Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry, Cliff Marlow, Victor St. Simon, Hayden Pike, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

undiagnosed ed, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant Homophobia, Yearning, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, slip in time, Coming Out, Time Travel, Relationship Reveal, barely any hockey, Semi-explicit sex, Blowjobs, Anal, food as a love language, shane becomes a bear, Secret Relationship, The Long Game Spoilers, im very serious, Angst, But just a little, Happy Ending, shane is trying so hard okay, No Beta, yes proofread, most of it anyways, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders (Game Changers), shane becomes a boston bear, not the gay bear, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Player Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Curious (it's what you make of me) // timeslip au

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-01 Words: 31,304 Chapters: 1/1

nothing's ever the way that i remember it (i don't want a violent end)

Summary

Quietly, in a voice that couldn’t disguise his pain, Ilya said, “I already chose you, Hollander.” Then so silently that it was barely different from breathing. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t.

(a.k.a Ilya expresses regret about choosing Shane and Shane gets sent back in time to fix it only in this universe Ilya never came onto him at all.)

Notes

alt title: Curious (it’s what you make of me)

CONTAINS THE LONG GAME SPOILERS; like the entire first scene is as good as lifted
Inspired by this post on tumblr, except it happens to Shane.

The first scene comes from Chapter twenty-two in The Long Game by Rachel Reid but from Shane’s POV and the rest will deviate from the plot.

I will be mixing some things between the book and the show about things like Svetlana and Shane actually confronting his feelings. any OOC is personal wish fulfillment

In his day to day life Shane Hollander was great at leaving well enough alone. He had to be in order to keep his relationship private, out of the public eye. That’s what this plan had been all about. Privacy, maybe secrecy to most people, but Ilya had agreed to that all those years ago in the cottage. 

They needed to be on the same page or this wouldn’t work but Ilya threw those words in his face. “We’re not on the same anything.”

“I don’t fucking understand you.” Every feeling that Shane normally had a hard time naming rose to the surface. Frustration at Ilya’s behavior warred with the anger at himself for not knowing what to do. 

“Sorry,” Ilya said sardonically. “My English, you know.”

“That’s not what I—” Shane threw his hands up. “Could you please explain what the fuck is happening? Because last I checked we didn’t go to each other’s team parties. Or tell anyone about our relationship.”

“No. I don’t tell anyone about our relationship. You tell Hayden, and Jackie, and Rose, and your parents, and who the fuck knows who else.”

Shane hadn’t even told Hayden. He’d guessed and at that point Jackie was a package deal. Besides, Ilya loved their kids. “That’s literally everyone! You know that.”

“It is five more people than I have told,” Ilya said. 

“What about...” Shane waved a hand around as he searched for a name. His tongue stuck behind his teeth. There had to be someone. “Ryan Price?”

“Oh yes. My best friend Ryan Price. I have not talked to him since the last camp.”

“Well—” Shane didn’t seem to have anything to add to that. He thought about all the friends Ilya had in Boston and referenced them to the list of people that knew. 

“I have no one,” Ilya said. “No one I can talk to about us.”

“That’s not true. My parents love you.” Ilya saw them more often than Shane did. They lived in the same city for fucks sake.

Ilya threw his head back and walked to the living room. Shane followed immediately.

Ilya didn’t get to walk away from this. 

“It’s not easy for me either, you know,” Shane said, the anger outweighed his frustration. “We’re both hiding, and we’ve both made sacrifices that—”

Ilya spun around. “What sacrifices, Shane? What have you given up?”

“Seriously? If we get outed, our fucking careers might be over! Everything I care about—” Shane snapped his fingers “—gone.”

“Everything,” Ilya said flatly.

Fuck, Ilya knew he didn’t mean it like that. Obtuse asshole. Shane rolled his eyes. “Not everything. But hockey is pretty fucking important to me.”

“No shit.”

“Oh, fuck you. Sorry I still want to win cups instead of smoking weed with my teammates between losses.”

The pain on Ilya’s face was like a puck beneath his chestguard. What did he say now? Ilya knew how important hockey was to Shane. It was the only thing he was truly good at. The one place he could prove himself without having to worry about how people would take his actions.

“You wouldn’t even choose me, would you?” Ilya said. “If it is between me and hockey.”

Where did that even come from? Shane’s head was reeling trying to keep up with Ilya. they hadn’t fought like this in… maybe ever. Ilya always understood him better than he might even understand himself. To even think Ilya would make him choose between hockey and himself. Especially when that wasn’t even necessary. That’s why they didn’t go to parties. “Of course I would.” 

Ilya studied his face with burning eyes and he flinched. “Would you?”

Two could play that game. Shane tilted his chin up defiantly. They’d made the choice together. Ilya had chosen a different hockey but hockey nonetheless. “Would you choose me?”

Ilya let the question hang in the air. The silence was thick between them and filled only with Shane’s heaving breaths as he tried to control his voice.

Finally, quietly, Ilya said, “You should go.”

“What? No way. Fuck that. Answer the question.” He had to know. No, he needed Ilya to spell it out for both of them. Shane had to be correct. 

“No,” Ilya said firmly. “Go home, Shane. We can talk...later.”

Shane’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t be serious. They never fought like this. The cracks on the surface turned to chasms with each word Shane couldn’t force to stay inside. 

Ilya’s face was blank but his words were hard. “I don’t want to look at you right now. I don’t want to talk to you. Go home.”

Because Shane couldn’t leave anything alone, he asked again, “Would you choose me?”

Suddenly, Ilya had Shane backed against a wall. One hand planted firmly on his chest. Ilya pulled his hand away quickly and moved it to the wall. Shane wasn’t scared of Ilya per se. He was just worried about what would happen at that moment. Was this the end? A stupid party Shane would hate anyways?

He forced his face to remain blank. Would Ilya choose him? From the start they’d agreed that hockey was more important but there, through the angry facade of Ilya Rozanov, Shane could see something else. Exhaustion and maybe even regret. 

Quietly, in a voice that couldn’t disguise his pain, Ilya said, “I already chose you, Hollander.” Then so silently that it was barely different from breathing. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t.”

Shane’s eyes widened as Ilya stepped back. Ilya couldn’t mean that. They loved each other. They’d made this decision together, he couldn’t put that on Shane now. The script was flipped but nobody had taken the time to inform Shane he was saying all the wrong lines. Ilya interrupted him before he could speak.

“Go home,” Ilya said. “Please.” Then he turned and walked quickly upstairs.

***

Shane vaguely remembered how he got home last night but waking up was even harder than falling asleep had been. He was an asshole. A jackass who never should’ve started his car and driven back to his own place. 

He checked his phone for the date and to check his game schedule. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. The lockscreen was a picture of him and Rose that he didn’t remember taking. Ever. The background certainly didn’t look like any place he’d voluntarily go to. 

He groaned and got up. Later he would text Ilya, maybe calling would be better, and apologize but he had his routine. 

I already chose you, Hollander.

The words kept repeating in his head, continuing even as he made his bed and put on his running clothes. 

He should have stayed. He should have stayed and fought for himself, or...

Fuck.

He just needed to clear his head and form a plan. He was good at that.

His house wasn’t silent the way it was supposed to be. There were rumblings of people moving around. People he hadn’t invited or let into his house. 

Quietly he snuck downstairs and grabbed the first heavy object he could find, a book about legendary rivalries. What? 

Shane stared at the cover. Modern rivalries: the truth about the two-men competition between Hollander and Rozanov. He didn’t even remember taking a picture like that ever. It for sure wasn’t one of the angry CCM commercial frames or even the smiling one Ilya had given him yesterday. Where had he put that?

Since when was there a book on them? Shane didn’t remember giving Farah or his mom the okay to have a book written about him. Him and Ilya. Especially not when they had the foundation resting upon the world believing their friendship.

He grounded himself in the hallway and opened the book. It detailed their supposed rivalry from before their rookie days. The first time they met at junior worlds. Shane flicked through the book trying to find a mention of the foundation or their friendship. Anything really. 

Nothing. There wasn’t a single mention of their friendship. 

“Let me see if he’s up.” Shane recognised that voice. Rose Landry was in his kitchen. What was she doing in his kitchen?

He speedwalked with the book still clutched in his fingers. “What are you doing here?”

Rose looked as gorgeous as ever. Long hair tied up and dressed in one of Shane’s shirts. She frowned. “Celebrating the start of summer?” Her phone was pressed to her cheek. “Yeah, Miles, I’m not sure we’ll make brunch. I think he might be hungover. Let me get back to you.” 

She hung up and Shane felt the world slip out from under him. “Are you okay, Shane?” 

He shook his head and walked around her with a big curve until the kitchen island was steadily between them. “It’s boxing day?”

“It’s June. How much did you drink while we watched the game? Do I need to call your mom? Did you hit your head during yoga this morning?” Rose slunk around the counter and put her hand on his forehead. “I’m getting a bit worried.”

“June?” Shane repeated and he looked at the calendar he never would’ve stuck to his freezer on his own. “Why are you here, Rose? Are we still dating?” 

A laugh burst from her lips before her frown returned when she realised that he was being honest. “No, babe. You’re gay. You do remember that whole thing right?” 

Her hand slipped from his face and Shane took another step back. So he’d come out to Rose. Or rather Rose had told him he was gay. 

He turned towards the calendar and checked the year and the date. Seeing the text Playoff Finale at Shane’s in big red letters clued him in that it wasn’t his. “Not to sound weirder than normal but…” He kept his eyes averted from her. “We live together?” 

There was some rustling and before Shane knew it he was hustled onto a chair. Rose sat on the chair next to him and gently took the book from his hand and put it on the counter. “Are you completely sure I don’t need to call a doctor?”

“Don’t,” Shane said. “I’m just a little confused. I may have slept wrong or had a nightmare or something. Dreamt I had a fight with Ilya.” He rubbed a hand across his face. Yeah, if it’s June and Christmas still had to come up this had to have been a weird ass nightmare.

Only apparently he didn’t wake up because next Rose said, “Well, yeah, he’s your rival. Isn’t that normal for you two.”

***

Rose, who he apparently lived with because she was something she called a beard, went to brunch with Miles. Shortly she’d tried to convince Shane to join her but he’d shaken his head and told her he had something else to do. She needed to hang out with someone who wasn’t her fake boyfriend. He needed to figure out why she thought Ilya was his rival. He distinctly remembered telling her they were a thing. Boyfriends. Twenty-six and finally ready to admit to someone that he loved men. That man in particular.

Rose’s absence left the house in a familiar state. Only not. There were pictures of the two of them together and a different pair of slippers near the front door. There weren’t any pictures of Ilya and Shane. There wouldn’t be. Shane kept their entire relationship in the cottage. He wanted to get his car, his stupid boring jeep, to drive there and look for one of Ilya’s shirts or maybe just drive to Ilya himself. 

He needed to see him and know that they were alright. That nothing had changed and that it was just a dumb dream that he couldn’t shake. 

But everything was wrong. When Rose and him had broken up he’d gotten together with Ilya. In 2017. Not stuck in a fake rivalry in – he checked the calendar again – 2019. Two years lost. Two years that felt as estranged to him as the pillows on his couch.  

Shane sat down there now but didn’t have it in him to throw the pillows off. It would only make a mess and weird or not, that wasn’t worth it. So he sat on his couch. His feet planted on the floor, phone in his hands. He stared at the picture with Rose he didn’t remember and typed in his passcode. 1410. The screen shook as it informed him he’d typed it wrong. He tried once more just to be sure. 

Nothing. 

He thought more about it and tried his passcode from before Ilya and he started hooking up. His mom’s birthday. His dad’s. HIS OWN. Locked out for 1 minute. 

Fuck. Shane rubbed a hand over his face before putting the phone down and walking to the kitchen. He needed to figure out what his code was. That couldn’t be too hard. In this world where he seemed to fake date Rose Landry and was rivals, for real, with Ilya Rozanov there had to be a way to figure out his code. 

He walked back to his phone and tried Rose’s birthday. Five minutes. Shane cursed out loud and walked to the kitchen again. Maybe he’d feel better after a smoothie. 

The fridge was filled with odd foods that weren’t part of his diet or Ilya’s non-existent one. No disgusting chocolate cornflakes, no strawberry milk or beers. Just ginger ale and half a bottle of rosé. Finally he found some fruit, yoghurt and protein powder before making his smoothie and throwing it in a glass he for sure hadn’t bought.

Condensation beaded on the side of the glass as Shane stared at it. He needed to eat something. It was important to fuel his body but his body hadn’t done anything yet that day. He really needed to go on his run before eating anything. His schedule needed to get back to working order. 

He needed Ilya and him to be okay.

The glass fit neatly into the fridge. He walked back to the living room and counted down the seconds until he could try a new passcode. Surely in a world where he was Ilya’s nemesis he wouldn’t… 0615. Ilya’s birthday. 

The phone unlocked.

Okay, so even in this world where Rose didn’t know about him and Ilya, he was tethered to Shane’s life. That was reassuring. It could be a fluke. Or something to protect Ilya while he still had a Russian passport. Shane would do anything to keep him safe.

There were a couple messages from Hayden and J.J. But Shane scrolled past them trying to look for Lily in his phone. 2019, had he already updated the contact to Ilya for their foundation? Or well apparently they didn’t have the Irina foundation. Not according to that book. 

Fifteen minutes later Shane still hadn’t found his text thread with Ilya and searched for the contact. A blank text thread opened on Rozanov (Bears C.) that Shane tried very hard not to think about. Ilya was supposed to play for Ottawa.

Another half hour later he finished writing his text. 

[11:03am] Shane Hollander

I just had the weirdest dream but I have to ask, are we okay?

For the longest time the ticks on his message didn’t change. Shane knew he had to get up and stretch, change into actual clothes, and do an easy workout. It didn’t matter that he was technically on vacation when all he could think about was reaching Ilya. 

It took over an hour. 

[12:28pm] Rozanov (Bears C.)

Nightmare about Bears losing playoffs? Good thing didn’t happen.

The Bears had won the playoffs? Yesterday was the finale? Shane tried to get all his thoughts in a row. 

[12:31pm] What? You don’t congratulate your rival? Sad Hollander. Thought you are more sportman like.

This sounded more like the Ilya he knew. Teasing and terrible only… In his memory the Bears hadn’t won this year. Ilya wasn’t supposed to be a Bear.

[12:35pm] Shane Hollander

Thought we were beyond the whole rival thing. You and I.

Congratulations.

Ilya read the text but didn’t reply. Shane wanted to wait for the next message but he didn’t think it would help anything if Ilya called him a rival. If Ilya was saved in his phone like that. 

Instead he called his mom. It didn’t take long for her to pick up. “Hi, honey, how was your party last night watching the game?”

“Good,” he lied. How was he going to do this? He should’ve thought this through, made a plan. “Did dad and you watch?” 

It was a dumb question. Of course they watched. His mom was more obsessed with hockey than he was. He shuffled through the living room. 

“Yes, but it wasn’t that special. Minnesota collapsed completely in the third period. Anyone would’ve been able to win that game.”

Shane couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t say that to Ilya.”

His mom laughed as well. “Rozanov? Well, it’s a good thing we’re not friends with him, right?”

For a second it felt like the entire world imploded around him. The missing texts, Rose living with him, Ilya calling them rivals and his mom saying they’re not friends. 

Shane stumbled to the kitchen calendar again. 2019. Something had gone very, very wrong.

***

Rose walked in while Shane was still talking to his mom. “Tell Yuna I said hi.”

“Is that Rose?” Yuna asked and she covered the receptor because the next words were muffled. “Will you bring Rose for Christmas this year?”

“She says hi back,” Shane lied. “And mom it’s June. I don’t even know what we’ll be doing during the summer.” 

“Didn’t you have a trip to Mexico planned?” Leave it to his mom to know his schedule better than himself. Not that that was very hard at the moment. 

He tracked Rose as she walked to the backyard and walked outside without shoes. The grass underneath her feet must feel terrible. “Besides that. Look mom, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Blessfully Yuna let him go for once and Shane searched for a pair of shoes near the backdoor so he didn’t have to walk all the way to the front before he could go to Rose. There were slip ons kicked beneath a side table and he quickly put them on before following her. 

“Does my mom know you’re my beard?” He asked softly. Her face was tilted up to the sky to soak in the early summer sun. 

Rose hummed and rolled her neck before looking at him. “Did you finally come out to her? I keep telling you, your parents will react better to that than your girlfriend of three years never spending Christmas with you.”

“You have your own family.”

“Who you’ve never visited either.” Rose closed her eyes again. “It’s okay. We know it’s fake and until I find someone else I want to spend this much time with it works. Who else is going to train me before the next X-squad movie.”

“Your personal trainer.” 

She pouted. “But he doesn’t have a hockey ass.” 

Rose laughed at her own joke and eventually Shane couldn’t do anything but smile back at her. She really was one of his best friends. 

For a bit they stood in the sun and enjoyed a rare day off. Maybe enjoyed wasn’t the best word. Thoughts of Ilya still clouded Shane’s head even more than they normally did. 

A fight wouldn’t have prompted Ilya to react like that over text. They’d talk it out. It was also odd that Shane couldn’t remember his boyfriend being in the playoffs. Shane could’ve stayed at Ilya’s place or rented a hotel room for them to hook up in secret like old times.

But the call with his mother had confirmed that something was wrong. Either with Shane’s head or with the world at large. It seemed like he was the only one who knew the truth about their secret gay relationship. Or well, if Ilya and him never became friends… He supposed it wasn’t their secret gay relationship. According to his phone’s passcode it was Shane’s sad gay secret.

And he didn’t want it to be a secret with Rose. In his memory she’d always known. The big caveat was that Ilya apparently didn’t know either.

Shane knew he was going to sound like a lunatic or one of the writers of the sometimes crappy scripts Rose got sent by her agent but he wanted to tell her. He needed someone to know and in a world where Ilya apparently wasn’t even favorited in his contacts he was no longer an option. 

So that was his only option. He’d tell Rose he woke up in some alternate reality where he’s still gay but somehow without the man he wants to marry some day. Once he’d thought people finding out about Ilya and him had been his worst nightmare. This might have been even worse.

He took a deep breath. “So we’ve established I’m gay.”

Rose raised her eyebrows and pushed him over to the small bench they kept against the side of the house. “You mean, I established.” 

“Sure.” The wood was warm beneath him and he rubbed his hands together like an insect. “Just, you know, have I ever been obvious about wanting a guy? Have you noticed? Do you think anyone has?”

“Did something happen yesterday?” She grabbed his hand. Her thumb rubbed soothing circles across his knuckles. Like they did this more often. “I know Miles sometimes makes comments but that’s because he’s into you not because he thinks you’re into him. Unless you are but you keep saying you don’t want me to set you up with him or anyone else.”

