way to get under Hollander’s skin. So much of this arrangement, and their interactions with each other were a push and pull, in which Ilya pushed until Hollander pulled him in.

Ilya was also fairly certain that the Lily thing had done something for Hollander as well. So this was all quite normal and really it was to get Hollander horny and making noises more than anything. Ilya was just being his normal, sexy, ragebaiting self.

❀༉

Hollander asks him if being called Lily ‘feels weird’, if it makes him feel like a girl. Of course not, something as flimsy as a name is not enough to threaten Ilya. He's spent almost 2 decades being called names and slurs, and for a decade of that he even knew the names were true.

He treats the question of being made into a girl as a joke easily, with crude humor that makes Hollander scrunch his eyebrows together in that way Ilya so enjoys. He doesn't answer the question of if it feels weird.

He wasn't sure what he felt when he heard Hollander call him Lily. He did not think Lily made him feel like something Ilya was not. He deflects, and buries the thought ringing out from deep within him that hearing Lily made him feel like himself. Like there was more Ilya than he had ever thought before. More Ilya than he was told there could be.

❀༉

Ilya is frustrated, and ready to fuck out some of that frustration with Hollander after a frankly dogshit game against the Metros. Ilya played fantastically, he always does, especially when he’s playing against Hollander. However one player, even the best in the league, cannot make up for a team that had not yet figured out how to play after trades and new rookies had disrupted the previous unspoken chemistry of the Raiders.

Ilya bumped gloves with the team as they walked off the ice, quickly and without many of them making eye contact with him because they knew they had played like shit, which suited him just fine because he wanted to get out of here and to the hotel room nearby he had already reserved.

Distantly, he heard Pike's annoying voice, like he did not already have enough of a headache.

“About to go celebrate with your girl Lily?”

Ilya forced himself to look over casually, a casualness he could see Hollander completely fail at as his head whipped around to make nervous eye contact with Ilya then back to Hayden. It was very unsubtle, but thankfully Pike was an idiot and just talked over the noises of Shane's spluttering denials.

“Come on, don’t act shy! I know you're excited, you can't hide from me! I'm sure your girl is waiting to congratulate you back at her place.” Hayden punctuated this with a waggle of his eyebrows that Ilya wished he could forget ever seeing. God, he hated Pike.

But, he couldn't deny there was that weird feeling again, bubbling up from inside him, mixed with a warmth over the words ‘your Lily’. Pike knew enough to know that Shane had someone named Lily, to assume that he cared enough about that person to celebrate with them and was excited to see them. That Hollander had someone at all.

Ilya caught Shane's eye over Hayden’s shoulder, and winked as he headed off the ice. Shane turned red, and his eyebrows got that little furrow again. Cute.

Ilya wondered how often Pike and Hollander have talked about Lily. How many other people have seen Hollander's phone light up with a text from Lily, and wondered about the girl texting him, maybe asked Hollander directly about it. How many times Ilya had been in the room with Hollander, even when he was a state or country away.

He wondered what Pike must think about Hollander's girl Lily. He probably assumed she was a pretty, gentle thing who was good for Hollander. Lily was a name that would fit a girl like that. Ilya huffed a laugh under his breath. If Pike only knew.

Still, Ilya couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through him at the thought. By the time he reached the locker room he was already in a much better mood, and he had thought of several good ways for Lily to ‘congratulate’ Hollander. He was sure he would be hearing Hollander yell Lily quite a bit tonight, and he was looking forward to it.

❀༉

Ilya hated hotels, but unfortunately he spent almost half the year in them. So it is as he is laying in a hotel bed, listening to the bizarre soundtrack of Marleau's snoring accompanied by the noises of what sounded like disappointing sex in the room over, that he is forced to think.

Forced is the right word for this. He would like to close his eyes and treat Marleau as a white noise machine that stutters, stops, and roars every 30 seconds. After all these years, it was almost comforting, though it did make Ilya feel like Marleau needed to see a doctor. However, the muffled noises of the couple next door have now shifted from moans of pleasure to groans of annoyance and argumentative voices, forcing Ilya to stare frustrated up at the ceiling.

