Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

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, Rose Landry, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Language:

English

Collections:

Anonymous

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-15 Updated: 2026-01-21 Words: 13,237 Chapters: 4/?

the canadian girlfriend

Summary

The closest Shane came to telling the truth these days was when he was lying.

Or: Shane panics and tells his mom he's seeing someone.

Notes

For the purposes of this work, TV show canon>book canon. (If the details contradict, I'll go with TV canon, but anything from the books that just didn't make it onscreen can be assumed to be canon here. So, Alexei over Andrei, but you can assume Troy Barrett is out there having a terrible time right now, not that he's showing up.)

The title is supposed to be a joke about how you make up a girlfriend and say she's from Canada, except that's for Americans. Where are Canadians supposed to get their fake girlfriends from?

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

Ottawa, 2014

Well-intended matchmaking was nothing new. Hayden and Jackie seemed to have met a nice, hot girl who would be perfect girlfriend material every week. J.J.'s own string of dates sometimes came with their own hot, single friends looking for a new fling. His mother really wasn't even so bad in comparison. Maybe it was a fit of temporary insanity (and maybe the months-long silence from "Lily" made certain topics burn worse than they usually did) because, in the middle of being told of another perfectly benign, probably lovely girl, Shane blurted out the only phrase that would without fail make his mother stop:

"Mom, I already have a girlfriend."

He'd thought better of it the second it left his mouth, but there was no way to take it back. Yuna's face had already lit up, and her voice was full of genuine delight when she said, "Shane, honey, that's wonderful. Tell me about her."

"There's not a lot to tell," he said, because there really wasn't a lot to tell about someone who didn't exist. But he had to say something, and once again his mouth moved without permission: "Her name's—" no, not that, but his mind was blank and he had to say something, "—um, Lily."

Fuck.

🏒

His mother, naturally, immediately wanted to meet “Lily,” and probably would have wanted her entire life story as well, but that was delayed by claiming that their relationship was too new for that sort of thing. His mom still wanted details about Lily-the-fake-girlfriend, though, and there was only so much demurring Shane could get away with without it being weird. Shane was a shit liar, but he was pretty sure he had heard that the best lies were supposed to be based on the truth in some way, so it turned out that Lily:

Liked hockey. (Obviously.) They’d met at a game (true.) She was pretty (maybe not the right word), and confident (understatement) and funny. Oh, and she was shy about the idea of media attention, so he wasn't telling most people about her yet, okay, mom?

It was probably obvious to Yuna that her son was dying inside having to talk about this, because after a few more minutes of interrogation, she let the topic drop. Probably her baby boy finally seeing someone was exciting enough for her that she was generously letting him off easy, even when she obviously still wanted to hear more. She was practically shining with happiness, and even though they had moved onto talking about his dad's latest gardening failure, her grin was wide and cheerful.

Shane felt like shit.

🏒

Living a couple hours away bought him more space from his new web of lies, but of course Yuna asked each week how things were going with Lily. Inevitably girlfriend-Lily grew into a tower of half-truths. She couldn't make it to the games even as often as his Ottawa-based parents, because she traveled often for work, even to America. Shane didn't really understand anything of what she did (total lie) but it was something tech-related, office-y. Outside of work? Well, she liked fashion (knew how to dress well, anyway) and cars (god they were awful) and had very strong opinions about drinks—

"She doesn't sound much like someone you would get along with," his mother had said. She was right. Something had shriveled up in his chest anyway.

"She— most people don't really get her," he had said, quietly. "But she's actually... really nice."

"I didn't mean anything bad by it, honey. I was just surprised."

Week by week, Yuna pulled more pieces of trivia about Lily out of Shane. Lily smoked, Shane disapproved. Lily's dietary habits were abominable. Lily wasn’t a native English speaker, though she was getting pretty good at it. Shane sometimes thought she acted kind of like a bitch because it was easier to brush people off than admit she couldn’t understand, and people kept judging her even when she did try. And she still managed to be funnier than Shane while speaking English anyway. He was worried about her. She didn’t like to talk about her family, and Shane hadn’t met them, but he knew there was something wrong back home. It was killing him that he couldn’t do anything about it, but the last time he tried pushing her about it, it had backfired terribly.

(It was natural, his mom said, that there were some things that were difficult to share even with your boyfriend. It wasn’t that Shane was doing anything wrong. Sometimes all you could do was let them know you would be there when they were ready to talk. And that was important, too.)

She was gorgeous. She was away for work, so often. He could see her over video (on TV) and he missed her way too fucking much. He’d seen her a couple times (games) but it wasn’t the same.

But that was just fake-girlfriend-Lily. Not someone real.

It was going on almost 6 months since Sochi.

🥅

Las Vegas, 2014

The offseason was here, and Shane had a problem. Fake-girlfriend-Lily traveled a lot, of course, but now that Shane had his summer free, surely they would be able to figure out a time when they were all home to meet Yuna and David. Who had so patiently been waiting to meet his girlfriend of, oh, several months? Wasn’t it meet-the-parents serious, by now?

Soon, Shane had said. He was probably going to have to break up with fake-girlfriend-Lily, but he hadn’t figured out what he was going to say. Or, well, he sort of had. Fake-girlfriend-Lily just traveled too much, and so did Shane. It was rough on both of them, and there weren’t any hard feelings but it just hadn’t been working out. He’d rewritten the script in his head so many times he could probably recite it in his sleep. But he hated the idea of disappointing his parents. And he was going to have to act, somehow, like he had just actually broken up with his totally real, serious girlfriend.

He’d already put it off too long, though. Shane promised himself he was going to actually do it once he got back home. No more delaying.

🏒

The awards ceremony sucked. Ilya Rozanov was such a fucking asshole. And Shane was being pathetic and thinking about how he hadn’t kissed his no-strings, casual hookup. It was stupid and he knew it.

He called his mom and got about halfway through his breakup script before he just started crying.

So that was one problem solved, at least.

🥅

Montreal, 2016

It was Shane's fault for not picking a different fake name, two years ago. He had thought he's gotten away with it, but after the game his parents had wanted to get dinner with not only him but Hayden and Jackie as well. He was glad they liked the Pikes, really. Normally he would have said he was grateful the people he loved got along.

But then his mom had said, "You should give it a shot, Shane. I mean, you haven't seriously dated someone since Lily."

Hayden visibly perked up like a hound catching the scent. "Lily? Your mom knows about Lily?"

Shane, oh so eloquently, said, “Um.” And then tried to remember about a thousand lies he had told two years ago and thought he would never need to use again, in the space of about two seconds.

"Why wouldn't I know about Shane's girlfriend?" his mom said, bemused.

"Girlfriend!" Hayden practically crowed. "You said it was nothing serious! Come on, man, why wouldn't you tell me?"

"It really isn't," Shane said, weakly.

But it was Jackie who noticed the flaw: "Mrs. Hollander, what do you mean since Lily? I didn’t realize they’d broken up."

"I told you, Jackie, Yuna is fine," said Yuna, who probably wanted a Jackie-clone as a daughter-in-law and would settle for best-friend-in-law-in-law for now. Really, Jackie was great, Shane couldn’t blame her.

"It's really not like that," Shane said.

"No, you literally saw her two weeks ago! In Boston!" said Hayden.

"I thought you broke up two years ago? And what do you mean, in Boston?"

That was when, thankfully, an idea finally struck. "Yeah, um, we did. Break up, I mean," said Shane. "She traveled a lot for work, and then she got relocated. To Boston. So, um, we met up while I was there, but she doesn't want to do long-distance. So it was just, um, casual."

"Aw, man, that sucks," said Hayden, almost exactly as his mom said, "oh, honey." Jackie was frowning, and belatedly Shane realized they were probably all about to start an intervention on either failing to get over his ex or convincing her to commit.

He looked pleadingly at his dad, who was peaceably eating his lasagna. David Hollander looked around the table, obviously contemplating abandoning him to the vultures, before taking pity and using a conversational grenade: asking for baby pictures. Yuna raised an eyebrow at the blatant distraction, but Hayden was already pulling out his phone. Mentally, Shane awarded his dad Father of the Year. And started drafting a new fake timeline of events for fake-girlfriend-Lily, because this was only a temporary reprieve. And if he was going to fool both his parents and Hayden and Jackie, the fake-girlfriend-Lily story was going to have to be bulletproof.

