Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Hayden Pike, Svetlana Vetrova, Rose Landry, Wyatt Hayes, Luca Haas, Zane Boodram, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Brandon Wiebe

Additional Tags:

Heated Rivalry (TV) References, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders (Game Changers), Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exes, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Hockey, Eventual Smut, Super brief marriage of convenience, pls be kind I am still learning about hockey, POV Alternating, Second Chances, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Player Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Pursues Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-21 Completed: 2026-02-28 Words: 29,783 Chapters: 6/6

Second Line

Summary

Wiebe could tell he was wearing Ilya down, but he still looked nervous. "Ilya," Ilya stilled. To his team he was always Rozanov or Roz or Rozy, never Ilya. "You're our guy. There's nobody I'd rather be our captain, to lead this team to another Stanley Cup. It's clear you don't like the guy, but we both know how good this could be."

Ilya jerked his head in a nod. "We will destroy everyone, this is true." Wiebe seemed satisfied. Ilya stood to leave and delivered one last look at Wiebe "But I do not have to be happy about it."

***
Shane and Ilya are estranged for years after Tuna Meltdown. Then Shane confuses everyone by signing with the Raiders.

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

February 2015- Boston @ Montreal

Ilya had been a fucking mess before the game. Hidden in the bathroom at one point to splash his face with cold water and calm his nerves. Snuck outside to chain smoke. Paced around the weight room like a caged animal.

He was going to see stupid fucking Hollander for the first time since he'd walked out and left Ilya confused and scared on his couch. This was the first time Ilya was going to see Hollander since he'd gotten engaged to Rose Landry.

For the week leading up to this, Ilya had found it harder and harder to drag himself out of bed. He told himself it was new medication, it was because he was pushing himself too hard on the ice. The plucking nerves in his core betrayed him.

Stomach churning, Ilya skated onto the ice for the puck drop. Kept his eyes trained down, trying to ignore the way the air around Hollander prickled with an intangible electricity. He could feel Hollander's eyes on him, and Ilya gritted his teeth and looked up.

Shane's eyes looked glassy, unfocused. His freckles were dark, probably from getting sun at the All Star Game in Tampa.

"I heard you got married. Congratulations." Shane whispered.

Hollander won the face-off.

***

December 2014

"Sveta, I can't. I can't ever come back here again." Ilya clutched her, aware that it was uncomfortably tight.

She combed her fingers through his hair, shushing him with soothing noises. "Ok, so you never come back."

Ilya shook his head "No, I mean I cannot. I am too scared."

Alexei had cornered him at his father's wake, spitting threats about evidence he claimed to have, calling Ilya a Пидор. It might have been bullshit, empty lies from a scared cokehead who saw his source of income drying up, but the consequences were too real and terrifying for Ilya to test his bluff.

Svetlana frowned, assessing him. "Ok. We can make sure you don't have to leave the US."

Ilya blinked at her, a conversation from a few years ago bubbling back in his memory.

"Svetlana, I can't ask you to-"

She put a finger to his lips. "You don't have to. I want you safe. This way, you are safe." She shrugged like it was nothing, and Ilya felt his fear start to dissolve.

They married quickly, efficiently at a courthouse. Nothing changed between them. Svetlana stayed at Ilya's often, but they weren't any more serious than they were before. Citizenship interviews were easy, because they knew everything about each other. Ilya's biggest fear, being deported and subjected to whatever homophobic punishment was waiting back home, was finally being laid to rest.

He couldn't figure out why nothing felt better. Why Svetlana had to coax him to eat some days, why he needed to draw the curtains and sleep for fifteen hours on off days. Shortly after he returned from Russia, Ilya withdrew from the All Star Game. Svetlana assumed (somewhat correctly) that it was because he could barely take care of himself, let alone go to a weekend of parties and press appearances. Embarrassingly, Ilya knew he was really avoiding Hollander. He couldn't imagine going to Tampa and laughing by the pool with his teammates and playing wing to Hollander and pretending nothing ever happened between them.

A few days later, his fog lifted enough for him to have a moment of clarity. He might be like his mother. He needed to see a therapist.

It wasn't a moment too soon, because the morning of his first session his teammate Connors sent the team a link. He tapped it, and almost dropped his phone.

"Wedding bells? Rose Landry spotted with something icy." She was on the red carpet with a gigantic fucking engagement ring. Ilya slapped his phone down on his kitchen counter and resisted the urge to scream. Shane Hollander really had incredible timing.

***

May 2018

Shane couldn't take it any more. Mitty, Comeau, guys he's known most of his adult life, wouldn't make eye contact with him anymore. They left the room when he entered. Shane was crawling out of his skin.

He called the only person who might understand, one who was admittedly surprised.

"I hadn't heard you were out." Scott said

"It's not a secret. But I haven't put anything on social media yet, put out a statement, whatever.”

"Yeah, I guess not everybody can kiss their boyfriend on national TV." Scott laughed, and Shane wanted to laugh along, but his stomach was churning. "Do you...are you seeing anyone?"

Shane frowned "No. I was, kind of. But not anymore. Not for a long time."

"I know how hard it can be to date, or find people when you're closeted." Scott mused.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut. He had found someone, once. That was the whole problem.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you know what teams might be more...uh...open minded?" Scott sucked in some air. Shane leaving Montreal had been unthinkable until now. To his relief, Scott didn't interrogate the idea.

"Hm. I've heard San Jose is pretty alright. I mean, you'd live near San Francisco too, which would be pretty fun for a guy who's just coming out." Shane nodded, as if Scott could see him.

"Seattle, too. I know the center for Los Angeles has a gay brother..." Shane felt like he should be scribbling notes as Scott analyzed. Then Scott said something that made his heart stop for a moment.

"I mean, it's not really an option for you to move there, but I know that Boston locker room is supposed to be pretty good."

"Really?" Shane stuttered.

"I know, I know. Don't ever tell him this, but Rozanov is alright. This bar in Vegas did a Scott Hunter night the year I came out, and he showed up. Danced all night, didn't care about being seen at a gay bar."

Shane felt like his stomach was full of cement, imagining Ilya in a pulsing club, dancing with some imaginary guy that Shane automatically hated.

"Anyway, he comes by the bar I own now. And I'm friends with his left winger, Boodram. He said Rozanov runs a tight ship over there, pretty good locker room culture."

Shane chewed his lip. "Too bad they have a center."

***

September 2018

Ilya hadn't seen Wiebe like this before. Passionate and focused during games, intense and encouraging in the locker room. Calm and warm when they were off the ice, when they packed into the team plane or went out for dinner on the road.

Ilya watched him settle into his chair, shuffling papers, and slowly identified it. Wiebe was nervous. A feeling started to build in Ilya's stomach, one that told him he should run. He took a deep breath.

"Whatever it is, just tell me." He spat.

Wiebe sighed. "It’s not bad news. But I think you'll understand why I wanted to tell you first, before the rest of the team. "

Ilya leaned forward.

"We're going to sign Shane Hollander."

There was an instant ringing in his ears, and Ilya saw red.

"Fuck off."

Wiebe wasn't joking, and Ilya really felt himself starting to lose control.

"Wiebe, what the fuck? I give everything to this team, you sign Hollander? For what? So you can trade me?"

Wiebe shook his head emphatically "No, we would never do that. Also, you know you have a no-trade clause right?"

Ilya dimly remembered that in his contract negotiations, he had wanted permanence.

"So what, you put me on second line? You try to make me play wing? Why does he get to come here and fuck with me, my team?"

Wiebe held a hand out, trying to get Ilya to pause. "Please listen, we would never sign him if that was the case."

Ilya couldn't make sense of it.

"Hollander has agreed to play second line."

"We can't afford him" Ilya desperately flailed as he tried to process the idea of Shane Hollander accepting second line.

"He's taking well under what he's worth." Wiebe shrugged.

Ilya's dread mounted. Hollander was doing this purely to fuck with him, this had to be the reason, this made no sense.

"Why the fuck would he do that?"

Wiebe gave him an uncomfortably sharp look "You and I know what we've built here. We've won two cups in the past four years. I think Hollander just wants to win."

Ilya was livid, but he had to admit that part made sense. Perfect Shane Hollander loved to win.

"He also mentioned some things about team culture. I won't get into it any more, it's his story to tell, but it sounds like the Metros locker room is not a place he likes to be. He had a lot of meetings with me, with ownership, and he thinks he can fit here."

Ilya frowned. Hollander had his best friend, Pike, in Montreal. What could be so bad that he would leave?

Then Wiebe said the worst part of it all. "And he said he wants to play with you. I thought the rivalry was more of a media thing. I can tell from your reaction that I may have been wrong, at least on your part. But he clearly has a lot of respect for you as a player, and I know you can understand wanting to play with the best." Wiebe grinned "And come on. Tell me you don't want to see other teams try to face us when you're both on the ice for a power play."

Ilya slumped in his seat. Wiebe had nailed his Achilles heel. He loved winning. Knew Hollander loved it more than anything. Knew no other team stood a chance if they were both playing for Boston. Only a psychopath like Hollander would accept lower pay and give up captaincy for an opportunity to dominate the league like this.

Wiebe could tell he was wearing Ilya down, but he still looked nervous. "Ilya," Ilya stilled. To his team he was always Rozanov or Roz or Rozy, never Ilya. "You're our guy. There's nobody I'd rather be our captain, to lead this team to another Stanley Cup. It's clear you don't like the guy, but we both know how good this could be."

Ilya jerked his head in a nod. "We will destroy everyone, this is true." Wiebe seemed satisfied. Ilya stood to leave and delivered one last look at Wiebe "But I do not have to be happy about it."

***

Ilya was grateful that Wiebe had told him separately, even if it was only to avoid a scene. Wiebe had called a team meeting the week ahead of training, breaking the news before the press ran with it. The locker room was stunned into silence. Ilya registered that the team should be overjoyed, Shane Hollander was a perennial MVP candidate, any team would be thrilled to have him. Wiebe finished telling the team, explaining how it would all work, and Ilya could feel everyone's faces turn to his. This was why Wiebe had told him separately, he was the captain and he needed to set the tone.

"Everyone knows I'm not fond of Hollander," Ilya started, to some laughter. "But he is the second best player in the NHL," more of the team was laughing now. Good, this was working. "And he wants to win. So he is welcome here, yes?"

Players nodded. Wiebe shot Ilya a grateful look and left. The room descended into buzzing, everyone processing the news.

"I mean, shit. How bad was the Metros locker room for Hollander to bounce?" Marleau asked their goalie, Wyatt Hayes. Hayes shifted uncomfortably for a moment and then lowered his voice. Ilya pretended to be very interested in his phone, but he strained his ears to hear him.

"Uh, look. I've got an old teammate on the Metros. I don't think Hollander is keeping this a secret or anything, but I haven't seen it in the press, so just...keep it on the down low for now, ok?"

Ilya was frozen, mind racing.

"He came out."

Ilya dropped his phone. As he picked it up, Hayes and Marleau watching, he realized he had to abandon all pretense.

"Sorry. I did not mean to overhear." He lied. "Hollander is gay?"

Hayes nodded. Marleau let out a low whistle.

"And the Metros didn't take that well?" Marleau asked.

"No," Hayes shook his head. Ilya had hated the Metros since he had been drafted into a decades old rivalry, but he felt an even sharper hatred now.

"Fuck them." He growled.

"Yeah, it sounded bad. Obviously some guys were fine, but a lot of them stopped changing around him, made a lot of shitty jokes, it just seemed...toxic." Each word Hayes said stoked anger in Ilya.

The Hollander he had known had brushed Ilya off the few times he asked about his sexuality. He had been far too worried about being the perfect poster boy for hockey. The kind who was straight and at one point engaged to a beautiful movie star. Ilya started to turn over an unsettling thought in his mind. He thought he knew Hollander well, but this felt so different, deeply out of character. How much had he changed in four years?

***

Shane sat in his car, practicing breathing exercises that he'd done with his therapist last week. He was scared, really scared to see Ilya again. But he was also excited. There was a relief knowing that he wasn't going into the Metros locker room again. Hayden had been heartbroken, livid at the team. But he was happy for Shane, if not completely confused that Shane chose Boston, of all places.

Shane took a final steadying breath, got out of his car, and marched inside.

"Hollander! Good to see you." Coach Wiebe was walking down the hall, smiling. If anything had cemented Shane's decision to come to Boston, it was Wiebe. He had more warmth than any coach Shane had worked with. Seemed to see through him, in an uncanny way. "Come on, I'll take you back to the locker room. A lot of guys rolled in early, wanted time to catch up before training started."

Shane could hear joyful yelling already. It stung, unexpectedly. He hadn't heard a locker room like that since he came out.

They rounded the corner and it took Shane maybe two seconds to register that Ilya wasn't there. His shoulders slumped as he relaxed. This was a better way to meet everyone.

"Look who showed up!" Wiebe thumped him on the back, and Shane took in the inquisitive faces of his new teammates.

"Hey. Looking forward to playing with you." Shane nodded, and then he moved to his locker. He was wedged between Zane Boodram and a very young looking boy, his locker said "Haas."

"Hi. I'm Luca. Luca Haas." The blond shyly stuck out his hand, and Shane couldn't help being a little charmed by his manners.