How was Shane going to tell her that he didn’t even remember yesterday night? His yesterday had been completely different. Not just next Christmas but a year and a half in the future. 

“No,” he said. “Nothing like that. I do have to tell you something but not that.” 

“Then what is it? You know you can tell me anything.” 

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since he’d woken up that morning but for a second Rose grounded him in the middle of the storm. “I know, I think so at least. It’s a long story and you might not even believe me or think I’m crazy which I feel like I am right now. I’m honestly freaking out. Have been for hours but you had brunch and I needed to call my mom and all I wanted to do was call him but I’m not sure he’d even want to talk to me. It didn’t seem like it and–”

Rose cut him off. “Shane, babe, you’re okay here. It’s me. Us. Everything will be alright. Tell me, who is ‘him’? What are you talking about?”

“Will it be alright?” He asked. “Because I’m in love with Ilya Rozanov and I don’t think he remembers more than my last name.”

“What the fuck?” But it wasn’t Rose who had been staring at him with a look crossed between sadness and adoration. Nor had it been the telltale Russian accent of Ilya who might have driven over from Ottawa if he wasn’t currently winning Stanley cups for the Boston Bears. 

No, Shane’s nightmare could somehow only get worse because Hayden Pike stood in the backdoor with his kids plushy in his hands looking like he was going to faint. Well fucking damnit. 

***

Rose, being the voice of reason, was the first person to find her voice again. “Hayden sit down on the couch. Shane and I will be inside in a moment. I’ll get the drinks.”

“Something strong,” Hayden and Shane requested at the same time. 

Hayden didn’t close the door behind himself but since the worst had already happened Shane figured that for once in his life he could just not care about it. In his world Hayden had known that Shane was in a very serious committed relationship with Ilya. Even if his best friend hadn’t always been happy about it. This reaction wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

Shane had mostly hoped that it hadn’t gone like this. 

“Are you okay?” Rose asked him softly. “I could tell him to never talk about it and send him home.” 

“No, I–” Shane thought about it. “It’s a whole lot of story and I’d rather not tell it a second time.”

She nodded and gave him a suffocating hug before getting up off the bench. “I’ll get wine and beer. Do you want a ginger ale?” 

Originally he’d asked for something strong but now… “Yeah, thanks, Rose.”

“Of course, come in when you’re ready.” She disappeared through the door and closed it behind her. 

Shane didn’t watch her go. He wasn’t her first gay boyfriend. She’d know how to handle Hayden until Shane could get all his thoughts aligned. 

First, Shane had been twenty-nine years old before he woke up that morning. He’d been adhering to a rigorous diet and in year three of being exclusive and year ten of messing around with Ilya Rozanov. 

Second, Shane had been in the closet for most of that time but firmly remembers coming out to both Rose and Hayden somewhere around 2016 or 2017. Rose first and Hayden had guessed it after they’d become official. 

Third, Ilya had moved to Ottawa so they could see each other more often while staying closeted and safe. That had been the plan and Ilya had seemed fine with it until their fight.

Fourth, the fight in which Ilya said he regretted choosing Shane over hockey after which Shane woke up to just that. A world in which Ilya had never come onto Shane.

Fuck, they were never going to believe him. He wouldn’t believe it either if they’d tried to convince him of this theory. 

Shane groaned and looked at the blue sky above him for a second. It seemed unfair that the weather was this good on a day this bad.

He got off of the bench and fortified himself. It was now or never. Well, now or later. Hayden may have been willing to ignore it and treat it like a joke but there was no way that Rose was going to let this go now that she found out Shane was into an actual person. He went inside.

After having them promise they wouldn’t love or attempt to call a psychologist, Shane stumbled through his explanation to two of his best friends. Starting with their meeting at the rink in Regina and ending with a very redacted version of Christmas. One where Shane wasn’t such an asshole.

“So you’re convinced he’s your, what, your soulmate?” Hayden had switched from beer to whiskey at some point. Shane had noticed there wasn’t any vodka in the house. Good or bad.

Rose had given him a ginger ale and a pack of crackers he didn’t touch. “I mean we were months removed from a proposal. He’d planned it all out. In my cabin on the docks with hundreds of candles.”

Hayden was vaguely green but that may have been the drinks. “Not sure what’s worse that you’re convinced you’re in love with him or that in this dream you were in a committed relationship with a romantically inclined Ilya Rozanov.”

“I know it’s shaken him up enough that he didn’t even drink his smoothie this morning.” Rose gave Hayden a pointed look. “It’s not that weird,” she said and she poured another glass of wine. “You did tell me about that embarrassing hard on during your shared commercial but since Rozanov never said anything about it I figured we were ignoring it. At least we know he’s not homophobic.”

Shane groaned while Hayden shouted “What?!” and rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t know I told you that. Why would I tell you that?” Then. “Wait, Ilya ignored it?”

“Yeah, something about how he teased you about him being oh so hot and he just left it at that? I don’t fully remember, Shane. It’s not like I was in the locker room with you.” Rose tucked herself into the corner of the couch like it was her usual spot. For all Shane knew it could be. “I know I promised not to call the psych department but you have to admit that it’s weird that you’re convinced this is some sci-fi-esque time travel plot.”

“I know.” Shane dropped off the couch and lay down on his back. “But I remember all of that so clearly. That’s my life, my boyfriend and a fight I instigated. I don’t even remember the play off party you keep talking about, much less the rest of my career after juniors.”

Hayden bumped his toes against Shane’s thigh. “I’m a bit upset you don’t remember my kids.”

“Shit, I hope they’re still my godkids. I love the twins, Arthur and Amber.” Shane sat up fast enough to make his head swim. “You can’t tell Jackie. She will drive me to a doctor to get my head checked herself.”

Hayden laughed. “And get yelled at? I’ll wait until you move on from Rozanov if you don’t mind.” 

Shane crossed his legs. Moved on? What was Hayden talking about? Last time Shane had tried to flirt with anyone who wasn’t Ilya he’d gotten violently ill and had ended up calling his boyfriend in tears about how he didn’t even like thinking about it. He didn’t like thinking about how much Hayden disliked Ilya in either version of his life either. He got over it once, he would get over it again. “I’m not moving on. This isn’t one of Rose’s B-movies. This is my life and I refuse to grow old without Ilya. I’ll win him over somehow.” 

“With your terrible flirting skills? Shane, do you know how glad we all were when Rose flirted with you and it seemed to go well? We were worried you’d be alone together. Fuck, if you’re really gay I think I’m afraid you’re gonna be alone forever, again.”

Hayden’s disbelief stung Shane more than it should’ve. He’d known about Hayden’s worries for years. Jackie, J.J., him, fuck, all the team had tried to set him up with various girls over the years. It was a good enough reason to convince Rose to keep up the ruse. Especially if he didn’t have Ilya. There was nobody to come clean for. Nobody to love as their soul melted between the fissures of his own. 

“Believe me, he is,” Rose said. The wine swirled in her glass as she thought. “Besides, Shane doesn’t have to do it alone. I’m basically an expert on back in time movie plots. I’ve done two of them. We’ll help.” 

“We?” Hayden stared at her. 

Shane could scarcely believe it either. Rose barely believed him and she was willing to help him flirt with someone who is supposed to be his rival? A rivalry that transcends realities. He did not deserve her. 

“I only see Ilya four times a year or so and he didn’t really react to my text this morning.” 

“You texted him?” Rose dove across the couch, wine spilling everywhere and she grabbed his phone. She entered his code and didn’t think twice about it. Not the way Shane had been agonizing over those numbers that morning. 

She scrolled through his phone and grimaced. Hayden snatched the phone from her hand. “Yikes.”

“Yikes?” Shane felt his eyes burn. He hadn’t been so bad, right? Even if Ilya wasn’t his boyfriend, that was a decent flirt. It had to have been.

“It’s not that bad.” Rose tried and looked over Hayden’s shoulder. “But why did you think it was a good way to start a conversation?” 

For so many reasons. Because they were Shane and Ilya. They always stood at the top of the world together. They’d never be lonely because they had each other but apparently having Shane meant that Ilya was lonely a lot. He was a terrible boyfriend. Should he even try to win Ilya back? Was it worth it, maybe ruining Ilya’s life a second time?

“This morning I’d still thought we were a couple fighting. Not that we were virtually strangers.” Shane wanted to lay back down on the floor but his brain was finally catching up to him and Hayden and Rose had been walking around with shoes. Even sitting there was starting to feel like too much.

He got up and sat in the corner that Rose had abandoned. “Maybe it’s better if I let Ilya live without me. This is what he wished for and he’s a lot safer from Russia like this.” 

Rose was the first to look towards Shane and she quickly elbowed Hayden to let go of the phone. “What do you mean?” 

“During our fight. He accused me of not choosing him over hockey. I got angry and instead of reassuring him I asked him whether he’d choose me over hockey.” 

“What did he say?” Rose inched towards him but Shane moved away. If she’d touch him right now he’d break down. 

“That he already had. He’d joined the worst team in the league, gave up his chance at stanley cups and all his friends in Boston just so he could be closer to me. He said he regretted it.” Shane pressed his hands against his eyes. He would not cry. He couldn’t. Crying never fixed anything. 

He should’ve seen the signs before. That Ilya was getting sad, that he wasn’t telling Shane the whole story. He could’ve warned his parents to keep an eye out. Fuck, Shane probably should have said that Ilya should come out to Troy. In Ilya’s words he had the same secret so outing Shane and Ilya would only endanger himself. Besides, Troy tried to be Ilya’s friend. That entire team tried. 

Shane hadn’t tried. Not the way he should’ve. Ilya had been lonely and sad and Shane was having the best season of his career. 

At some point Hayden had moved from the couch and he sat crouched on the floor next to Shane. As if Shane was one of the Pike kids. There’s a flash of a memory where Shane remembered being brother Shane instead of Uncle Shane for the first two years of the girls’ lives. A time where Shane had spend more time eating at their house than his own. Hayden had been right, Jackie was a great cook.

“Hey, buddy, are you back with us?” Hayden rubbed a hand on Shane’s knee. “We’ve been calling you for a couple of minutes. What’s up?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Shane said softly. “I should move on and let him live the life he wanted.”

“Oh, buddy.” Hayden stayed where he was. Just at the edge of Shane’s field of vision. “Couples say that shit all the time. Before the twins Jackie threatened to divorce me twice because being alone was hard on her. Hell, after the twins she said it again. It was especially bad when she got pregnant with Amber and told me I had to get snipped.”

“Point, Hayden,” Rose said.

“Yeah, what I mean is that couple fight and sometimes we threaten with dumb shit but you learn to talk it out and get better at being together. You didn’t get to see each other often, it's normal that you’re still learning.” Hayden let it hang in the air. “I don’t think you should give up, even if it’s Rozanov. I’m not sure how you’re gonna do it when you only see him four times a year but yeah.”

Shane finally looked at him. His best friend who’d never like Ilya but just wanted Shane to be happy. At least that much hadn’t changed. “And you’ll both help?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” Rose added. “Now, how do you want to go about this?”

***

Coming out to his parents hadn’t been the worst thing to ever happen to him. If anything it was kind of nice to finally tell them on his own terms. His dad was less traumatized this time, that’s for sure. But it had all gone pretty quickly. Waking up on the thirteenth, coming out to Hayden and telling him and Rose the truth, coming out to his parents. No matter how many times Shane said it he couldn’t believe that he’d gotten a do-over on that one. 

However, now he sat in his car waiting to go into the Bell Centre and talk to his GM’s about his contract, luckily for the next two years, and to come out to them as well. Not his team, not yet. They weren’t chill the first time and Shane didn’t really feel up for a repeat of that performance. 

“Remember, Shane,” his mom’s voice echoed over the car speakers. “I already have a team of lawyers lined up and I’ve drafted messages to your sponsors should we need them. They cannot do anything to you.”

He wished she was here. As his mom, also a little as his manager. Mostly he wished he didn’t have to go in on his own. “I have a no trade clause.”

“Yes, you do.” His mom was silent for a second. “You love Montreal.”

A wet chuckle slipped from Shane’s lips. “Not as much as you do.”

“That would be hard.”

Shane could hear his father vaguely in the background. 

“Your father wants me to tell you he loved you and wishes he could be there. We both do.”

He loved them too. Their easy acceptance of him, their new found love of Rose now that they understood all she’d done to keep Shane safe, the version of them that had accepted Ilya with open arms. 

“Shane,” his mom said. “If they don’t accept you…” She searched for her words. “I won’t be upset if you want to leave. To be somewhere where they will appreciate you. As you are.”

His heart stopped beating. “They’ve always been your favorite team.” 

He could hear his mother breathing on the other end of the line. Ever since Shane was a little kid they’d been Montreal fans. His mother’s parents had decreed it for them. There was no other path forward for them. They’d talked about other teams one time. Right before Shane’s draft. It was for sure that Shane would be one or two. Boston or Montreal. 

I’ll still love you. I may just not wear the jersey for a while.

Is that what this possibly came down to? Staying in a team of which he already knew the players weren’t fan of having a gay captain or leaving the team he’d spend his youth building, his mother’s favorite team. 

“You’re my favorite son,” his mom said. “That’s more important than any team.”

Shane wasn’t going to point out that he was her only son. Not right now. Not when the memory of his mother saying Ilya was her favorite son was still fresh in his head. 

That had never happened here. Yet another memory stolen by this twisted nightmare.

“Thanks, mom.” What else could he reply to that. “I have to go. I’ll call you after.”

He got out of the car and as determined as possible walked into the Centre Bell. 

***

“No, mom, Hayden and Rose are with me. I’m not alone. I’m just angry. I… I spend so long being afraid to tell anyone only for them to do exactly what I expected them to do.” Shane stomped through the living room. Rose was texting her own agent about the news and Hayden was… Shane wasn’t even sure what Hayden was doing except that he was nosing through Shane’s kitchen cabinets and could he stop moving all the glasses around like that.

“What did they say exactly?” His mom’s voice was tinny but he knew it would switch to the car sound system as soon as she and his dad got into their car to Montreal. 

Hayden turned on a kettle and pulled out three mugs then he pulled out a bottle of brandy. 

“They asked me to reconsider the no trade clause in my contract and not to call back until I had.” They hadn’t even been willing to discuss his pay. At the very least his salary would remain stable but Shane knew that in any world, if he’d played like Shane Hollander this year it would’ve still meant a pay raise.

Car doors slammed shut and Shane missed part of his mom’s sentence as the speaker transferred. 

Hayden slid mugs of tea across the counter for Rose and Shane. They were still a little bit too hot but Shane really needed to drink his protein smoothie before his tea anyways if he wanted to keep his performance up. 

“I can’t believe they’d do that. You’re their captain! You gave them two Stanley cups. None of the other teams will understand why they let you go.” Yuna grumbled something. 

“Where would you like to go if you picked a trade?” David asked into the uneasy silence. 

Shane stopped pacing. He hadn’t really thought about it. Rather, he hadn’t let himself think too much about it. He could always pick Ottawa, it’s where Ilya was supposed to end up at after all and Shane knew the team was largely okay with gay people. Only they sucked. “I could always come home, there’s good rumours about Centaurs management.”

“But, honey, they almost never win.” His mom’s voice was sharp. Apparently Shane being accepted by a team could only go so far when the other option was the lowest ranking team in their division. “There has to be a better team out there for you. The Admiral didn’t get rid of Scott Hunter when he came out.”

Rose put her phone face down on the counter with a loud clatter. Apparently her PR agent was not a fan of their break up plan. “He could go to the bears.”

The silence was colder than a fresh sheet of ice. The Bears. Shane and Hayden stared at Rose as they connected the dots. If he went there he’d be at Rozanov’s side for almost the entire year. There’d be chances upon chances for Shane to try and win Ilya over. Could this be possible? 

“What?” Yuna bit out. “He will not. They’re our divisional rivals.” 

“Rivals of a team that doesn’t want to have him.” Rose put her hands on the counter. If his mom had been there, Shane thought, she’d have liked Rose at this moment. Even if they were fighting on different sides. “What better way to show those homophobic assholes what they lost than to have Shane win a Stanley cup next season with their biggest rival?” 

“The team won’t forgive Shane,” Hayden said.

Words got stuck behind Shane’s teeth. His head was full of Ilya, Ilya, Ilya, and there was no way he could put into words what playing with him could mean to Shane. The feeling of coming home that settled in his bones whenever they were on the ice at the same time. 

David spoke before Yuna could, “We’ll be there in an hour and a half. We’ll talk about it then. We love you, Shane. Keep an eye on him for us.”

The line cut out and Shane was left staring at his phone next to Rose’s. “The Bears?” 

“This is your chance,” she said. “When else would you be able to trade to be on Rozanov’s team?”

“I don’t like this,” Hayden said. “But it’s not looking like we’ll be playing on the same team anymore anyways. Can’t believe I didn’t even get to savor our final game together.” 

Shane would not cry. Not in front of Hayden. Shit, who would he room with now? And all the other teams were so far from him and Jackie and the kids. What was he supposed to do now? He’d never been great at making friends. 

“Text Rozanov again,” Rose said and she walked over to hand Shane his phone. “Find out what he thinks about playing on the same team. He may have some sway with his coaches.”

He bit his lip. Rose was right but so was his mom. This was going to be the most traitorous move he could ever make but it was also the ultimate payback for all the years he’d spent on a homophobic team that didn’t want him. 

Ilya’s birthday was like second nature to him, he’d have to change that after he got traded, and he scrolled to the bare messages he’d exchanged with Ilya a couple weeks earlier. 

[03:41pm] Shane Hollander

What did you think about us playing together during All-Stars?

Rose looked across his shoulder on one side and Hayden on the other. 

“This is the most confusing text you could send to that man,” Hayden said and Rose clicked her tongue. “Well… At least if he calls you shit you’ll know your answer.”

[03:43pm] Ilya Rozanov (Bears C.)

You forget you have actual friends again? Talk to worst player on team. Hayden.

“Asshole,” Hayden muttered. 

[03:44pm] Shane Hollander

Not to spread rumors but I may be looking for a new team.

[03:52pm] Ilya Rozanov (Bears C.)

You are traitor now, yes?

[03:52pm] Shane Hollander

I don’t want to play for a team that doesn’t want all of me.

It was a gamble. Perhaps Ilya had forgotten about that moment in the showers after the CCM commercial shoot. Maybe Ilya had thought it a fluke or something to do with the adrenaline of a long day skating back and forth. But just maybe he’d remember and connect the dots. 

[03:59pm] Ilya Rozanov (Bears C.)

Montreal has always been filled with fool assholes. Bears are a much nicer team who may be looking for a wing.

A wing. It wasn’t Shane’s usual position but he’d played with Ilya before. Either of them could fill those roles and they’d play perfect, almost telepathic hockey. He’d be fine as a wing. 