🏒

His mother was more careful around the subject, this time, but the Lily inquisition began again. It was mostly just a fake-casual and how’s Lily? added to all their usual catching up. Shane could have said they weren't really talking, except that they were absolutely texting still, and Hayden knew it. He could have come up with a new pack of total lies, but he knew well enough he wouldn’t be able to keep up with that. So his mom asked how things were going with Lily and Shane... told her.

He liked Lily. A lot. More than he should, since they weren't really seriously dating now. She was still beautiful and confident and funny. He didn't think she was really seriously seeing anyone, but she also definitely... seeing people. He knew the obvious answer was to just stop, to just find someone else, to do anything but keep texting her... but he couldn't seem to help it.

His mom listened, and hugged him, and didn't tell him he was being stupid even though he obviously was. It was nice.

🏒

Hayden and Jackie, meanwhile, seemed to alternate between gently bringing up more of their single, in Montreal, willing to actually commit to a relationship friends, and poking at the Lily-situation. But they backed off when Shane said he wasn’t interested in meeting someone right now pretty easily. Jackie offered to share her WAG-patented advice on how to make long-distance work, which Shane politely declined. He appreciated that they wanted to help, but he wasn’t looking for anything and he would just have to deal with The Lily Thing himself.

It was closer to the truth than anything he’d ever said about relationships to them was in years.

🥅

Montreal, November 2016

Rose Landry was amazing. Not because she was beautiful, not because she was a literal movie star who was somehow also a hockey fan, not because she was charming and funny and real. She was amazing because she was the first girl Shane had ever thought maybe this is how it’s supposed to feel.

It was the first he had felt maybe normal in a long, long time.

Shane wasn’t stupid. He knew dating girls didn’t make it like he had never slept with a man. He could marry a girl— Rose, not Rose, whoever it ended up being— have kids, the whole nine yards, and he would never be fully straight. But it wasn’t like there was a way to know whether he was 100% gay, either, without trying. There were a million kinds of people; maybe most people were 100% straight, and some people were 100% gay, but there were plenty of in-betweens. Sure, probably most bisexual people were totally 50/50 for men and women, but that wasn’t everyone. Weren’t there those people who went decades thinking they were 100% straight, only to meet someone who was their one exception? There had to be people who were like that in reverse, or who were more 80/20 than 50/50. When he was in middle school one of his second cousins who had only dated men for years started seriously dating a woman and had said she was still straight, somehow. He didn’t know what she’d call herself these days, having been literally married to a woman for over a decade, but the point was the same.

It had never worked out with his high school girlfriends, sure, but to be honest he was a wreck socially in other ways too and had sort of agreed to date a couple girls just because it seemed like the thing to do. How many people worked out with their own high school girlfriends, anyway? It had been years, and he could barely remember how it had felt, but had it really been that bad?

So, Rose. He liked her. He couldn’t compare how he felt about her to how other people felt about their girlfriends, but he felt so fucking happy around her. He thought she was beautiful. He liked kissing her, he liked going on dates with her. Maybe it was actually going to work.

🥅

Montreal, December 2016

Then they had spectacularly bad sex.

🥅

Montreal, January 2017

So it wasn’t really working.

He’d thought about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t like regular people couldn’t just have bad sex. But he was only so good at lying to himself. Maybe, if the only experiences he had to work off of were his high school girlfriends and the couple girls between then and Rose, he could fool himself better. He hadn’t wanted to think about those days much, but now that he really tried to remember…

It had sucked. Not in a funny innuendo way. The first time he’d tried to go all the way with a girl he’d had a fucking panic attack, how had he forgotten that? She’d been far too nice about it, probably thought he was just a nervous virgin and not gay, but it had happened and he’d just forgotten. He’d gotten by well enough the next time, but he’d mostly been relieved that it had worked. Who was relieved they lost their virginity? How was he this fucking stupid?

It hadn’t been all that bad. He’d even say he’d sort of enjoyed himself, a couple of times. He had also been a little drunk, those times. Which had even been a little bit of a good excuse why some things had been, well, a little difficult. God, who was he kidding?

All that, and he could still, almost convince himself it wasn’t like that. Except that he had counter-examples. Here he was, trying to find the good parts of his experiences with women, when if you asked him the same thing about men he would have to stop to figure out which parts were just good and which ones were fucking amazing. Thinking about it too long he would start to feel it spreading through him, need to stop before it got out of control. He had never felt like that with a woman, and he was starting to think— starting to let himself believe— that maybe he never would.

He knew what that meant. He knew it made him a dick, to string Rose along like that if he actually, finally understood this about himself. Except each time he saw her, he remembered all the reasons he liked her, and he thought no, maybe, and then he fooled himself just long enough to go home and remember what an asshole he actually was.

🥅

Ottawa, January 2017

It was only in the evening, after the dinner dishes were all put away and the TV was buzzing with a program no one was actually watching, that his mom brought it up.

"Honey," she said, "is everything really going okay?"

"Of course, mom, why wouldn't it be?"

"It's just," Yuna let out a sigh before grasping his hand, "I don't want to pry. And if you're happy, I'm happy. You seemed so excited when you first met Rose, and she seems like a lovely girl. But you haven't talked about her at all tonight except when I first asked, and, well... you never seemed like you were really over Lily. So I wondered."

He couldn't help flinching. "No, mom, I... Rose is really great. I really like her."

"I never said you didn't. And if I'm wrong then ignore me. But it's okay to feel how you feel. It wasn't wrong to try dating someone new, but it's only natural things don't work out sometimes. And it isn't fair to you or Rose if you just try to ignore how you're really feeling. I know you like her, but... after the first couple of weeks, the way you talk about her-- it's not how you sound when you talk about Lily. And you just haven't seemed happy lately."

"I... mom, it's really been fine."

"Shane, baby, I want things to be better than fine. I want you to be happy. Really happy. And it just seems like you aren't."

"I know, mom, but I'm not going to get back together with Lily."

"I didn't say you should. But baby, you have to know, when you used to talk about her... you just sounded so in love. And I want that for you, whoever it ends up being with."

Shane could feel his face cracking, the smile too heavy to support. Was that really what it seemed like? It wasn't like he could ever see from the outside, what he was like with "Lily." It wasn't love. It couldn't be love.

"Mom, it really isn't like that with Lily," he said. "Because—"

His mom, instead of looking sympathetic like she had been so far, started to look truly alarmed. Shane could feel the tears welling up, and panic right on their heels. His voice was already cracking. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

"Because...?" his mom tried to prompt him, and instead Shane just burst into tears. "Because," he said, gasping, and then he couldn't breathe—

"Hey, hey," his mom said, "it's okay, honey, just breathe, okay?"

He tried to, shuddering with sobs, and it was only sort of working. His mom was hugging him, and running her hand down his back, and he felt like a giant idiot.

"Shane, whatever it is, I love you no matter what, okay? We'll figure it out."

God, he was an idiot, and pathetic, and he wanted to crawl into the floor and die, but he also thought if he didn't say something now he might never and that would be so much worse, so with the last scraps of feeble bravery he had he said, "she'snotagirl."

Yuna Hollander blinked once, twice, deciphering what her son had just said before it finally clicked.

"Okay. Okay, baby, that's fine. I love you, I mean it. It's okay."

For an embarrassingly long time, Shane let himself sob into his mom's arms, rocking him like a baby and not a grown adult having a stupid breakdown in his childhood home. Eventually, he calmed down enough to just be a gross, snotty mess, but one that was breathing evenly at least. "Sorry," he said, automatically.

"Don't be sorry," said his mom. "Shane, look at me."

He didn't particularly want to—even if his face hadn't been gross and blotchy and snotty and teary, he couldn't really stand to do it— but his mom was guiding his face to look at her anyway.

"None of that— nothing like that could ever matter to me. I love you, and I am so, so proud of you. If the person that you love is a man, all I care about is that you love him. And I love you and that's never going to change, understand me?"

"Even if he's a man?" Shane couldn't help but repeat, voice small.

"Even if he's a man."

"Even if..." a small amount of humor returned to him, "he's a Raiders fan?"

Yuna's face stayed deadly serious as she said, "Even if he's a Raiders fan." And somehow, with that, Shane could feel that she really meant it. And a smile was spreading across his face, and it was cliche but there really was a weight lifting off his shoulders.