"Watch out, he's going to ask you to sign his Shane Hollander poster." Boodram nudged Shane, grinning.

"I told you, I don't have that poster anymore!" Luca flushed "It was when I was a kid."

Shane could feel himself smiling. "So like, one year ago?"

Boodram chuckled, a low rumbling laugh that eased Shane's nerves further.

Luca seemed thrilled to be teased by Shane. "I'm twenty. Not as young as you and Roz when you started."

Shane nodded, biting his lip. He and Ilya had really been so young when they met, when they started playing. Maybe things would have gone differently if they had crossed paths when they were a little older and Shane hadn't been so scared.

"Anyway, I promise I won't be weird. But I can't believe I get to play with the two of you." Luca said breathlessly.

"I'm looking forward to it." Shane smiled.

"Ok, ok." Wiebe clapped his hands. Shane cast his eyes around the room again, wondering if Ilya was sick or something.

"Five minutes, then we head to the ice for drills."

Shane changed quickly, still force of habit from trying to get in and out of the Metros locker room as fast as possible.

As he started walking down the tunnel he sucked in the familiar sensation of cool air, the faint chemical smell of freshly smoothed ice. It calmed his nerves right in time to be hit in the face with the sight of Ilya, already gliding on the ice.

"Cap, couldn't wait for us?" Wyatt Hayes yelled behind Shane, rushing onto the ice to hug Ilya. Shane hung back for a moment, but Ilya wasn't turned towards him, he seemed totally absorbed as Hayes started telling him about some sci-fi show he had watched that summer.

Shane skated out to center ice and started stretching. His nerves settled as he took in his surroundings. This was the same as any pre-season training. He was back on the ice, things always made sense here.

He looked up as more players tumbled onto the ice. Haas shot him an eager smile as he skated next to him and started stretching. As Shane looked up at him to grin back, he noticed Ilya, facing towards him for the first time. He wasn't making eye contact with Shane, but he was frowning at Haas.

Shane was sure he didn't want anything to do with him. Wiebe had said Ilya was excited to have him on the team, but Shane knew better. This was a crazy, stupid idea. He was starting to fill with doubt and regret before Ilya turned his hazel eyes on Shane's and his breath was knocked out of him.

***

Ilya could feel himself glaring, unfairly, at Haas. Luca seemed to be a sweet, eager kid. He had been in training camp last year, freshly drafted and too green to be seriously considered for a call up. He had gotten a couple valuable weeks around the squad before working his ass off in the minors. Ilya was happy, almost like a proud father, when Wiebe had said he was probably ready to join the team this season.

The team had teased him mercilessly when he admitted last year that he had a poster of Ilya in his bedroom growing up. Ilya had stopped teasing him about being a fan boy when Haas had argued that he wasn't obsessed with Ilya, he also had a poster of Hollander.

Was he really so irritated that his little shadow from last fall had latched onto his other idol? A worse sensation was curling in his stomach. He watched the way Haas flushed as his eyes traveled over Hollander's face. Haas looked shy, tentative, and curious. The same kind of look he had caught on Hollander's face the first few times they crossed paths. That expression had encouraged his reckless and impulsive younger self to book a commercial with Shane, try to come onto him in the shower, and eventually land in his bed that same evening.

Ilya's gaze slid from Haas to Hollander's for a moment and he was mortified to lock eyes with him. Those deep brown eyes were gazing softly at him, a searching expression on his face.

Fuck. Fuck this shit, fuck Hollander. Ilya forced himself to think about Hollander walking out the second Ilya had shown his feelings. He had made it extremely clear that Ilya was unwanted. Ilya tore his gaze away and turned back to Hayes. He had faced off with Hollander on the ice for years. He could handle whatever this new challenge was.

***

Shane was dreading the shower after training. He had wanted to tell the Raiders that he was gay before this. He worried the guys would think he was being a creep for showering with them before he came out. He hung back in the locker room, pretending to take ages to unlace his skates. Ilya came wheeling around the corner in a towel and grimaced when he saw Shane.

"Why are you here?"

Shane supposed he could be asking the broader, general "Why the fuck did you come to Boston," version of that question. But he went for the more simple answer.

"I got used to showering after everyone in Montreal."

Ilya's face softened for a fraction of a second, before his eyebrows furrowed and he went to his locker. "Yes, Hayes said they were shitty."

Shane's head jerked up. "Wyatt knows?"

Ilya winced a little and looked apologetic. "Yes. The league talks."

Shane slumped a little. He felt relief more than anything. "So the team knows?"

Ilya nodded carefully, looking at Shane like he was a bomb that was about to go off. "Yes. You don't have to worry. They do not care."

Shane squinted at him.

"Hayes has gay sister. Our social media guy, Harris, he is gay. Team loves him." Ilya waved his hand like it was easy. Scott had not been exaggerating, this team was miles different than the Metros.

"Ok." Shane let out a steadying breath.

"It is just shower, Hollander. Nobody thinks you are going to get a boner." Ilya was smirking at him and Shane suddenly felt completely unprepared for this. Ilya knew all too well that he had gotten embarrassingly hard the first time he'd seen Ilya in the showers. And judging by Ilya's grin, he was all too happy to torture Shane with that memory.

"Yeah, I guess the coast is clear. Not like any of the guys in there do it for me." Shane shrugged, and turned around to strip off his clothes. He could feel Ilya's eyes boring into the back of his head, but by the time he had turned around, Ilya was intently staring at his phone, eyes pointedly trained away from Shane.

***

Ilya had hoped training would start to desensitize him to Hollander. It was aggravatingly enjoyable to see him on the ice as a member of the team, not an opponent. They still found ways to compete, one-upping each other in drills to the point that the team started to notice and egg them on. Wiebe seemed pleased, watching them try to best each other on shot accuracy one morning. Ilya couldn't deny that the team had incredible depth now. He wouldn't be anxious getting off the ice and letting Shane take over with the second line. If anything, he begrudgingly admitted, it could be an advantage if a team had his number. Their style of play was so different, and from the way Shane frowned and focused as Wiebe explained drills and plays, Ilya could tell that he would watch their opponents with precision, analyzing how to attack them where Ilya couldn't. He could never, ever admit that to Hollander. But he did admit it to his therapist one afternoon.

"That must be a new feeling." Galina nodded.

Ilya rubbed his chin. "It is. He's always been the only one who could keep up with me. Or challenge me." He admitted.

He toed the carpet. He had promised to be honest in his sessions. When he started, he had told Galina that he was reeling from a breakup. Not even a real breakup, just a devastating rejection from a boy that he had been falling for. He had said he couldn't share more about him, that he was a public figure. Galina hadn't pressed.

"You remember the person I talked about when we started?" He asked, eyes raising to assess her face. She betrayed no emotion when she nodded.

"Of course. We haven't spoken about him in a while."

Ilya cursed Hollander internally. He hadn't talked about him in a while. He had accepted that they were over, he had worked on himself, and he had moved on.

"What I tell you stays here, yes?" Ilya saw a flash of understanding cross her face, but she nodded gently again.

"So he..."

"Yes. He." Ilya sighed. "And now he is here. And I see him every day."

"Is that very challenging?" Galina asked.

Ilya frowned. Challenging didn't feel like the right word. Aggravating. Infuriating? Like Ilya had worked hard to build up scar tissue and Hollander was now picking at it.

"I am afraid." He didn't even realize it until the words slipped out. "I do not understand why he is here. I do not want to be around him. I thought I could, but I don't think I can."

"What would happen if you spent time around him?"

I'd fall for him again. I'd get my heart ripped out again. "I think he could hurt me. Again." Ilya simplified.

Galina looked so sympathetic that Ilya felt like he was going to cry. "That's very possible."

Ilya must have shot her the world's more transparent "what the fuck" expression, because she raised her hands.

"You can't control other people hurting you. But you have done so much work since then. You have coping mechanisms."

Ilya slouched in his seat.

"Ilya, I think it would help to tell other people what you are dealing with right now. Someone you trust. This is a big burden to carry by yourself."

Ilya nodded, musing on her advice. She was wrong about control. Ilya was afraid to let Hollander near him again, but he could control his feelings at a distance. He could just keep him at arms reach. Ignore his soft gaze, his beautiful freckles, his shy smile...Ilya groaned and covered his face in his hands.

He would tell someone. Svetlana would be back in Boston when the season started. He would tell her he was in deep shit, that he was in trouble.

***

Training with the Raiders still felt surreal to Shane. He loved playing on the same team as Ilya. Off the ice, it was a different story. His heart would plunge into his stomach whenever those piercing hazel eyes would find his, but on the ice they worked in sync in a way Shane had never experienced. There were moments off the ice where Shane thought he caught Ilya staring at him, but he always seemed to glance away right before Shane could catch his eye. Shane was relieved that the rest of the team didn't seem to care about his presence when it was time to shower or change. But he did notice that Ilya never seemed to be around when Shane would step into the shower, or pull on clean clothes.

Ilya was a good captain, he was encouraging and sharp. His interactions with Shane were limited to overly competitive drills or barking suggestions when Shane practiced plays with Haas and Connors. Shane had never imagined not being captain, but it felt like a blessing as he adapted to everything. He could focus on his play more, as he got attuned to the team.

Boston was a really great team to play with. Bood was warm, boisterous, and a menace on the ice. Hayes was an incredible goalie. Shane had hated playing against him in recent years. And Luca was excellent. He still had some confidence to build, but he was nimble and a quick learner.

As they left the ice one day, Luca tapped Shane on the shoulder.

"Hey, a few of us are going to get drinks after this. Do you want to come?"

The "No, thank you" was automatically loaded on Shane's tongue, but Haas had incredibly effective puppy dog eyes, and Shane felt himself weaken. He remembered how thrilled he had been when Scott Hunter celebrated with him the night that he won Rookie of the Year.

"Sure, I'm down."

Ilya had been several paces ahead of them and jerked his head around, looking surprised.

"Are you coming, Rozy?" Haas pleaded. Shane could feel himself holding his breath.

"Why not. Need to make sure Hollander doesn't corrupt you." Ilya sighed, turning away from them.

Shane wasn't sure who was more excited, him or Luca.

***

Ilya rested his chin in his hand, trying to look the picture of boredom as Haas and Hollander quietly chatted across from him and Bood and Marleau loudly argued about barbecuing techniques.

He was stunned that Luca had been able to coax Hollander out. More stunned to see Hollander order a beer, although Ilya observed that everyone else had moved on to their second or third as he still nursed his first. Ilya wondered absently if Hollander still drank ginger ale, or if he had outgrown it.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. His observation on the first day of training seemed correct. Luca practically had stars in his eyes as he talked to his idol, but that flush on his cheeks and the way he looked at Hollander whenever Shane's attention was elsewhere seemed unmistakable. So the boy had a crush on Shane. Big deal, Ilya was sure there would be men falling at his feet when he came out to the public. Even if he hated Hollander now, he could admit he was handsome. His eyes were a warm brown that you could drown in. His hair was glossy, begging to be combed by gentle fingers. And his freckles, little constellations that had tormented Ilya for years, were darker from the summer sun.

Ilya tried to ignore the sensation curdling in his stomach. "What are you two talking about?" He interrupted, annoyed that his other companions had drowned out the ability to eavesdrop on Hollander.

"I was talking to Shane about his rookie year!" Haas said breathlessly. Hollander flushed now, and Ilya was distracted for a moment by the way his freckles stood out against his pink cheeks.

"Oh my god, which would have been your rookie year." Luca smacked himself in the forehead.

"That must have been so crazy. And you guys were both All Stars that year."

Hollander turned redder, and Ilya felt a smug satisfaction, knowing exactly what made him flush this time. He had thought about that All Star weekend often. How he had been thrilled to get Shane's number. How quickly Shane had dropped to his knees for him. How much he had wanted to hear about the toy Shane used on himself.

"Yes. It was very memorable." Ilya smirked, and his grin only broadened at how flustered Hollander looked.

Then Hollander tilted his head and said something that shot through Ilya like an arrow. "I think there are other moments in our careers that are more memorable. Like the time you beat me out for MVP."

Ilya could feel himself clutching his beer too tightly. Hollander was trying to taunt him with a memory that Ilya had revisited too many times. Ilya didn't even want to admit to himself how often he had thought about Hollander offering himself up as a prize, toying with himself for Ilya's benefit in that Vegas penthouse.

"What about the game where I scored a hat trick against you?" Ilya shot back. He had bent Shane over his couch and fucked him until he forgot how to speak that night.

"I liked that season opener after I won the Stanley Cup." Shane's eyes were glinting now. They hadn't even made it to a bed that evening. Ilya was so desperate for him after a summer apart that he had pinned Shane to the floor the second he walked into his apartment.

Ilya was about to spear Hollander with another memory when he caught sight of Luca, who was watching with rapt attention.

"Rivalry got old." Ilya snapped, and a flash of something crossed Hollander's face. It might have been anger. Ilya forced down the idea that it might have been hurt. "Now we are on same team. I cannot enjoy beating you anymore."

Hollander nodded, turned to Luca, and started asking him questions about his conditioning routine.

Ilya excused himself for a cigarette, desperately needing the time to collect himself and push these thoughts out of his mind.