He would just leave and find something to do, but he was in fucking Ottawa and he really could use the sleep after wrecking his sleep schedule the night before to get a second round with Shane in Montreal.

So since nightlife and sleeping were both off the table, he was thinking. Against his will.

The night before, Shane had slipped up and called him the wrong name out of bed. Not Ilya, of course not Ilya. But Lily has started creeping closer to feeling the same. So when he heard Shane say ‘Goodnight, Lily’ in the soft voice he only spoke in after they had worn each other out and were stealing one last kiss, he had felt things. Things Ilya should not be feeling.

Not just about Hollander, though that is an even worse topic to be thinking about at- Ilya checks the glowing numbers of the clock- 3:02 AM. Ilya quickly kicks that complicated knot of emotions he only felt at 3 AM and during days that end with Y to the back of his mind.

He is starting to realize that Lily may be a thing outside of Hollander. That the feelings he has are not only horny Hollander feelings, though there are certainly a good deal of those. It wasn't even just a ‘this is the name Hollander calls me and no one else does’ feeling though he could guiltily admit to himself that he had strong feelings about that as well.

He really wasn't sure what his thing with Lily was though. It made him feel strange, but not in a bad way. If anything, it felt right in a way that scared him. Not more right than Ilya, but right in such a way that it felt like a window had opened and let in fresh air. Like Ilya and Lily could coexist in that open space.

He was not pretty. He told Hollander that years ago. He knew that was a fact. But the way Lily had drifted from Hollander's lips the other night… He had had to kiss him again, even though he was halfway out the door.

Lily was not a name suited for a man like him. And yet, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of a disgusting hotel in fucking Ottawa… He wanted it to be.

❀༉

The sun rises, and Ilya once more pushes back those feelings, right next to where all of his Hollander feelings sit like Pandora's box, closed with the knowledge that the things inside could never go back in if it was opened.

He pushes it down, and he plays hockey, and sees Hollander for brief, stolen moments in which Lily drips from his lips and into Ilya's. He does not think, and he does not want. He cannot want.

❀༉

In Russia, he is the dutiful son. He helps his father, and he supports his ungrateful brother. At nights, he goes to clubs with Svetlana to just rid himself of the stress of it all for a few hours. He picks up women and leaves them exhausted and happy and then does it again the next night, and the next.

When he meets with agents, and officials who still respect his father or at least respect his name, he wears suits that itch and feel too tight, even though they are perfectly tailored. Maybe it is his skin that is too tight. His skin which he has outgrown, but still needs to wear.

Svetlana gives him sideways glances that she knows he sees, but she does not ask questions. Instead, she sighs and fusses with his hair before they go out, gives her opinion on his clothes and asks his opinion on whatever she is wearing as well even though they both know that she will ignore anything she disagrees with. When they pick his clothes for their evenings out, it is unspoken what he can't wear.

Over his years in the States, Ilya has acquired expensive clothes to match his expensive cars. Yves Saint Laurent silk shirts and diamond studded cuff links, bought for use at NHL awards and nights out with the Raiders where they laugh about his European mannerisms and fashion.

Those are all back in his closet in Boston. He takes none of it to Russia.

He does have his phone however, and through his phone he has Hollander, who gave up at some point over the years on fighting it and calls him Lily over text, arguably because it's safer for him if someone were to see his conversations with Ilya. It puts Ilya in more danger, especially in Russia, but he does not ask Hollander to stop. He texts Hollander complaints about draft picks, insults towards Pike, and pictures of his dick, and he does not ask Hollander to stop when he texts back, “Lily, I checked the time there. How are you this horny at 6 am??”

Ilya takes a deeper breath than he has in weeks. He exhales. A small smile creeps onto his face where it can stay for the moment, hidden in the dark while most of Moscow still sleeps.

Lily:
6 am too early for being horny, but 11pm not too late for bullying Lily?
Double standards. Very sexist.