[04:02pm] Shane Hollander

I’ll keep them in mind if the rumors pan out. 

Thanks.

***

Shane’s mother had encouraged him to text a couple other captains while she went around feeling out some managers before they told Montreal that he would waive his no-trade. In the end there had been multiple teams chomping at the bit to trade for Shane Hollander. Even when Yuna had carefully put out, with many promises of confidentiality, that he wasn’t straight. There had been offers. 

After all that he’d feared it had been a breath of fresh air. Some teams still believed that Shane Hollander was worth it. Gay, straight or anything in between. 

It ended in a three way trade at the start of June. In between the free agents was a generational center but in the end Rose’s ‘manifestation’ had come true. Shane in return for a younger center, a D-man and a draft pick was going to the Boston Bears. 

In his heart he knew, or maybe just hoped, that Ilya had something to do with that. To bring him somewhere he could keep him safe even if they weren’t together yet. It was a foolish thought but Shane’s brain still hadn’t fully caught up with a world in which he couldn’t text Ilya at every time of day and have him reply.

Before Ilya started playing for Ottawa, Shane normally spent the flight to Boston thinking about everything they’d do when they got together. 

Now Ilya was playing for the Bears, fuck Shane was going to be playing for the Bears, and he wasn’t going to get the chance to get fucked by Ilya. 

His dick didn’t understand that. Especially not when Ilya stood outside of his gate against an obnoxious sportscar. Shane hoped Ilya never changed.

“I have a cab waiting for me,” Shane said as he stopped in front of Ilya. He'd only brought a duffel with the most important things. Most of his stuff, including his car, – still a jeep – was going to be driven across the border in the next week or so. 

Ilya opened his arms wide as if he wasn’t afraid that the whole world would catch Rozanov and Hollander together at the airport. Loud and brash and so much more of the persona than the man within that Shane knew. Or maybe this was the real Ilya. The one he was when he didn’t have to hide a ten year relationship. 

Is he happier like this? The thought flitted through Shane’s head again. It was too late to doubt now because Shane was already signed to the Bears. The trade had been announced and his apartment was signed for. If he’s happier and doesn’t want me, Shane thought, I’ll try and get myself traded to Ottawa. 

The problem was that Shane would need to figure out what Ilya actually thought about him and between the chirps about Shane having two friends and no loyalty and the nice text letting Shane know there was room in their roster he really didn’t know what to think.

“Yes, cab is me. They would text you about this. I wanted to welcome my new teammate.” Ilya pushed away from the car and tried to take Shane’s duffel from him.

The sudden closeness hit Shane like a puck to the diaphragm. Ilya wore a different cologne but underneath it was the unmistakable scent of him. Shane would know it with his eyes closed. His world slowly recentered around the one thing he always had been sure was steady. 

Ilya tugged on the duffel and Shane was dragged back into the real world. The current one. The world around him spun too fast, his breaths came too short and an electric current soldered him to his spot as Ilya’s fingers brushed his and Shane finally let go of his bag. The sun too bright, the noise too loud, Ilya too close for Shane to do anything but stare pathetically when he knew he shouldn’t. 

He never should’ve listened to Rose. 

Ilya’s fingers snapped in front of Shane’s face. “You will come, yes? I hope I didn’t drive to airport for nothing.” 

Shane shook his head and walked around the car in silence. How was he supposed to hold a conversation with this Ilya. A version of him that didn’t know all his quirks and oddities.

The car hummed to life beneath them and Ilya turned on the carplay function of his phone. Shane didn’t know the song but that wasn’t a surprise. He’d always spend all his time on hockey. Reading about it, listening to podcasts, watching documentaries, fucking his biggest rival. He realized now that his priorities may have been a little off. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket while Ilya merged into airport traffic. He texted his parents first. A mandatory one that he’d arrived. He pointedly did not tell them who had picked him up. Let them believe he took a normal cab. That would be better than to introduce his mother to the faint notion that he was into an honest to god hockey player.

There was a new text when he was ready to put his phone away. Rose had made a groupchat. Team Woo.

[18:03pm] Rose Landry

Did you get there safely?

[18:04pm] Hayden

This is the worst groupchat name ever. How’s Boston?

Shane glanced over at Ilya but he’d put on a pair of sunglasses and was staring straight ahead. “Oh, uhm, I got an apartment near the rink. Do I need to put the address in somewhere?”

He wouldn’t be going home with Ilya. That was stupid to even imagine. This was a virtual stranger and Shane was going to win him over. Slowly. Or just hope Ilya took pity on him like he had the first time. 

“Don’t need,” Ilya said. “Party at my place. You can get cab later.”

His place. Shane was going to be sick. He was going to vibrate out of this chair, this very car. He couldn’t breathe. Ilya’s place. With other people there.

“I can’t meet people. I need to shower the plane off, get some sleep, and unpack my bag. The moving people are coming tomorrow!” Shane tried to call out every excuse on the planet for why he could not go. Sure, he wanted to spend time with Ilya and figure out if he was the same person Shane had fallen for the first time, but this was a party, with other people. 

Ilya gave him a suffering sidelong glance. Shane knew. Even with the sunglasses. “You are boring, Hollander.” 

Shane was going to die right then and there. 

[18:13pm] Shane Hollander

I arrived. Ilya came to pick me up for some reason.

He invited me to a team party at his house. Tonight.

[18:13pm] Rose Landry

You are going. Take the chance! Seize your fortune! Fuck that man against his kitchen counter in front of the whole team!

[18:15pm] Hayden

Ew. I do not want to think about Shane and that evil manwhore fucking.

You’re gonna scare him more than he is. 

I agree with her. You’re going, buddie.

Shane stifled a sigh and put his phone away. Leave it up to his friends to force him to socialize but they weren’t completely wrong. 

He crossed his arms and kept his gaze out the front window. He could do this. Almost ten years of experience had prepared him for this moment in which he was going to ask Ilya Rozanov to get food with him. 

“Fine, I’ll come. Do we at least have time to get dinner before your team gets there?” His heart stuttered, stilled and started beating overtime when he spotted the smirk on Ilya’s face from the corner of his eye.

“Yes, we can get food.” Ilya switched lanes to get around an suv. “And is your team now too. They are good people. You will like them.” 

Shane’s biggest worry was if Ilya liked him, and fine maybe also a little if the team liked him. That had often been the big problem in Montreal. They respected him but when it came down to it he’d had two friends. One maybe. Hayden. There’d been an unspoken rule that Shane was only necessary for hockey and not to listen too closely to him outside of the rink. “Sure, yeah.”

“You are terrible at hiding feelings. Even when I’m not looking at you. You will need to do better.” Ilya sometimes looked at him so intently that Shane was starting to get afraid he’d crash the car with both of them in it. “Bears are good team. Accepting. Will not look weird at other people.” He stopped looking at Shane. “If someone were to be, you know, they would not care.”

Shane’s head shot to the side. “You know?”

“Yes, you know. Particular. Different taste for dating. If team member were to like something other than the rest.”

Was he trying to say? Shane blinked at him a couple of times. “Rozanov, I texted you that I’m gay.”

Ilya scoffed. “Did not and I would not assume since you had long time girlfriend. Text and awkward boner in shower do not have to mean gay.” 

“Well, it does for me.” And Rose wasn’t his girlfriend. Not after their public, staged, friendly breakup. The aftermath had locked them in the Montreal house for a week.

“Okay.” Ilya left the highway on the outskirts of Boston. They weren’t close to Ilya’s house yet. “Does not mean that for me.” 

“I know.” Shane had been intimately familiar with his bisexual side. For a second he wondered if Ilya was trying to say something else entirely. That he didn’t fuck men in this lifetime. “It’s nice that you’re telling me they’d be fine with me being gay. I’m not sure I want to come out on the first day though.” 

“Then don’t. Nobody forcing you.” 

Except for his friends forcing him to this party. If it was up to Ilya that didn’t sound like the worst thing. It was just a get together. Shane wanted to trust this version of Ilya as much as he trusted his own. But nothing was familiar or routine. The only thing he had to go off was the slope of Ilya’s nose and the mole on his cheek. 

Maybe that was enough.

***

The restaurant Ilya had taken Shane to was a Russian hole in the wall. He’d forced Shane to buy three kinds of pirozhok from the cyrillic menu, disregarding Shane’s entire diet, and chatted with the owner in Russian fast enough that Shane with his rudimentary skills couldn’t follow. He’d caught ‘tomato’ but he didn’t think lawnmover was on the menu. So it was a pretty useless word.

Not that it mattered. Shane hadn’t been able to finish most of it and had had to promise both the owner and Ilya that he’d take them home with him. “You don’t waste good pirozhok, Hollander.” 

Right now he wished he could store the dumplings in his own fridge in his new apartment. He’d wanted to wash his new sheets before getting in them tonight or he wouldn’t sleep. They’d smell wrong and store-ready sheets were always rough on his skin. Instead he stood in Ilya’s kitchen and forced himself to ask where he kept his glasses. 

As they came in Ilya introduced his teammates and their girlfriends and wives, he somehow left the tag-along-woman out of the introductory round, to Shane. His new teammate. He wondered when he would get used to that. To being a bear. 

When they’d been together Shane had never really thought about Cliff Marlow being Ilya’s best friend in Boston. It wasn’t something they talked about before their confession and after Ilya had been so ready to move to Ottawa to be with Shane. 

Looking at them right now, Shane had been an asshole for pulling Ilya away from his friends. Shit, what was he even doing there? Marlow and Ilya were clearly trying to flirt with some women one of their teammates had brought along, or maybe one was Ilya’s actual girlfriend, but wouldn’t he have introduced her to Shane? Fuck, what if Ilya was actually dating someone else and it just hadn’t broken the news yet? What was Shane going to do then? break up a healthy relationship? He never should’ve listened to Rose and Hayden–

“You okay, man?” St. Simon, a D-man, asked Shane. “You like totally spaced out there? Did someone roofie you? You can tell me, I won’t rat them out to Rozanov.”

Shane shook his head and took a sip of his water. There hadn’t been any ginger ale in the fridge nor shit for tuna melts which made Shane feel weirdly lonely. A house he’d known cleansed of his ever being present. Someone else’s socks and left-over underwear could be in the spare bottom drawer in Ilya’s bedroom.

He was going to make himself depressed over this and then he’d be the one in need of a therapist. 

“Hollander?” 

Right, St. Simon. “Yeah, sure, I mean, no, nobody roofied me. I’m just tired. Had a lot to plan to get here. Long flight.” 

The other man nodded. “Rozanov doesn’t believe in tired, or jetlag for that matter. Force outside of nature that one.” 

“I’m beginning to notice that,” Shane said. It was only half a lie. He knew that Ilya didn’t do jetlag. Maybe not because Ilya didn’t get tired but because he believed there were better things to do than sleep off something that he’d only get again in another week. Most of those other things had to do with Shane. “But it was nice of him to host a party to introduce me to everyone. Think this is the closest to neutral ground we’d get outside of the rink.” 

St. Simon laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. I mean we had a talk, the other vets and I, about who was going to give you the shovel talk.”

Shane choked on his water. The liquid splashed all over the counter but drops were still lodged in his windpipe. Slowly more and more eyes went their way as Shane tried not to die in Ilya Rozanov’s Boston house’s kitchen. 

Finally he stopped coughing and instead just slid to the ground behind the kitchen island. “I’m fine. Peachy. Alive.”

This was the worst life of his lives. 

“He’s breathing!” St. Simon leaned over, one arm rested on the island, and hoovered over him. “Didn’t mean to kill you. That’s why I came to talk and not Marlow. He thinks you traded in a secret plan to kill Rozy.”

“Murder?” Shane rubbed his forehead against his knees. “I don’t even fight on the ice.”

“Only Hunter, right? That’s the big one. What, did you and Rozy bonded over your hatred for gay pope of the MHL?” St. Simon slid down on the opposite side of Shane, almost a foot away because he wasn’t gay.

“I don’t hate Scott. I’ve played on his line more often than I have on Rozanov’s.” Scott Hunter had once been the great catalyst to Shane’s happiness. The reason he knew he could fight the world with Ilya. 

“So what then?” St. Simon took a long swig from his beer. “Just trying to make sense of it all. The two of you get a book written about your rivalry and now Rozy comes into our group chat talking about tolerance and getting over old grievances and not letting it stand in the way of greatness?” 

Shane laughed and finally looked up. “Did he refer to me as greatness?” 

“I think he was referring to the Stanley.” 

Right, yeah, this Ilya wouldn’t compliment Shane. According to the book Shane had finally gotten around to reading it had often sounded like the only person he hated more than Shane had in fact been Scott Hunter. “There’s no room for two ego’s the size of Rozanov’s?” 

“Afraid not, Hollander and since there’s no way of humbling him we gotta keep yours the way it is.” St. Simon got up off the floor and Shane followed only slightly less lightheaded because now he had a full view of Ilya again. Mood lighting reflected from his golden curls, and too loud music pressed against every inch of Shane’s skin, because Ilya was kissing a woman.

***

Not even arriving at the rink early had been able to release Shane from the nervous cycle that his brain had been stuck in for the four days. The media portion of his day was finished, his awkward headshot taken, a short interview with their media person done and since he’d been dressed Shane had even gone out to the ice for warmups before the rest of the team, sans goalie, had even arrived at the rink. 

It still wasn’t enough to avoid Rozanov. 

“Boring Hollander,” he yelled before skating over. Nobody followed behind him. “You left party early. Didn’t answer texts either. How will we convince the media that you won’t slit my throat with your skate during practice if you do not try to become my friend?” 

Shane’s puck went wide and he turned around, affronted. “What is all of yours’ obsession with me killing you? I just want to play hockey.”

“Yes, yes and Montreal wasn’t going to let you.” Ilya grabbed a puck and slowly slid it over to Shane. “Still, you do not like me. I invite you to my house, make sure my team is nice, provide good drinks and yet you leave early.”

“I don’t like parties.” Shane shrugged. They felt oppressive, like he was thrust onto a stage as a performer. It wasn’t even the people that seemed to look at him, he did fine with that on the ice, it was the conversation and trying to hear people over the music. It was trying not to see people’s faces change the second he said something wrong. And not knowing what he said wrong. 

Shane shot the puck back to Ilya. “I know, is why you are boring, but good place to meet new people. Talk to them.” 

The shot Ilya aimed at Shane landed right on his stick. It shouldn’t be such a marvel because Shane was standing still but even so, playing with Ilya was nice, which was why he chose to be honest. “I’m not good at talking to people.”

“You talked to me at dinner, da?” Ilya didn’t even stop talking as he caught Shane’s puck but he did speed up their little game. “Do that with the other guys. I told you, they are chill.” 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“You are terrible liar, Hollander. I am promoting team, what do you call when get along?”

“Cohesion.”

“Yes. Team cohesion. Can’t expect it to all come from them.” Ilya shot the puck hard but too reckless. Shane had to move a little to catch it and sent it back. It landed right in Ilya’s stick. Shane had won this little bit of competition but it felt like he had lost. 

“I will try.” And he did. Sort of. Practice wasn’t the best time to talk to teammates and he’d avoided the locker room before and he’d stayed behind, first with two second line offencemen, then alone, so he thought the locker room should be empty when he got there. 

Technically he knew there shouldn’t be rumors all over the league about his sexuality yet. The Montreal staff wouldn’t tell because it would sound like they traded Shane away for being gay, which they had, and for any other captain sans Ilya, Shane hadn’t disclosed his sexuality either. 

This is why when he walked into the locker room and found Ilya scrolling through his phone Shane let out a pathetic yelp. “Why are you here?” 

Shane should really be nicer to Ilya. He’d promised Rose and Hayden to try things to Ilya liked like parties and team dinners and anything really that wasn’t sitting in his apartment obsessing over hockey or Ilya.

Yet, he’d done almost none of that. He’d left the party without talking to Ilya, because Ilya’s tongue was in the back of someone’s throat, and he hadn’t answered Ilya’s texts, because Shane was a jealous wreck who hadn’t even earned the right to feel that way about this Ilya. This Ilya who wasn’t his Ilya. 

He wanted to bash his head against a wall repeatedly and see if it would shake loose some feelings so he could identify them. 

“I was waiting for new teammate. Is nice. To talk to people you do not know.” The unspoken, you said you’d try that, went, well, unspoken. 

Shane started undressing down to his undershirt. He wanted to get over himself and get naked with Ilya in the locker room. It had a fantasy once, a dream in the middle of the rink but standing there now he felt more like the eighteen year old that Ilya had patiently told to get undressed because he wanted to see him naked again.

“Nobody else knows you are gay. Even if they did, you can be in here. They will not care.” Ilya put his phone away and leaned back in his cubby, three away from where Shane stood. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I will tell them that if they are difficult. You are man just like them. Besides,” Ilya smirked at him, “none of them are handsomer than I. Just look at me.” 

Shane could feel his cheeks heat up. “I won’t stare at your ass.” 

“Why not? Will not be first time.” Ilya’s hands moved through the air as he talked. Shane adored it. 

“I’m not a creep.” Shane took off his shirt and with a deep breath shucked off the last of his clothes before marching to the showers. “And I’m not eighteen anymore.”

Ilya muttered in Russian and Shane almost slipped on the tile floor before catching himself and walking on. “I can see that.” 

***

Shane had only gotten to play with Ilya during powerplays in their first pre-season game. Mostly because they were both centers and unlike the all-stare game they didn’t get to switch around so they could play on the same line. 

Those short bouts of the powerplay though, they were like magic. Shane almost never got to feel that way during hockey. Like he intrinsically knew where his teammates were on the ice, which play would work best and then to have it actually work out the way it played in his head.

Someone had put Ilya’s post-game interview on, on the small tv in the locker room. Half naked and smirking he boasted about their win. It was familiar enough that Shane took his phone out of his cubby to check his texts. Some from his mom saying he did well but no congratulations about winning. Team loyalty didn’t die easily it seemed. 

There were some texts from Rose in the Team Woo group chat that Shane would not be opening right now. But there were also some direct ones. 

[09:58pm] Rose Landry

Good job, babe! So proud of you. Don’t tell Hayd but I think I have a new fave team <3

Shane huffed a laugh and texted back. 

[10:21pm] Shane Hollander

Don’t tell me mom either.

Thanks.

“Hollzy!” Marlow yelled. He was generally one of the louder teammates, probably why he hung out with Ilya that much. They were alike that way. “Come out with us tonight.”

Marlow wrapped a sweaty arm around Shane’s shoulder and he stiffened. Even more so when Marlow looked down and caught Shane’s screen before he could turn it off. “Holy fuck. You’re still dating Rose Landry?” 

Their corner of the locker room was almost immediately quiet at the drop of her name. The rest follows when they notice the odd silence. 