"But he's not actually a Raiders fan, though, right?" his mom said, jokingly.

Shane's face must have twitched the wrong way, though, because, well...

"Shane!"

He collapsed into semi-hysterical giggles at his mom’s outraged face, and a beat later his mom started laughing as well, the kind of laughter that was more than half relief.

He had said his most terrible secret, and the world wasn’t ending. It almost felt like it might be starting, instead.

🥅

The Next Day

Probably, if it were revealed that "Lily" was a Raiders fan (sort of) after any other conversation, his mom would have jokingly pretended to disown him. As it was, she very grumpily said that it was fine. She supposed. If that was how it was going to be. His mom had asked him if he wanted to tell his dad, or for her to tell him, or to wait, but as it turned out the man had been awkwardly hovering after leaving the bathroom trying not to interrupt and failing not to eavesdrop.

David Hollander also did not care if his son was in love with a man, and he actually genuinely did not care if said man was a Raiders fan, because he was the sane one of the family.

Somewhat embarrassingly, his parents had apparently wondered before if he was gay. More ironically, the reason they hadn’t wondered lately was “Lily.” There was, however, the awkward attempt to bridge the “Lily” they knew with the real life man. “Lily” was not, in fact, a Quebecois-speaking, Montreal-based office worker in tech who had been relocated to Boston. Not that Shane intended to tell them that, because he had no explanation for why he had made up that lie without saying he was actually a Russian hockey player who played for Boston (no guesses needed for who that might be). He could admit that he and “Lily” had never been anything official, and “Lily” had actually never lived in Montreal.

Most of it really was actually true: Lily liked hockey. They had met at a game. Lily liked cars. Lily liked fashion: “I don’t know, mom, he wears actual outfits and not just athleisure all the time, does that count?” Some of it, Shane didn’t even have to explain. Lily was “shy” about media attention for very obvious reasons; Lily’s family situation was worrying because they were, probably, homophobic assholes.

It was all the things he hadn’t even come close to implying that were being dragged out into the sunlight now. Shane had never even tried for a serious relationship with another man, because it just wouldn’t work. (No, his mom had said, no that’s sad. Thanks, mom, he hadn’t realized.) That “Lily” had tried to make it… more than it had been, and he had freaked out, and just left. And they hadn’t talked since.

Lily could make it work with someone else. Lily was bisexual, Lily could meet a nice girl and have a family and not have be alone or pretend in order to be happy.

“But,” his mom said, “you said he was the one who wanted to make it a serious relationship.”

“I don’t know what he actually wants,” Shane said. “There’s a big difference between just, um… That. And a serious relationship.”

“Well, then, maybe you should ask him,” said his dad.

It didn’t make sense. Why would he choose staying in the dark with Shane, when he could have any girl he wanted?

“Love doesn’t have to make sense,” was his mother’s opinion, which was irrelevant, because Ilya Rozanov was not in love with him. But Shane at least owed him an apology for how he had left things last time. So maybe he would hear him out.

🥅

Montreal, January

Shane had no fucking clue how to break up with someone. Almost all his former girlfriends had broken up with him, after he just hadn’t made enough of an effort, or he’d broken up with them for an obvious reason like moving. How did he tell her he just didn’t like her that way, without telling her he was gay so really that was totally his fault?

“You’re really great,” he had said, lamely, “and I really like you a lot.” Rose had smiled and said, “But?”

“But, um. I was trying to get over someone else, and it didn’t work. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“No, I get it,” she said, “It’s really okay.”

Really, it was going about as well as Shane could have hoped for. He was worried there would be more hysterics. Or was that sexist? He figured getting dumped was a perfectly good reason to have some hysterics, though. Rose, however, was eerily prepared for this conversation.

More than Shane realized, even.

“Can I ask you something… personal?” she said.

“Sure,” he said, because that was probably the least he owed her. Even if he also was thinking do not ask me who I am trying to get over.

“The person you’re trying to get over…” she started before trailing off. Fuck, shit, no, Shane thought. “Are they…” she started again, before clearing her throat, and Shane suddenly noticed the words she was using: not her. Or girl.

She seemed to notice the deer-in-the-headlights look he was making, because she backtracked. “You really don’t have to tell me! I just thought, maybe… it might not have been, you know… a girl.”

Shane didn’t think he could bring himself to say it out loud, again. But Rose was Rose, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t tell anyone. And he wanted to be able to tell her. So he nodded. It was tiny, but it was a nod.

🏒

A few minutes later, he had a thought. Rose had clearly already thought he might be gay. And sure, the sex had been bad, but… “Was it really that bad?”

Rose giggled. “It kind of was. Sorry.”

At least her theater school gay ex boyfriend stories made him feel like a little bit less of an asshole.

🥅

January, Montreal

Jane: Can we talk after the game?

🏒

Rozanov— Ilya— could probably tell this was going to be different. For one, Shane had sent the address to his apartment. He hadn’t said anything remotely flirty beforehand. Ilya, a little to his surprise, hadn’t tried to start anything either.

Shane felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin as he let Ilya into the apartment as fast as possible. Then he had no idea where to sit, or stand, even though it was his own damn apartment. Normally he would be dragging them towards the bedroom as soon as possible.

Ilya seemed to have settled on leaning against his kitchen island. He looked good. It was incredibly odd to see him inside Shane’s home, in a way that was doing something he probably shouldn’t name to his heart.

“I owe you an apology,” Shane said. “For the way I left last time.”

“Is okay,” said Ilya, although his face didn’t seem to agree.

“It’s not,” said Shane. “I freaked out, but I should have at least said something. At least after I calmed down, and I didn’t. So I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” said Ilya. Compared to his usual self, he looked lost. “Apology accepted.”

For a minute they just stared at each other. Ilya, Shane was finally noticing, looked rough. Like he hadn’t been sleeping. Maybe he was making assumptions, but there was a distinctly guilty feeling rising in him that it might be his fault.

“Rose and I broke up,” Shane finally blurted out. “Because, I’m, um.”

It was pretty bad he was having trouble saying I’m gay to the man he had been sleeping with for, what, seven years? Had it really been that long? It was sort of startling how quickly Ilya’s posture slumped after Shane had said he and Rose broke up, but now Ilya was raising an eyebrow at him and Shane had the distinct feeling he was being laughed at.

“Because I’m gay. Shut up, it’s not funny.” It’s a little bit funny said Ilya’s face. “I mean, like, 100%, completely gay. Not like you.”

“Okay. So you are gay,” said Ilya. “So what?”

“I’m just trying to explain,” said Shane. “Last time was different. And I freaked out about it, because I didn’t want to admit that, but it was.”

“Sure. It was different. But what do you want, Hollander?”

God, Shane didn’t know. He wanted the world to be less shitty so they could go outside holding hands and have it not be a big deal. He wanted that to also be something Ilya wanted. He had no fucking idea what Ilya really wanted, though, and he was still afraid to ask. “Shane. I want you to at least call me Shane, in private, I think we’ve known each other long enough for that.”

“Fine. Shane. So you broke up with Rose. What do you want from me?”

“I want…” I want literally everything. Anything you’re willing to give me. “I want this to mean something. More than just sex.”

“That is a terrible idea.” It was, and that also was not an I do not want that.

“I know it is,” said Shane. “But it’s what I want. I’m not saying we should be shouting it from the rooftops. I just can’t pretend I don’t like you anymore.”

“We can’t,” said Ilya.

“Tell me it’s not what you want and I’ll shut up about it,” said Shane. Please don’t tell me that.

“It is not about want. We can’t. Please, Shane, stop asking.”

“Okay,” Shane said. “Okay, I get it. Look, I’m not asking for anything crazy. I don’t want other people knowing anything, either! I just don’t get it. Last time, it seemed like you wanted… something, I don’t know. Why are you so against it meaning anything now?”

Ilya was quiet, fiddling with his necklace, before he said: “I could not go home. If anyone found out, I would not be able to go home.”

In the space of about five minutes, Shane learned more about Ilya’s family than he had in the entire decade before. A family of cops. Too-young now-dead mothers and stepmothers. Alzheimer’s. God. Shane could tell there was something wrong, before, just a little, but he hadn’t really thought of it beyond Russia. It was not just Russia. It was stupid, because they were the same age, but hearing this kind of thing made Shane feel young. Naive, maybe. Like he was some kid who thought of families like little stick-figure-crayon drawings in front of identical square houses, and was just finding out not everyone had a mom and dad who loved them the way they were supposed to.