Out in the cold fall air, he stared up at the sky. At one time, he had cradled those memories like special treasures. And then Hollander ran away, everything went to shit, and Ilya had tried to bury them because he couldn't stand thinking about Shane. He took a deep drag of his cigarette. Hollander had sat across from him, rattling off those same moments as if they were etched in his brain as deeply, as if he'd never been able to suppress them. Had Hollander ever laid awake at night, staring at the ceiling, tortured by the way every euphoric moment had fermented into something painful and sour?

Ilya stubbed out his cigarette. It didn't really matter. They had broken it, whatever they once had. And it was pointless to think of it fondly, now they just used their memories as weapons to jab each other.

***

The first game of the season, as luck would have it, was against Montreal. On home ice, at least. Which was good, because Ilya was pretty sure the first time Hollander played in Montreal people would be burning effigies of him in the street.

As Boston stretched on the ice, Ilya noticed Hayden Pike glide up to Hollander. They embraced, and fell into animated conversation. Ilya's curiosity got the best of him, and he started slowly looping up behind Hollander to see what he had to say to his old teammate. Just as he was about to approach Shane's side, he heard Hayden say something that made his blood run cold.

"Whoever he is, I hope he's worth it."

Ilya skidded to a sharp stop, which made Shane jump and look at Ilya.

"Who is worth what?" Ilya asked, and Hayden squinted at him before he turning a questioning glance at Shane.

Shane nodded "I'm out to the team, it's ok." He was fighting a smile, and Ilya couldn't make sense of it.

Hayden sighed. "I was just telling Shane that the Metros are going to be out for blood, they're not happy he signed here."

Ilya shrugged "That is what they deserve, they are homophobic."

Hayden nodded. "I'm not arguing that. Just warning Shane."

Ilya turned his gaze on Shane and shot him an accusing look. Hayden hadn't answered his question. Shane's smile broadened more for some reason.

"And Hayden guessed that there was a reason why I signed here, when there were other teams I could have gone to that probably would be accepting enough."

Ilya waved his hand in a universal "spit it out" gesture.

"He moved here for a guy." Hayden sighed, and Ilya's blood ran cold. Of course he did. Shane Hollander was out now, and he had his first boyfriend. A Boston boyfriend, of all fucking places he had to find one.

"Oh. Who?" Ilya could feel his eyebrows shooting up as his heart dropped to his stomach.

"Some guy who was in his phone forever under the name Lily." Hayden answered, and Ilya suddenly felt winded. He couldn't look at Shane right now, but he felt his gaze burning into him. "They'd text and hook up whenever he was in Boston. So when I heard Shane signed here of all places, I put the pieces together." Hayden sounded proud of himself.

"And I was just telling Hayden that yes, Boston Lily is worth moving here for." Shane said, and Ilya finally dragged his eyes up to meet his. What kind of sick mind game was Hollander playing at?

"Nobody is worth playing second line for." Ilya spat out, and skated away.

Chapter End Notes

1. Luca Haas, you're in danger girl.
2. We're done time skipping, it's not something I enjoy writing. Everything is 2018 onwards.
3. I have tagged this accordingly, but I'm still learning about hockey and barely understand how a second line works. I just needed to get the boys on the same team, even if it's a pretty unbelievable scenario.
4. I transplanted a lot of the Centaurs onto the Raiders. There's no reason for Ilya to go to Ottawa in this universe, but I liked those characters too much to abandon them.

Chapter 2: Breakfast Is Not A Date

"Ilyusha, something is wrong" Svetlana eyed him as he draines his glass of wine.

"Nothing wrong." He lied placidly, smiling at her.

She rolled her eyes at Sabrina, her fiancé, who was smiling affectionately. "And you think I am a cold Russian."

Sab was beautiful, the moment Ilya met her he understood why Svetlana had to get a divorce last year. Her wavy brown hair was cropped close, highlighting her angular cheekbones and some gorgeous earrings Svetlana had probably bought her. She was an art dealer, and her sleek fashion had initially been the draw for Sveta. The more time they spent together, ostensibly shopping for art for Ilya's home, the more Svetlana realized that she was falling for a girl for the first time in her life. And evidenced by the rock on Sabrina's hand, she would be the last.

"Ilya, you might as well tell her. We both know she's going to work it out of you," Sabrina smirked.

Ilya groaned and threw his head back. He loved acting like a petulant child with them.

"Fine. I am mad because Shane Hollander is on my team, happy?"

Sveta sighed "That is stupid. He is a good player, you don't even play on the same line, what does it matter?"

Ilya grimaced. "He is boring and he annoys me." He caught a razor sharp glare that he knew he couldn't ignore. He picked at the remains of his dinner. His therapist had said he should tell people. There was nobody safer to tell than these two, his family.

"I...many years ago...we were sometimes hooking up." He said lamely.

"What?!" Svetlana snarled, and Sab choked on her wine.

"Ilya, when? How many times? You are unbelievable. How did you never tell me?"

"It wasn't mine to tell, Sveta! He was in closet until now." Her eyes softened and she relented a bit. Ilya sucked in a breath. "I do not know how many times."

Sabrina looked like she was having the time of her life, eyes bouncing between Ilya forcing out this news and Svetlana absorbing it.

"Sooo many times, then?" Svetlana said knowingly. "How long?"

Ilya sank his head onto the table, unable to look at her for this part. "The summer before rookie season."

"Oh my god, you're kidding me," Sab was really having too much fun with the news.

"ILYA. This whole time?" Svetlana asked, before she remembered. "You said many years ago. When did this stop?"

Ilya propped his chin on his folded hands. He needed to look her in the eyes for this part. "It stopped almost four years ago. A little before my father died."

Her eyes looked too worried, and he headed her off.

"I wanted us to be something more, and he did not. We have not seen each other outside of games until now." He bit the inside of his cheek. "I want to ignore him, but he is being weird."

Sab frowned "Weird how?"

Ilya shook his head. "Hard to explain if you do not know him. Um...he is confident. He did not used to be. It is scary."

Svetlana looked amused. "A confident boy scares you?"

Ilya rolled his eyes. "It is like he is hunting me."

Both women glanced at each other. "In what way?" Ilya could hear the careful tone in Sab's voice. They had successfully coaxed him this far, and they could sense there was a final piece to the story.

"He told his friend he moved here for me."

Ilya was almost disappointed in their reaction, because both women looked frozen for a moment. And then, humiliatingly, they burst out laughing.

"Hey, no fair! What the fuck happened to supportive friends?" Ilya asked

"Oh yes, Shane Hollander is stalking you like a lion, you are just a poor little gazelle" Svetlana teased, and Ilya could feel a heat rise in his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry to stereotype, but are we sure Shane isn't a lesbian?" Sabrina cackled. "I thought it was bad that I moved cities for an ex I'd been seeing for six months. He just moved for a situationship that stopped talking to him three years ago!"

Ilya wanted to laugh with them. Wanted to find the humor in the situation, but the best he could manage was an eye roll and to politely beg that they turn the conversation to something else.

***

Shane showed up early for practice and was a little surprised to see Ilya on the ice already. He knew he trained hard, but from the way Ilya's face was flushed, it looked like he had been running sprints for ages before Shane got there.

"Hey!” Shane yelled, hopping the boards. Ilya looked rattled for a moment before he skated away. Then he scraped to a halt and turned around, charging back. Shane only had a moment to register Ilya speeding towards him until they were nose to nose. The closest they had been since their last face off on opposing teams, which would have been five months ago, but who was counting. Shane stared at his mouth, rosy, begging to be kissed, and tried to shake that thought out of his head.

"What do you want, Hollander?" Ilya asked. Shane felt for a moment like Ilya had seen through his thoughts just now, but that wasn't possible.

"Uh...ice time? I usually need some time where it's quiet, it helps me think and get ready."

Ilya rolled his eyes. "No, not why are you here on ice. Why are you here in Boston? Don't say you want to win, don't say leaving Montreal. There are other teams where you can win, where they are not assholes. You can go be second line for Scott Hunter if you need."

Shane searched his eyes. There was something genuinely pissed off on his face, but Ilya's eyes almost looked pleading.

"I told you. I did come here for all those reasons, but I also came here because you're here."

Ilya's forehead crumpled in confusion. This was not how Shane had planned this.

"I just...I'm doing this all wrong." Shane muttered.

"Doing what. Fucking with me? Messing with my head? You are doing great, really good job Hollander." Ilya rolled his eyes.

Shane squared his shoulders. "I'm here because I want to get you back."

Ilya backed up, and Shane could see shock on his face. Which didn't make any sense to Shane, he thought he'd made that clear enough the other night when they were talking to Hayden.

"You never had me." Ilya said quietly. That whisper felt like a loud punch to the gut.

"I know. That's the problem." Shane nodded, and Ilya's face rearranged itself to confusion again. "I never got to do things the right way. And I just... I'm not so scared anymore. But if you don't want me to try, I'll leave you alone."

There was a silence that felt more reassuring than it should have. Ilya was staring at Shane like he still wanted to bite his head off, but finally he huffed.

"When did you get all this confidence?"

Shane blinked. That was not what he expected Ilya to focus on. "Well. I go to therapy now. I think it's helped me say what I'm feeling. And I'm out. I'm not scared and hiding anymore. I'm not sure I'm even that confident, I just...know what I want now."

Ilya nodded, like it made all the sense in the world. "And what you want is to chase me."

Shane bit back a grin and nodded. Ilya was glaring at him, but the heat behind his eyes looked so familiar.

"I will not stop you. But we both know you can't catch me, I'm faster anyway." Ilya skated off, flying, as if to prove his point.

Shane started warming up, his mind racing with possibilities. Before he could get to his feet and try to talk to Ilya more, Wiebe emerged. He nodded at Shane, nodded at Ilya, and settled in to watch his centers avoid each other for the next hour.

***

Ilya arrived home dead tired. He had pushed himself too hard in practice, stupidly trying to outrun his thoughts. He kneaded his hand on his forehead, trying to erase the memory of this morning. Hollander was throwing him off balance, badly. He had seen this confidence in the bedroom when Shane seemed all too aware of the power he held over Ilya. He had seen it on the ice when Hollander would beat him, self assured in his talent and ability to compete with Ilya. He had not seen this behavior in this context. Hollander was not supposed to talk about feelings, or to know what he wanted. That was how Ilya had gotten his heart broken in the first place.

The security system for his front gate buzzed. He had a wild thought for a second that Hollander might have followed him home. But a glance at the camera showed it was just a delivery person. He let the gate unlatch and opened his door. He was horrified to see a man approaching with a gigantic bundle of flowers. He yanked them out of the delivery man's hand and threw them on his kitchen counter. Ripped open the envelope of the accompanying card.

"Ilya,
I'm still the fastest, according to the All Star sprint competition. Hope you like the flowers.
Shane"

Ilya stared at his first name. Three and a half years ago he had been on his living room couch, feeling like his whole world was rearranged because Shane had said his name. And in a way, it had. Because the glow of that moment lasted about one second and then Hollander ran out and he didn't come back the way he had before. Except, a tiny voice nagged Ilya, he had come back. Almost four years later, with a vengeance.

Ilya: what the fuck are these?

Jane: Lillies. Do you like them?

Ilya: what am I supposed to do with them?

Jane: I think just look at them.
Jane: my dad said he got lots of flowers for my mom when they started dating.

Ilya stared at his phone.

Ilya: did you ask your dad for advice on how to seduce the captain of you team?

Jane: not in those exact words.
Jane: he did say he wasn't sure if you were a flowers kind of guy.

Ilya was baffled. Hollander's parents knew he was chasing Ilya of all people. He tried to not think too hard about how Hollander's parents reacted. What he typed next mortified him.

Ilya: they are pretty

Jane: you're still in my phone as Lily.
Jane: but I'm going to change that now.

Ilya: thank you for the flowers, Jane
Ilya: tell your dad it was a nice idea, but we are not dating

Jane: he'll be happy to hear you liked them.
Jane: goodnight, Ilya.

Ilya stared at Shane's last message. His name was burning a hole through his vision again.

***

"I don't like this." Rose's voice crackled through Shane's phone as he's on FaceTime, packing for his first road trip of the season.

"What? Rose, you bought me this shirt," Shane frowned at the blue linen he was about to neatly fold.

"No, Shane. That shirt looks great on you, you should pack it." Rose sighed. "I don't like this plan."

Shane could see the worry on her face now. "I mean, it's not one of my better plans, I know that. I've never really made a plan that has a chance for failure. But I don't have any other choice."

Rose nods, but her face is not looking any calmer. "Shane, honey. What are you going to do if he rejects you? Like for real, not some playful 'you can try to seduce me if you want' thing."

Shane hadn't really relayed his conversation with Ilya in those words, but he guessed that was the way it came across, now that Rose said it. "Well. I'd be really sad. But not really any sadder than I was the last few years."

Rose's face scrunched, no doubt remembering some really awful nights of Shane crying on the phone. Usually before or after he had to play against Boston. And it had gotten worse for a bit when he first came out to the Metros. Rose had flown out to Montreal for a week, holed up with him and forced him to watch movies and eat popcorn and remember that the world wasn't ending because his teammates were assholes.