Shane holds up his hands and tries to escape Cliff’s grip. “I’m not. Rose broke up with me a long time ago, believe me.”

“But she’s still texting you?” St. Simon stares at him. “Were you that good in bed or something?” 

Much the opposite, Shane thinks. “We’re friends, that doesn’t just stop when you break up.” 

His phone chirps and lights up. 

[10:27pm] Team Woo: Rose Landry

Should I be jealous of you or your captain with all those compliments?

There’s a picture attached that gratefully doesn’t load but Shane knows it the second St. Simon and Cliff read the message over his shoulder in the seconds it takes him to swipe it away. 

“Fuck!” That’s Cliff. “She’s angling for a threesome with him and Rozy?” And St. Simon. 

Shane is ready to die. He’s going to perish in this very room. He never should’ve worried about flirting with Ilya because there were so many worse things. Like people thinking Rose did threesomes with hockeyers and that Shane would be one of those. 

“No, she’s not,” Shane said. “She’s much too smart to think about dating any of you.”

The noise ramps up again as the team turns to chirping Shane and each other about their chances with Rose Landry. So much so that they barely notice Ilya come back in but Shane is attuned to him. Ilya’s presence is magnetic in the best way.

Shane really shouldn’t be caught staring at him but most of the team is distracted by the thought of a movie star at one of their games. 

“You are finally talking to team, good,” Ilya says as he stops next to Shane. “But why are we discussing your ex?” 

Shane wasn’t about to pull up his phone to show the text to Ilya. Not when Rose was texting in the group chat but he could say something else. He lowered his voice, “Rose asked if she should be jealous of all the compliments you gave me in the post game interview.”

“Did you listen to interview?” Ilya turned serious. His hand clasped the back of his neck. 

Shane shook his head. Marlow and St. Simon had distracted him. “Didn’t get a chance before they started in on the Landry chirps.” 

Ilya smiled. “Is good that they chirp you. Means they like you.” 

He walked away and Shane was in the shower before he realized Ilya had never answered his chirp about Rose’s jealousy. The showers were still filled with the rest of the team and Shane only realized he was staring at everyone when he’d counted every head inside. He quickly turned to the wall and rinsed off before walking back to his cubby. 

Fuck, he needed to act normally. There’d be enough rumors about his sexuality without him staring at everyone’s asses even though he didn’t mean it like that. He’d just been looking for Ilya which did not improve the situation one bit.

Because did Ilya really compliment Shane that much during the interview? Or did he just think making Rose Landry jealous was stupid because Shane and her weren’t together and Shane was gay and Ilya might not even be into him. Not to even think about Ilya’s comment about chirping. Chirping means they like you, calling Shane boring had once been as familiar as I love you. 

But this Ilya barely knew him, a couple weeks of practice and one outing to get pirozhok did not change that.

Shane pressed his head against the edge of his cubby and took some deep breaths. He was the absolute worst at this.

His head banged against the wall when someone touched his shoulder. 

“Jesus, are you okay?” An assistant coach asked. 

“Is not Jesus, is Hollander,” Ilya chirped from his seat as he pulled on his socks. 

“Fuck off, Rozanov.” Shane rubbed his head. “Yeah, gotta get hit harder before I manage to get a concussion. What’s going on?”

The coach squinted his eyes at Shane’s forehead before sighing. “We got a call from your building. Someone leaked your address to the press and apparently they’re all over it like fleas. They’re calling the cops but that may take a couple hours and the address will still be compromised.

Shane swore. His mom and him had spent hours calling with real estate agents to find a place that felt good enough. One that matched him and now he had to, what? Sleep in a hotel room tonight? It was eleven pm for fucks sake. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah, admin is calling around trying to book you a room but there’s still a bit of end of summer tourism.” The coach gave him a sad look. “We’ll let you know when we find something, unless you want to go to your apartment.” 

“No, I, I don’t know. Thanks, I guess.” Shane sat down. Shit. 

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Ilya stretch tall beside him. Hands above his head and his shirt rucked up to show that wonderful trail of hair below his belly button. “No need for hotel. I am good captain and have spare rooms. Hollander will stay over. Is not big deal.” 

“No big deal?” Shane repeated while the coach jumped on the chance and thanked Ilya before disappearing. 

“Yes, no big deal. You will sleep bad either way but at least I can knock you out if your brain gets too loud before you ruin game tomorrow.” Ilya shrugged and went to grab his bag. “Come on.” 

“I can sleep in a hotel.”

“But you won’t.”

“I’m not wearing shoes.”

“What? You are toddler? Can’t tie laces?” Some of the straggling team members laughed. 

“Fuck off.”

“Yes, want to fuck off to home. You are currently slowest player in league.” As much as he grumbled and chirped Ilya was outside in the hall when Shane had put on his shoes. He guessed he was going to do this. 

His nerves threatened to choke him from the inside out but it was too late. Shane was going to have a platonic sleepover with Ilya Rozanov.

***

Ilya slid a ginger ale over the counter at Shane. The can was cold in his grip and Shane stared at the can like it was a detonating bomb. 

“Is cold enough, yes?”

Shane’s gaze was glued to the can and the counter but he knew Ilya would be drinking beer or a coke. Probably a coke because it was late but not late enough to be affected by a bunch of caffeine running through his veins. “Sure.”

“I am good player and captain. I pay attention to teammates. Even boring ones. You drank this while at the bar.”

Shane hadn’t thought anyone had noticed but of course Ilya had. It was still him. “I tried to be covert?” Ilya’s brows scrunched together. “Ah, I mean hide it. I don’t want the other guys to make fun of me.”

“Why would they make fun of you? Is normal Canadian drink, no?” Ilya went to his fridge. “Do you want an after game snack?” 

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you more than I am.” It also didn’t really fit in his diet. 

“Is no bother. I am making one for me, I can make two.” Ilya held up two fingers and Shane was smacked with the memory of the first time Ilya had asked him to stay over. The long moments as he’d panicked and fled the house. 

He’d promised himself he’d do better this time. “I could offer to make it for both of us? As a thank you for letting me stay here.”

Ilya shook his head and started pulling out the ingredients. “You will have anxiety about the amount of spices I use. Kane stole your food last week and called it inedible.”

“It’s performance enhancing. I don’t want to hold onto too much water.” Shane put his forehead against the cold granite countertop. At least this was familiar ground. “How else will I ever get first line.” 

A plate was set down a little too forcefully and Ilya tutted. “You will not get my spot, Hollander. I am captain. Besides, you are slow and have weak backhand.”

“You can’t keep saying that.” Shane lifted his head. It was Ilya’s favorite complaint right before kissing Shane. His slow boyfriend, number two in the entire league because Ilya of course was number one. Shane let him think that. 

The kiss never came. 

There wouldn’t be. Ilya wasn’t his boyfriend. They’d never kissed before. 

He unlocked his phone and scrolled through the group chat messages one more time. Hayden asking him if he was sure he wanted to date Rozanov on account of him being an asshole. Rose sending a link to Ilya’s post game interview. Rose in all caps when Shane said he was sleeping over at Ilya’s place. As a friend. 

[11:48pm] Shane Hollander

This was a mistake. Hayden was right. Who am I to mess up his life?

[11:48pm] Rose Landry

Hayden also said Ilya probably didn’t mean it and that his life would be so much better with you in it. 

[11:49pm] Shane Hollander

He’s just so… Ilya about everything. He’s exactly who I know he is and it’s throwing me off. I keep waiting for him to kiss me.

[11:49pm] Rose Landry

Have you considered making the first move?

“Are you okay? You look like you’ll throw up.” 

Shane looked up briefly to find Ilya staring at him with a worried expression. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Hayden sent me a text meant for Jackie. His wife I mean.” 

[11:50pm] Shane Hollander

I don’t know how to do that with him.

But he’s making me dinner :) 

[11:51pm] Rose Landry

You have less integrity than a wet paper towel.

[gif of Sebastian in The Little Mermaid] 

“Hayden has wife? Poor woman.” Yeah, that’s Ilya. 

“And four kids nowadays. I think you’d like them if you ever met. You seem like the kind of guy that likes kids.” Shane rubbed his hands on his thighs trying to wick the moisture and he climbed off his chair.

Ilya finished the food and turned with the plates in his hand but Shane was already a foot away. “I’m okay with children. St. Vicky has cute ones.” 

Shane took one of the plates and stared at it. Peanut butter and Jelly. Empty carbs and fats and… He promised Rose he’d try. Even if he’d have to kiss Ilya tasting of peanut butter. He took a bite and almost moaned at the taste. Fuck, he’d missed actual food. 

He took another bit and another before realizing he was scarfing down a p and j sandwich. “Sorry.” 

“No, please show me how good of a cook I am.” Ilya somehow managed to smirk around his own bite of sandwich. His eyes flickered briefly to Shane’s lips when he licked them. Ilya’s eyes were a little darker. 

“You know what they say about that…” Shane put his plate to the side and stepped closer to Ilya. If he’d read this situation wrong he was going to fake his death and live in Hayden’s basement gym. Swiftly and carefully he also put Ilya’s plate to the side. 

He reached up and cupped Ilya’s face with one hand. “There’s a little something–”

Shane kissed Ilya. He was kissing Ilya. Not boyfriend Ilya, or rival Ilya but his captain Ilya. 

It was soft. A gentle, searching press of their lips together. Slightly chapped from three hours on the ice and a fair bit of dehydration but they were kissing and then Ilya kissed him back. It was furious and heated. 

Ilya’s hands slid across Shane’s sides to his hips before pushing him back until his lower body was flush with the kitchen counter. He tasted like peanut butter and Jelly and there was still a hint of coke as Shane swiped his tongue into Ilya’s mouth. This was good, this was home for him. 

Suddenly cold air spread in between their bodies and their plates clattered together when Ilya launched himself against the opposite counter.”I can’t. I’d told you. I am Russian. I cannot do this.”

“What?” Shane gripped the counter to ground himself. He’d been kissing Ilya and Ilya had kissed him back. Perhaps this wasn’t such a hopeless case as he’d been trying to convince himself of. 

“You forgot? So much for biggest IQ.” Ilya scoffed and rubbed his thumbs together before grabbing the leftovers of his sandwich. 

“The details are a bit foggy. The most I remember is you making fun of me.”

Ilya stared at his sandwich. The silence stretched between them as he decided how much he wanted to tell Shane. “I always make fun of you. Who gets boner in the shower after hockey?” He clenched his jaw. “I cannot do that. Not even accident. I have Russian passport. Is dangerous.”

That hadn’t been a problem anymore in Shane’s version of twenty-seventeen. In his version Ilya’s dad had died and Ilya had never wanted to return to Russia anyways. Maybe he should’ve googled whether Ilya’s father had passed but since Hayden had all his kids and Jackie… Ilya’s father being gone didn’t feel like such a stretch. 

“Will you punch me if I offer to marry you for Canadian citizenship?” Shane forced a smile and heard his phone buzz in the background. 

Ilya looked up and stared at him for a minute. A war raged behind his eyes. Barely there, unnoticeable to Shane if it had been anyone but Ilya. Even with him Shane had missed more clues than he was proud to admit. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, is normal to be taken by my handsomeness. Not even straight men can resist me, let alone cute, gay man.” Ilya finished his sandwich and put the plates in the dish washer. 

“Cute, huh?” 

“Didn’t St. Vicky warn you about egos?” Ilya softly pushed Shane’s shoulder to get him out of the kitchen.

“There’s only room for yours.” Shane followed him to a room that was decidedly not Ilya’s and Shane knew he wouldn’t get a second of rest. 

“Da. Extra shirts are in the drawers. Pick whatever isn’t Svetlana’s.” Ilya made to leave but Shane, pathetically, latched onto his forearm. 

“I am sorry, Ilya. I won’t do it again.” That was a lie and what did Shane have to lose? Rose would kill him if he didn’t try. He could get them on familiar or unfamiliar ground. “Unless you want me to. Have fun, share the same secret. It could be a safe option for you to be… curious.” 

He remembered that word now. How Ilya had confessed to messing around with his coach’ son. Shane had already been jealous back then but it was different now. This Ilya who seemed to avoid looking at any man like that, not just Shane. It somehow made him feel both better and worse. 

“Curious?” Ilya repeated. He put his hand on top of Shane’s. The air between them was charged with an electric current. “You make me curious.”

“You can say no.” Shane forced himself to stand in the same spot. This was not the time to gravitate towards Ilya. 

After what felt like a century Ilya was the one to move. Towards Shane. Pinned between the wall and horny Rozanov. “Can you keep secret?”

“A lot better than you’ll expect me to.”

Ilya backed away but only to open the door behind Shane. He was going to turn him down. That was fine. Shane said he could do that. That had been the promise. 

Only Ilya also grabbed Shane’s chin in one hand and he kissed Shane until he was gasping for air, his knees buckled. Ilya’s arm slid around Shane’s shoulder to hold him up between the wall and his own body. 

He reared back for only a second and Shane’s eyes blinked open so he could take a look at Ilya. The panic stuck behind his eyes and Shane fortified himself. He gently pulled on the back of Ilya’s neck and tucked his face in Shane’s neck. He didn’t have to look at him. He knew. 

Years ago Ilya had been the confident one. The one to tease Shane through the panic of their first time hooking up. It was Shane’s turn to guide Ilya even if he was vibrating out of his own skin. There was a soft undercurrent of joy at having his boyfriend in his arms again but there was also the panic at being with an Ilya who didn’t know him. Not like he was supposed to. 

Shane suddenly felt lonely. An icy cold that spread from his stomach through all of his limbs. He searched through the dictionary in his head for the words he wanted to tell Ilya. The truth, always the truth, that he loved Ilya. That he was handsome and smart and so, so funny. But he couldn’t do that. Not now. 

Ilya would kick him to the curb and report Shane for harassment and maybe a psych eval. 

So instead Shane said, “we don’t have to do anything. You can turn around and go to your room and I won’t say anything about it. Won’t even chirp you.”

Ilya takes a deep breath before placing a wet kiss against Shane’s neck that makes him shiver. “Or?” 

“Or you can get on the bed and I suck you off.” Shane is smiling when Ilya pulls back to look at him. 

“Oh, shy, quiet Hollander just casually offers to suck me off?” He sounds incredulous but he’s already softly pushing Shane into the spare room. “You’ve thought about this.” 

I used to have this. Shane leaned in to peck Ilya before letting himself be shuffled to the bed. “Yes.” 

Ilya hummed and he deftly pulled off his shirt as if in deciding to do this all his panic had simply left his body. “How do you want me?

I want you to be mine again, to be yours. Have me however you want me, but Shane didn’t say that. He rested his hands on the waist of Ilya’s pants and rubbed the edge between his skin and the fabric. What did he want? How did he want him? His ears would be red by now, he’d never liked asking for what he wants but he has to do it. For Ilya, to show him that Shane wants this and him and is willing to do this on his terms this time. 

Even if Ilya doesn’t know the gravity of the moment.

Ilya hums again and brushed a hand across Shane’s cheekbone. “You’re pretty.”

“So are you.” Shane turns them so Ilya has his back to the mattress and pushes him. “Pants off and on the bed.”

“Bossy.” Ilya leaned in and pecked Shane’s lips though so he didn’t seem to mind. 

He took off his clothes, laid down and Shane’s mouth started to water. He started to climb after Ilya but got stopped. 

“No. Want to see you as well.”

“You see me in the shower every day.”

“Want more.” And Ilya honest to god pouted. Shane was a goner. He took up his clothes and put them, folded, on top of the drawers. 

Ilya was grinning when Shane turned back to him and crawled up the bed. So familiar, so different. Did he have to downplay his skills? He could also suck Ilya’s soul out through his dick the way he’s been practicing for years. 

Instead Shane started slow. This was a new Ilya, not his Ilya. He may need to figure everything out again. 

He made out some more with Ilya before shifting his attention to his neck, his chest, bellybutton, the trail of hair below it. Shane softly bit the skin on the inside of Ilya’s thighs before lowering his mouth on his cock. He went slow at first, teasing until he felt Ilya’s hand in his hair. He lifted himself off for a second. “You can take control.”

“And you are fine with that?” 

Yes. “This is about you being curious, remember?” 

Shane took Ilya’s cock back into his mouth and got back to work. A little harder and rougher than before. More to the back of his throat as Ilya moaned and swore in Russian. 

The hand in Shane’s hand gripped harder and Shane felt Ilya’s control snapped right before he worked Shane’s head himself. It was wonderful, beautiful. Shane didn’t have to think anymore. He’d let Ilya take and take and take as long as Shane got to have this moment that he’d thought he’d lost those months ago. Anything Ilya was willing to give him, Shane would take with open arms. Open mouth, really. 

It was too short, too quickly, that Ilya’s hips stuttered and he warned Shane, let go of his head but even though he didn’t like the taste, this too was something Ilya could give him. 

Shane swallowed. 

Ilya swore softly and yanked Shane up. He kissed him, Ilya’s taste in between both their mouths as they shared the moment that Ilya was still limp and pliable.

They rolled over until Shane laid on his back. Ilya slotted between his legs and his abs rubbed against Shane’s hardon. Fuck, that felt good. To have even an ounce of Ilya’s attention. 

They meshed together, slotted in like puzzle pieces, and the familiar weight of Ilya relaxed Shane into the pillow. 

Ilya ground into Shane and small moans left his mouth as his fingertips pulled on the skin of Ilya’s back. So close, embarrassingly close at only being humped at but there was nothing Shane could do about it. It had always been like this for him. Immediate and heated in Ilya’s arms. 

He came too soon. His come smeared between their bodies as Ilya helped him through his orgasm. He stayed still above Shane for a moment before rolling to the side. They stared at the ceiling.

Shane had never been in this guestroom. The sheets were weird and there was a strange scent from some dumb perfume thing in the corner. Those things were bad for the environment and could cause house fires but Shane vaguely thought that that’s the sort of thing that would scare Ilya away and he really wanted to kiss him again.

He didn’t get the chance before Ilya got up and went to the bathroom. He came back with a wet flannel and threw it at Shane’s chest. 

“Thanks,” Shane said and he cleaned himself up before sitting up against the headboard. At least there wouldn’t be a wet spot in the bed tonight. Somewhere deep inside he still hoped that Ilya would invite Shane back to his own room. For round two, maybe or to stay. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

Ilya snorted and shook his head. “Yes, no. You are much more fun than you seem.” 

Shane was going to take this as a compliment. It was what he’d tried to do after all even though it had been painfully awkward to initiate sex with an Ilya who didn’t obviously also want him. Except that maybe he did want Shane? It was complicated.

"We have fun, yes?” Ilya asked and waited for Shane to nod. “So, maybe we do again? Do teammate things when there’s other people. Just also kiss when nobody looks. Could be easy during roadie."