He didn’t know what to do with the awful feelings welling up in him, a sadness that, what, he hadn’t been magically able to fix Ilya’s family when they were just boys on different continents who had never even met each other? He felt entirely helpless in the face of problems he knew there was nothing he could do to fix, even as they were hurting one of the people he cared about most.

He settled for holding Ilya as tightly as he could, like that could possibly make up for all the things Shane had been missing the whole time they had known each other. Ilya clung back onto him even harder, and Shane realized that there was at least one thing he could do, because it seemed no one else had been holding him the way he needed, either.

It wasn’t enough, but at the same time, it had to be.

🏒

The sex was at least still really fucking awesome.

(He kind of liked being able to hold Ilya afterwards even better, though.)

🥅

Chapter End Notes

I have plans to continue (we haven't even gotten to the actual Lily reveal!) but I am very bad at actually doing that, so it's marked complete for now. You can, of course, encourage this by leaving nice comments. Also, pointing out errors is not only allowed but very helpful.

Also, inspired by my own stupid choices in life, such as being a queer 27 year old with loving parents who would totally understand if I came out to them, except I am not doing that, for pretty much no good reason. Will Heated Rivalry get me to actually tell my parents? Maybe, but I am never admitting that to anyone in real life, that's so embarrassing. Also, shoutout to the first lesbian couple close-ish to my age I ever met, one of which did in fact claim she was straight while dating the woman she is currently married to with kids for, yes, over a decade.

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary

In which Ilya has a lot of feelings and is extremely good at expressing them.

Chapter Notes

So I am from a place that is Cold where a typical winter activity is going to the local ice rink, but I currently live in Texas. Anyway, one of my former coworkers was very friendly but his main interest is sports and while the main sports I know anything about are hockey and figure skating, he's mostly a football guy. I had to explain to him that it is in fact possible to stand still wearing skates, because apparently he thought you had to either be moving constantly or holding onto something for stability because the blades are so small.

I could put a disclaimer on this chapter that I do not actually know that much about hockey but after some contemplation have decided to consider myself basically an expert.

Anyway, here's chapter 2.

Montreal, January 2017

Jane: Can we talk after the game?

🐻

Ilya, for the first time in his career, was dreading a Montreal vs Boston game. Oh, not for the game itself. But Shane Hollander apparently wanted to talk, and had sent a new address. A brief bit of internet stalking had convinced Ilya this was in fact Shane's actual home. He wasn't sure if dating Rose Landry had given Shane the confidence to finally invite him there, or if it was perfectly acceptable to have Ilya in his home as long as it wasn't to fuck him.

Rose Landry was probably a perfectly lovely person, given that Shane Hollander was dating her. Ilya should probably even feel bad for her, considering she was dating a deeply closeted, completely in denial gay man. Unfortunately, Ilya was not in the business of lying to himself, so he hated her with a burning passion.

(Ilya did not, technically, know for certain that Shane was not attracted to his girlfriend. He did, however, think it was fair to consider himself an expert at identifying what it looked like when people were attracted to someone, and he had been in various social situations around both Shane Hollander and many women over many years. Shane had not once looked at a woman's chest instead of her face, and maybe that could be chalked up to self-control... except that he had also caught Shane checking out other men, in public, despite how incredibly paranoid he was about people discovering his sexuality. Ilya would be willing to bet his annual salary that Shane was about as gay as a man could get. Unfortunately, if he ever wanted to collect on that, he was going to have to wait on Shane admitting to it, and it was currently looking like he would literally die before that happened.)

Ilya had done some more internet stalking of the couple, but there didn't seem to be anything new from the last few days. Then he attempted to forget about the entire existence of Rose Landry, because he had a game to play. It did not work very well, because said game was against Shane Hollander. (And also either five or twenty other men, depending on how you were counting, but still, Shane Hollander.) And also because Rose Fucking Landry was apparently in the crowd today, wearing her boyfriend's jersey.

Ilya still played very well, and scored two goals, so he hadn't completely embarrassed himself. They lost anyway, which Ilya would never feel great about but had a particular sting being observed by Famous Movie Star And Girlfriend Rose Landry. He was going to have to get over it, though, because he had a boring, not-illicit meeting with Shane Hollander to make.

🐻

Shane had not managed a personality change overnight, it seemed, because he was ushered inside the apartment with typical urgency. Like someone might notice Ilya walking in the front door at the scandalous hour of 9 PM.

Ilya tried to absorb the details of Shane Hollander's actual apartment without taking his eyes off Shane. It was... boring.

No, really, it was actually boring. There were photographs of what were definitely Canadian landscapes on the walls. The furniture could have been IKEA, but was probably something fancier but just as boring. He had a bookshelf that was 90% books (which, if Ilya could read the titles, were probably 90% books about hockey) and 10% weird little wooden knickknacks. There were a couple photographs of what must have been the Hollanders (pretty older Asian woman, boring white man, and a Shane that Ilya could immediately identify as 20 years old by a combination of haircut and clothing. Fuck, what was wrong with him.) Most of what could have been actually interesting must have been put away out of sight, because Shane was the perverse kind of single, mid-20s professional athlete who actually cleaned. Truly life was terrible.

Unsure of exactly where this was going, and not wanting to sit while Shane was still hovering around anxiously, Ilya propped himself up against the kitchen island and waited for Shane to finally get to the point.

"I owe you an apology. For the way I left last time."

"Is okay," said Ilya. It wasn't, but it was hardly unsurprising once Ilya had taken a second to process what had happened. Shane was incredibly good at working himself up over nothing, and Ilya could admit that the changes he had tried to casually make to their usual arrangement were not nothing. He wasn't really hurt that Shane had vanished so quickly.

It was more the complete silence afterwards followed by Rose Fucking Landry that was the problem.

“It’s not,” said Shane. “I freaked out, but I should have at least said something. At least after I calmed down, and I didn’t. So I’m sorry.”

Well, it was nice that Shane had also figured that one out, he supposed. “Okay,” said Ilya. “Apology accepted.”

Then Shane just stared at him, which was weird and uncomfortable, but Shane was the one who apparently had something to talk about, so Ilya just stared back. Unless all he meant was the apology? That would be stupid. He could have just texted that.

Shane was still staring, and Ilya considered saying something to break the awkward silence. But he wasn't feeling particularly charitable, so he just stared back waiting for Shane to get on with it.

"Rose and I broke up," Shane finally blurted out, and Ilya almost missed the next part trying to keep his brain online. "Because, I'm, um."

That was not in any of the stupid tabloids. Hell, Rose Landry had just been at the game, wearing a Hollander jersey. What the fuck did he mean, they broke up? He almost wanted to call Shane a liar, but that was stupid, because there was literally no reason for him to lie about that. (Well, maybe if he were a terrible person who wanted Ilya to sleep him but didn't think he would go for it if it was cheating, but this was Shane Hollander, that was an even stupider idea.)

Anyway, Ilya was pretty sure he knew how that sentence was supposed to end, but he was still not feeling very charitable (even though there was a very sudden happy chorus of thoughts about that latest revelation) so he only raised an eyebrow and waited for Shane to get on with it.

“Because I’m gay. Shut up, it’s not funny.” It was a little bit funny. Sorry, Hollander, I think maybe I noticed you were gay already. When you were sucking my dick.

“I mean, like, 100%, completely gay. Not like you.”

Okay, fair enough, Ilya was not gay, he liked women, that was not news for anyone. He still had no idea where this was supposed to be going. “Okay. So you are gay,” said Ilya. “So what?”

“I’m just trying to explain,” said Shane. “Last time was different. And I freaked out about it, because I didn’t want to admit that, but it was.”

“Sure. It was different. But what do you want, Hollander?”

If it was just to fuck they could have been doing that already by now.

“Shane. I want you to at least call me Shane, in private, I think we’ve known each other long enough for that.”

Ilya pretended that absolutely no part of him felt mushy in any way about that. “Fine. Shane. So you broke up with Rose. But what do you want from me?”

“I want… I want this to mean something. More than just sex.”