Shane tried to find the words. He had talked about this exact scenario with his therapist last week. "I think not knowing has killed me. That I wasted my opportunity to be with him. And now I can at least try, I had never even tried before. If I try and he rejects me, I'll have some closure, at minimum."

Rose looks a little less worried now. "Ok, that's the Shane I know. Planning out how he's going to feel when the worst case scenario happens. You had me scared for a second, talking about buying him flowers and everything."

"He liked the flowers!" Shane protested.

"What's next in the plan? Chocolate covered strawberries and champagne?"

Shane rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not that much of a cliche." His forehead creased. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what move made sense next. Ilya hadn't mentioned the flowers since they had texted. He was ignoring Shane for the most part at practice and during games. Shane had kind of hoped this road trip would be an opportunity to get more time together, and when he had brought that up, Rose had stopped him to interrogate the plan. But he did want to spend time with Ilya. More than anything.

***

Jane: Hi! I was wondering if you'd give me a ride to the airport.

Ilya: you do not have a car?

Jane: I do. I just thought it would be nice to go together.

Ilya wanted to rip his hair out. This was the dorky, earnest kind of thing that had made him fall for Hollander in the first place. Asking for a ride to the airport shouldn't be endearing, and yet here he was, his heart fluttering at the thought of Shane waiting patiently outside his house with his luggage.

Ilya: I do not think you will like my driving

Jane: you're probably right.
Jane: but I trust you

This nice Canadian man and his boring texts were going to be the death of him. Ilya couldn't crumble this easily.

Ilya: send me your address.

Ilya pulled up the next morning to a high rise. He had been disappointed when he plugged it into his navigation, hoping he could get a glimpse of Hollander's new home. If it looked like the lake house he had seen videos of. At least he was permitted to appear at the front of the building, he wasn't waiting in a back alley like he used to in Montreal. Shane was, predictably, waiting outside with his suitcase and a sensible carry on backpack. He got into the car with a polite "Thanks for getting me," as if this hadn't been his idea in the first place.

Ilya knew he hated the car. He had picked his most obnoxious Ferrari and he revved the engine unnecessarily before peeling away from the curb. Shane's resolve to be polite and agreeable lasted only one minute, to Ilya's delight.

"Ok, Jesus. I said I trusted you, but you drive like a fucking maniac."

"Is ok. I have never been in an accident" Ilya could feel how wide his grin was.

"That is actually shocking to me." Shane was gripping his fingers into the leather of the seat, and for a fleeting moment Ilya's eyes lingered. He remembered Shane's fingers digging into his thighs, his ass, as he grabbed Ilya close while going down on him. This was a terrible idea.

They arrived at the airport. Shane and Ilya were full on bickering now, spitting jabs back and forth about car choices, road safety, and airport etiquette when they finally arrived at the lounge for the team charter.

Wiebe was seated by the door and his eyebrows shot up in surprise to see them enter together. Ilya could feel a scowl settle on his face. He hadn't considered this part. Hollander being out to the team was one thing. Hollander actively pursuing him, whatever that actually looked like, was something that Ilya did not want known.

Hollander floated off to pick over the breakfast offerings, and Ilya parked himself on the couch next to the windows. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Shane take a seat with Hayes, then noticed Luca beelining for their table.

"Haas!" Ilya barked. Luca's eyes went wide. "Come. Sit." Ilya was sure he was just motivated by petty jealousy that Haas had placed his fanboy devotion onto Shane this year. A nagging voice in his head told him that he might have other reasons for trying to keep Luca away from Shane.

"Hey Roz!" Luca flopped next to him and began enthusiastically shoveling cereal into his mouth.

"Ready for your first big league road trip?" Ilya asked.

"Yes. I'm not totally looking forward to it. I wish rookies didn't have to room together." Luca sighed.

"Sorry. Did you have big plan to bring someone back to your room?" Ilya prodded. Luca glanced quickly in Hollander's direction and Ilya felt a slicing sensation of being uncomfortably correct.

"No, nothing like that." Luca frowned.

Ilya lowered his voice "Is ok if you have a crush on Hollander," he lied.

Luca flushed, almost as red as a beet. "Who said..."

Ilya shook his head. "Nobody said. I notice things. I will not say anything."

Luca looked relieved, but this was a miscalculation on Ilya's part. Now Luca felt comfortable opening up to Ilya.

"I don't think he likes me back or anything. And I would never make a move. He's just so hot. And he's an incredible player. You both are!" Luca corrected, misreading the glare on Ilya's face. "I wonder why he doesn't have a boyfriend."

Ilya frowned. This was not a conversation he could stomach this early in the morning. Especially after he had just had to toss the dying flowers Hollander had gotten him. Truthfully, he had held onto them well past their prime. Seeing them, even browned and wilted, did something funny to his heart. When he finally tossed them this morning he had tucked their card in the bottom of his sock drawer, evidence that Shane Hollander had sent him flowers, addressed to him by name.

"Probably does not have a boyfriend because he is boring and only sleeps, eats, and plays hockey." Ilya shrugged.

"Well. If I was braver, I'd say he needs a boyfriend who plays hockey." Sweet, stupid, infuriating Luca was smiling to himself as he said that. The lounge attendant called for boarding, and Ilya wrapped an arm firmly around Haas' shoulders.

"Come on, want you to sit with me. I will give you all my Vegas advice."

Ilya wheeled them through the crowd, keeping Luca safely away from Hollander.

***

Maybe as captain it was a poor choice to rally everyone for a night out in Vegas before a game, but they had done this plenty of times. Some guys knew what they could handle and went hard, others just drank water and enjoyed the company. These days, Ilya was closer to the second camp. He had, horrifically, aged into the type of person who got hangovers now. His early 20s hedonism finally catching up. And besides, tonight he did not want to lower any inhibitions around Hollander.

Hollander looked uncomfortable, maybe Montreal hadn't done a lot of this. Bood and Hayes were playing roulette, and Hollander stood there, awkwardly, clutching a fizzy pale drink that Ilya was positive was ginger ale. His nose was scrunched, focusing on the game like he was trying to study for an exam. Ilya couldn't take it.

"What did you usually do when you played in Vegas?" Ilya whispered in his ear, and to his delight, Shane jumped.

"Would it surprise you to hear that I just stayed in my hotel room?"

Ilya sighed dramatically. "So boring."

Shane's eyes flashed at that, for some reason.

"So why do you come out tonight?" Ilya prodded.

Shane's cheeks were turning pink, a sight that Ilya had unfortunately, desperately missed. It contrasted with his freckles in a way that made Ilya want to caress his cheeks.

"Because I wanted to be around you."

Fuck. This stupid, direct, confident Hollander was doing his head in.

"It is too bad we don't share a hotel room, like the rookies." Ilya nodded over at Luca Haas and Tanner Dillon, all too aware that Shane's breath had caught in his throat. "Then I would not be able to get away from you." His eyes fixed on Shane's. "You know, the hotel is across the street. Where I got my MVP prize."

"I..." Shane trailed off, his eyes on Ilya's mouth. Ilya could feel it stretch into a smirk. It was satisfying to see that he could still get to Shane, fuck with him enough to make him forget his words. There were other ways he used to make Shane forget how to speak.

"Have a fun night, Hollander. Get to know the team. Bond." Ilya patted him on the shoulder and tried to ignore the spark he felt, touching softly for the first time in years. He forced himself to turn away, and walked over to his rookies to make sure they didn't get into trouble.

***

Ilya was woken to sharp knocks on his door. He squinted at his phone. The team had gone back to the hotel around midnight, and it was 8 am. Practice wasn't until 11. He had tossed and turned far longer than he'd like to admit. It was a strange sensation, knowing Shane was down the hall. Before everything went to shit, the closest they had slept together was in the same hotel during All Star Games. For the past three years, one of them seemed to always abstain from the All Star Game. Ilya hadn't had to lie awake thinking about the possibility of Shane slipping out of his room, quietly padding down to Ilya's door.

There was another knock this time, more gentle, and Ilya groaned as he hauled himself out of bed. He yanked sweatpants on and threw the door open.

He shouldn't have been surprised to see Hollander, but he felt his mouth drop open. He tried to not notice the way Hollander's lips parted and looked him up and down. Ilya was glad he hadn't put on a shirt. Kind of regretted that he had put on pants to answer the door.

"What do you want?" Ilya leaned against the doorframe, blocking the entrance to his room. He couldn't let Hollander in, his willpower wouldn't withstand it.

"I wanted to see if you'd like to go get breakfast." Shane said, softly.

"Downstairs?" Ilya could feel his eyebrows furrowing. The team usually got hotel breakfast whenever, they didn't wake each other up to go together.

"No, there's a spot nearby that Hayden said is good."

Ilya rolled his eyes "I do not think I trust Pike's restaurant review."

Hollander shrugged, and then said something that made Ilya want to scream in frustration. "I want to ask you out to dinner, like a real date. But we're always playing in the evening. So I thought breakfast was better."

"Hollander..." Ilya could feel himself doing his nervous tic now, rubbing the side of his nose. "You do not ask someone to go on a date at 8am."

Hollander shrugged again, just looking at Ilya. He registered with some satisfaction that his eyes kept flicking to Ilya's bare chest.

"And this is not a date." Ilya sighed. Shane's face started to break into a tentative smile, and it was too much for Ilya.

"Go wait in lobby. You woke me up, I need food. I will meet you and we can go to Hayden's bad restaurant."

"Really?" Hollander looked thrilled, and Ilya wondered if he had caved too easily. If Shane had been planning for him to say no.

"This is not a date," He stressed again. "I am just hungry. Go."

Ilya closed the door and then leaned against it for a moment, trying to collect himself. He could do this. Shane had driven him crazy, made him miserable for close to four years. He could hold out, torture him back.

Ilya wasn't in any real danger, he had been too hurt, he wouldn't really let Hollander back in. No matter how badly he had wanted to drag him inside and throw him on his hotel bed.

***

Shane couldn't believe it had worked. He had the idea when he'd woken up at 6am to go the gym. Had spent too long after the gym showering and picking out what to wear. Texted with Hayden about Vegas recommendations. He'd barely had any time to think about what it would really be like to sit across from Ilya in a restaurant, in broad daylight.

Ilya was holding the menu in one hand, drumming the table top with the other. Shane had already picked out what he was going to order, he had looked over the menu when Hayden recommended the place.

When the waiter arrived he asked for an egg white omelet, Ilya asked for French toast and "the biggest cup of coffee you have, I was woken up too early."

As the waiter left, Shane could feel himself rolling his eyes. "You weren't really asleep, right?"

Ilya grimaced. "I was really asleep. I did not sleep well."

Shane's stomach churned. He was already off to a bad start. "Oh. Sorry."

Ilya's coffee arrived and he busied himself pouring sugar and creamer into it. Shane watched with interest. He realized he had no idea how Ilya took his coffee. He knew exactly what Ilya sounded like when he was about to come, but he didn't know something as simple as a coffee or breakfast order.

Ilya was watching him now over his mug. "What?"

"What do you mean?" Shane blinked.

"You are staring." Ilya gestured.

"I was just thinking that I don't know how you take your coffee." Shane admitted. Something crossed Ilya's face. Softness. Maybe sadness for a fleeting moment.

"Now you do. And now I know you do not drink coffee." He gestured to the water Shane was clutching.

"Oh, no I had some at seven when I got back from the gym."

Ilya groaned "Oh come on. Hollander, you are the only person in Vegas who is waking up before seven to go to the fucking gym."

" That's not true! There was another guy in there."

Ilya rolled his eyes, and then a smirk crossed his face.

"Hm. Did you two ride on the exercise bikes?"

Shane could feel his face burning as his stomach flipped. Was that early encounter as present in Ilya's mind as it was in his? Ilya was grinning at him, clearly satisfied that he had rattled Shane. This wasn't supposed to be how it went, Shane was the one who was supposed to remind Ilya of what they once had. What Shane wanted them to be.

"Uh. No. I was on the treadmill."

Ilya nodded and sipped his coffee. "I wanted to pin you to the ground, that night."

Shane almost choked on his water, and Ilya's smile was broadening. This dynamic was too familiar, Shane's limbs felt like they were buzzing with an electric current. He needed to give Ilya a taste of his own medicine.

"Well. I went back to my room and jerked off, thinking about how much I wanted to straddle you."

Ilya's coffee came flying out of his mouth, a full on spit take. Shane yelped in surprise and delight, and grabbed napkins to wipe off the table.

"Hollander, what the fuck!" Ilya was laughing, and Shane's stomach felt like there were a thousand butterflies in it.

"It’s the truth! I'm trying to be honest with you now!"

Ilya groaned, and the waiter appeared with their food. Shane gratefully dug in, too nervous to look at Ilya right now.

"I did too." Ilya said quietly. Shane couldn't help but look up and lock eyes with him. Ilya's gaze was so serious, but then he shrugged and went back to his pile of French toast. "Was a very long time ago. Now you are annoying me with early breakfast and questions about coffee."

Shane swallowed a smile, and they finished their breakfast in silence.

Chapter 3: Scary Is Good

The team boarded their flight. It would barely take an hour to fly to LA, but Ilya studiously ignored the empty seat next to Hollander. He had spent enough time with him in Vegas.