“Sure, yeah. Would be nice to not have to try and pick someone up.” Shane pulled at the blanket and put it over his lap. This was not going the right way. He knew Ilya wasn’t going to come out and say he loved Shane after one blow job but this sounded more like Shane was another one of his hookups and less like he was, well, Shane.

“Good. Sleep well, Hollander.” Ilya disappeared without picking up his clothes so Shane waited until a door clicked into the look down the hall before he stood up and folded all the clothes. He put the small pile next to his own on the dresser. At least that was familiar. 

He stared at it. How weird would it be if Shane went to sleep in Ilya’s shirt? Very, right. 

It took him fifteen more minutes before he grabbed the shirt and pulled it over his head. It smelled like Ilya, only it didn’t. The cologne was different from the one Shane had gotten him for his birthday. Still he pulled it up to his nose and crawled under the sheets.

At least they’d kissed this time.

***

[12:06am] Team Woo: Rose Landry

Did you do it?

[01:49am] Shane Hollander

Does the casual definition make it better or worse?

[08:31am] Hayden

Oh, buddie

[08:31am] Rose Landry

Babe, no… 

[08:32am] Shane Hollander

Yeah, I thought so too.

***

Up and down blended together for Shane until not even seeing Ilya was enough to ground Shane. It didn’t help that the coaches had decided that Shane should try the left wing position on the first line instead of center on the second. 

It should suck, instead it didn’t. Shane loved playing hockey with Ilya. Would work his way to being the best left wing the MHL had ever seen. Maybe it wouldn’t even stop him from being nominated for MVP again. 

And on the ice Ilya didn’t ignore him. He looked at Shane, used him and found him and let himself be seen. Shane was allowed to hug him and was allowed to smile as he was hugged after a goal or win in return.

Off the ice Ilya barely looked at him. He chirped now and then. Acted like an asshole to rile Shane up but it was sporadic. St. Simon had commented on it, “Do you still have problems?” 

Cliff had been the first to clear it up: “Nah, man, with that chemistry on the ice? Rozy and him must just be superstitious.” 

“Hah, yeah, sure,” Shane had forced himself to reply before disappearing in the showers where he pointedly did not look at anyone and especially not at Ilya’s ass.

There were four ways that Ilya and Shane interacted. Ilya was his best friend on the ice, his rival in the locker room, his most normal fan for the press, and a rough lover in hotel rooms on the road. 

They had their own rooms. It came with their skill and seniority and they were fine with it. What was even more fine was when Ilya invited Shane to his room or invited himself to come to Shane’s. 

It was heady and secret and once upon a time Shane had been okay with it. He’d forgotten to cherish the little moments he had with Ilya while he spent seven long years falling in love with him.

But Shane was still in love with Ilya. Even this loud, messy version that talked about his ‘conquests’ in the locker room. Nobody needed to know that Shane was slowly becoming a good sixty percent of those stories. He tried to forget that he wasn’t the other forty. 

[07:26pm] Shane Hollander

I’m not sure how long I can keep this up for.

[07:28pm] Rose Landry

Who was it this time? Maybe send it directly. Hayden is halfway to murdering him for playing with you. 

Shane saw the text after his shower. 

[07:42pm] Shane Hollander

He isn’t playing with me. We talked about this. There are clear boundaries.

[07:45pm] Rose Landry

Boundaries that make you miserable.

Congrats on the win Hayden!! I think you guys might make playoffs this year!

You need to talk to him. Sit him down and say that this is affecting you.

[07:49pm] Shane Hollander

He’s the captain. The only thing this will get me is a demotion to the second line if he tells the coaches I’m harassing him.

[07:49pm] Rose Landry

I’m not sure he’ll call mediocre, consensual sex harassment. 

[07:50pm] Shane Hollander

I’ll let you know I’m a wonderful lay for men.

[07:51pm] Hayden

Thanks Rose! How’d Shane do?

Oh no! My eyes! I’m going to need to bleach my brain. I do not want to think about you fucking Rozanov.

[07:52pm] Rose Landry

I think Shane is hoping Rozanov will fuck him.

Shane quickly turned off his phone in case any of his teammates looked over his shoulder. It happened more often than not and Shane probably had to tell those two to stop texting him Ilya’s name on a loop but it was nice to know that somebody else knew. That it wasn’t all in his head. 

“Hollzy, are you coming to the club with us tonight?” Cliff smacked his shoulder. 

“Oh, uhm.” He didn’t know. He didn’t want to. He’d have to pretend to like the girls who threw themselves at him and the music and all the people touching him all night. Also he was planning to follow Rose’s advice. Talking to Ilya was number one on his list. 

“Hollander is boring. Probably going to go to bed early tonight like always,” Ilya said as he pulled on his own shirt. 

St. Vicky yanked Shane away from Marlow. “Let the man speak for himself. He can’t sustain himself on documentaries and low carb, no fat rice crackers. He has to fuck out his frustration at some point.”

Shane bit his lip. Oh yeah, they thought he was as good as celibate. Never mind that he spent half the nights on the road sucking off their captain. Not that he could tell them that. 

He looked at Ilya over Marlow’s shoulder. Ilya waggled his eyebrows. “I didn’t know Cosmopolitan’s number one hottest hockey player had trouble getting laid.” 

“I don’t,” Shane ground out. “I’m simply discreet.” He saw a short flash of confusion across Ilya’s face and cleared it up. “Private. I don’t need the world to know who I sleep with. It’s kind of exciting, you guys should try it sometime.” 

The chirp did its job at distracting them from getting Shane to go out but he decided to throw them a bone. “Besides, I already have a date lined up. Sorry, boys.”

Ilya smirked behind his friends and promised to join them for one drink in the hotel bar before all the guys went out, claiming sore ribs. 

Shane’s date knocked at his door at ten pm and no matter how much he’d promised Rose and himself they did not talk that evening. Two hours later Ilya went back to his own hotel room.

***

“Hollander, Hollander, what’s it like playing with Boston with Rose Landry in the audience? Does it feel like home yet?” A reporter yelled at him and Ilya. The new A on Shane’s chest forced him to help with media on big days. Having his ex in the audience apparently counted as a big day. 

“Rose and I are still good friends so I’m always happy to see her. As for Boston, they took me in with open arms and I’m just grateful to be able to continue to play hockey with a team that leaves everything on the ice every single game.” Shane folded his arms in front of his chest. 

“Rozanov, what’s it like playing on the same line with Hollander? Does the rivalry affect your play in any way?” A microphone was pressed closer to Ilya. Shane could see him sift through the somewhat familiar words. 

“Hollander and I both know I’m the better center now. Is why he got shifted to wing but as you can see–” Rozanov waved at the A “–he is still trying to take that from me.”

Shane smiled at his antics. “Fuck off, Rozy.”

“See, such a mean teammate. Should get coach to put him on second line but he know Hollander and I are best together too.”

The journalist laughed too but that one question about Shane’s new role had done nothing to distract them from the true treat. “Hollander, are you afraid that Rozanov will try to steal Rose Landry from you tonight?”

Ilya pressed his foot against Shane’s. A steady presence before he dove on the question. “I think he is afraid about the state of hockey journalism. Assistant captain is new news, his ex is old news. We want to talk about new news.” 

Shane pressed his foot against Ilya’s. “I’m very grateful to the Bears for letting me prove myself like this. As for stealing, the only thing that I will be taking for sure is this year’s Art Ross. So if Ilya wants to rival me for that one he’ll need all of us to play as good as possible.”

“Rozanov, anything to say to that challenge?”

“Sound like Boston has taught Hollander how to have fun.” 

The media person for the Bears shuffled them away before they could make any more wild claims. It was probably a good thing because Shane was done answering questions about Rose. He didn’t know why this version of him had decided that answering questions about her for three full years was a good plan. 

Ilya shoved Shane into the locker room. “Win Art Ross instead of me. Is bullshit. I am center, you should help me win Art Ross.” 

“Sure, Rozy, I’ll keep that in mind next time you fumble a move named after you.” Shane was proud of his chirp. Even more so when Ilya wrapped his arm around his neck and held him playfully tight. 

“Say that again?” 

“Fumbled the puck so hard I think the goalie laughed.” 

Ilya’s hold tightened but it was never dangerous. His knuckles rubbed carefully on top of Shane’s skull. Enough to feel it but not enough to hurt. “They say I am asshole but no. Is you.” Ilya let go of him. “Everyone, Shane Hollander is massive asshole.” 

The team members who had stilled to watch them duke it out were torn between laughing and astonishment. 

 “Are you two actually friends?” St. Simon asked. “You never talk.”

Shane nodded dramatically but watched Ilya as he spoke. “Sleeping on someone’s couch really bonds you, you know.” 

Marlow scratched his chin. “He has three guest rooms.” 

“And still the ashhole made me sleep on a couch and now he wants to ruin my image.” 

“And I will do it again tonight in front of your ex-girlfriend. Mandatory club outing for entire team. Marly, make sure rookies get in. St. Vicky, make sure Hollander brings girlfriend so Marly can flirt with her.”

The team whooped and hollered as they sped up their process of showering and getting dressed. 

Shane pulled out his phone first. Guess he needed to tell Rose they were going dancing.

***

Rose leaned heavily on Shane as they waited at the bar. “Margharita, right?” 

“Yeah,” she yelled back then, quieter, “How’s operation Woo going?” 

“You sound like the Sims.” Shane ordered for them. “I feel like the two of us barely talk.” 

“Did you even try to like I told you to?” Rose turned around to lean her back against the bar and Shane handed her her drink. A ginger ale for him. He didn’t feel like drinking tonight even if a bit of alcohol would certainly take off the edge of being in a club. 

Shane shrugged and swirled his drink around in his glass. “We have so little time together. Most of the time I’m just happy I finally get to touch, you know.” 

“That’s the worst reason to avoid a conversation.” Rose bumped her hip into him.

Shane rested his head on hers for a second. Someone he could touch in public without the whole world descending upon him. “You’re just jealous I never claimed that excuse with you.” 

She grinned her megawatt smile and pulled on his arm. “To make up for that you will dance with me.”

“I think we’ve danced enough.” But Shane let himself be pulled into the crowd.

“Never.” Rose stuck around the edges for Shane’s comfort and put her arms around his shoulders. “Was it worth leaving Montreal?” 

Shane scanned the crowd around them and spotted Ilya making his own way through the crowd. “Yes, I think so. There’s nobody else for me.” 

Rose tried to get him to loosen up but ended up dancing against him more than with him. She didn’t seem to care though beyond chirping him about it a little. She put his hands on her hips and ran her own through his hair. “Never thought I’d be jealous of another Rose.” 

“Sorry, I probably should’ve told you sooner.” Shane glanced at her before looking at the crowd again. Ilya had started dancing but not on his own. 

The girl had long, dark hair. Her entire body was pressed against Ilya’s like he was already hers for the night but Ilya was looking at Shane. 

His eyes dark in the purple strobe lighting. He licked his lips and winked at Shane before leaning down to the girl. His gaze never left Shane. Not even when his tongue disappeared in the girl’s mouth. 

Shane stilled in Rose’s grip. This couldn’t be happening. Hearing about it was one thing but Shane couldn’t do this. Normal was so far out of his reach right now. His breath sped up, his fingers numbed as they dropped down from Rose’s hips. 

“Are you okay?” Rose tried to tilt his face to her but he couldn’t look away from Ilya. She followed his gaze and swore. “Fuck, come on, we’re getting out of here.” 

She forcefully pushed Shane out of the crowd and against a wall. Ilya still stared at Shane while he made out with a girl in the middle of the dance floor. His hands disappeared and Shane could only imagine what they were doing to that girl’s body. 

Rose must’ve left at some point because she came back with their coats and started pulling Shane to the door. “Leaving, Shane. Together.”

I’m here for you is what she meant but he knew she’d play it up for the crowd. Make sure people saw them leave together without a doubt. Any news about him in the morning would be either the game or his girl. A years long relationship rekindled in a different city. If only they knew. 

If only Shane had been brave enough to tell them. Maybe he wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place. 

He couldn’t breathe. The world was closing in around him and the cold air outside was threatening to knock him over. How many times could he refuse to talk, to air his grievances, forget to listen and blow up his life as a result? If Ilya told him he regretted sucking him off in this life too, would Shane be thrown back again. Maybe to a world where he hadn’t been drafted at all? 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

His back hit a wall and someone was pushing his arms up and behind his head. "Пожалуйста, Hollander, breathe.”

Ilya, he was there, in front of Shane, outside of a club, away from that pretty girl. Shane was gay, not blind. But Ilya was here. Did he leave her there or was she watching Shane’s pathetic breakdown in real time. 

Words garbled on Shane’s tongue and stuck behind his teeth. 

“Eбать,” Ilya swore. “You’re okay, Hollander. We are outside in alley. Rose is here, I am here.”

“Why?” 

“What? What why?” Ilya’s hand tightened on the back of Shane’s neck. “I see you look panic as fuck in club and you think I don’t worry.”

Shane let his head drop against Ilya’s shoulder and hoped he’d been right about the privacy of the alley. “You’re a good captain.” He could feel Ilya’s chest lift with his breaths and tried to copy them. “Спасибо.”

“Ah, so he speaks Russian now?” Ilya let go of him and took two steps back. “When did that happen?”

Shane huffed a laugh. He shouldn’t have spoken Russian to Ilya. Knew it was stupid. Knew it would only lead to having to hide more. “Only that. And пожалуйста, трахни меня. But I don’t think I’ll need that one.”

“Useful.” IIya’s gaze darkened. He looked at Rose, reminding Shane that she was there. “But, no, I don’t think so.”

She cocked her head. “I didn’t see it at first but I totally get you now.” 

“Shut up, Rose.” 

“Oh, so you’re going to be mean to the one person that can make sure you can leave together? Rude, Shane.” But she was smiling and she held up her phone. “Car service is here in five minutes. I won’t say a word if Shane doesn’t get out with me.”

Ilya held up a hand to Shane.  “You really won’t tell.” 

Her gaze softened. “I’ve kept his secret for so long. There’s no reason for me to talk now. I just want him to be happy. Although he didn’t seem very happy minutes ago.” 

“Was show, like you and Hollander dancing.”

“I didn’t kiss Rose.” Of course now the words started rolling. His anxiety really had the worst timing. “Apparently I failed her performance assessment.” 

Ilya looked around them, at the people walking across the opening of the alley feet away and he lowered his voice as he looked at Shane. “She looked like you. Pretty freckles, dark eyes.” 

“Oh.”

“Closest we can get in public.” 

Shane’s fingers twitched at his side to touch Ilya, to hold him in a crowded room but he wasn’t brave enough and while this was the closest to a confession Ilya had ever gotten with Shane it still wasn’t everything. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear or say. He was stuck in a prison of his own making. “That’s still fucked up.” 

“Maybe.” Ilya started for the end of the alleyway. “But is all I have right now.”

***

True to her words Rose hadn’t said anything as she’d gotten out of the car. Ilya hadn’t either when Shane had directed the driver to his own apartment. 

They took the fire escape up even though the whole world knew they were teammates. Getting caught at three am did not feel very private to Shane and he didn’t want to risk showing off more than they’d already done in that alley.

He didn’t want to risk Ilya’s safety. Not when his only option to keep him safe would be to have Ilya plead for asylum. The love of Shane’s life wouldn’t marry him right now, maybe not ever but he could have him in these short moments between sunset and the lingering drowsiness of their afterglow. 

The apartment was more bare than even Shane usually had his space but Boston didn’t truly feel like home. Not the way his cottage did, or Ilya’s house where his personality was drenched all over the place like a thick layer of paint.

“Is very you, this place,” Ilya said as he walked through the house. His shoes waited next to the rack in the hall. 

“Thanks.” Shane walked towards his fridge and got one coke and one ginger ale. “I had an interior designer come when I had to get my second place in Boston.” He handed a glass to Ilya. “I do miss the couch pillows I had in Montreal. These are too firm.”

“Such boring problem for boring Hollander.” Ilya put his glass down after a single sip and walked closer to Shane. “Is shame, I almost thought you were fun.” 

“I can be fun.” Shane let himself be cornered against the back of the couch. “So fun for you.” 

Ilya’s bright eyes were fixed on Shane’s face but he didn’t seem to care that Shane wouldn’t, couldn’t, meet him head on. Shane was there, and had brought him to his apartment. How much clearer could he be. “You will let me fuck you tonight, yes?” 

“If that is what you want.” Shane gasped as Ilya pressed sloppy, openmouthed kisses against his neck.

“I want. I want so much.” Ilya’s face leaned against his shoulder. His hands were just this side of too tight on Shane’s waist. It was grounding and blissful and Shane didn’t have to think about any of it. “Do not know where to leave all of it. Makes me a selfish lover.”

Shane cringed at the word but wrapped his arms around Ilya. “Take from me. Anything I have to give in these moments is yours anyways.”

It might have been too much. Too clear, too direct but Shane couldn’t stop himself. He kissed the back of Ilya’s head. His darling boy, his golden man. He was so precious and soft and anxious and Shane had somehow dimmed that light before. He was at risk of doing it again, of making Ilya just as much in love with Shane as he’d ever been. Except this time he’d do it properly. 

Shane would love Ilya the way he was meant to be loved. In whichever light Ilya chose, whether that was the kitchen light where they ate sandwiches, the club where all they could do was dance with people who looked like each other. Shane would love him in the mood lighting of his bathroom and the murky bedside table lamp light in hotel rooms. All so he may one day be able to love Ilya in the sunlight again. Perhaps even beneath the light at the rink. 

Shane would love him in any light Ilya chose to stand in and also in every shadow in between. 

Ilya took a deep breath, almost scenting the hollow of Shane’s throat before stepping back. “Where is your bedroom?”

Shane tucked the urge to grab Ilya’s hand deep in his chest and led him through the apartment until he came to a room that had too many pillows. 

“You think that’s enough?”

Shane grabbed one and lobbed it at Ilya’s head. 

He caught it and threw it back on the bed. “Spirited.” He licked his lips and pulled off his shirt while he walked to Shane. “But we both know you are, what is English word for bending to me?”

“Pliable,” Shane breathed into the space between them. “I can be pliable for you.” 

“Yes.” Ilya leaned in but instead of kissing Shane on the lips he pressed his lips to his cheeks before scraping his teeth across the skin. “Those damn freckles.” Blood rose to Shane’s face. “That fucking blush.”

Ilya’s hands thumbed at the bottom of Shane’s shirt before sliding under it. His fingerprints seared into his skin until Shane had enough. He pulled his shirt off over his head before reeling Ilya in for a kiss. 

Their teeth knocked together and Ilya huffed a laugh before muttering something about being a teenager in Russian. Shane didn’t have the mental energy to try and translate all of it but he thought he got it.