❀༉

He comes back from Moscow, plays hockey, fucks Hollander, and does not think about it. He manages to keep telling himself he is not thinking about it, or Hollander, and not wanting either, all the way up until he is in the store with a Canadian brand of ginger ale in his cart, and a tuna melt recipe open on his phone.

So he makes sure he does not want too much. He wants to see Hollander for longer, and fuck him in the morning before either of them have gotten out of bed. He wants to feed him, and spend time alone not playing hockey and not fucking, if only because they cannot be doing that for 16 straight hours. It's physically impossible. Maybe. Ilya is willing to try if Hollander is, but it's probably better to have backup plans.

So he buys his ginger ale and tuna, sends Hollander his address, and ruins everything.

Maybe the years of Ilya desperately trying not to think about names is what did it. Maybe it was all the years of letting himself have Lily, not Rozanov, so close to Ilya but just far enough for plausible deniability that is the reason he slips up. Shane has called him Lily a thousand times, but it only takes one wrong name for Ilya to ruin it all.

Shane runs. Ilya does not chase him.

It's too late to stop wanting and impossible to not think about it, but he tries. God, he tries.

He realizes hours after, like the bruise blossoming long after the impact, that that may have been the last time he ever hears Shane call him Lily. The last time anyone calls him Lily.

❀༉

If Ilya has to hear Connors croon about Rose fucking Landry one more time, he is burning this dive bar down with all of the Raiders inside it. The bar was trash, as was its vodka, but it was cheap and they poured heavy here. Normally, he wouldn’t drink piss vodka, but he had a goal tonight.

He knocks back his vodka just as an excuse to leave the table and get more. Because God truly does hate Ilya, the tv behind the bar is playing some gossip segment on the hottest new couple of Montreal.

“What do you even get for a girl like that on a first date? Roses feel a bit on the nose, don’t they?”

Ilya scoffs, and waves down the bartender for another shot. Hollander probably would get flowers for a girl like that. Something pretty for someone pretty. Hollander just loves pretty things, and he certainly loves flowers. Or at least he liked fucking certain flowers until he threw those flowers in the trash and found new, actually pretty flowers. Asshole.

Fuck Rose Landry. Fuck Hollander.

”Well, not anymore,” He mutters bitterly in Russian and tosses back his shot. The only person fucking Hollander now was named Rose, not Lily. Rose gets to hear Hollander moan her name and Li- Ilya gets to never hear Lily again. Which he is fine with, because why would he miss something strange like that anyways.

He doesn't miss Lily and he doesn’t miss Shane fucking Hollander.

❀༉

The next day, Ilya has some regrets, but the biggest one is that he forgot he was supposed to go shopping with Sveta until she is loudly banging on his door at 11am. He tries to tell her he is not going, but she shoves a breakfast sandwich from a fast food place he knows she refuses to eat from at his chest and tells him they are going. He puts on clothes, nice ones because Sveta would not be seen with him in anything less, and they go.

Ostensibly, Ilya is there to carry bags, occasionally pay for things as thanks to Sveta for one of the many favors she has done over the years, and as she described it once years ago despite his protests, “be the pretty thing on my arm making everyone else jealous.” She said this 4 years ago, and he has thought about it more than he was comfortable with since.

In reality, they go to extremely high end stores, where they both buy very expensive things, and make fun of the truly hideous, overpriced clothes they did not buy. Afterwards, they pick up food, have sex, and watch hockey back at his place. It was a good arrangement, one they have been doing for years, but today Ilya cannot enjoy it. He has a migraine pulsing behind his eyes that the bright store lights are not helping at all. What is helping his migraine far less, and in fact adding to it, is the 3 meter tall photo of Shane Hollander staring at him across the store, wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch. He somehow managed to look uncomfortable in all of these things, and Ilya wondered how the hell this picture got chosen when it was so clear on his face. Or maybe it was only clear to Ilya, who knew all of Hollander’s expressions a bit too well.