Instead, he sat next to Hayes, who was directly behind Hollander. Hayes already had an eye mask on, and Ilya would be able to sit in silence and try to quiet his brain.

To his distate, sweet, chatty Haas sat in front of him, and started grilling Shane for his breakdown of the game that night. They had completely destroyed Vegas, a team that had given them trouble for a few years now. Ilya had to admit that he loved how much other teams hated seeing Hollander hop the boards and come out to terrorize them.

He was about to slip headphones on when he heard something that made him freeze.

"What are you going do with the off day?" Luca asked.

"My friend Rose lives in LA, I think she wants to take me shopping." Shane smiled.

Bless Luca, bless him a hundred times, because he launched into every question Ilya had. "ROSE LANDRY?" Haas squeaked. Shane laughed fondly.

"Yes. She's one of my best friends."

"You and her used to date, right? Sorry. I love her movies a lot, and it was just so exciting to see an NHL star date a celebrity."

Shane sighed. "Uh...kind of. She and I did date for a little bit, but it was never serious, you know, I-"

"Serious enough to get engaged." Ilya interrupted, unable to let Shane off the hook.

Shane's head whipped around, Luca's eyes widened.

"That never happened." Shane said. He looked like he meant it. Ilya wanted to yank his phone out, show Shane all of the headlines from three years ago, how tabloids and update accounts had breathlessly posted every photo of the two of them. Ilya had only been able to stop lurking on them when eventually Rose's camp had put out a statement that they were just very good friends. The fan accounts had dried up, Ilya stopped seeing so many candid shots of the two of them, and he had felt a tiny sliver of satisfaction.

"That's not what I saw!" Luca protested. Ilya wanted to plant a kiss on top of Haas' head. Shane squinted at Haas.

"Well. It never happened. I don't know, things were crazy when we got together. People blew it up into something it wasn't. I was having a hard time." Shane bit his lip. "And she was a really good friend."

Haas seemed disappointed. Ilya didn't know what he felt.

"And besides, I'm gay. She kind of helped me realize that."

Ilya felt like his eyes were going to roll into the back of his head. Shane had sucked Ilya off countless times, been fucked senseless, begging for his cock, and Hollander had needed Rose Landry to help him figure out he was gay?

Ilya slumped back in his seat, deciding to jam his headphones on and drown out the rest of their conversation as Haas tried to wheedle celebrity gossip out of Hollander.

***

The next morning, Ilya woke to a text from Shane.

Jane: hey! Rose wants to meet you.
Jane: we're getting dinner at some fancy sushi place.
Jane: I know it's not a date.

Ilya let the texts sit in his phone all day, marked "read." He called Svetlana in the afternoon.

"You're passing up the opportunity to meet Rose Landry?" She hissed.

"Why would I want to meet her?" Ilya protested.

"She's beautiful, she's famous, oh, I don't know. She is the best friend of this man you are obsessed with."

Ilya groaned "WAS obsessed with."

"Sure. Whatever."

Ilya tried to picture Galina, she would push him to be honest.

"I...I hated her for a long time." He winced, admitting it.

"Because she dated Shane?"

"Yes. She got to be with him. In public. Wearing his jersey. They got to be engaged and happy." He shook his head. "I thought they got engaged. But Hollander said yesterday they never did."

"Don't you want to hear her side of that?" Svetlana said sharply, knowing all too well how to push his buttons.

***

Shane couldn't beleive Ilya had agreed to it. He and Rose were coming off a marathon shopping session, and she had excitedly insisted that he wear one of the new outfits she had picked for him. He had thought her fussing was kind of excessive, but when Ilya strode up to their table his gaze raked over Shane in a way that made him silently thank Rose.

"Hi, I'm Rose. It's so good to meet you." Rose stuck out her hand as Ilya sat across from her, leaving the seat across from Shane empty.

"Ilya. Thank you for inviting me."

They were all silent for a moment before Rose jumped in to do what she did best.

"So, tell me what it's like playing with Shane." Shane had always appreciated how Rose could move a conversation, he never stressed about awkward pauses with her.

"It is good." Ilya said cautiously. "We have not been on the ice together. "

Rose nodded "yeah, I saw that. It's got to be pretty fun, though, having him come in as second line."

Ilya nodded as if Rose was forcing something out of him.

"It is very fun. Other teams are scared." Ilya cracked a grin that Shane could feel himself mirroring.

"As they should be. And Boston is treating him ok? Shane told me they're better than Montreal, but that bar is low."

Ilya's eyes flitted around her face, like he was noticing her for the first time. "Yes. They are good teammates." He looked over at Shane. "This is the right place for him."

Those words hit Shane in the chest. Ilya's eyes lingered on his, an unexpectedly earnest glint in them.

Shane could feel Rose throwing him a pointed look and tried to ignore it.

The server arrived and broke the tension, and then it was Ilya's turn to interrogate Rose. "How did you two meet? I thought Hollander only played hockey and went home."

"She was filming in Montreal. JJ's friend owned a resteraunt that the film crew had a party at." Shane answered.

"He was so nice and normal." Rose said affectionately, and he saw Ilya nod quickly, as if he vehemently agreed.

"And I guess this should have been a sign, in retrospect. But he didn't seem interested in getting in my pants." Rose laughed, and that drew a smile out of Ilya. "Which I thought was refreshing! A guy who just wanted to talk to me and get to know me."

Shane groaned and slid down in his seat.

"Ah, yes. Hollander is such a gentleman." Ilya smirked.

Shane could feel his cheeks heat as some memories flipped through his brain that were decidedly un-gentlemanly.

"Anyway. We tried it for...what, three or four months?" Rose looked at Shane, who shrugged. That whole time had been a messy, painful blur. "And I figured it out. Now he's one of my best friends."

Ilya opened his mouth and hesitated for a moment, before forging ahead. "Luca Haas, on our team, is a big fan. He thought you got engaged."

Shane looked at him sharply and Ilya was studiously avoiding his gaze. Ilya had been the one to bring that up, not Luca.

"Oh my god" Rose covered her face. "I forgot about that."

Shane could see a jaw muscle twitch as Ilya frowned.

"Yeah, I didn't remember that." Shane admitted.

"Of course you didn't." Rose said gently, then rolled her eyes at Ilya. "Is it a surprise that a guy whose Instagram handle is 'shanehollanderhockeyplayer' doesn't know what TMZ is saying about him?"

Ilya laughed, a surprised and genuine laugh, and it made Shane grin to see Rose giggle with him.

" I had a brand deal at the time with Bulgari. They had me wearing some really gorgeous jewelry on the red carpet, out in public when I'd be photographed. I didn't think for a second that anybody would assume it was a fucking engagement ring from a guy I'd been dating for a couple months. And because it got so much attention, they didn't want me to immediately say 'cut it out, stop photographing the ring, it's not an engagement" Rose continued. Some of this was sounding familiar to Shane now. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Anyway, as soon as the contract was up I got a statement out. We were tired of getting photographed whenever we went to lunch. Although, some people still do that, I guess. I think I saw someone today" she winced.

"Yes, you were big deal, the two of you." Ilya mused.

"Not as much as you two." Shane elbowed Rose, hard, at the same moment that their food arrived. Ilya noticed and raised his eyebrows at Shane.

"She means the rivalry. The league, the whole media circus." Shane hurried. Being honest and going after Ilya was not the same thing as Rose blabbing about how many times Shane had cried over him.

"Ah." Ilya ate a few bites and then frowned. "It is still a lot. We are two weeks into season and most of the post-game I am answering questions about Hollander."

"Same." Shane muttered. Ilya sent him an annoyingly aware look. Both of them would rather talk about how well the team was doing.

They ate, Rose and Ilya drank some sake and everyone loosened up a little bit. Shane felt a warmth in his stomach, seeing Ilya laugh at Rose describe a terrible movie she had done a few years ago. Eventually, plates cleared and they sat there comfortably. Shane sipping on tea, Rose and Ilya nursing their drinks. He noticed Rose get a glint in her eye that was incredibly dangerous.

"So. Ilya."

"Rose..." Shane started to warn her.

"Ignore him." Ilya straightened up.

"Happy to." She smiled. Shane was shifting uncomfortably.

"I heard you liked the flowers."

Ilya glanced at Shane quickly, slight surprise that he had told Rose.

"I did." He said simply. Rose looked pleased, but her glittering eyes told Shane she wasn't satisfied yet.

"What did you think of Shane when you first met him?" She asked. Shane squinted at her, unsure of why that was relevant.

Ilya sighed and looked at the ceiling. "I thought he was very polite. Too polite."

Rose nodded.

"And I liked his freckles." Shane's heart stopped for a moment. He'd never heard Ilya say anything about his freckles.

"And I thought he was very boring." Ilya glanced at Shane as he said it, and he could feel his breath catch. Ilya used to call him boring all the time. He said it as if it was a term of endearment, with a fondness that had always sent goosebumps up Shane's spine.

Rose squeezed Shane's hand under the table, and he thought that maybe he should get her flowers too, as a thank you.

***

Ilya was furiously smoking while they waited for their cars. Rose was laughing with Shane over something on her phone. She was beautiful. She had been so threateningly feminine and beautiful, and Ilya had glared at her red carpet photos and grainy paparazzi snapshots for so long that it felt surreal to see her real face. He could see why she and Shane were friends. She was direct, she didn't do a lot of subtext. She clearly cared for him, deeply.

His heart stung a little. When Shane had gone to the bathroom she admitted how badly Montreal had gotten to him. Not many details, but it must have been terrible for her to cancel talk show appearances to fly out and stay with him.

Rose's car rolled up in valet, right ahead of the car service for Ilya and Shane. She retrieved an obscene number of shopping bags and pressed them into Shane's hands, before kissing him on the cheek and bestowing a huge hug on Ilya, who froze.

"Be gentle with him" she whispered, and then she was gone.

They rode back to the hotel in silence. Shane was staring out the window as if the streets of Los Angeles were hypnotizing. It gave Ilya an excuse to look Shane over again. Rose had undoubtedly dressed him. The light blue of his shirt contrasted beautifully with his skin. The fabric looked so soft, Ilya had been fighting the urge to run his fingers over it.

"I didn't know you thought we got engaged." Shane said.

Ilya felt incredibly stupid. "It was big news."

Shane chewed on his lip, and Ilya tried to force out the longing he felt. He wished Shane's teeth were digging into his lip, hands fisting in his hair.

"You got married." Shane turned accusingly.

"You didn't know Rose had engagement ring, but you knew I got married?" Ilya pointed at Shane in disbelief.

"Of course I did! I was paying attention to you." The words twisted like a knife.

"Was not real." Ilya muttered.

"Yeah, I mean I realized that when the marriage certificate finally leaked and I saw who you married. You told me, remember?"

Ilya frowned, thinking, and then recalled that day he tried so hard to block out. He had sat next to Shane, explained that nobody else he was sleeping with meant anything to him.

"You knew I married Svetlana?"

"Yeah. You really didn't pay attention, did you?" Shane looked wounded.

"Ok, so I got married, you know she is only my friend, is not a big deal!" Ilya felt the absurdity of the situation punching him in the face. Two men who hadn't talked to each other for years arguing over which fake relationship hurt the other more.

"It's a big deal to me." Shane mumbled, and he turned back to the window. Ilya thought that was going to be the end of the conversation, but then Shane whispered something that made his stomach plunge.

"It really hurt. I wanted that. Something like that, with you. And at the time, I just felt...like it was never possible. I could never be that for you." Ilya felt like he had stopped breathing, and Shane sucked in a deep breath before charging ahead.

"That's why I came out. It was fucking stupid. But I heard you divorced. It felt like...you were the only person I could have seen myself..." Shane sighed, cutting off a thought that Ilya desperately wanted to hear, but couldn't stand the thought of. "I just felt like it was time to stop feeling sad for myself because I had denied too many things. For so long. And I know you're pretending you don't care, that you're not interested, but we both know you wouldn't be in this car if you didn't."

Shane's gaze sliced through Ilya like a knife, and they stared at each other for a moment.

The car pulled up to the hotel not a moment too soon, and Ilya bolted to the elevator. Shane followed with his bags, and they rode in silence.

When they got to their floor Shane shuffled to his room. Ilya walked past, headed to his.

"Ilya," Shane called softly, and for a heart-stopping moment Ilya thought Shane might beckon him into his room. Worse, Ilya knew he would go in an instant. "Goodnight." Shane said, looking at him sadly.

"Goodnight, Hollander." Ilya wheeled around and tried to ignore the stinging sensation in his eyes.

***

"Ok boys, let's give them what they want, just like we talked about!" Weibe clapped Shane on his back as he sent him on the ice for the start of the third period. He had been shocked when Ilya and Weibe had emerged from a huddle to tell Shane he was taking the face off.

Shane had slept terribly, Ilya didn't look any better when he rolled up for practice. But right now it felt like pure adrenaline was pumping through Shane. He won the face-off, and twenty seconds later, sunk a goal into the net. Ilya's roar of delight almost made up for the night before.

***

"Shane, Shane!"

Ilya was exhausted. He had gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep. But he and Hollander had to haul themselves in front of the post-game, journalists eager to interview the two of them together.

Shane looked just as burnt out as he did.

"Shane, what was the thinking sending you out for the face-off?"