They fumbled with belt buckles and too tight jeans around hockey thighs until Shane landed in the middle of his pillows. 

“You still want?” Ilya hovered over him. His entire naked body pressed against Shane. It was perfect, it was close, it was somehow not enough. 

Shane pulled Ilya closed and spoke the words against his lips, “I still want.”

The drawer opened and shut on a whisper while Shane got the lube and condoms. 

Ilya moved away from him for a second and the next time he touched Shane, the cold brought all his nerves to life. The preparation was slow and sweet as Ilya took his time to work Shane up and open. His lips encircled Shane’s cock while his fingers pressed inside. First one, then another. 

Something familiar grew inside of Shane and he needed to focus on it. To lock it up deep inside. He wouldn’t scare this man away. This was his man, his man, his man, fuck he was getting close. This was embarrassing. Ilya had to stop or Shane was going to. He shouted and tried to crawl backwards on the bed but Ilya followed him and stuck a third finger in. 

“Please,” Shane begged.

Ilya nipped at his chest. “What do you need?” 

“You. I need you.” 

The first drag was slow as Ilya pressed inside him. The tension between them pulled taut until it snapped. It was good like that. Hard and rough until there was no thought on Shane’s mind beyond the man on top of him, in him. 

Ilya was all around him. He didn’t want it any other way. 

Shit, shit, he’d missed this. 

Shane pulled Ilya’s face close and kissed him as best as they were able. Their lips slid every which way as Ilya pounded into him. Their breaths mingled, their cheekbones rubbed together and Shane could finally have this.

“Rub yourself,” Ilya ordered and Shane complied because he always listened to Ilya like this.

It didn’t take long. His spend rubbed between their bodies as Ilya fucked him through his orgasm until he followed Shane over the edge. 

Ilya lay on his chest  and another day Shane might complain that he was heavy but not now. He was finally whole again. He kissed Ilya’s curls and whispered soft enough to barely disturb his hair, “Thank you, Ilya.”

He’d been breathing hard. There was no way that Ilya could’ve understood what Shane said not freshly fucked and close to sleep as he was. Not when he stayed laying there for another five minutes. 

Finally he stirred and he got up and asked for the bathroom. It took a couple minutes, nothing too bad before he came back and handed Shane a wet washcloth. 

Maybe he’ll stay. Did Shane have to ask? Was asking worse than not saying anything at all?

The tentative calm of their second, first time stretched between them before Shane got up to throw the rag in the wash. When he got back Ilya was clothed. 

“I will go home now, Hollander.” The way Ilya said his name was a dagger between his ribs. He’d heard and instead of getting angry or yelling or doing anything, he brought them back to base. Shane supposed that was doing something.

He was turning Shane down. 

“Yeah, this was nice.” Shane followed him to the door and down the internal fire escape. “See you at practice.” 

Ilya looked at him, his eyes flickered across Shane’s face. “Da. See you then.” 

He leaned down and softly kissed Shane before walking out of the door. 

Shane made it all the way to his apartment before he broke.

***

Ilya wasn’t avoiding Shane per se. They hadn’t broken up, hadn’t even been together, and he did still shoot pucks at Shane during practice. Only they went wide or Shane missed them because he’d been staring at Ilya or thinking about not staring at Ilya and honestly his life might have been a bigger mess now in November than it had been in August. 

The texts Rose had sent him the morning after had been ignored. Hayden’s as well once Rose had pulled it into the group chat. There was nothing Shane wanted to say about the situation. 

He’d gone too fast and fucked everything up. Fuck. He remembered when Ilya had said his name for the first time, his name clouded in that Russian accent. Shane had panicked so hard he’d started dating Rose even though deep down he knew that couldn’t fix what was inside of him. 

It had been cruel to her as well no matter how much she’d insisted she didn’t mind. All those years that she could’ve spent finding someone who’d love her the way Ilya had loved Shane. 

He sucked. 

Shane sank into his cubby. He just needed to get to his apartment and maybe take a run or… When was the last time he’d eaten something? Before practice? He often had his protein smoothies after his run but he’d been running late and– He didn’t know. Shit, that was bad. 

“You okay, Hollzy?” St. Simon asked as he pulled on his sweater. Marlow, Ilya, Connors and him had stayed behind to run extra drills for the powerplay. They needed d-men to practice and while Ilya and Shane were the best powerplay in the league it did sometimes happen that Ilya was also in the sinbin while they were on a powerplay. Enter Connors. 

It was a necessary evil. Connors wasn’t the better centre between him and Shane but with Shane playing left wing for most of the games the coaches had wanted to try out swapping Ilya with Connors and Marlow with Connors but never Shane. 

Hollander doesn’t get into fights. It was un-bear-like but Shane wasn’t like the rest of his team. He didn’t let his anger push him over the edge, ever. There were people looking up to him. Kids who didn’t normally get to see themselves in these spaces. 

He had a responsibility that those other guys didn’t have. 

His head swam. He really, really wanted a milkshake. With fries. One of those god awful, fatty hashbrowns that Ilya liked to eat for breakfast. 

There was more salmon and brown rice in his fridge. It would have to do. Maybe he could go back to that Russian place Ilya had taken him to in the off-season. One cheat meal wouldn’t break him. Hopefully.

“How’s it feel to be demoted to permanent left wing, Hollzy? Only because you’re afraid you’ll break a nail.” Connors chuckled, proud of his chirp as he yanked his pants over his ass. “What caused you to transfer anyway? Was Montreal done with your limp-wristed ass?” 

Shane’s eyes focused clearly for the first moment since he’d sat down. Was Connors really saying this shit? Even more so, did he mean any of it?

“Shut up, C.C.,” Marlow barked and he sat to put on his shoes.

“What? We can’t chirp the fag anymore?” Connors kept laughing as he pulled his shirt on. 

The world stopped spinning, all noise died out around them. Shane was vaguely aware that St. Vicky and Marlow had stopped getting dressed and turned towards Connors who acted like this was normal. Like calling your teammates slurs was the normal course of anyone’s day. It couldn’t be true anyways. There were only a handful of gay hockey players since Scott Hunter and a bear would never be one of them.

Shane was frozen in his cubby and the shower cut off. He hoped Ilya hadn’t heard it. It would become a mess as Ilya got angry and he would for sure punch Connors and Ilya might get traded for punching a teammate and then Shane would’ve left Montreal for nothing. There was no chance he could follow Ilya to another team. That would be weird and long distance had been shit the first time around. Nevermind now that he knew what it was like to see Ilya almost every day. 

But it was too late. At first Ilya came out of the showers quietly, his towel slung around his hips, gorgeous and golden, but Shane saw the clench of his jaw. He was furious. 

“What did you call him?” Ilya stopped in the middle of the locker room and Shane was glad most of the team had already left. 

“You heard me. I’m not the only one who’s noticed him staring at–” 

Ilya punched him square in the mouth. He shook his hand out. “Shit, that was a tooth.” And hit him again. 

“Fuck.” Marlow and St. Simon stepped in and dragged Ilya away from Connors. 

Ilya’s smile was feral and there was a thin line of blood where he’d cut himself on Connors’ teeth. “Asshole. I told you start of season. I will not tolerate bullshit.”

Blood dribbled from the corner of Connors’ mouth and he spat on the floor. “Shit, Rozy, does he suck your dick or something?” 

It had been the wrong thing to say. Marlow and St. Vicky’s grip only loosened for a second but Ilya had still gotten in a third punch and Connor’s head snapped back against the edge of his cubby. 

“Marly, hold Rozanov. I’m getting Connors to the doc.” St. Vicky helped Connors up and hustled him out of the room.

Ilya shrugged Marly off and quickly put on his pants and a shirt while Shane pointedly stared into space. Not the only one who noticed. How had Shane messed up that much? Did everyone know? Did he implicate Ilya? What if someone talked and Ilya was fired before he could ask for asylum or get a passport and he was gone. 

Shane would fight to get him into Canada. He’d run away with him. 

Ilya rested a hand on Shane’s knee as he crouched in front of him. “I’m sorry for lie, Hollander. I promised. The team will be chill again soon.”

He didn’t wait for Shane to reply or wonder what he meant with that. Ilya was already out of the locker room, his stuff left behind but shoes in his hands. 

“What was that about?” 

Shane didn’t answer Marly’s questions. It was no use. He’d hear about his or Ilya’s transfer soon enough. He should probably get to his apartment and start packing or call his manager or something or his mom. He could use his mom’s steadfast approach here or his dad’s easy calm. 

Shane didn’t answer Marly’s questions and he left before anyone could come into the locker room again.

***

Any moment now the wooden floor of Shane’s apartment would start showing signs of his pacing. His socks would wear through it and show the dragpath of his worries. 

He shouldn’t have come out to the managers and left Montreal. Maybe he should’ve told the Bears earlier? Staying and explaining himself to Marlow and St. Simon was an option as well. What if they said something to Ilya? To the rest of the team? They’d gossip about him. Of course they would. They gossiped about everything with a pulse attached.

Shane had to put his phone out. The ringer was on but what if he accidentally missed a call from the coaches that he was getting traded for causing a fight with Connors.

Any moment now he’d hit the cement beneath his floor. 

There was a knock on the door followed by someone cursing and Shane’s doorbell. 

He stopped pacing his trodden path and quickly walked to the door and peaked through the hole. Marlow and St. Simon stood on the other side, pushing each other to the side. 

“How can you forget about doorbells?” St. Simon asked. A white take out bag swung from his wrist. 

“He seems like the type to turn it off.”

“Why would Hollzy of all people not want to know when someone’s at his— oh hey, Halsey!” St. Simon smiled awkwardly when the door opened and muscles himself past Shane and into the hallway. 

Marly patted Shane’s shoulder and followed. “Thanks for having us over. We brought edible food.”

They loudly made their way to Shane’s living room and even from the door Shane could see them plunk down on his couch. Slowly he closed the front door and walked their way. “My edible food is on the kitchen table.” 

St. Vicky turned around on the couch and looked at the plate. “It looks cold and grey.”

“Joyless,” Marly supplied. “I wouldn’t touch it if I was paid to do so.” 

“We are being paid to do so. It’s dietitian approved.” Shane was ready to go into his spiel about caring for his body but he was cut off. 

“Yeah, not what I want to spend my evening talking about.” Marly scratched his beard. “Sit, or don’t, whatever makes you comfortable, man.”

Shane went to one of the leather chairs and sat down on the edge. He would feel better walking or even sitting on the floor but this was fine. They were confronting him about this afternoon. This would be fine. He could convince them not to ask their coach to get him transferred. He had a chance here.

He tried for a joke first. “I’d be more comfortable if you didn’t drag mud through my house.”

Marly’s brow furrowed and St. Simon looked at his shoes. “You’re a shoes off household?” 

Shane nodded. “Born and raised.”

“Not the only thing you were born as.” St. Simon chirped as he took his shoes off and kicked Marlow to do the same. “Maybe. I mean, we won’t assume. We’re just here to see if you’re okay. Getting that shit aimed at your head is… well…” 

Marlow followed his lead and took the time to bring his shoes all the way to the front door. “I’m kind of glad Rozy punched him. Meant I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, most of the team is like super chill with gay stuff. Use the pride tape and everything for warm ups. We don’t tolerate slurs.” 

“It’s best to make examples of guys who cross our teamwide boundaries.” Marlow sat down next to St. Simon again. 

Shane sighed. This was a mess. A kind one? If he understood correctly. Which he wasn’t sure with the way those two talked over each other. 

“What are you trying to ask me?” Shane rubbed his thumbs against each other. 

“We’re not asking you anything!” Marly held up his hands. “We’re just checking in with our favorite left wing.” 

“Normal teammate behaviour.” St. Simon pressed his lips together.

“Thank you,” Shane said. To be honest, if he could cut through all his worries of what the afternoon’s fight could mean for him this was sweet? Almost. 

“But uhm, since you don’t know a lot of people here, and I know some of the team has been trying to set you up and if we’ve been getting your type completely wrong, it would be okay if you were to, I don’t know, correct us so we could be more helpful.” 

“I was told nobody would force me to come out…” Shane shook his head and felt a smile carve its way across his face. “Besides, I don’t need help finding dates.”

“So you are?” Marly leaned forward on the couch and earned a slap from St. Simon. 

“We said we’d be respectful. But also, please spell it out for us losers.”

Shane laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Too gay for Rose Landry but she’s a wonderful wingwoman.”

Marly hollered and shook St. Simon. “I knew he secretly had game. Girls, I mean, guys dig that innocent act.” 

The weight of the world lifted an inch above Shane’s shoulders. They weren’t angry or upset about Shane being gay. They honestly asked if he was dating someone or if they had to set them up. They wanted him to be happy.

“Do the coaches know?” St. Vicky asked. 

“Yeah, them, my parents, Hayden Pike and Rose, I told Rozanov and some of the other team captains in a roundabout way when it became clear Montreal wanted to get rid of me.” The memories of that meeting still chafed at him like a bad t-shirt. He’d given his all to that team in every lifetime. He’d won them cups, he was the picture perfect captain who always said the correct thing to the press. 

Being gay shouldn’t have changed anything between him and the team. From experience Shane had known it would, at least in some way, he just hadn’t expected it to be so much worse the second time. 

“Didn’t you have a no-trade?” St. Vicky was now also leaning forward on the couch. “Why would they get rid of their captain?”

“Montreal is different from Boston. The team, I mean. Hayden was sort of chill with me being gay, a little less with my taste in men. But a bunch of the others–” Shane thought about Drapeau and his less than concealed gay jokes. Some of his other d-men who had been just that amount of too far away to protect Shane from a hit. 

Some of it could have been innocent. Mistakes and habits that one gay guy couldn’t change but that hurt him nonetheless. “They wouldn’t understand.”

Marly cursed and his hands gripped each other so hard his knuckles turned white. “Fuck, Hollzy.”

“Yeah, that was kind of the sentiment.”

“Well, we’re not like that. Besides Connors apparently, Marly and me will weed out the assholes for you,” St. Simon said. He got up and pulled Marlow up behind him. “Including the ones you date if Pike is right about that.”

Shane felt like he’d been thrown into the deep end of a pool, only the water was warm and even though he knew how to swim they threw him a life vest anyways. 

“Marly get rid of the bio hazard on his table.” St. Simon pushed him towards the table. “We’re gonna eat while Shane discusses his dating history. Wouldn’t want the pirozhki to get any colder than they are.”

“Doesn’t Rozy know some people from Hunter’s bar? Maybe a good place to start,” Marly said.

“Why? Did Rozanov say anything about it?” Shane asked as he took the bag of warm-ish food onto his lap.

“Nah, we left before he returned from Coach’ office.” Marlow scraped Shane’s old dinner into the trash.

It was odd but nice. He could handle this. Eating outside his diet, with other people there. Being out to people that weren’t family.

“Where are your clean plates?” St. Simon asked as Shane opened the bag in front of him. 

[07:01pm] Shane Hollander

Thanks. You were right about the team.

[07:02pm] Ilya

Am always right. 

No need to worry about Connors. I fixed it.

[07:03pm] Shane Hollander

Thanks for that as well. 

***

I heard Connors got put on waivers for calling Hollzy gay. The words swam through Shane’s head as he stumbled through the hallways. His teammates hadn’t realised he’d already arrived. Do you think it’s true? 

We shouldn’t talk about it. If anyone on this team was gay they’d say it on their terms.

He wasn’t sure which door he latched onto but he hoped that it would be empty. Preferably with a lock but he knew that would be unlikely because it was either an office or storage room. Neither of those would be empty or with a lock. 

It explains Rozy’s pre-season texts. 

One or the other. One, Shane could go in there and say he was straight, Rose would let him use her name, the other, he could say it’s true. He’s gay. He’s so incredibly gay and in love with their captain that some days the stress of keeping it inside threatens to tear him apart. 

Do you think they? – No, stop yapping about it.

Four months. That was the time he’d been allowed to work in this team before he was going to get traded for being gay. How often was it going to happen? How many teams could his very existence threaten to rip apart before no team wanted to have him anymore? 

His career would be over. Perhaps he should end it himself. It would be better that way. Announce his final season and hide away in his cottage until the end of time comes to claim him. He could coach peewee hockey, even though he sucked at explaining drills to kids, or maybe a PWHL team, they were a lot more accepting, right? Wasn’t there a gay couple somewhere in that league? 

Shit, no, that wouldn’t work. He didn’t want to stop playing hockey. He wanted to spend the rest of his life on the ice fighting for that Stanley cup. 

He wanted his job, his boyfriend, his life. 

Right now he had none of that, would have none of that if he couldn’t pull himself together. 

He didn’t think that this Ilya would choose him over Russia, safety, or his career. Hadn’t that been his wish? To go back to a time where he hadn’t chosen Shane? And what did Shane have to offer him but a Canadian passport? Especially when he could probably apply for an American passport himself. 

Shane hit his head against a wall. Again, again. Maybe it would smack his thoughts back into alignment. Maybe he could concuss himself into forgetting everything including the fact he was gay.

He might come out of that injury a better liar.

The steady bonk of his head was calming, almost meditative. His forehead hit something softer. He was dragged from his spot, his face pressed into someone’s chest.

“Breathe, Hollander.” Ilya’s Russian accent broke through his panic. A small bead of the light in the shadows that threatened to consume him.

“Did they see me?” Shane mumbled against Ilya’s chest. “Do they know?” 

Ilya’s fingers tightened on the nape of his neck. “No, is only coaches and me that know. Is how you wanted, yes?” 

“Marly and Saint too,” Shane confessed. “But you know that.”

“I did not want to assume.” Ilya is like a vice around his entire upper body but the only thing that could remotely prompt Shane to let go of Ilya was the idea of the team finding them together. Not for Shane but for Ilya whose life would be blown up by the revelation.

“Why? Didn’t you send them over so I could tell them?” Shane pulled back an inch or two so he could look at Ilya’s, sad, eyes. 

“Not to force you to come out. I promised.” 

“Yes, the non-forceful pirozhki.” The corners of Shane’s mouth tugged up. “I hated it. At first I mean. They dragged mud through my apartment.” Ilya smiled back at him. Softly. “But you were right. They were good about it. Although they were terrible about hiding that you’d send them.” 

“Assholes. They are so dumb. Why must I be forced to be in team of empty heads.” 

“Not me.” 

“No, never you.” Ilya kissed him. His lips gently covered Shane’s. It wasn’t hello or goodbye or you fucked up or anything really. Yet it was everything all at once. 

Shane needed this. Here in a storage closet with his not-boyfriend holding him, he felt important and wanted. Protected even. 

“I need to tell the rest of the team I’m gay before Marly slips up.” Shane pulled back and let go of Ilya. “It’s not forced but I’d rather do it my own way.”