Ilya swore under his breath and looked away from the picture. Everywhere he went, Shane Hollander was staring back at him. It was not enough to be completely humiliated and cast aside by the man, he couldn’t watch tv without seeing him with Rose Landry, and apparently he couldn’t go out shopping with Sveta without having to look at the same eyes which had avoided his gaze when Hollander said, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Fuck, he needed to get drunk again. Or fuck someone. Maybe Sveta, but she refused to fuck him when she thought he was being mopey. Well, that is what clubs are for. Though Marleau has started looking at him long when he asks if he wants to go out.

“Ilyushka!” He hears snapping and when he turns to Sveta he sees she is snapping at him like he is an actual dog she needs to get the attention of. He thinks for a second of ignoring her, but it is never worth it with Sveta, so he groans and walks over to her.

She is looking through the men’s formalwear, with a nervous looking employee next to her holding a stack of expensive dresses and a navy suit. She had not looked up to see if he had come when she called, simply trusting that he did. Ilya hated being so predictable, but it was Sveta, who had been bossing him around since before his mother died, he really had no chance with her.

Sveta finally deigned to look up at him, holding several silk ties. “Let us be honest, you have outworn your Armani suit. You need something new, and you do not normally wear navy even though it looks unfairly good on you. Of course, the tie is important as well, but this season’s-”

Ilya stopped hearing her, realizing what exactly she was holding. “That one.”

Svetlana looked down at the tie he had pointed to and held it up. Light blue and patterned, not bold enough to truly raise eyebrows, but bold enough it would get noticed and talked about. Most importantly, it was covered in white, stylized lilies. It was perfect.

“Really?” She looked him over with a thoughtful look in her eyes, like he had just surprised her enough that she had to reconsider all of him to understand. A beat passed as she searched his face, and apparently finding what she needed, she nodded decisively, and handed it to the sales attendant.

“This one. And the light gray shirt to complete the set. Now let’s look at belts.”

As the employee hurriedly followed behind her to the next section, Ilya grinned at the photo of Hollander looking uncomfortable in his fancy, expensive suit.

He was tired of seeing Hollander everywhere, of thinking about him every time he saw his face in one of his million ads or on his teammates’ phone screens. He couldn’t go anywhere without thinking of Hollander, and he was tired of it. For once, it was going to be Shane looking at him. It would be Shane remembering every hotel room, and every time he screamed Lily’s name, the same way that Ilya did. Ilya was going to make him remember it.

When he wears it for his interview, he makes sure to look right at the camera and grin.

❀༉

In Tampa, when Shane climbs into his lap and calls him Lily, soft and sweet, a sob shudders out of Ilya. Shane wraps his arms around him, tucks his face into Ilya's neck as he holds him, and he says it again.

But later, when they are tangled up in the sheets, Shane gasps out Ilya's name, the one that almost broke them before, and this time, it's Ilya tucking his face into Shane's neck and pulling him closer. Into his skin, Ilya whispers Shane.

When Shane leaves, he calls him Ilya.

❀༉

Shane looked up as Ilya quietly let himself into Shane’s hospital room, and the light of his smile illuminated the whole room.

“Ilyaaaa! My favorite flower!” Ilya froze in the doorway, but then Shane made needy noises and started making grabbing motions with his hand which spurred Ilya back into movement. Closing the door quickly, Ilya urgently but softly hushed him and moved closer so he could grab one of Shane’s grasping hands.

“Yes, better.” Shane smiled, so pleased his eyes closed, and swung their hands between them as he sleepily said, “I'm getting flowers in the hospital, pretty, pretty lilies.” He giggled a little bit, and Ilya was apparently forgetting how to breathe.

Breathing stayed difficult, through a conversation where he couldn't bear to say no to Shane, but also knew he could not say yes, no matter how much he wanted to. He said goodbye when the nurse came in, even though he did not want to, and resisted the urge to cancel his flight and run right back to Shane's side, even though he wanted to.

He denied his wants again and again, until he could not resist sending an anonymous flower delivery to Shane's room. Eleven white lilies, signed simply, “Your favorite flower.”