Hollander shrugged "That's a decision Coach Wiebe and my captain," he nodded towards Ilya "made. I just go where I'm told and do what I can to help my team win."

As the journalists turned to Ilya he plastered on an arrogant smile "I know from experience. Hollander gives creepy stare during face-off, it worked on Los Angeles tonight."

The reporters chuckled, and Hollander squinted at Ilya before the team PR head interjected to beg off, that Shane and Ilya had to get on a bus to the airport soon.

***

Shane never slept well on planes. He learned that Hayes did. He had hoped to sit next to Ilya on their flight to Denver, but Ilya had grabbed Luca as they got on the plane. Wyatt snored through takeoff and touchdown, and Shane could feel himself getting cranky when they got on the bus to head to the hotel. The Denver airport was stupidly far from the city, and Shane just wanted to be in his hotel room and decompress.

To his surprise, Ilya sat next to him on the bus.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked.

Shane blinked "No. Why would I be mad at you?"

Ilya was fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie. "We argued about stupid shit. You seemed mad."

Shane shook his head. "Not mad. Just sad."

Ilya made a face like that worse. The bus was quiet. Shane looked out the window.

He wanted Ilya. The other night, he felt like he could have had him, if he'd asked. He felt like some kind of virginal dork, holding off sex until he could go on a date with Ilya. But he was terrified of falling into their old habits. He was pretty sure his heart couldn't take Ilya stealing out of his room after sex, pretending that this thing between them didn't exist.

He mulled over an idea. "Do you want to go to the botanic gardens tomorrow?"

Ilya squinted at him. "What is this?"

"Like a giant garden with cool plants. And lots of flowers. Since you liked the lillies."

Ilya's eyes snapped at that, something heated behind his expression. "Ok."

"9am?"

Ilya groaned and laid back in his seat. "I hope you know this is not a date. Nobody does 9am dates."

Shane considered asking what time of day would qualify as a date, but he resisted the urge and just grinned.

***

Shane went down to the lobby in the morning and was surprised to see Ilya already waiting for him. He was wearing a loose green short sleeve button up that brought out the hazel flecks in his eyes. Shane wanted to stare into his eyes forever, but Ilya's eyes looked pained.

He shifted, and Shane saw Luca behind him.

"Hey Shane! I ran into Roz, he said you guys are going to the botanic garden. Can I tag along?"

Shane's heart sank, but he hitched a smile on his face. "Of course. Why not."

"That is what I said." Ilya muttered, and the three of them strolled out of the hotel, Luca blissfully unaware of the twin glares Shane and Ilya shot each other.

***

If there was one benefit to Haas third wheeling, it was that Ilya was now confident Shane did not reciprocate Luca's crush. It was almost comical to see the way that Shane's face had dropped this morning, if Ilya wasn't keenly aware that he had made a similar expression.

The garden was fine. Ilya hadn't felt the need to explain to Shane that he didn't like the lillies because he loved flowers, he liked them because he loved that Shane had gotten them for him.

Shane was excitedly pointing out flowers of interest. Apparently David Hollander was an avid gardener in his spare time. Ilya was struck with a wild thought that he really wished he could meet him. Shane spoke about him with a fondness that made Ilya's chest ache.

Any time Shane's eyes connected with his, or he caught a glimpse of Shane staring at his mouth, hesitating his hand a little closer to Ilya's, Luca seemed to pop up. Ilya could tell wasn't intentional. Haas was just like a puppy, excitedly fetching Shane to look at something cool every couple minutes.

Finally, Ilya took pity on Shane and asked Haas to take one for the team and stand in a very long line for coffee.

"He's a sweet kid," Shane said through gritted teeth as he watched him bounce off.

"Yes, he likes you very much." Ilya said, focused on the subtle brown highlights in Shane's hair, sun kissed streaks he hadn't noticed in dim hotels or cold stadium lights.

"I remember being like that with Scott Hunter when we were that age." Shane said.

"Ugh. You had big crush on Scott Hunter?" Ilya wrinkled his nose, heart racing a bit while he waited for Shane to answer.

"What? No, come on, you know that. I just idolized him. Wait, what do you mean?"

Ilya sighed, running a hand through his curls. He was delighted to see Shane trace that movement with his eyes, longing on full display. "Luca. He has big embarrassing crush on you. It is cute."

Shane looked dismayed for a moment, but shook it off. "He just looks up to me." Then he shot Ilya a look that was becoming too familiar. That look right before he said something that was trained right on Ilya's heart. "I never had a crush on Scott Hunter. The only person I had a big embarrassing crush on at that age was you."

They were silent. Ilya couldn't think of how to respond. Unbidden, the memory of Shane after their first time floated to mind. Ilya had kissed him goodbye in the back stairwell of his building, and he had meant to be sexy, quick, and confident. But Shane had looked dreamy and adoring, and Ilya hadn't been able to resist kissing him the way he wanted to. Gently. Tenderly. As if Shane was precious.

The moment snapped, as it often had that morning, by Luca bounding up with coffee in hand.

***

They lost that night. Shane was lying awake, running through their missed opportunities and strategies before he finally gave up on sleep. He walked down to the gym and was irritated to find that it was locked, closed for the evening.

He wandered to the hotel bar instead and was delighted to find Ilya.

Ilya smiled at him as he rounded the corner, looking equally happy.

Shane slid next to him and asked for a ginger ale.

"I knew it." Ilya shook his head.

"Knew what?"

"I knew you hadn't outgrown this." He gestured at Shane's drink. Shane could feel a flush in his cheeks, and he noticed Ilya's eyes flick to them.

"It’s my favorite. Why would I outgrow that?"

Something crossed Ilya's face that Shane didn't like.

"I do not know. Sometimes you like something, and then you stop."

Shane hadn't pictured having this conversation here, in a random hotel bar.

"I never stopped." He whispered, and he identified the expression on Ilya's face. It was fear.

"Not what it felt like." Ilya said, looking away.

"I'm sorry." Shane wanted to reach for his hand, his face. Something. But Ilya's posture was screaming at Shane to be still.

"It was better before." Ilya said. Shane couldn't follow. Ilya turned back to him, his face composed and calm now "Before I did anything stupid. And we had fun."

Shane shook his head. "I don't think it was. I mean, it was fun. But it also wasn't, right?"

Ilya looked at him blankly. He sighed. "Do you want to come to my room?"

Shane could feel his mouth drop open. "I mean. Yeah, more than anything." Shane nodded quickly. His eyes searched Ilya's. "Only..." shit "I don't think we're on the same page."

Ilya groaned. "Who the fuck cares about same page? Do you want me to suck your dick or not?"

Shane glared for a moment, and then to his horror he felt his eyes start to well up. "I told you what I want. I don't want another horny, secret, hotel hook up. I want to actually be with you. For real."

"I don't know if I can." Ilya whispered. Shane nodded weakly, and got up to leave before Ilya could see the tears fall from Shane's eyes.

***

Ilya felt depleted. He had done remote therapy with Galina that morning, had explained everything that happened the night before.

"And what did you want, when you asked him to come to your room?" Galina had asked, patiently.

"I don't know, I was horny." Ilya could tell she wasn't going to speak until he was honest. "I was lonely. I wanted things to be how they were before. When it was nice. And it didn't hurt."

"Did you expect him to say no?"

"Yes." Ilya muttered, knowing where this was headed.

"Maybe you are more comfortable feeling rejected by him." Ilya bit the inside of his cheek "What would happen if you tried what he wanted?"

"I'd get hurt. And I would lie in bed for days again and forget how to survive." Ilya rubbed his eyes.

"You might get hurt. But you have more support than you did last time. You have coping mechanisms, you have medication. You have me, you have friends. Ilya, we worked on this so you can take risks, not hide from them."

***

They played in Houston next. Ilya avoided Shane like a coward. Shane played well. Ilya did not. Everything felt stupid. Stupid Hollander had marched into Ilya's stupid life again and tried to romance him and make him forget what it felt like without him. Ilya was finding it very hard to listen to Galina and run towards risk instead of avoid it. But as they loaded onto the bus for the airport, he caught Hollander's eye and Shane delivered him a soft smile that flooded Ilya with unexpected hope. Ilya had been an asshole to him, and Shane didn't seem to hate him. Stupid, perfect Shane Hollander.

***

The team filed onto the plane, happy and tired. They were on a red eye home, the players who had families were excitedly buzzing about seeing their wives and kids. The coaching staff didn't need to work, Weibe nodded at Shane over a glass of red wine.

Shane went as far back as he could, stopping a few rows from the bathroom. Nobody sat all the way back here, he could curl up and sleep.

As he started to pull out his eye mask, he heard someone clear their throat.

Ilya was standing in the aisle.

"Can I sit?"

All Shane could do was nod numbly.

Ilya sat, stretched, and then surveyed the rest of the plane. Players were putting on headphones or earplugs. It was mainly rookies who were staying up, the older players eager to sleep. After they took off, Ilya turned to Shane.

"I am sorry."

Shane could feel his forehead crease.

"I was mean the other night." Ilya said.

"Oh. No. Not mean, really." Shane frowned.

"No, it was mean. You have told me what you want, and I acted like it was not a big deal. It is." Ilya tore his eyes off of Shane and looked at the ground.

"Thanks." Shane whispered. He'd despreately wanted to take Ilya up on his offer. The idea that he could have tasted Ilya for the first time in three years, heard him come, felt him pound Shane into the bed...it had kept him up all night when he'd left the hotel bar.

But that was exactly what had burnt him last time. They had been secret and casual, and then Shane had panicked at the idea of anything more, run out and tried to date a girl. Shane thought back to their younger selves. How much time he had wasted pretending to himself and to Ilya that it didn't mean anything. The agony of thinking, however briefly, that Ilya had found someone and loved them and married them, had nearly ripped Shane apart.

He had a second chance now, and he was so determined to be brave and ask for what he wanted from the beginning. And he felt a sad, mournful grief for his younger self. That he had been lucky to find someone he cared for so deeply, and he'd never even been on a fucking date with him.

Ilya sighed. "I am tired." He looked it. "Hollander, you have really fucked me up."

Shane winced. "Sorry."

Ilya waved his hand "I fucked up too." He looked at the ceiling now. "I am still not good at this. Saying what I feel."

Shane could feel the discomfort coming off him in waves.

"You scare me." Ilya admitted.

Shane shouldn't have, but he laughed.

"Hollander! I am trying very hard!" Ilya was laughing too.

"You just always scared me." Shane admitted.

Ilya nodded as if it made sense, and smoothed his hands over his legs, a steadying motion. Shane's eyes couldn't help but linger on his thighs.

"I am seeing a therapist. She thinks scary is good." Shane was frozen. He never thought he'd hear those words from Ilya.

"I want to try your way." Ilya muttered at the ground and Shane's heart felt like it was in his throat.

"Really?"

Ilya groaned and leaned back in his chair.

"Do not make me regret this." He pleaded.

Shane shook his head, grinning. "I'll try. Does this mean I get to take you on a date?"

Ilya smirked. "Can I fuck you after?"

Shane settled into his seat and shrugged, knowing which answer would piss him off the most. "Depends on how well the date goes."

Chapter 4: Candlelight Sex Is Not A Date

They landed early, four in the morning. Ilya was unsurprised that Hollander seemed perky and alert. He would probably go to the gym when he got home, Ilya griped to himself, and then remembered with a jolt that he was Hollander's ride home.

As they waited for their bags, Wyatt walked up, grinning. "Roz, Hols, you gotta see this."

He held out his phone and Ilya's heart flipped. It was a dimly lit photo from the plane last night. Ilya's head tucked on Shane's shoulder, Shane's head resting on top of Ilya's. They looked peaceful, as if they had laid like this a hundred times. Ilya had no idea they had slept like that for part of the flight home, and judging by Shane's face it was surpise to him as well. Ilya looked at the photo again, took in their slumbering faces. Admitting how scared he was, agreeing to a date, it all made him feel ten pounds lighter. He had slept well.

At the same time, he and Shane both said "Can you send me that?"

Hayes nodded, surprised.

"That's got to be the only photo of me and Ilya where we don't look like we want to kill each other." Shane explained.

Ilya smiled to himself. Shane was almost right.

"Yes. This will be useful for blackmail." Ilya's phone pinged as Wyatt's text came through.

***

They were quiet as they walked to the secured lot where Ilya's car was stowed.

Ilya was surprised Shane said nothing about his driving as he headed home, but when he glanced over, Shane was just chewing his lip.

"What?" Ilya was starting to worry.

"It just makes me sad. I've known you for ten years, and the only halfway decent photo of you and me is when we're asleep."

Ilya felt like his heart was plunging into his stomach. He could understand this.

"That is not true." Shane shot Ilya an adorably confused look. "The selfies. When we presented at NHL awards."

"Ok, two selfies that were on a phone you had like eight years ago."

Ilya could feel himself grip his steering wheel. Honesty. He had promised Shane to try do things his way. "I took six." He said softly, avoiding Shane's eyes. "And I still have them."

"Really?" Shane sounded breathless, and Ilya had to take a beat before he admitted the rest of it.

"Really. I kept them on every phone I had."