Ilya nodded but his gaze stuck somewhere over Shane’s shoulder. “And if they ask whether you date?” 

The temperature in the room dropped a couple of degrees. They hadn’t talked about it. It would've been hard with Ilya avoiding him all over the place. “Do you want me to say anything?”

“I–” Ilya muttered something under his breath and he straightened his cross on his chest. “I don’t know.” 

“Then it can wait. We’re not… I mean we never–” Shane stuffed his fingers in his trousers. “I’ll tell them I don’t need a better wingman than Rose like I told Marly and Saint. I don’t want to tell you what to do but this is enough for me. In case you were curious.”

“Curious?” Ilya’s eyes finally focused on Shane’s face and with the tiniest smile he reached out to brush his thumb over Shane’s cheekbone. His freckles. “You always make me curious.”

Shane’s entire existence zoned in on that single point of contact. This tiny moment in time where he had Ilya, smiling, soft Ilya, right in front of him. This was all that mattered. All that Shane had worked for. 

It came crashing down within seconds. “Let team stay curious as well. I am not– I cannot. With Russia. My family there. They have… What is the word?” 

“Expectatitions. I know.” Shane closed his eyes for a second. This was it then. The secret stretched between them like a wall. “I’ll keep you out of the story. It’s okay.”

“Hollander,” Ilya said when Shane’s hand touched the doorknob. “This is enough for me as well.”

***

“Coach agreed to let me speak first,” Shane said into the slowly quieting locker room. “If anyone has questions about Connors I will answer them once. He called me a slur, multiple really. I don’t like talking about it because it is hockey culture but I’d been promised it was safe here and that I could be myself.

“So this is me being myself. I am gay and if you guys don’t hate me for it like the Voyageurs do I’d love to continue to play with you guys.” 

The room stayed silent. Time ticked away. I should leave. It’s not different here. Maybe if he got in his car right now he’d wake up back at the start again. Back even further to before he met Rose, to before he knew he was gay. That there was no chance at a normal life. 

A world in which Ilya never kissed him, Rose never told him, and Scott Hunter had never come out. 

Would Shane even make it to twenty-six. To two cups with nothing to push him but the feeling that he wasn’t enough. He was never enough. Not good enough at hockey to be excused that he was gay. Not kind enough or flashy enough or hard enough to be seen as a man instead of the boy that peaked from all his cracks. 

Shane would have nothing but hockey. And really was that anything different from who he was right now. Who he’d been in his past life. Closeted together, Ilya in the shadow that their lives cast over them. 

It sucked. 

But this wasn’t that life, he’d made different choices and he’d have to live with it right now. So he did what other guys did after breaking news in the locker room. Married guys to their single teammates, guys with the flu, pregnant wives, that one time drapeau lied about having crabs, “I promise it’s not contagious.” 

Marlow snorted so loud that some of the guys next to him started laughing as well. “Think my girl would be very disappointed if it was.” 

“Actually, I think the female population would thank Hollzy for taking you off their hands,” Saint chirped. “You’re a menace.” 

And the locker room went back to normal. They chirped about the gay flu season and which one of them was the worst with women. They were rowdy as they got dressed but nothing was out of the ordinary. Not the way those few silent seconds had felt like spending the last two minutes of a play-offs game in the sinbin to Shane. 

His shoulders sagged with relief and his eyes caught Ilya’s for a second. He’d been right, of course he had been. This team was filled with good guys.

“Wish Rozy’s pick up skills were contagious. He gets all the pretty ladies,” one of the rookies lamented. 

Ilya flashed Shane his smile for only a second before smirking at the kid, “You can have them all, kid. I’m spoken for.”

And the locker room descended into chaos again.

***

Ilya found Shane with his back to the wall at the bar he’d dragged him to. The entire team really. The music was loud and grating and Shane felt like he may start crying any minute now but he was fucking trying. Fuck. 

He’d promised Ilya that he’d try at the start of the season but this felt like more torture than even his stupid actions could have warranted. He wanted to go home, to sit on his couch and to eat his dumb food in silence. Maybe he’d rewatch that documentary on Pittsburg again. 

“You look like we just lost the cup.” Ilya’s voice was just loud enough to carry over top of the music. “So you know, we have not lost. We have won. Look like it.” 

Shane tried to force a smile but it fell through quickly. He stuck his thumbs in his pockets to have something to do. “I hate it here.” 

“But you come, yes?” Ilya shifted so they stood next to each other. His gaze shifted across the crowd as he watched for his teammates. For other people watching them. “Why?”

“You know why.” Shane would do anything for Ilya to look at him again. He wanted more than these stolen moments. Once he’d compared Ilya to the sun but Shane was beginning to fear that the clouds surrounding them would eclipse him entirely until Shane was left on his own. Was this what Ilya had felt like? When he’d yelled at Shane that he’d already chosen him. 

Some nights Shane would lie awake still replaying that fight, trying to do everything he could to avoid that same fight here. 

Once Shane had had almost everything, a winning team with a chance at the Stanley cup, friends to talk with, a loving boyfriend waiting at home. What had he left behind for Ilya? The worst team in the league, a secret, Shane’s parents. 

Shane hadn’t lost that much in his move. He still had a chance at the Stanley, he still had Ilya willing to go home with him at night, he had friends to text and his parents waiting for him at Christmas. 

But it was cold in the shadow of their secret. The smoke of the bridge he burned to get here was threatening to suffocate him. 

Ilya’s hand grabbed his in the dark of the club. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of Shane’s hand. 

Fuck Russia, Shane thought, for ruining the spark inside this wonderful man. Fuck his father and brother and the society that burned this version of Ilya bad enough that the only place Ilya felt comfortable enough to show his feelings in was the dark. 

“I’m going for a smoke,” Ilya said. 

Shane looked at the side of his face. The mole on his cheek. “I think I’ll come with.”

Ilya never lit his cigarette. They entered an alley and there was the snip of lighter going on but nothing burned before they reached the end of it. “I should’ve called a car.”

“We can call one for a couple streets over,” Shane answered. 

They walked and didn’t touch and Shane hid in the collar of his coat because Ilya hadn’t brought one. It would ruin my outfit. and they waited for a car. 

They sat in the car and sat on different sides of the bench but Ilya’s foot tapped against Shane’s and he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t get his hands on Ilya right that second. 

They reached Ilya’s house and Shane tipped generously. They didn’t touch in the driveway and Shane was practically vibrating as he took off his coat and shoes and put them away in a brand new rack next to the door. 

They never reached the bed. Not at first. 

Ilya was on him like a shark to blood and every minute Shane had had to wait, every second of hiding was worth it because Ilya was woreshipping him. Ilya was letting Shane touch and feel and taste. 

For once he didn’t care that there was a bruise left behind on his hipbone where Ilya sucked too hard on the flesh or the scratches left behind on Ilya’s back when Shane got too close to losing control. 

They’d made it to the bed. Together. Ilya’s face fit perfectly in the notch between Shane’s neck and shoulder. His lips traced the freckles that spilled over from his face onto the rest of his body. He asked about the scar on Shane’s shoulder and Shane asked about the cross Ilya wore. 

“I think my mother would’ve like you for me. You are kind, Shane Hollander.” 

Shane turned in his hold and kissed Ilya with all the tenderness he’d kept locked in his body because he’d never known Irina Rozanova. Not in his previous life or in this one. But he’d be kind to her son. Shane Hollander would do anything for Ilya Rozanov.

***

[12:13pm] Unknown number

Shane Hollander born in Ottawa at the Ottawa Hospital on May tenth, 1991 at 02:05pm?

Don’t ignore me. I know where you spend your time.

I swear if you hurt a single hair on Ilyushka’s head I will make sure there isn’t anything left for your mother to mourn.

[12:22pm] Shane Hollander

Who are you? Why do you know what time I was born? I don’t know what time I was born.

[12:23pm] Unknown number

I am serious. You better take great care of him.

[12:26pm] Shane Hollander

Ilya has informed me that you’re his best friend Svetlana. He says hi. 

Also I’d never hurt him. Not on purpose at least and it’s kind of my job on the ice to make sure my center doesn’t get hurt too badly.

[12:45pm] Svetlana Vetrova

Ilya reminded me you’ve never even fought on the ice. But I will keep my eye on you.

[12:47pm] Shane Hollander

Ilya asks if you want to get brunch on Saturday?

[12:47pm] Svetlana Vetrova

Yes. Buttermilk & Bourbon 11.30. You’re paying.

“Why does Svetlana assume I’m coming for brunch with you?” Shane asked from his spot at the kitchen island. 

The blender whirred to life for a minute and Ilya poured them out before answering. “You invited her, yes? Why would you not come?”

“I work out in the mornings.” 

“Yes, and in afternoon. Sometimes evenings.” Ilya handed him the smoothie. “You want to come, no?”

“I don’t know.” Shane hadn’t met Svetlana in their previous life. She was always busy and she didn’t very much like ‘Jane’ for keeping Ilya in the shadows. Shane could understand that now but it didn’t make the prospect of meeting her any less scary. 

Ilya shrugged and drank half his smoothie in one go. He didn’t even pull a face at the cold. “You don’t have to. You could but don’t have to.” 

“Thank you.” The words that he wouldn’t go were at the tip of his tongue. He didn’t have to. Ilya would understand but hadn’t Shane thought Ilya would understand for the past four years. Wasn’t that what had bothered him. Them. What had sent Shane back in the first place. 

Besides, Rose knew. What difference could Svetlana knowing make? “You know what, I’ll come.”

And Ilya’s smile was worth it.

***

Ilya’s smile was not worth it because Svetlana Vetrova knowing they slept together changed a whole fucking lot. Because Svetlana Vetrova was the scariest woman Shane had ever met.

He shifted his weight on the red leather couch and tried not to look at the giant dish of oysters that Ilya and her were sharing. 

“Did you bring him to Hecate yet? It’s around the corner.” 

“The team don’t do witch bars recommended by pretty woman.” Ilya took another oyster and Shane had to resist the urge to gag. He was suddenly glad they couldn’t kiss in public. Hopefully Ilya would drink a bottle of mouthwash before he tried to get close. Who ate oysters at eleven am? Well, he supposed it was technically the afternoon now.

Although he also thought his brisket looked a bit much for the morning, but Svetlana had chosen the place and Shane was trying. 

“Their loss. Perhaps it would make them play better like Hollander and you.” 

“You think I’m a good player?” Shane said and he looked her way. “I thought you hated me?”

“I can threaten your life and think you are beneficial to our run at the cup. I am Bears legacy after all.” Svetlana took a sip of her soft serve mimosa. It didn’t look any better. Fuck, Shane missed his morning smoothie. 

“Sergei Vetrov, he was good. One cup right?” Shane pushed his brisket around his plate. There were so many people around. What if one of them saw him eating this, and he missed a goal and they said it was because he had a shitty diet. People who ate greasy briskets didn’t get hat tricks against their old teams. 

“Ilya told you? Is he bragging about me?” Her chin rested on the palm of her hand.

“Always.” Ilya kissed her cheek but didn’t linger. “But he is a bit of a, ugh, энциклопедия.” 

Shane smiled while Svetlana huffed a small laugh. They shared a look and maybe Svetlana wasn’t so bad after all. 

“It’s almost the same,” Shane said. "Enciclopedia. But yeah, Ilya mostly spent the morning telling me you’re not as scary as you come across.” 

“She is angel,” Ilya said around the food in his mouth. “Her father keeps reminding me that I should marry her. ” 

 What? Shane stared right at Ilya’s face. Why did this moment need to haunt him in every lifetime? Was that why Ilya convinced him to come tonight? So Shane could be a witness to the proposal? To their shotgun marriage? Shane ‘the side chick' Hollander. 

He hated his life. Maybe he hated Ilya. No, he couldn’t hate Ilya. But he did hate this second shot at life at that moment. 

“Too bad that I have terrible problem. I’m in love with person with beautiful freckles and weak backhand.” Ilya talked with his hands and it took a minute for the words to settle in for Shane. 

“I do not have a weak backhand,” he snarled and Svetlana held up a finger while she carefully chewed. 

“Hollander is right. His backhand is better than at the start of the season. You have taught him well, Ilyushka.” 

Shane threw up his hands and slouched in his seat. He shouldn’t try to argue with two Russians. They were peas in a pod those two but the way they giggled at him, he didn’t regret coming. Not as much anyway.

To be honest he could see why Ilya hung out with her. She spoke Russian, was objectively pretty and knew hockey as well as Shane did. If she didn’t also insult him every third sentence he could see himself adding her to his list of friends. 

He let himself eb and flow within their conversation. It was nice to see the Ilya that Shane remembered while he spoke in a mixed English and Russian with Svetlana. It was nice and calming and too soon his phone’s alarm chirped. He quickly turned it off. “Sorry, I uh, normally nap before a game.” 

Svetlana raised her eyebrows but Ilya simply smiled. “I will get bill for my pretty dates. So I can get too young dino into bed.” 

Ilya slipped out of his chair and went to find a server. 

“You didn’t finish your food?” Svetlana commented, making Shane look back at her. “Didn’t you like it?”

“No, it was good.” It was great actually. The taste was amazing and he wished he could eat it but he had a game in a couple of hours, against his old team no less. Shane had to prove himself. He needed to fuel himself with things that weren’t brisket. “I’ll ask if they can pack it up as a post-game snack.” 

Svetlana hummed. “You need food if you’re going to play.” 

“There’s chefs at TD garden. I’ll be fine.” He rubbed one thumb on top of the other. “Just don’t tell Ilya. He’ll worry and he’s already commenting on my gross food.” 

“So you also think your diet is gross?” Svetlana’s brows rose impossible even higher.

“Are we shaming Shane’s awful diet? It has no taste and…” Ilya gently chirped the food Shane ordered from the team chef and told Svetlana that he’d left a ticket for her at the counter. She’d be somewhere near Shane’s parents but Shane didn’t say that. 

He waited for that beyond going outside – without Shane’s to-go box – and after they got in Ilya’s obnoxious car. “I like Svetlana. Will you spend Christmas with her?” 

Ilya hummed. “No, New Years is the bigger holiday for us but I may have a new New Year’s kiss so she may want to find a different date.” 

“Oh.” Shane looked out the window. “Well, if you want, you could visit my parents house with me. I can say that you’re not going to Russia and they could meet you. As my teammate.” 

“I don’t know,” Ilya said. “Maybe.” 

“Okay.” But Shane already knew he’d be flying to Ottawa on his own.

***

Hayden had met up for a couple seconds on the rink. They both wore A’s on their jersey’s now. 

There were flashes and yells from journalists trying to capture this moment. The assistant captain with his old captain. Two Montreal Voyageurs torn apart by a trade. Neither had commented on it besides to say they were still friends. It was how Shane wanted it. How it needed to be until it was safe enough to come out to the entire league. 

“I missed you, man. Did you bring the kids?” Shane hugged Hayden for a second before fleeing back to his side of the line. 

“You think I could pull them away from uncle Shane any longer?” Hayden laughed and pointed them out on the other side of the glass. 

Shane waved at them and wished he could go over there for a second but that wasn’t his side of the ice. Not anymore. 

“How’s plan second uncle going?” 

Shane gave him a small push with his stick. “Yell any louder will you. It’s… going, I guess. I met the friends. Friend? Singular. But I don’t think there’s any others who can know. You know?”

“Yeah, I think I’m starting to get it.” Hayden shuffled Shane around so someone could take a picture of them. “We’ll meet for drinks after the game. Bring ‘em around.”

“Sure, Hayd.” Shane watched him skate off to his own warming up. His stomach rumbled but he put the thought to the side. He’d eaten most of the brown rice and salmon before throwing it out. He’d even drunk most of his smoothie. He was fine. Not hungry. Impossible. 

He shook his head and went back to his own warming up. He stretched, shot some pucks at the goalie and passed a couple with Ilya. He only slipped and fell once but he blamed the seconds he spent lying on his back on the confusion. He wasn’t dizzy, “Too deep of an edge, I guess.” 

Marly laughed and poked his thigh with a skate. “Get up before they bring you a stretcher.” 

With a shake of his head Shane sat up and slowly got off the ice. “Don’t call them over or you’ll be starting your game with half of the first line.” 

“Shut up, Hollzy, you’ll jinx us.” Marly slapped his shoulder and got back to what he was doing. 

Shane wished he hadn’t because Ilya came circling in. “Sveta said you didn’t eat this morning. I didn’t see your plate when we left. Did you finish your dinner?” 

“I ate. Took a nap, had my smoothie.” Shane smiled at him. “I thought I was the worrier.”

“I’m the captain. Your captain. If you’re not eating.” 

“I ate, Rozanov. Back off my shit.” It had been the wrong thing to say. 

Hurt flashed across Ilya’s face but he did back off. “This can’t happen again. I’ll tell coach.” 

“Nothing is happening.” Shane was careful not to bump into Ilya on his way past and he ignored Saint when he asked if their old rivalry was acting up as they were set to face Montreal on home ice. 

This was supposed to be about Montreal, Ilya’s speech had been about Montreal about proving that dumb homophobic asses could never beat Boston because Boston stands up for their own. We will show them that letting go of Hollzy was a mistake. We have Marlow on the right wing, Saint and Carmichael in the back! We’ve got me, we have all of us working together like a team. Like a family. So we will fuck up the Voyageurs and keep those points in our fucking home. 

Ilya yelled a lot during his speeches but Shane had grown accustomed to that. The yelling, the rowdiness as everyone got themselves together. It reminded him of Hayden’s home with the kids. If the kids were over six feet tall and prone to punching other people. 

Somewhere along the way Shane had started to appreciate it. 

He returned to the bench for the anthem and tried to avoid looking as Ilya talked with their coach. It wouldn’t be about Shane. He wouldn’t take this chance to beat Montreal from him. 

They were sent onto the ice as the first line. Shane took his spot as the left wing close to Drapeau as Montreal's defence. “Coach let some rumors slip about your trade.”

“Nothing my own coaches don’t know already,” Shane returned but sweat beaded on the back of his neck and he hadn't even played a single shift. 

“So which one is fucking you?” Drapeau laughed but it was mean and loud. Even louder when one of the refs warned him and Ilya shot them a look. “No, your captain? Is that how you slept your way to the A so soon?”

Shane wasn’t a fighter and in the back of his brain he knew Drapeau was the absolute worst person to hit on the entire Montreal Voyageurs team. Especially when J.J. was his backup, especially when the first shift hadn’t even begun but this wasn’t about Shane. Not really at least. Drapeau was accusing Ilya of being gay and that wasn’t okay to Shane in the very least. 

Even though Ilya was his boyfriend, sort of, and Ilya was actually bi. 