❀༉

The vase full of lilies in the cottage makes Ilya's heart skip a beat every time he sees it. However, aside from a quiet, heartfelt thank you whispered against Shane's lips, they do not really talk about Shane's other name for Ilya. A week passes, in which Shane only says Ilya. Ilya feels a rush of warmth every time he hears Shane say his name. However, there is a want gnawing at him, and an ache to hear Shane call him Lily again.

Shane asked him to be honest at the cottage, so Ilya allows himself to be honest with what he wants. Even though it's really being honest with himself for the first time.

“Moy lyubimyy,” Ilya had only recently started calling Shane this, and it still left Shane looking dazed and happy each time. This was no exception, so Shane was grinning helplessly up at him from where his head was laying on Ilya’s chest when Ilya continued, “I would like you to call me Lily again.”

Shane propped himself up on his elbow so he could look Ilya in the eyes better, which made this a little harder for Ilya. “Oh, uh, like during sex?”

He cleared his throat after, and Ilya wanted to roll his eyes at the fact that Shane was literally giving Ilya the best blowjob of his life ten minutes ago but he still couldn’t say sex without looking like a preteen expecting his mother to appear behind him any second.

Ilya was trying to be serious right now however, so he did not make fun of Shane, and instead said, “Yes, but also other times. I love when you say my name, but I also miss hearing you say Lily.”

Shane studied Ilya’s face for a moment, then said. “Ok. I can do that.” He stopped, then chuckled quietly, looking almost relieved. “Actually, I think I missed Lily too. I love calling you Ilya, but it has been so hard to not say Lily this past week. It almost feels wrong sometimes to not say it, you know?”

Ilya nodded, relieved that he did not have to explain something he did not fully understand himself. “Yes, wrong. It has felt wrong.”

Shane bit his lip and smiled shyly down at Ilya. “Alright, I guess I can say them both. Ok, Lily?”

Ilya had to kiss Shane after that. It wasn’t possible not to.

❀༉
All things considered, it was actually surprising that Shane didn't slip up in front of his parents until Ilya had already visited the older Hollanders’ for family dinner (a term which made his heart do things he thought were medically inadvisable) several times. Yuna and David had reached a level of comfort with Ilya by this point that was not present at the first few dinners, which was good because this was going to be an awkward conversation.

“Lily, the recipe says finely shredded cabbage-”

“I am sorry, who here is Russian?”

Shane opened his mouth to continue bickering with Ilya, but was interrupted.

“Hmm?”

Shane and Ilya both look up from where they were working to help chop ingredients for David's attempt at borscht. Yuna is raising an eyebrow at them from the kitchen table where she has been checking emails. Next to them, David has also looked up from where he is sautéing the onions and garlic.

Ilya rewinds through the past minute and realizes the slip up. He does this faster than Shane does, so he gets to watch Shane's face go from incomprehension to pink, stuttering panic.

“Oh! Ah, so. Uhhh.”

Well now there was no chance of playing this off as nothing. Ilya sighs and catches Shane's hand from where it is making loose circles in the air as he fails to come up with an explanation that somehow hid the fact that he had just called Ilya by a name that, until fairly recently, had only existed for Shane to shout Ilya's name during sex.

Yuna's eyebrow has only grown higher throughout the course of Shane's flailing, and she takes the pause after Ilya grabs Shane's hand to get a question in, “You call Ilya Lily?”

Ilya squeezes Shane's hand reassuringly, but does not try to answer. He got so much shit from Shane after that first visit for trying to help, Shane could get reassuring hand squeezes but he was on his own for this one.

Shane flushed but apparently the hand squeezes were helping, because his voice came out mostly evenly when he spoke next. “Ah, yeah, so when we first started,” Shane went even redder, and waved his free hand loosely between him and Ilya. “-this, Ilya picked fake names to make it look like we were texting women and not each other.”

Ok, maybe Ilya would help a little, if only because he did like the names he had picked. “Lily and Jane.”

Yunas's other brow rose to join the first one, and she looked pleasantly surprised. “Oh, that's actually sweet! Well, as sweet as needing to hide can really be, but they are like nicknames now? You call him Lily and he calls you Jane?”