Shane was so quiet that Ilya started to worry, but when he finally summoned the courage to look at him he was jolted. A familiar heat was burning in Shane's eyes. He had seen a glimpse of it the other night, when he had asked Shane to come to his room. The last time he had seen it was when Shane climbed on top of him on his couch, on that terrible day.

Biting back a smile, Ilya pulled to a stop in front of Shane's building. It was still dark out, the street was empty this early in the morning.

"Can you send those to me?" Shane asked. Ilya nodded.

Shane reached, hesitantly, to run his fingers through Ilya's hair. An embarrassing, breathy sigh escaped Ilya's mouth. In an instant, Shane's lips were on his, and Ilya felt himself grabbing for whatever he could get. He found his hands running up the back of Shane's neck as Shane's tongue slipped into his open mouth. The kiss was far more frantic than Ilya would have liked. Ilya had tortured himself trying to picture this moment a thousand times. He had imagined kissing Shane with patience, self-control. Teasing him, punishing him for four years of his absence. But here, in the reality of the moment, all Ilya could feel was pure hunger. Like a dam had burst. Shane groaned into his mouth, and the sound stirred something in Ilya's core.

"Please ask me to go upstairs." Ilya gasped.

Shane's face was flushed, eyes glassy and unfocused. For a moment Ilya could see him considering. He was attached to his plan, and Ilya started to steel himself for his response, that he needed to play by Shane's stupid rules.

"Yeah. Please. Come on." Shane bolted out of the car with comical speed and Ilya laughed, rolling down the window. "Hollander, I have to park."

Shane blinked at him, grinning. "Ok, there are spots in the back. I'll send you the code." He took off, practically sprinting inside, and Ilya tore around the corner with similar speed. He hurried in, punching the floor on the elevator furiously, thinking back to the day of their commercial when he had ridden in an elevator, knowing that Shane was waiting for him. He had been curious, excited. Fucking terrified, although he hadn't admitted it to himself then. His fear then was nothing like what he felt now.

He let himself into Shane's apartment, thinking briefly that the place looked very similar to his one in Montreal. Maybe he had used the same interior decorator. The familiarity shaved off a fraction of his nerves. Shane might be bewilderingly confident, asking Ilya for things he never thought he'd admit to wanting. But he was still Shane. Ordering ginger ale in a casino, shooting goals with impossible accuracy, and getting a decorator who put far too many throw pillows on his couch.

He kicked his shoes off next to Shane's, took a deep breath, and forced himself to walk slowly down the hallway. He stuttered to a stop when he entered the bedroom.

"No." He started laughing.

"You don't like it?" Shane asked. He had turned the lights off and lit about a dozen candles.

"Hollander. I know you want romance, but you know people do not actually do this, right?"

Shane frowned. "Jackie said Hayden-"

Ilya buried his face in his hands. "Please do not mention Pike when I am trying to have sex with you, I will not be able to get hard."

"Fuck off!" Shane laughed.

Ilya peeked at him from between his fingers. "You ask Hayden for romance advice, of all people?"

Shane rolled his eyes. "Not really. I asked his wife."

Ilya was enjoying how frustrated Shane looked. As cheesy as it was, the candles made him look more beautiful than ever. His brown eyes looked so warm and inviting, his cheeks were flushed a delicious shade of peach. As feverish as Ilya felt, he needed to take a moment to drink in the sight of Shane. The sensation that he could finally have him again.

"I can put them out if you want, I just thought-"

Ilya closed the space between them and crushed Shane's mouth with his, cutting off the thought. He backed Shane up to his bed, pushing him down clumsily. As Ilya straddled him, running his hands up Shane's chest, he registered that something was off with their kisses. He opened his eyes and realized Shane was beaming, trying to kiss him with an ecstatic smile stretched across his face. Ilya could feel his grin broaden, and he stopped to plant soft kisses on Shane's cheeks, covering the constellation of freckles on his face.

"These freckles have been so much trouble for me." Ilya groaned.

"Really? You never told me you liked them."

Ilya shook his head. "Too scary to tell you. But they are gorgeous."

Shane was holding his face in his hands now, eyes searching his. "I love your smile. I was always too scared to tell you that. But your smile haunted me for so long."

"Like a ghost? That does not sound nice." Ilya protested.

"It’s beautiful. It wasn't very nice when you stopped smiling at me." Shane admitted. Ilya swallowed, not ready to talk about what had happened between them. He didn't want to get sad. Not now, when he was possibly the happiest he had ever been.

He lowered his head to kiss and suck on Shane's neck, thrilled to draw sighs and squirms out of him. Shane's hands were twisting in Ilya's curls, trying to pull him even closer.

Reverently, he started stripping Shane's clothes off, shucked off his own. He had a brief, stinging thought that he wanted to see Shane neatly fold his clothes like he used to, but he was far too impatient for that right now.

It was almost too much to take in, Shane naked in front of him. Something he'd never thought he'd see again. They stayed there for a moment, catching their breath and taking each other in before a shy smile broke across Shane's face. Ilya planted his hands on the bed, hoping that Shane hadn't noticed they were trembling from nerves and anticipation. Ilya leaned in to kiss his chest, and a gloriously happy sigh escaped from Shane.

He kissed his way down Shane's stomach, steadied himself for a moment, and took him into his mouth. It was nearly too much, all at once. Shane gasped, a ragged sound that sent a chill up Ilya's spine as he slowly ran his tongue along Shane's cock. His cheeks hollowed as he gently pulled off, locking eyes with Shane. Shane used to be too shy or caught in the moment to look at Ilya when he went down on him. Right now he looked rapt, pained, full of lust. He looked like he was trying to memorize Ilya's face. With a groan, Ilya lowered, swirling his tongue around the head of Shane's cock, and then he lost all nuance, bobbing his head quickly as he worked to coax more gasps and sighs from Shane.

"Ilya, that feels so good, you have no idea."

Ilya hummed, his mouth full of Shane, and Shane made a noise that sounded perilously close. Ilya pulled off Shane rapidly with a small popping noise, and Shane whimpered.

"I want to fuck you." Ilya gasped. Shane nodded.

Ilya lowered himself to run his tongue along Shane's hole, lapping and kissing as Shane started to open for him. Shane was moaning so loudly now, and Ilya felt a thrill of pride. He gently bit the inside of Shane's thigh as he stoked his entrance, sliding a finger inside. Shane was warm, eager, inviting. It took everything in Ilya's strength to keep moving slowly. He gently slipped another finger in, circling until he nudged the spot that made Shane beg, "Ilya, I need you inside me right now, please."

Ilya nodded, too awestruck to act cocky. Shane flung his bedside table open, grabbing lube and a condom. In moments, Ilya was readying himself. He looked at Shane for one last moment of reassurance, and then slowly pushed into him.

It was an agonizing ecstacy. Shane felt incredible. Tight, wanting. Shane's eyes were still fixed on Ilya as if he needed proof that he was there. Ilya leaned down to kiss him, and then began circling his hips slowly, reveling in a sensation he never thought he'd experience again. Shane's mouth began to drop open, eyes rolling back, and Ilya began to rock into him faster, yanking one of Shane's legs over his shoulder.

Shane had seemed to lose every word, except Ilya's name, and he moaned it over and over as if it was a prayer. Ilya couldn't get enough of it, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, and Shane crying out his name.

"Fuck Ilya, I'm going to-" Shane came moments before Ilya, arching his back as Ilya cried out. Ilya collapsed on top of him, aware that their sweat mingling with the stickiness of Shane's release would probably drive Shane crazy in a minute. Desperate to hang onto him, he wrapped his arms around Shane and rolled over, pulling him on top. Shane propped himself on one elbow and started gently brushing sweaty curls off of his forehead.

"I missed you so fucking much." Shane said.

"Nobody else could measure up?" Ilya immediately regretted those words. The last thing he wanted to think about was Shane fucking other people during their lost years.

Shane planted a soft kiss on his forehead, and then on his lips. "It was always you, from the very first time."

Ilya's throat felt tight. Luckily, Shane didn't seem to feel the need to talk anymore, he just trailed lazy kisses across Ilya's collarbones until he did exactly what Ilya had expected, and insisted they shower. Shane dropped to his knees in the shower and licked and sucked Ilya until he almost blacked out from pleasure. Afterwards, Ilya toweled his hair off and watched with amusement as Shane studiously changed his sheets.

Shane glanced up at him, grinning. "This doesn't count, by the way."

Ilya could feel his brows knit in confusion. "What does not count?"

"This isn't a date." Shane looked proud of himself for echoing Ilya's refrain of the past few days.

"Candlelight sex is not a date?" Ilya could feel himself smiling back, grateful that he couldn't see for himself how sappy it probably looked.

"Nope. And I still want to have a real, actual date." Shane said earnestly. Ilya felt his heart swelling.

"Ok." He nodded. Shane turned back to his task and Ilya tried to swallow the pride, happiness, and fear that was consuming him.

***

The next morning, as he packed for practice, Shane's phone buzzed. He opened Ilya's text and squinted. It was a link to an Instagram account named RoseLandryxShaneHollander. He tapped on it and saw six photos of Rose and Shane. Four while out shopping. One while they were entering the resteraunt. The last one made his fingers tingle a bit. He and Rose were huddled together looking at her phone, waiting for the car. Ilya was off to the side, barely in the frame, staring at them while he smoked.

Ilya: told you
Ilya: you two are a big deal
Ilya: they did not even mention me :(

Shane: do you want me to comment and ask them to tag you?

Ilya: I don't think you are supposed to comment on your own fan accounts

Shane: wait, do you have fan accounts?

Ilya: of course
Ilya: lots of sexy photos from magazines and post games.

Shane was, of course, seized with the impulse to search for these. He had kept up with Ilya using Google alerts, but had never considered that he could scroll through page after page of photos.

Something made him stop, though.

Shane: did you already follow this account?

Ilya: let's talk about my hot shirtless photos instead

***

When they had been secretly hooking up before, Ilya had felt like he constantly had to reel Shane in. By the end, they had been meeting up after every game against each other for years, but Ilya still felt nervous when he would text Shane to ask what time he should come over. He supposed, grimly, that fear and uncertainty hadn't been misplaced. Shane had been ready to bolt back then, easily spooked out of Ilya's grasp.

Ilya had spent the morning worrying that Shane would avoid him out of nerves, or anxiety to be seen with him. His heart flipped when Shane was the first on the ice for practice, skating right up to him.

"So, when can we go on a date?" Shane asked immediately.

Ilya glanced around, nobody was in earshot. He grinned. "You couldn't just text me to ask?"

Shane shook his head firmly. "My dad said-"

"Oh my god, Hollander. Am I dating your father?" Ilya was happy that Shane smiled, taking it as the tease Ilya intended. In reality, knowing that Shane was consulting his dad made Ilya feel like his insides were made of cotton candy.

Ilya shrugged. "Tonight?" As those words left his lips, he worried they sounded desperate.

Shane shook his head "Morning practice tomorrow."

"Never stopped you before." Ilya hummed.

Shane's cheeks were pink, his eyes gleaming. "I want to be able to sleep in with you."

Shane Hollander was going to be the end of him. Ilya was going to expire on the ice right now, cause of death listed as an earnest Canadian with adorable freckles.

"Ah. You think I am so easy, having sex on the first date?"

For a moment a hilariously stricken expression crossed Shane's face, as he considered the ludicrous possibility that Ilya would chastely leave at the end of their date, resisting the opportunity to jump into Shane's bed. Shane caught Ilya's eye and laughed in relief as he realized the joke.

"Maybe Friday after the game? We don't play Saturday. We'll probably be done so late, but you could come to mine and I can make us dinner, or we cou-"

Ilya cut him off before he could say anything else. He felt like he was a moment away from grabbing him and kissing him in front of everyone, and he needed to halt that urge. "Friday is perfect. Now go help Connors, he needs to work on passing."

***

It had always been a little thrilling to secretly hook up with Ilya, but the days leading up to their date made their prior sneaking around feel like a picnic.

It had started with Ilya grabbing Shane's ass and breifly nipping his earlobe in the hallway of the locker room, when they were feet behind an unsuspecting Luca. In retaliation, Shane had sent him more flowers. The next day Ilya paraded around the locker room in a towel far longer than was necessary, never making eye contact with Shane, but smirking at the way Shane's eyes followed him. That night, Shane tried to get back at him.

Shane: I just jerked off thinking of you in that towel earlier

Ilya: and you didn't call to let me listen?

***

"Hollander! Watch out, Haas is coming for you!" Ilya leaned over the boards, grinning ear to ear. Shane had been taking a few languid laps before warm ups, and Luca had just joined him, approaching at a far more eager pace. Ilya couldn't beleive he felt this good. In the past, Ilya had reveled in delicious anticipation before games against Hollander. Knowing he could slam him against the boards and then fuck him into oblivion later.

He had been buzzing all day today, on a high much greater. In an hour he would play on the same team as Hollander, and when the game ended he would go to Hollander's for their first date.

***

Ilya was overjoyed to see that Shane was wearing the same soft shirt from their dinner in LA. Ilya was wearing a cashmere sweater that he had hidden in the back of his closet for years. It had always reminded him of Shane, its deep brown threads matching his eyes.

"Like this shirt." He said, running a hand up Shane's back as he walked towards his kitchen.