I want that so badly you have no idea, Ilya thought. But also, "That is a terrible idea."

“I know it is,” said Shane. “But it’s what I want. I’m not saying we should be shouting it from the rooftops. I just can’t pretend I don’t like you anymore.”

Yes you can, thought Ilya, go back to Rose Landry you were doing just fine at it. Except that was a line too far for him even in the privacy of his own brain. “We can’t,” said Ilya. If you take it back now I might actually die.

“Tell me it’s not what you want and I’ll shut up about it,” said Shane.

Ilya was a big believer in lying. Not in general for no reason, that would be stupid. But he didn't think there was anything wrong with a lie inherently. That dress does not make your ass look fat, and also I have never once had sex with a man. Ilya had absolutely no shame in lying if it that was what it took to protect himself, which is why the next thing he should have said was, nope, I do not want that, only no-strings-attached casual sex forever, thank you.

For some reason, what came out of his mouth instead was: “It is not about want. We can’t. Please, Shane, stop asking.”

“Okay,” Shane said. “Okay, I get it. Look, I’m not asking for anything crazy. I don’t want other people knowing anything, either! I just don’t get it. Last time, it seemed like you wanted… something, I don’t know. Why are you so against it meaning anything now?”

The last gasp of the well-honed instinct to protect himself told him not to answer, to say anything but the truth. Deflect. Make a stupid joke, seduce him right now until he forgets, do literally anything else.

But he was tired.

“I could not go home. If anyone found out, I would not be able to go home."

🐻

Ilya felt sort of like he had shot someone's dog in front of Shane, trying to explain what his family was like. Even when he was using the least-bad words he could think of (his father was strict, that was certainly a word for it) and skipping over the things that he didn't think he could say without breaking down himself (his mother), Shane kept looking more and more like it was him that was having something horrible happen. Sorry, nevermind, he wanted to say. Actually it is all rainbows and everything is fine.

But it was too much of a relief to tell someone.

Oh, it wasn't like no one knew. Sveta knew everything. But she had always known all of it. Ilya never once had to actually explain. She was very lovely and comforting but, somehow, she was also too close.

Here, he could parcel out the things he wanted someone to see, someone to acknowledge and say, oh that's terrible. Because it was. But only the things he wanted to have someone look at. Not everything. Not right now, anyway.

Not the things he still needed to pretend to himself about.

Maybe it was cathartic, actually. He didn't want Shane to be sad. Of course not. But seeing that just this much was, actually, really that bad made him feel... not crazy.

He was a motherfucking hockey star, he was rich, people loved him. Most people would kill to be him.

But his family still also was terrible.

Eventually he ran out of horrible things to tell Shane, and Shane had gradually managed to look less like he had just learned that the poor shot dog did not actually go to live on a farm somewhere else.

He didn't know why he wasn't expecting it. It was probably the most obvious thing you were supposed to do when someone told you about their pathetic problems. But it was really very nice to be hugged.

⛸️

Tampa, January 2017

Ilya loved the All Stars.

This was not an opinion shared by most players who had been to the event as many times as he had. At this point they would be dreaming of taking a vacation like everyone else and only participating in a game that meant literally nothing to avoid being fined. To Ilya, All Stars was close enough to a real vacation. He liked meeting the other players’ kids, he didn’t have anywhere else he particularly wanted to be, and he loved playing hockey and could actually just enjoy the game without stakes. This time there was even the Florida beach.

Also, notably, Shane Hollander would be there.

He had been apprehensive about All Stars before their talk after the last Montreal game. But since they had cleared the air between him, there had been a little background noise in his head. It mostly went: SAME TEAM SAME TEAM EAST VS WEST MEANS SAME TEAM. For one whole game, which meant literally nothing, but also: literally it would be the first time he ever got to play hockey on the SAME TEAM as Hollander.

It was a little embarrassing how excited he was for the All-Star Game.

🐻

Not as embarrassing as Shane apparently hiring a stylist. Oh, it was actually a great idea, Ilya was all for it, just embarrassing. Ilya should send them a fruit basket or something. Shane claimed it wasn’t Rose Landry and her well-dressed friends’ fault, but Ilya was still a bit skeptical of the timing. Not that he was going to send Rose Landry any fruit baskets, so it didn’t matter.

Was it too much to give him outfit ideas? There was still not nearly enough skin showing for a Florida beach.

🐻

He and Shane had spent a tragically short amount of time “catching up” in Shane’s hotel room. But apparently it would be weird if Captain and Notable Buzzkill Shane Hollander was nowhere to be seen the entire time before the competition, at the same time Ilya was missing. Well, Ilya could probably just pretend to have been with a beautiful Florida woman, but he wasn’t wrong.

So, after testing the soundproofing of the hotel, they were both at the pool. Shane was doing a tragic job of relaxing, somehow still looking tense while reclining in a pool deck chair. Clearly Ilya had not done a good enough job earlier.

Ilya, like he usually ended up doing during the downtime of these things, was messing around with a horde of children. Unlike their parents, they actually appreciated that they were at a beautiful Tampa resort, and were actually fun. He could also tell that Shane was totally watching him behind his sunglasses, which was a nice bonus. Shane was definitely the kind of person who thought being good with kids was attractive.

Maybe Ilya could fling some water at him. You know, to cool down. And also definitely not to make his shirt stick to him.

🐻

The game was one of the best things that had happened to Ilya in years. Playing with Shane was fucking magical. It was pretty often he didn’t have words for something in English, but he didn’t think he could describe it in Russian, either. Normally he thought comparing skating to flying was stupid-- his feet were very firmly on the ground, thank you, and surely there was a better metaphor-- but he honestly could not think of anything else.

He wasn’t the only one who seemed to think so. The crowd loved it. The commentators loved it, the internet loved it, probably all the old people who weren’t on the internet and only watching from their TVs at home loved it.

Not as much as Ilya did. The only person who might have him beat on that front was Shane. Shane always looked beautiful, but there was something special about him on ice, and it was a thousand times better when he was as free as he seemed to be, today.

🐻

Sitting on a beach at sunset with a beautiful boy he was in love with, with their hands almost touching, was too much. He felt like he was going to die, and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, because tomorrow he was going to go home, and nothing was going to change. There wasn’t even going to be a picture of this.

Tomorrow it would be easier not to remember. But he folded the memory up carefully anyway. Maybe eventually he would be able to look at it, and have it not hurt.

⛸️

Boston, March 2017

If Polina had been anyone else’s stepmother, he probably would have felt bad for her. She had gone from dealing with his father in his right mind, which was difficult, to dealing with him with dementia, which was… what it was. He couldn’t really say she was taking care of him, with how often she seemed to be missing when his father called made nonsensical conversation, but even then he understood. And she didn’t even get his father’s money out of it, because there was none, not with Alexei around.

She was, however, his stepmother, and she only asked for money when he barely even knew her. It was probably terrible of him to think go marry some other horrible rich man, then but if he didn’t let himself think the horrible things in his own mind he thought he might accidentally say them instead.

Alexei, meanwhile, had done everything to himself. But unlike Polina, he had actually been Ilya’s older brother his whole life. Did that make it better or worse?

Ilya desperately wanted to just ignore them all. He wanted to stop caring. But he knew it was all coming soon-- his father was worse every day. The calls got more desperate for a reason. Even if they didn’t deserve anything he did for them, even if every time he talked to them he wanted to scream, he just had to hold on. Because they were still family. Because he couldn’t imagine telling his mother that he had left his dying father alone and confused and only his brother had taken care of him, while Ilya was in America playing hockey and being absolutely useless, and not even done the one thing he could even manage.

Even if they really didn’t deserve it.

🐻

He didn’t tell Shane.

Oh, he fucked up their usual arrangement, took every excuse to have Shane hold him a minute longer when he was in Boston for the game. Shane could definitely tell there was something, but he was too polite to pry.

Shane would be sympathetic. Shane would do his best to try to understand, but it was just too far removed from Shane’s picture perfect idea of what a family was. His trying would probably end up turning well-meaning assumptions into something that Ilya would hate him for, just a little, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Sveta was better, but… even Sveta only watched from the outside. The Vetrovs were, actually, lovely people. Her father was a sort of typical gruff, stern man, but the kind that did actually have a secret soft center. He and Sveta’s mother-- a singer who was frankly astonishingly beautiful even though she was retired and well out of the public eye these days-- were disgustingly in love. A long time ago Sveta used to complain about things like sappy serenades (Sergei Vetrov had, apparently, taken actual vocal lessons when he was trying to woo the future Mrs Vetrova) before she had noticed the way Ilya got quiet when she did.