Shane went right back to stuttering and his hand jerked in Ilya's grip, “Ah, no, not exactly. I just- well, for Ilya it's-”

Ilya sighs and gives up on not trying to help Shane. It was a lost cause from the beginning.

“For Shane, Jane is just fake name. For me, Lily started fake and became more, ah, real, I think? Real. Now Shane calls me both names, and Lily is still a name only Shane calls me.”

David snaps his fingers, “Oh! Like those diminutive names?”

Everyone turned to look at him. David shrugs, “What? Yuna and I have been reading up on Russian culture.”

“David.” Yuna was staring David down like that was supposed to be a secret, even though the counter was covered in borscht ingredients.

Ilya needed to catch his breath, because it felt like someone had just reached into his heart and squeezed it. Or maybe that was just his hand, where Shane was now giving him a reassuring squeeze of his own. “Oh, ah. Yes. Well, no, not exactly. But it is similar. I am already used to name only family and people who love me call me, so Lily is not very different.”

Yuna paused and then, speaking slowly in that same careful way that Shane often did, where every word was carefully picked and planned, she asked, “Would you like us to call you that too then? Lily? Is that ok?”

There definitely was something wrong with his heart, because now the squeezing feeling was back and stronger than ever. Ilya stared at her, mouth open, before finally choking out, “Yes? Sometimes. If you would like.”

Next to him, Shane was staring at Ilya with a soft, gentle smile on his face, and his thumb was stroking small circles on the back of Ilya's hand. He looked proud. Yuna had a similar smile on her face, but more tentative, like she wasn't yet sure it was allowed, and she nodded.

David cleared his throat and turned to face the stove again. “Well, boys, I think the onions and garlic have had enough time. Lily, pass me that beetroot?”

It should not be allowed for a hungry thing like Ilya to have something as good as the Hollanders in his life. They would ruin Ilya, simply by giving so much without him even needing to ask.

Ilya had to look down and blink for a second and catch his breath, then he squeezed Shane's hand one more time, and let it go to grab the vegetables.

❀༉

With Hayden, it is still an accident, but one Ilya has been waiting to happen.

“Uhhhh,” Hayden looked between Ilya and Shane, who had just casually called Ilya Lily as he bickered with him over cheat days and diets. “Dude, I know he was Boston Lily for years, but you mess up and call him that out loud too?”

Shane sighed, but at this point it had become clear that Lily meant something to Ilya. He wasn't going to pretend it was a mistake. God, Ilya loved him. “I call him it a lot actually. On purpose.”

Hayden made a face that was not that different from the one Arthur made over the idea of eating broccoli. “Uh, ok. That's… Something.”

Ilya couldn't help but make things worse.

“Oh?” He said innocently, but Shane shot him a warning look anyways, which he ignored. “What do you mean? You do not like Shane's very sweet name for me?”

Hayden took the bait, like he always does. “I mean, it's kinda weird, right? Lily is like, pretty, and cute and you are, you know, you.”

Ilya opened his mouth, but surprisingly Shane cut him off.

“Ilya is pretty, Hayden. Like, objectively.”

The heart squeezing feeling was back, but Ilya had concluded some time back that this wasn't a medical condition going away any time soon, and not one he wanted to go away either.

Hayden looked at Shane like he had started speaking Russian. “Maybe to you, man, but I think he looks like an asshole more than anything. Wait, how long have you been calling him Lily?”

Shane flushed, and Hayden’s mind finally connected the dots. “Oh god, this is like a thing for you guys, isn't it.”

Shane sputtered, but that only helped Hayden understand it even better.

“I could have sworn it sounded like you were yelling Lily when I heard you that night in the hotel, but I convinced myself-”

“YOU HEARD US?” Shane was bright red at this point, and Ilya had started cackling.

“Uh, yeah! You were kinda shouting! I was like 3 rooms down and could hear it! I know what you sound like- oh god that sounds bad.”