So Shane hit Drapeau, not in the jaw where players would normally aim in a fight. No. Shane had been Drapeau's captain for years before he’d traded to the Bears. He knew about the old hurt in his shoulder where he really should’ve gotten surgery in the off-season but always refused to. And Shane knew that with his height if he angled just right he could hit that joint, that ligament and–

The puck dropped and Shane shot forward and waited for Ilya to find him across the blue line. Except Shane didn’t catch the puck, he let Drapeau slide past him before speeding up, angling his shoulder just that way to not just hurt but protect his captain. 

Drapeau swore and his stick clattered out of his hands as he grabbed for his shoulder with his good hand. He turned to Shane and dropped his gloves. Fuck, abort mission but Shane couldn’t deny a fight that he’d started. 

In the end he didn’t need to do anything. J.J. and Ilya had skated in and gotten in between them. J.J. on one side to try and get Drapeau off the ice and Ilya with a concerned look as he pushed Shane away from the glass and the reporters behind it. “What did he say to you?”

Shane shook his head and spat on the ice. 

“Shane?”

“Hollander. We’re on the ice. I’m doing my job.” 

St. Simon skated closer. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Hollzy.” 

Shane shook his head again. “I play the same sport. I did learn how to fight at some point.”

“You don’t have to fight,” Ilya said and he checked over Shane’s armour before letting go of him. 

“I do when he’s saying I fucked my way to the top through my captain.” Shane swore and wiped a hand across his face. St. Simon was standing right there.

But Saint didn’t look disgusted. He looked, amused, angry, both at the same time. “Can’t believe he thinks you have such great taste in men. I mean if even Pike hates your old hook ups.” 

Never, Shane thought, had he expected that the team’s good opinion would be the best cover for their whatever-the-fuck-it-was. He was glad it worked though. “Fuck Drapeau up for me when you get the chance, Saint? We gotta get Rozanov to that hat trick.” 

Saint agreed and they watched as the game started up with their second line. It was rough and the second period came with only one goal from the Bears but also a hard earned shut out. They just had to keep this up.

Shane had to keep himself together. He stumbled a little when he got on the ice for his first shift but he shook it off and played the only way he knew how to. Like his life was on the line. 

So what if he was a little slow to get on when he got slammed in the borders. It didn’t matter as long as he was still open for his team, when he still got the puck to Ilya. 

Marlow hit the puck to him and Shane sprinted across the ice. Across the blue line and his team was lagging but so was Montreal's defence. J.J. had always been slower and Shane was smart, highest IQ in hockey smart. He saw the opening and he didn’t wait to check whether Ilya or Marly was close. 

He faked a shot to the left, stretched and pushed it in the far corner. 

Shane sprawled on the ice but he didn’t care. He’d scored in the game against Montreal. 

He let Ilya pull him up and into a hug. Physical touch on the ice, beneath the stadium lights. Shane tensed up only a little. 

“Are you keeping up?” Ilya whispered in his ear before the rest of the team got to them. 

“I just scored.” 

“You fell over.” Ilya let go of him to let the rest of the team have their turn and skated to the bench to switch shifts. 

Shane clenched his jaw and followed him over. Marly sat between them but maybe it was for the best because Shane really didn’t have the energy to argue with him. He drank his water and waited for their next shift. 

The third period wasn’t getting better for Shane. Ilya had forced a gatorade into his hands that he’d dutifully sipped during Ilya’s speech while Saint stared down at him. Great, they were ganging up on him right now. 

Coach gave them pointers while they rested before sending them all back to the ice. 

Shane survived one shift, a second and third. On the fourth he felt himself slip. Fuck, he should’ve finished that gatorade and his rice and probably had a fuck ton more water. 

He skated behind Ilya. His Ilya with the puck. Determined to score, looking to see where his wings were but Shane was behind him and Marly was blocked and there was Drapeau, released from his injury to try and save the game. 

Shane saw him coming, he was too slow, the dizzy spells of the game catching up to him. Drapeau came in too hard and there was nothing Shane could do to stop him. 

Ilya went down and the world Shane thought he lived in ended. 

***

[09:41pm] Team Woo: Rose Landry

How’s Ilya? Were you allowed in?

[10:54pm] Hayden

Do you have any updates on Ilya? Want me to come over?

[11:41pm] Shane Hollander

I just got here.They made me do press but they’re saying he’s asleep. Won’t tell me anything else since I’m not an emergency contact.

I called his best friend Svetlana though. She’s coming soon.

[11:41pm] Rose Landry

Good. That’s good, right? Sleep means not dead. Let us know of any updates?

Shane texted Rose that he would and his parents that no, coming right now would totally put Shane’s big, fat, gay crush on the front pages. He chewed on the side of his thumb and watched the door in the distance as he waited for a doctor to come. 

Not that they would tell him anything, that’s what Svetlana was for. Next to being fluent in Russian and the uncertainty of Ilya’s grasp on any language right now. 

A paper bag hit Shane in the chest and he only caught it on instinct.

Svetlana siddled up to him and Shane was reminded of why she scared him. “You wouldn’t hurt him.” 

Shane deflated and he fell into one of the seats he was pacing in front of. “You can’t hate me more than I hate myself.” 

She sighed and sat down next to him with a scowl. “Hate yourself while eating. I had them heat up your breakfast.”

Sure enough the bag contained a styrofoam container with his morning brisket. It still smelled better than anything he’d eaten in the past couple months out of his own volition. “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt. With the team and the situation and… I never know when things will come out. The way they did with Drapeau today. Food, what I put in my body, I can control that.”

It may have gone a little bit too far. Making better choices for his aging body had seemed like the best decision but somewhere almost every possible food group had seemed like a threat to who he was supposed to be. 

“He needs you to eat, Shane. In order to be the best captain and player he can’t be worried about whether you skip a meal or get enough carbs in.” Svetlana gripped his hand tightly. “Right now you can take care of him by taking care of yourself. I’ll get us some information.” 

Shane stared at his food for an embarrassingly long amount of time before he took his first bite. He huffed a couple breaths at the heat and chewed it to mush before swallowing but he did it. 

He tried to keep eating until Svetlana came back for him but he gave up after a couple of minutes. He’d try again later. 

He promised Ilya he’d try. 

Eventually Svetlana came back for him and dragged him and the food along to a room further into the hospital. The scent of disinfectant followed them around until they finally found a room tagged ‘I.G. Rozanov’. 

Svetlana entered first and Shane heard Ilya’s gruff Russian grumble as he saw her. 

Shane took a deep breath and followed. 

“Ты ужасный контакт на случай чрезвычайной ситуации, оставив меня здесь на так долго.” Ilya mumbled the Russian before he kissed the palm of Svetlana’s hand and closed his eyes for a second.

Shane turned the light down a little bit on instinct. “Good to know he’s still a diva.” 

Ilya’s eyes opened and they immediately flickered to him. “Shaanneeee, hello moya Любимый.”

Shane hoped none of the staff around knew Russian because Ilya would hate it if he slipped up right now. Besides, it was bad enough that Shane had just spent an hour in the waiting room. Time he was supposed to spend introducing uncle Ilya to Hayden’s kids. 

“Sveta, did you know he invited me to meet his parents during Christmas?” Ilya giggled and Shane quickly shut the door behind him. “I think he likes me.” 

Oh no, was this what Shane had been like during his concussion? And Shane had had years of holding stuff back at that point. Ilya had always had the worse filter between the two of them. 

“You think so?” Sveta raised her eyebrows. “Well, I sure hope so. I’ve kind of gotten attached to his skittish, stray cat behaviour.” 

“I like dogs more.” Ilya sighed and held his free hand out to Shane. “Can we get a dog?” 

Shane walked closer and took his hand. “Yes, I think you’d be a great dog dad. I’m not sure where you’d leave her when we’re on the road though.”

Ilya sighed. “Figure something out. You are smart.” 

“Okay, well, I’m going to find the doctor about the concussion and when you’re allowed to go home. Не пугайте его,” Svetlana said and she kissed Ilya’s forehead before abandoning them. Don’t scare him. 

“Boo,” Shane whispered.

“Hm, no, I scare you.”

Seeing Ilya on that ice… There had been blood and now there were stitches on his forehead where his helmet had cut into the skin. Head trauma tended to bleed but for a couple seconds Shane had been convinced that had been it. That Ilya was dead and that he’d messed up his second chance even more catastrophically than his first. “Yeah, yes, you did.”  

“Hm, sorry.” 

“No. No, Ilya. I’m sorry.” He’d fucked up so many times. Did so many stupid things and he was so happy that Ilya was alive and could probably go back to playing again in the future. “I should’ve listened to you and you should absolutely have told coach that I wasn’t taking care of myself because on the ice you’re my captain. A damn good one.

“Seeing you on the ice was so scary.” Tears burned in Shane’s eyes. “I can’t stop thinking that if I’d eaten, was a little less dizzy, a lot faster, that I could’ve saved you.” 

“You’d be the one in this bed.” Ilya tugged him closer. “I don’t want that. I want to spend boring Christmas with you and boring family.”

“That would be amazing. And you may not believe me,” Shane said. His hands curled around Ilya’s cheeks and he couldn’t imagine that this man was here in a hospital bed telling him that he’d come to Christmas in Canada. To meet his parents. That it had taken Shane so long to realise that Ilya was worth everything. This long to be brave enough to shout it to the world. “But it’s important that I tell you.”

“I am bit tired. English is hard, Hollander.” Ilya’s brilliant eyes were hazy and Shane knew from his own concussion that he’d need to take a nap soon but he needed to do this before this chance was taken from him as well. 

He took a deep breath and softly kissed Ilya. He needed to do it here in a semi public place. To book end the words he’d been too afraid to say before. “I care about hockey but Ilya ya tebya lyublyu. If you wanted me to, I'd say it to the press right this instant. You can introduce me to your doctor as your boyfriend and bring me to every awful party that I wouldn’t even go to if they were my own teammates. I want to love you in the open because yes, I will spend my short as fuck summer at your house instead of my lovely cottage. I chose you, Ilya. No matter what you want or need. I will be here.”

Shane stared at Ilya’s drug hazed face as a slow smile spread across his face. “You’d risk hockey to spend time with me?” 

“If I wasn’t afraid to scare you I would ask you to marry me right now, Ilyushka.”

“Did Svetlana teach you Russian?”

Shane laughed. Of course that’s what Ilya took from this. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I learned it for you in a different life?”

Ilya laughed and shook his head. “This life is good for me and you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Or it would be. Shane would mourn the youth they’d had together later when he was back in his own home. For now he was glad enough that he had Ilya back and this time he wasn’t letting go.

The door behind them opened and Shane let go of Ilya’s face only for his hand to be taken instead. Ilya murmured something about Shane being his lover to the doctor and, even high, convinced them that Shane had to stay in his room for comfort. 

Shane held his hand through all the extra tests and the news that Ilya was out for the next couple of weeks. He held his hand when Ilya teased him about being completely in love with him because how could Shane not when Ilya was totally hot and gorgeous and so far out of Shane’s league. 

It was nice.

Staring at Ilya while he slept was nice, even if he did lay in a hospital bed. Shane put his head down on Ilya’s thigh, kissed the back of his hand and fell asleep as well.

***

Shane’s head hurt and his face felt dry. Must be the hospital air. 

He rubbed his eyes and fished for his phone in his pocket but the shape was wrong, too big. His lockscreen was different and actually now that his brain stopped being foggy and dumb, he wasn’t in the hospital. This was his jeep and when he felt along his forehead he found the indentation of his steering wheel. 

What was he doing? Did he try to drive home from the hospital? 

The time and date blinked up at him from his phone. 

[03:04am; December 26]

No. It couldn’t be. Shane’s phone unlocked with his face and he scrolled through the internet app. Everything looked different. Anatomic clock. 

[03:04:47; December 26, 2020]

He was back. 

Shane was back to where it all started. 

Which meant that the Ilya who he’d just shared months of his life with, the Boston Pirozhki, his friendship with Marly and Saint, was all gone. At least Shane hadn’t caused Ilya’s concussion but fuck, shit, no. He’d fought and struggled and now he sat here at the start. 

But it meant he could fix it. He hadn’t lost the experiences he’d gone through. He learned from it. He could be better to Ilya from now on. A better partner. One that listened beyond hockey. One that knew what it was like to stand in that shadow as the person he loved lived their life in the sun. 

It had hurt but he’d loved that life just the same because in the end he’d had Ilya. 

He switched to the phone’s clock app and put a timer on for five minutes. That’s all the time he’d give himself to mourn that life right now. If it had been real and not just some fucked up dream– At least that Ilya was alright, hurt but breathing and loved by so many people. That Ilya would be alright. 

It was Shane’s job to make sure that this Ilya was alright as well. 

The alarm went off and Shane crawled out of his car and walked to the front door. To knock or ring the bell, maybe he should’ve called Ilya’s phone or texted to make sure he wanted to see Shane? 

No. Ilya had asked for space but it had been a couple of hours for him too, right? Not the months that Shane had had to think about it but it had been something. 

Shane opened the door with his key. He put his shoes on the rack and hung his coat on its hanger and he walked towards the stairs. Apparently he’d made a noise because Ilya stood at the top of them. 

Or perhaps Ilya, with deep purple bags under his eyes, hadn’t slept yet. 

“You are back.” 

Shane swallowed, too loud, the words caught in his throat. “I didn’t leave, not really. I–” 

He couldn’t explain his other life, dream, no, falling in love with Ilya and having Ilya fall for him in return had felt real. It had been warm and bright and so true to what Shane knew about his boyfriend that it had to have been real. And to have had that insight into everything he’d given up for Shane. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry for what I did and said. Not just tonight. But the past years. You’ve been living on my timeline when it should’ve been ours all along.” 

Telling Ilya about his dream would be stupid but maybe someday Shane could find the words to tell him that he’d love every and any version of Ilya that he could get his hands on. 

“You didn’t leave?” Ilya wrung his hands in the bottom of the oversized sweater he’d stolen from Shane. 

Oh, his boy. His wonderful, stupid, brilliant, beautiful boy. Why hadn’t Shane said that more often or perhaps shown it more clearly. “My car didn’t leave your driveway.”

Ilya nodded to himself. “Come to bed, we can argue in the morning.”

Shane hurried up the stairs but Ilya had already tucked himself beneath the covers before he crossed the threshold. 

He changed into his pajamas in full view of Ilya and slowly, as to not scare his boyfriend he crawled into bed. He didn’t try to tuck himself into Ilya’s side. Not yet. There were things he needed to know, needed Ilya to know in return. Shane would be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous. “Do you think your current team is chill? Would they be kind to you?”

Ilya’s face scrunched up adorably. “What are you talking about?”

About a different life. About a day almost four months ago where a different version of Ilya had promised Shane that he’d be accepted and he’d been right. Ilya had always been way better with people than Shane was. “If you told them about me, us, would you be safe?”

“Yes, they will be more kind than Voyageurs are to you.” 

Of course that asshole had to chirp him. “Hayden and J.J. are nice.” 

“Hm, they are only ones.” Ilya pulled him in tighter. “You deserve army at your back. Everyone should only be kind to you. Canada’s golden boy.”

Shane kissed the hollow of Ilya’s throat. He wished he was better at Russian. That he could explain everything that was bundled in his chest in a language that Ilya could fully understand. One day he may get that chance. For now small gestures had to be enough.

“Do you still want me to come to that party, Ilyushka?” Shane asked and he felt Ilya’s hand tighten on his shoulder. 

Ilya pushed him away so he could look Shane in the eye. “Where did you learn this? What did you do to my Shane?”  

“I had some time to think about everything I’d done wrong and that maybe you tried much harder than I did.” Shane pressed his forehead against Ilya’s chest. “I’ve been a bad boyfriend.”

“No, you are wonderful boyfriend. So careful with me always. You make sure we are okay. Maybe I should not have pushed you.” 

“You should have.” Shane pulled away and pressed long, soft kisses to Ilya’s lips. “I’m stubborn and one sided sometimes. I need you to show me there’s another way.” He paused. Another kiss. “So, do you want me to come to Bood’s party tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Ilya breathed into the quiet between them.

“Then I’ll be there at your side.” Shane meant it. More than anything. If it was between hockey and Ilya. “Because I choose you too.”

***

“You are sure?” Ilya asked Shane as they stood in front of Bood’s front door. Two feet apart because the world at large did not know Shane Hollander was gay. The world inside that home did not even know Ilya Rozanov was bisexual and also very much Shane Hollander’s boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. Fuck, he loved saying that. He’d been cheated out of the experience for months and he was going to abuse his privilege today. 

He reached out and took Ilya’s hand in his. “I promised myself I’d try for you. And if you say your team is chill, I will believe that.”

Ilya smiled and looked around quickly before giving Shane a peck. “Good.”

It took a minute or two for the door to open after they knocked. Shane was supposed to be stressed but trusting Ilya was becoming second nature. He was there. They were okay. 

Bood opened the door himself clad in a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. He was yelling at someone, “I took the turkey out yesterday! I should be good. Oh, hey, Ilya and–”

His eyes widened and Shane’s heart sped up to dangerous rates. Abort mission, this was a mistake, he should’ve gone to Montreal and they could’ve talked about this some other day. This was– Ilya rubbed his thumb across Shane’s knuckles and his shoulders dropped from next to his ears. 

Shane held out a hand. “Shane Hollander. I hope it’s okay that Ilya invited me.”

“Yeah, sure, man.” Bood shook his hand. Slightly too long and limp. Especially for a hockey player. Shane carefully retracted his hand. “Oh, yeah, come inside. I’m grilling turkey, three kinds. Ilya can explain but don’t let him lie about the heat. He’s just a pussy.”

“I am not what I eat.” Ilya frowned playfully before backtracking when Shane glared at him. “Have not in long, long time anyway. Years, ages, ever.” 

“Stop lying,” Shane said as he rubbed his face with the hand that used to hold Ilya’s. “Not even I could escape the stories.” 

“Shane, мой помидор–” Ilya was still making his excuses when they reached the living room where most of the team had already gathered. Shane recognized most of them from the rink, from research, from stories Ilya had told him. 

"Ilya's arrived!” Bood yelled. “And, uhm, Shane Hollander?"

There were some hoots and hollers followed by a lot of confused noises and every single set of eyes zoned in on them. 

Shane wasn’t nervous. He was petrified. Ilya could so easily have been wrong and this could mean the end of their career. 

His boyfriend however had never met a silence he’d been cowed by. "Yes, is my very long time boyfriend." 

Ilya beamed, sunlight sparkled in his eyes and in a moment of absolute bravery Shane took Ilya's hand. Fuck, the fear. Shane had promised himself, and another Ilya, that he would try. They were worth it. "Nice to meet you. Officially." 

And luckily for them Ilya was almost always right because the scene in front of Shane could be described no differently than almost-hysterical joy.