The Rozanovs were not like that. Ilya had never met his grandfather, who died before he was born, but he could imagine him. His father had not sprung from nothing. He could not actually know, but he could imagine it, a line of stern men each carving pieces out of each other, a violent sort of love that left hollow, prideful men behind.

There was someone who would understand, Ilya knew. Sasha. His coach had been a very familiar sort of man, and when he was younger, it had felt like a terrible mirror looking at Sasha. It was probably why he had been brave enough back then, the very first time he’d kissed another man (boy, then.) They had already shared one terrible secret.

It was part of why it was so hard to look at Sasha, these days. Sasha was doing… well enough, he thought. Sveta was always telling him about clubs and boys and girls (mostly boys, for Sasha) and it all should have been charming. But they were still twisted mirrors of each other, and Ilya had the horrible feeling every time they really spoke that they were both secretly hollow inside.

He didn’t talk to Sasha much, these days.

⛸️

Moscow, 2017

He could have texted Shane, when he got the call. He wouldn’t even have to talk, because he was about to get on a plane to Moscow and wouldn’t be reachable regardless.

He knew there would inevitably be a report that he was scratched from the next game. His team knew why, of course. He’d gotten condolences from all his teammates, the WAGs, his coach.

He landed in Moscow. He said hello to Polina, to Alexei, to his sister-in-law and niece. He went to sleep, even though it would not help him adjust to the timezone. He had several missed calls on his phone.

He didn’t text Shane.

⛸️

Chapter End Notes

I did have some fun jokes to put in the end notes but I also wasn't originally planning to stop here, so maybe I'll save that for next time. Sorry for making your life terrible, Sasha, in canon you were just a regular party boy. Also, please pretend the skate emoji is a hockey skate and not a women's figure skating skate. (Why are figure skate colors gendered?) For show only folks, in the books Ilya's team is the Boston Bears, but he already had a bear tattoo for Russia anyway. I mostly just think the bear emoji is cute.

In some more depressing commentary, I got curious because I haven't really checked in on what was going on in the NHL for a while; I disowned my hometown team years ago for being terrible. Anyway, one fun search later, I am pretty sure I am not going to be able to root for them anytime this century, and actually Rachel Reid did not make the Toronto team evil enough. Women's hockey is where it's at, though. Also I totally did not recognize Harrison Browne's cameo but I am very happy about it now that it's been pointed out to me. Good for him.

Asking for nice comments apparently does actually work, though, thanks everyone, you're all very sweet and I appreciate it.

Chapter 3: Interlude

Chapter Summary

A short interlude with Yuna Hollander.

Chapter Notes

Not a real chapter! We'll be back to the boys soon.

"Hey Mom, is Dad there too?"

That was unusual. Yuna talked more frequently with Shane than David did, of course, for business and practical reasons as well as personal. She knew he and David texted various photos back and forth— wildlife, David's garden, signs with bad kerning— but it was nothing very conversational. It was probably natural, given how both of them were quiet people, and they drove down to Montreal regularly enough Shane hardly had the chance to miss them.

"Oh, he's in the office, I think. I can go fetch him."

"Don't bother him if he's working, Mom, it's not anything important—"

Yuna's mind was already in overdrive wondering what this call was about. Most of the ideas she came up with were immediately discarded: Shane was too good a boy for most kinds of scandals, he had a no-trade clause, and there was now absolutely zero chance he was going to accidentally knock up a girl. Hockey news had been pretty slow, just rumors that the Vegas goalie's injury was serious and Rozanov's mystery healthy scratch. Of course, if something had happened with the Metros, Shane would obviously know first. Maybe Hayden was being traded, or one of the other guys Shane was closer to? No, that was stupid, the trade deadline—

Deep breaths, Yuna. "Honey, Shane's on the phone," she called, knocking on the office door. The office chair made its tell tale squeak, so she said, "I'm putting you on speakerphone."

"Hey, kid," said David, emerging with his eyes scrunched up. He'd been wearing the old reading glasses again. "What's up?"

"It's really nothing," said Shane, and that was an embarrassed tone, not anxious, so probably nothing was on fire. Shane could get embarrassed over the tiniest things, too. "I just wanted to say, um. Thank you. For being good parents. And being supportive. And, um, I love you."

Oh god, was someone dying?

"We love you too," she said, automatically. Shane was obviously not panicking, so she shouldn't be either. He mostly seemed mortified about talking about feelings, which, again: was someone actually dying? Or was it Mother's Day? No, that wasn't for months.

"We both love you," David also chimed in, "But is something wrong? This seems sudden."

"Nothing's wrong," Shane said. "I just realized that I took a lot of things for granted. And I'm really lucky to have you as my parents."

"We're the ones who are lucky to have you," Yuna said. Even if her baby hadn't turned out to be so unbelievably talented and successful, they were so lucky. Shane was just such a good boy, who wouldn't be proud of him? She would have loved her son no matter what, of course, but she could admit it was a lot easier when your son was as wonderful as hers was.

"Thanks, mom," said Shane, in a voice that was now Parents Are So Embarrassing tone, like he wasn't the one who started it.

"Shane, I don't mean to pry," said David, "but is everything okay with, uh, Lily?"

Yuna glanced at her husband, more than a little surprised. They'd discussed it at length back in January when Shane had admitted "Lily" was a man. They would have liked to know more about Lily (at least a real first name!), but it was understandable he wanted to be private. Hopefully, they'd established that they were worth trusting, but of course Lily didn't know them personally. It wasn't worth rushing them or trying to get Shane to share details by breaking the trust of his partner. (Even if it apparently "wasn't serious." Yuna wasn't sure how much she believed that.) But David apparently thought it was worth it now.

"Yes. Sort of. No," said Shane. "I mean, nothing is wrong between me and her—" Her. Was he somewhere he could be overheard, or was it just too deeply ingrained to have to hide? Yuna's heart hurt in a way that was getting too familiar. "But things are difficult for her with her family."

"That must be rough," said Yuna, thinking how bad it must be for Shane to choose to call up his parents just to say I love you.

"Is he safe?" asked David.

"Huh?" said Shane. "Oh. No, it's not like that. I mean, I don't know that much, but it's not actually about— um. It's more arguing than anything, I think. Not physical danger."

Shane had first mentioned being worried about "Lily's" family all the way back in 2014. He'd been upset she wouldn't talk about it. Two months ago it had only come up briefly that his family was unlikely to approve. She knew, of course, there was a wide range of what that could mean. But she'd been too focused on Shane's feelings for her to remember there were other dangers.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Yuna said.

"What? I don't know how you could help with h— with her family being assholes."

"Well, we don't know a lot about him," Yuna said. "I guess I was just assuming that he's close to you in age. But if he's still reliant on his family, or lives with them, I wouldn't want him to be stuck. I don't know how much we could do, with him living in America, but if there's anything..."

For some reason, Shane laughed. "It's kind of the opposite problem, actually," he said. "Sorry. You're right, she is my age. I don't know how much else she would want me to tell you. And there's not really anything you could do, I think. But thanks."

The opposite? That would be something to puzzle over later, definitely. "Let us know if that changes, okay?"

"Okay, mom. I didn't mean to worry you. It isn't like whatever you were imagining. I just... I never appreciated enough that I got to have you as parents."

Parenting could be rough. Some mistakes, Yuna understood. But hurting your child over who they loved? She felt fully justified in judging people she had never met over that.

"I'm sorry that your... that his parents would be like that. But you don't need to thank us for doing the bare minimum of what a parent should."

"I think you do a little more than the bare minimum, Mom," said Shane.

"Just a little," said David, wryly. And now they were ganging up on her!

"Oh, hush," she said, smacking him on the shoulder. “Shane, I know it must be complicated. But whenever you’re both ready, we’d really love to meet him.”

There were a lot of terrible mother-in-law stereotypes out there. Especially, she thought with a grimace, Asian mother-in-law stereotypes. It was a good thing she was committed to breaking out of stereotypical roles. Yuna Hollander did nothing by halves. She was going to be the best mother-in-law on the planet.