“No, no,” Ilya purred and wrapped his arms around Shane from behind. “Tell me more about how loud I made Shane shout my pretty name when I was in him.”

Now it was Hayden’s turn to splutter. “Dude!”

“No, it is pronounced Lily actually. I know you struggle with words sometimes.”

Hayden looked desperately at Shane, but Shane had buried his face in his hands at this point. Ilya pulled Shane closer, and grinned at Hayden.

“Wait, THAT’S why Shane always reacted like that when someone said Lily?”

“Oh god.” Shane muttered, but he did not push Ilya away when he kissed Shane on the side of his cheek happily, though he did glare over his shoulder at Ilya and say, “Lily, you are such a fucking asshole.”

“Ah, but a very pretty one, yes?”

❀༉

Being outed was a horrible experience, and Ilya wishes both of them could have had the choice to come out the way they originally planned, with an announcement of their marriage and more control over the situation. However, Ilya was so happy being out that going back in the closet would feel like cutting off a limb. Finally, he felt like he could live freely, without worrying over looking the wrong way, saying the wrong thing, or loving Shane too visibly.

Russia is now barred from him forever, and he will never talk to his brother again, but that in itself is a freedom, even if it is a bittersweet one.

What had once felt like a barely cracked window, letting in just enough air to breathe, was an open door to a world of possibilities he had never even let himself think about. The day he had realized he did not need to stick to the same boring tie and black suit he wore for every awards show, he had called up Sveta and flew to Boston to shop with her for something new that very day. The next award show, he wore a royal blue suit, with a tie that managed to subtly mix in pinks and purples which perfectly matched the bisexual flag.

The other changes came more slowly. First, he had simply started to wear out in public clothes more similar to what he would only have dared to wear in dark clubs. This led to Yuna quietly reaching out to European fashion companies, and several signed deals later, his face was also appearing in the high-end stores he and Sveta shopped in, though he got many things for free at this point.

Then, Shane gave him a perfume with a blush and a story about hearing Lily in a locker room years ago and thinking of him. He thanked him, at length and with short breaks in between, and from that day on he put it on every morning. This too felt like freedom. He came home with a tattoo of a lily in full bloom two days later.

The urge to not give a fuck, to truly not care anymore what others thought, even more so than he already did, came on more quickly then. He pierced his ears with gold to match his mother’s cross. He encouraged the brands he was signed with to create even more daring looks for his red carpet appearances. Every time Shane casually called him moy tsvetok, he wanted to kiss him so he did, no matter where they were.

He wasn’t hiding even a fraction of what he was anymore, and it felt like rushing across the ice in a breakaway did. The freedom to just fly with nothing holding him back.

One day, Shane approaches him as he cuddles with Anya on the couch, and tentatively says, “Lily, my mom has been sending me articles about nonbinary people. I think she is starting to freak out about if she is using the wrong pronouns.”

Ilya gave Anya another scritch behind the ear and thought for a second. He barely understood what these words meant, but Shane and him had been asked to be a part of many LGBT events at this point, and he had interacted enough with Harris and Kip’s friends to have an idea. He picked his words carefully.

“Tell her thank you, but what she does now is fine.”

Shane nodded, but waited before saying anything else. His eyes held a question, but one he was willing to let Ilya ignore if he didn’t want to answer it.

Ilya wanted to answer it. He had spent over a decade at this point thinking about it, even when he was trying very hard not to. And of course it would be Shane he told it to, after he was the one who first cracked open the window to more.

“I know it is confusing to others, how I dress, and what Lily is to us. But I believe I am still man. I am just… all of me. All I could not be in Russia, or when I was afraid. Now I can just… be?”

Shane’s mouth did that small, proud smile he had made back in Yuna and David’s kitchen years ago, and he got onto the couch and, without disturbing Anya, curled around Ilya and hugged him close.

He whispered against Ilya’s neck. “My pretty Lily.” After so many years, now Ilya recognized that Lily was Shane saying I love you, the meaning tucked between each syllable every time.

It almost felt odd, after so many years of wanting, to not want anymore. Lily had everything he needed, right here.