📒

Chapter End Notes

Real life hockey folks will know that the Vegas NHL team was founded in 2017, so technically we are one season early. But also, this decision was not made with real life hockey in mind. ♠️

I'm very conflicted about what the inside of Yuna Hollander's head must look like. I think the tendency to micromanage is often an expression of anxiety, and it would certainly track with how many personality traits she shares with Shane ("she cares way too much about hockey" yeah Shane we *all* see where you get it from.) Of course she doesn't come across as anywhere near as anxious as Shane, but she's also a middle-aged woman who has much more practice handling her emotions.

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary

Funerals and injuries and cottages, oh my!

Chapter Notes

Here is the actual chapter! If you missed it, chapter 3 is a short Yuna POV.

Detroit, March 2017

His message (Are you ok?) went unanswered.

It couldn't be a typical hockey injury, that didn't make sense with the odd silence online. Maybe it was illness? He hadn't seemed sick, and again, no online rumors. Maybe something without obvious symptoms. Like cancer.

No, bad thought, do not start thinking about cancer.

Maybe some kind of sick, though. Or something personal, and if it was something personal that would cause an unexpected absence, something bad.

I can't even ask, he realized. He couldn't always see Ilya, and when they saw each other they usually had to act, but he almost never had to wonder where Ilya was or how he might be doing. Because usually, the news told him. And now it was silent.

He suddenly remembered an article he had read years ago, one about LGBT rights, where an activist talked about gay marriage being important because otherwise people couldn't visit their dying partners in the hospital. He'd thought, that's awful, in the sort of distant for those poor people kind of way. Because, even if he theoretically were gay, gay marriage was already legal in Canada.

It was a stupid analogy. Ilya wasn't even his boyfriend, much less anything legally binding. But here he was, unable to even ask what had happened to his— to Ilya, because he couldn't claim to be even his friend. They were nothing to each other in the eyes of the world.

He was just going to have to wait to hear from Ilya.

🏒

Pick up, pick up, pick up.

Nothing.

🏒

Was it too much, to leave a voicemail? Just something bland, something Good Sportsman Shane Hollander could say. Heard you weren’t heading Nashville, hope everything’s alright. It would appear under Jane but surely Ilya wasn’t just handing out his phone for anyone to listen to his messages on.

The click after the dial tone came on and Shane hung up immediately.

🏒

One message, a couple of calls. Shane needed to go to sleep and he’d already checked his phone two minutes ago, but he looked once more.

No response.

🥅

Days later, 4am, Buffalo, March 2017

It was several rings in before he understood that the phone call was not part of his dream. Lily flashed on the screen. He scrambled to pick it up before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?" he croaked out.

There was silence on the other end. Shane took the phone away from his ear to check he hadn't imagined it. It still read "Lily."

"Ilya?" he tried again.

"I woke you up," said Ilya, sounding strange. His accent was thicker than usual. "Nevermind. I will call later."

"No, it's fine— where are you?" If Ilya hadn't realized he was calling at 4am... Shane was still muddle-headed with sleep, but he was pretty sure he could guess what that meant.

"Home. Moscow."

"Are you okay? Your family?"

"Not really," Ilya said. Paused. "My father is dead."

"I'm sorry," said Shane. He didn't know what else to say. The silence stretched between them. It was broken by a badly stifled sniff.

"Ilya," he said, helplessly.

Ilya said something back in Russian. Shane was pretty sure there were several swears involved. "I should go," he said, in English.

"No, wait! You know you can talk to me, right? I'm not the best at... this kind of thing. But I can at least listen."

"I know," said Ilya. "But it is late, for you. You should sleep."

"I'm already awake anyway," said Shane. "And I'm glad you called. I was worried."

"Yes, I saw." There were more muffled sniffs. Shane wanted to hold him, and then he wanted to ask if there was anyone over there who could do it instead. But if there was, would he be calling Shane?

"Do... do you want to talk about him?"

"No."

"Okay."

...

"Your game," Ilya said.

"What?"

"With Detroit. Your game. How was it?"

Detroit had actually been a couple days ago already. They’d just played Buffalo. But Shane wasn’t going to correct him. He told him in scrupulous detail: the game itself, the single fight, the boring chirps and the good ones. Like a fucked up bedtime story for grieving hockey players. He could hear Ilya's breathing on the other end the whole time, interspersed with the sniffling they were both studiously ignoring.

Eventually Ilya cut him off. "I need to go."

"Okay."

"Thank you."

🥅

The Next Day

Ilya's voice when he was speaking Russian was beautiful. Shane liked it when he spoke English as well, of course. Even years ago when he was barely fluent. But even though Ilya had no trouble carrying a conversation in English these days, he never sounded like this. It was a ceaseless stream—not steady, going from a small trickle to a sudden torrent of sound—but always moving, no pauses necessary to properly articulate a phrase. It was odd, because he knew the words themselves were likely miserable. It was paradoxical that hearing whatever Ilya was confessing would make Shane happy.

He was pretty sure he'd caught the words for father and brother, but that was no surprise. Svetlana's name he definitely heard. Shane didn't know any more Russian to guess at what Ilya could be saying, which was good, because it was supposed to be private.

Except he was pretty sure he'd caught the word "love" in there multiple times.

That was normal, of course. Maybe he was talking about how he loved— or didn't love— his family, or how they loved him. He should absolutely not be wondering about it.

And he was definitely not thinking about why that word was in his very limited Russian vocabulary.

🏒

Shane was unfamiliar with death.

He was unfamiliar with so many parts of Ilya's life. He had both his parents, who came to far too many of his home games considering the drive. He had doting grandparents, too. He'd never had to live in an unfamiliar country, and anywhere he traveled to usually accommodated English speakers just fine. The family he was in touch with would probably be too proud to ask for money unless they were about to be starving in the street.

There were things Ilya probably would never understand the same way, too. What it was like to be visibly different in almost every room he entered. People who thought he was too Asian to be Canadian. People who thought he was too Canadian to be Japanese. What it was like to have to think ten steps ahead, all the time, and always be half convinced something was wrong no matter how good things seemed.

The terror of becoming a disappointment, instead of constantly being told you already were one.

But he also knew, no matter what he did, however much he ended up letting them down, his parents would never let him down the way Ilya's family had.

Maybe he should call them.

🥅

Montreal, April 2017

“Hi,” said Shane. It was the first time he’d seen Ilya since they’d Skyped, just after his father’s funeral. Considering everything, Ilya looked good. Not that it meant much. Ilya had always appeared cheerful and irritating on the ice, even in the months before while his father had been dying. Shane would have no idea what it was like in his head until after, if Ilya let him see.

“Hollander,” said Ilya.

“We still on for tonight? After?”

“Your place, or…?” Ilya replied.

“Yeah,” said Shane. What would the point be, going back to the impersonal condo? That barrier was already broken. Oh, it had been a massive mistake. Everything between them was. But he couldn’t take it back just by hooking up in a different place. Shane just wished he was better at reading Ilya. “Are you alright?” he said, quietly as he could.

Ilya just glanced at him, not responding. He didn’t know what he expected, on the ice like this. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yes. Later.” And Ilya skated away. Shane watched for a moment, before Hayden skated up to him.

“What did Rozanov want?”

“Nothing,” said Shane. He had a prepared excuse. “I was just offering my condolences. You know.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s nice of you,” said Hayden. “I should have thought to do that. It’s just… Rozanov, you know?”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Shane said, which was like singing his praises compared to his usual stance. “It’s mostly an act.”

“Pretty convincing one.”

“Yeah, well…” Shane said. It’s all an act. I think he barely ever lets himself be real. “Let’s just make sure we win this one, all right?”

“Fucking right.”

🏒

Hayden wasn't moving.

It was a clean hit. Just bad luck. There was already a fight brewing behind him, JJ was yelling at Marleau, and Shane was the captain of this team. He should be doing something.

They were putting him on the spinal board. Hayden's mouth was moving but Shane couldn't hear anything.

He should be helping. Hayden was his best friend. He should be reassuring him. He should do something.

"Hollander."

They were lifting him now and Shane was just standing there.

"Hollander. Shane. You need to fucking breathe." Ilya was holding his arm, now, like doubling up to hold each other back when there was a fight. No, there was a fight, right now, he could hear it. The refs. Yelling.

"He is going to be fine," said Ilya. "He was awake, you could see. Talking. The doctors will take good care of him. Shane. Can you say something, please?"

"Sorry," he gasped, finally tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at Ilya. Ilya was worried. Shane desperately wanted to hold onto him, even just in a normal-hockey-way, but if he tried he was going to latch on like a drowning man and this was on TV.

"So Canadian," said Ilya. "First thing you say is sorry."

"Fuck," said Shane, finally realizing he was having a televised panic attack and his best friend was being hospitalized and his secret-something had just very obviously talked him down. "What the fuck, Rozanov."

"What, you think I am too much an asshole for good sportsmanship?" Translation: calm down, this is fine, normal hockey player behavior. No, it was too weird, especially for him and Rozanov. If they were on the same team, if they were players known to be friendly, if it didn’t look so obvious that Shane was having a breakdown and Ilya was trying to help him. None of this was how Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov were supposed to behave. If the camera angles were wrong there were probably fans who could read lips already telling everyone what they’d said.

But it was probably not bad enough for people to think they were having a secret affair.

"Okay, I get it," he said. "Thanks. I need to..." He looked back to where Hayden had been, but they'd already taken him off the ice. Ilya seemed to have determined Shane was well enough to leave alone, and was already skating away. He probably didn't want them to start looking even weirder. That was good.

Shane just felt cold.

🏒

Jackie looked awful.

"A concussion and a broken collarbone, but he's going to be okay," she said. It was about as good an outcome as it could have been, but Jackie didn't look particularly relieved. Probably because her husband, fresh out of surgery, had a concussion and a broken collarbone. And he wasn't awake yet, though only because it was too soon after.

"I heard, my mom's been texting me. If there's anything else I can do..."

"Not that I can think of. Tell your parents thank you again for watching the kids."

"I think you might be doing them the favor. It's me who has to watch out before they start asking for grandkids," said Shane.

Jackie half-smiled. Shane wasn't as good at this as some people, but that was better than nothing.

"I don't know how you do it," she said. "Keep playing after something like that. Hell, I don't know how I'm going to be able to watch Hayden play again."

"I don't know either," said Shane, but he was thinking of Ilya, now. Who he definitely would have spiraled into a full-blown episode without. Who he was now imagining being the one to take a hit badly. He'd just watched his own best friend go down. It wasn't any different. But the image was stuck in his head now. God, what kind of friend was he? His best friend was hurt and he was thinking about his perfectly healthy… something or other. Jackie was one of his best friends, too, and she was having what must be one of the worst moments of her life. Shane couldn’t even come up with something reassuring to say that wasn’t just “hey, he could have been hurt even worse” which even he knew was not a good idea. Jackie was handling this better than Shane had, and she was Hayden’s wife. The only thing Shane had contributed was having helpful parents in town.

They sat together, miserable and quiet, until a nurse came by to tell them that visiting hours had ended. (Really, they had ended a while ago, Shane had looked it up. Famous hockey player privileges, it seemed.) Maybe it had been a shift change, because this nurse looked different. Either way, visiting hours were over. Family only.

🏒

Jane: If you're still up

Jane: I could use some company.

🏒

They were on his couch, fully dressed, Ilya's hand stroking through his hair. It would be nice to stay in the moment. They hadn't ever quite done something like this before. So of course Shane was going to ruin it.

"I can't do this," said Shane. Ilya's hand froze.

"Do what?"

Shane clung harder onto him, being kind of an asshole giving mixed signals. "All of it. I don't know. The last thing I said to Hayden today was that you were an asshole. He's my best friend and I just lie to him all the time."

Ilya started petting his hair again. "I am an asshole," he said evenly.

"You know what I mean."

"You want to tell him?" Shane couldn't read Ilya's tone at all.

"Yes. No. I don't know, I don't want to tell him but I don't want to lie, I know that doesn't make sense. It's not just that. We were too obvious today. It wasn't anything crazy but if it keeps happening people are going to notice."

"You say that like there will be many games like this."

"I keep thinking about if it was you."

"It wasn't."

"But it could have been," said Shane, frustrated. "And then what would happen? I couldn't keep it together when it was Hayden. And that was with you trying to help. I would have freaked out over you so much everyone would know."

"It could happen," said Ilya. "But the chances? We play 4 times a year? Bad injuries, they happen how often? Is not worth worrying about."

"I was scared last month too," Shane said.

Ilya twisted around to look at him, then sat so they were facing each other. Shane didn’t know how he was going to look him in the eye for this.

“It was— you were— people were talking about how you didn’t fly with your team, but no one knew why. Your team was keeping it quiet, there was nothing in the news. They didn’t put you on IR, so you weren’t hurt, but… I knew it had to be something bad, and I couldn’t ask anyone about it. The only person I could ask was you, and you didn’t answer for days. I was so scared.”

“I should have texted,” said Ilya, acknowledging completely the wrong thing.

“That’s not what I mean,” Shane said, frustrated. “You were going through something, you don’t have to tell me everything. But I was a mess and it was something I just couldn’t explain to anyone.”

“So you do want to tell people.”

“Maybe,” Shane said quietly. “I… told my parents that I’m gay. In January.”

“And they were good?” Ilya said, but it was obvious he knew the answer already.

“Yeah. They were good.”

He hadn’t been able to tell what Ilya was thinking for this whole conversation, but it was plain as day now: Ilya was hurt. Jealous. He was trying to hide it, because it was unfair. They both deserved to have parents who supported them.

Ilya’s were both dead. It had only been a month.

Fuck, Shane didn’t know what he was doing. “Sorry. I’m… it’s too much, probably. But. They’ve been asking to meet you.”

“You tell them about me?” said Ilya.

“No! Not that it’s you, anyway. They just know there’s someone called ‘Lily.’ I told them you’re not my boyfriend but they don’t believe me.”

“So you want to introduce man who is not your boyfriend to your parents,” said Ilya.

“It is too much. Sorry. Forget I asked.”

Ilya grabbed his arm before he could curl away like he wanted to. “That is not what I mean.” He kept holding onto Shane. “You make no sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“First you say you do not want to tell, but you do not want to lie. Okay. Then you say we are too obvious. You are afraid of being caught. Makes sense. Then you do want to tell. I should not talk to you on the ice, but I should go meet your parents? Who you tell I am not your boyfriend.”

That was… yeah, that was pretty much what he said. And Ilya was right, it didn’t make sense. He knew why. He was fucking terrified. But he also knew what he wanted, and that was Ilya. As his actual boyfriend. And yes, meeting his parents. He didn’t want the whole world to know, but he wanted to share it with the people who were important.

Fuck it.

“Come to the cottage,” he said. “You don’t have to meet my parents. It would be easy if you wanted to, but that doesn’t matter. I just want to be able to see you for longer than a day. A couple weeks this summer, maybe. And yeah, it would be nice if it was as my boyfriend.”

Ilya had closed his eyes. “We shouldn’t.”

“I know,” said Shane. “Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” said Ilya, but it meant no. “...You had a long day. We should rest.”

Don’t do this, thought Shane. “Yeah,” he said out loud. It was late. They did need to sleep. Shane wondered if Ilya was going to leave, then, but for whatever reason, he stayed. So Shane got to sleep— literally sleep— with the man he was pretty sure he was in love with, but didn’t seem to feel the same way about him.

He was pretty sure neither of them actually slept much at all.

🥅

Chapter End Notes

So probably most controversial decision of the fic so far here, but if you're writing an AU already, why would every plot beat be the same? It does deprive us of high Shane, so sorry, but also sorry not sorry there are a million high Shane fics out there already. It won't be addressed in fic, because the characters obviously do not know they are living in an AU, but while Hayden getting injured is not nearly the loss of star power that would impact their playoffs as Shane's injury was, offscreen Comeau happened to get taken out by a magic homophobe seeking puck. The Metros are going to lose as usual. After all, it's Scott Hunter's year! Hockey witch Yuna says so.

Some other notes: in the book Ilya says he has did not cry at the funeral and had not cried in a decade, which makes sense for his character, but he *does* make an obvious sniff during one of his phone calls with Shane. Okay you didn't cry you just almost cried, got it.

I keep ending on downer notes but we are about to have some actual fun next time!