"I know." Ilya was still in awe of this new Shane. He thought back to all the times he had tried to tell Shane he was pretty, sexy, stunning. Younger Shane had only been able to blush and act like Ilya was teasing him.

"Don't distract me, I'm trying a recipie I've never made before." That was more like the Shane Ilya knew.

"Risky" Ilya teased, curiously watching Shane hustle around his kitchen.

"My dad reccomended it." Shane called over his shoulder.

"So your dad tells you what flowers to buy, what to cook for me." Ilya tried to push through his fear. "What does he think of me?"

He must have sounded as vulnerable as he felt. Shane turned around, eyes soft.

"He's not sure." Shane admitted, which did not make Ilya feel any better. "You know. He and my mom were pretty shocked, when I told them. Not about me coming out. But the idea that we had been...something since rookie season-"

"Since summer before." Ilya interjected. Shane blinked at him, smiled softly.

"Yeah, that's true. Well, anyway. It was a lot for them absorb. And they knew I wasn't...doing great these past few years."

"And they are mad at me for it." Ilya nodded. It made sense.

"No, not that. I think they just saw how much you affect me. And they worry about me getting hurt." Shane grimaced. "And my mom hates the Metros now, but it's going to take a long time for her to get used to rooting for Boston."

Shane turned back to the stove to busily fuss over a saucepan and Ilya took the opportunity to pour himself some wine and wander over to the living room. There was a framed photo of Shane's parents. A photo of some kids. Ilya had a faint memory that Pike had many children, these might be his. He was struck with the wild thought to ask Shane if he ever wanted to have kids.

"Ok! Food is ready." Shane yelled.

Chapter 5: The Worst First Date

Chapter Notes

"You really like candles." Ilya noted, and Shane could feel himself biting back a smile.

"They're romantic! I think you secretly like this stuff!" He protested, lighting the tapers on the table before he sat down.

"And besides. Our schedule is so crazy, I couldn't take you out for dinner. I had to find a way to make my place seem special."

Ilya held his gaze and looked so serious for a moment that it made Shane nervous. "I like it."

Shane nodded, and they started eating.

"Your dad is smart." Ilya said, and Shane looked at him, confused. "This is impressive."

Shane was thrilled. He couldn't wait to tell his dad that his coq au vin recipe was a success. "He and my mom are really happy, maybe happier than any couple I know. And my mom always said he swept her off her feet. So I figured he could help me."

Ilya nodded, looking wistful.

Shane was struck with the realization that he didn't really know anything about Ilya's parents. He had seen a grim looking man with him at the draft, he assumed that was his dad. And he had mentioned his dad went to the Sochi Olympics.

"Tell me about last four years." Ilya changed the subject.

"Uh...well we won another Stanley Cup."

Ilya rolled his eyes, smiling. "Yes, and we won two. What do I not know about?"

Shane tried to think. He didn't love reflecting on those years. "Hayden had another baby. Amber. I'm her godfather." He felt a small swell of pride when he said that. He had been so touched when Hayden and Jackie asked.

Ilya's smile was so unexpectedly sweet that it made Shane's stomach churn. He tried to think of anything else that wasn't sad. "Um. I added a boathouse to my cottage last summer. I spend summers there, mostly."

Ilya nodded. "I know."

Shane frowned "You know where I spend summers?"

Ilya shrugged. "I was watching ESPN one day. They had video about you and your house."

Shane had forgotten even filming that, it was years and years ago. He was struck with an idea that he had been too afraid to voice back then. "I'd love for you to come stay there. If you want. This offseason."

Ilya looked surprised, but he smiled and nodded.

"What about you?" Shane kind of didn't want to know what Ilya had gotten up to, but he had to ask about one nagging thing. "Why did you get married? If it wasn't for love or anything."

Ilya winced, a tiny one, but visible. He sighed and ran his hand through his curls. "I needed citizenship. American citizenship is hard to get. My brother made it...unsafe for me to go to Russia. And Svetlana is US Citizen. So we married. I have US passport now."

There were so many new questions Shane had. He tried to calm his thoughts and pick one. "So you aren't going back to Russia anymore?"

Ilya shook his head.

"Is that very hard? I mean. Even if you don't want to see your brother, you have other family, right?"

Ilya stilled and sighed. "Not really. My mother died. When I was twelve. My father died a few years ago. My brother has a daughter that I set up a trust for. I miss her, but he is...I can't see him again."

Shane felt like a knife was twisting in his stomach. How had he known Ilya all these years and not known any of this? The cocky, intimidating boy he had met at seventeen had only been a few years removed from losing his mother.

"I'm so sorry." Ilya's eyes looked a little glassy. He had been staring at a spot on the table, but he took a sharp inhale and made steady eye contact with Shane now. "When did your father die?"

"A month after...you know." Ilya whispered.

Shane felt like he had completely ruined the evening. He had been so excited to have Ilya over for a date he'd been dreaming about for weeks. In the span of forty minutes he had learned he didn't know about some of Ilya's deepest pain, and worse, he had been absent when Ilya might have needed him. If he had even wanted him then.

Ilya reached a hand out as if he could read Shane's thoughts. Shane placed his on top of Ilya's automatically. "I had Svetlana. I missed you, but I was not ready for you."

Shane could understand that. Back then he had spent a few months with Rose trying to convince himself he didn't miss Ilya. When it became obvious that he couldn't deny it, he had eagerly planned to confess his feelings when he saw Ilya next during All Star Weekend. Then Ilya had dropped out of the game and some rumors got around to Shane that he was married, and Shane spent the next few months in a haze. He had been so confused and so releived the morning that a Google alert pinged with the marriage license, showing him exactly who Ilya had married.

He had spent a lot of time wondering if things would be different had he gotten the chance to talk to Ilya at the All Star Game. But sitting here now, in front of Ilya, he felt embarrassed. What would he have done? Confess that he was hopelessly infatuated and he wanted a secret, closeted relationship? He hadn't been ready for Ilya either, not the way that either of them deserved.

"How is Svetlana?" Shane needed to shift the topic anyway, judging by how fatigued Ilya looked.

"She is great. We got divorced so she could propose to her girlfriend." Ilya was grinning again. "She would like to meet you, very much."

"She knows about me?"

"Yes. I talked to her and Sabrina, her fiancé, when you first came to Boston." Ilya gave Shane a teasing look. "I told them this scary Canadian boy came looking for me."

"Great, they probably think I'm a stalker." Shane groaned.

"A little," Ilya laughed.

They smiled at each other and moved on to lighter topics as they finished dinner.

As Ilya washed the dishes, Shane perched at the kitchen island, savoring the chance to just watch him.

"So. I know nobody can compare to me," Ilya smirked "but did you see anyone? Besides your fake girlfriend." Shane could see his smirk falter for a moment.

"Um. I tried a little." Ilya dropped the sponge, and then looked very serious about fishing it out of the water. "Rose set me up a few times." Ilya was scowling now. "But they weren't...you know."

"Weren't what?" Ilya was looking at the dishes as if they were the most fascinating thing on the planet.

"They weren't you." Shane admitted. "I just wanted you."

Ilya looked up at Shane sharply and was still for a moment before he set the sponge down and crossed the kitchen. He pulled Shane's barstool away roughly, leaned in, and kissed him with a hunger. Their kiss was messy, fervent, and delicious. Ilya moved to Shane's neck, kissing and nipping at his sensitive skin, and he murmured "I only wanted you. For years." He pulled back and looked at Shane for a moment and then hitched his arms under Shane's legs and lifted him.

"Where are you taking me?" Shane laughed, and he could feel Ilya laughing beneath him as he wrapped his legs tighter around him. He was not small, only an inch or so shorter than Ilya, and it was probably stupid for Ilya to carry him very far when he was spent from a game.

"I do not know. Your bedroom seems far." Ilya rumbled against Shane's chest, stepping forward. He stopped and gently laid Shane down on his dining table. He pushed Shane's shirt up and starting kissing his chest.

"I want to fuck you so many times that it makes you forget those other men" Ilya growled, pinning Shane's wrists to the table. Shane could feel himself writhe with pleasure at that idea.

"I already have, I promise." Ilya nipped at his ear, hard, as if he needed more reassurance, so Shane continued. "I wanted you so bad. For so long. It felt like I was drowning."

Ilya stilled, then began gently kissing his way down Shane's body.

It felt like Ilya was laying apologies and promises on Shane each time his lips touched his skin. Shane looked down and locked eyes with Ilya. His hazel stare was wet, the beginnings of tears forming. Shane sat up and yanked Ilya towards him. He splayed his hands on either side of his face, cradling him as they kissed. Ilya's hands moved down to Shane's pants, and Shane eagerly assisted before yanking mindlessly at Ilya's clothes. In moments Ilya was between Shane's legs again, pressing against each other as they fervently kissed. Shane wrapped his hand around himself and Ilya. A guttural moan pierced the air, and in that moment Shane wasn't even sure which one of them had made it. He stroked their lengths, Ilya pitching into Shane's hand as he cursed.

Ilya was so often in command when they had sex. It was a control that Shane gave him eagerly, ecstatic to be supplicant to his desires. Having Ilya like this, desperate, needy, completely at Shane's mercy, made him feel drunk with power. Ilya was moaning, a frustrated sound that sent shock waves to Shane's core. He was biting Shane's ear, planting messy kisses on his neck, as Shane gently squeezed their cocks.

Shane palmed precum from his cock, using the slickness to move faster, gripping them both with an urgency. He started whispering incoherent nonsense into Ilya's open mouth.

"I missed you, I missed you so fucking much. I spent so many nights thinking I'd never have you like this. Fuck, I want to hear you come so badly, are you going to come for me?"

Feral sounds were ripping from Ilya's throat, he was completely undone. His hips jerked, his hands fisted in Shane's hair and he cried out "Fuck Shane!" Shane saw stars when he came moments later, his legs pulling Ilya as close to him as possible.

It registered faintly in his mind that Ilya had said his first name for the first time in four years. He started planting breathless kisses on Ilya's shoulder, his chest, anywhere his lazy head turned. He stilled when he felt something wet drop onto his cheekbone. Ilya was crying. Shane looked up just in time to see Ilya jerk his head away, as if he was embarrassed. Shane placed a hand on his cheek to try to turn him to face Shane, but Ilya wasn't ready, so Shane used his hand to pat the tears dry.

"Ilya," Ilya turned slowly to look at him. His eyes were still watery, he buried his face in Shane's shoulder.

"Please do not run away this time." He said softly.

Shane clutched him "No. We're not doing that anymore, I promise." He rubbed Ilya's back as Ilya took a few soft, gasping breaths.

"Can you call me Shane again? Please?"

Ilya rubbed his eyes against Shane's shoulders to smear the last of his tears off, and then he smiled at Shane, that beautiful smile that had haunted him since 2008. "Shane." He planted a kiss on one cheekbone "Shane," now the other. It felt like a term of endearment, loaded with meaning. He pressed a soft kiss to Shane's lips and an almost imperceptible sigh escaped him.

Shane swallowed. "Oh my god. I tried so hard, but this must be a terrible first date. I made you cry and-"

Ilya stopped his thought by kissing him gently. "Shane, this is the best date I have ever been on."

Shane relaxed into their kiss, knowing that Ilya didn't even need him to say it was his too.

***

Shane woke before Ilya the next day. He laid there staring at him, curls gorgeous and rumpled, mouth slightly open as he dreamed.

It was bizarre that they had known each other so long and only slept-really slept-together three times. One nap at Ilya's, on a day that Shane would like to forget. One sleep on a plane, side by side, and one perfect night now, when Shane had fallen asleep draped over Ilya.

Ilya started to stir, and Shane began tracing patterns on his chest. He opened his eyes slowly, panning across Shane's face, and croaked "Good morning."

"Good morning."

"I like you." Ilya still seemed half asleep, and his hurry to say those words squeezed Shane's heart.

"I like you too." Shane knew that statement wasn't sufficient for what he felt, but they didn't need to have that conversation first thing in the morning.

Shane managed to restrain himself for two and a half hours. He was happily watching Ilya dump cream in his coffee, which he had bought yesterday for this very purpose, and he was seized by the need to start planning.

"So. What do you want to do next?"

Ilya gestured at his coffee. "Coffee. Food. Blow you again."

"I meant us, like you and me." Shane pointed between the two of them. For all of Ilya’s comments about him being confident now, Shane could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

Ilya smiled gently, "Tell me what you want."

"I want to be with you. Obviously. I want to tell people. Maybe not the whole world, while this is new?" Shane was relieved to see Ilya nodding firmly. "But I want to tell Rose. And Hayden, if that's ok." Ilya wrinkled his nose, but he didn't disagree. "And my parents." Ilya nodded again.

"Do you think you will be able to keep your hands off me in front of the team?" Ilya smirked.

"Only if you can." Shane swooped in for a kiss.

***

Shane insisted that they arrive to practice separately, and as soon as he arrived it was like Ilya could feel a magnetic pull between them. Ilya agreed with Shane, he was happy that he wanted to tell people, happy that in time they could tell everyone, but this still felt too tender and new to share with the world yet.

It had hurt, a lot, talking the other night. Ilya knew Shane was upset that he hadn't been there when Ilya needed him. Ilya had been stewing in similar feelings for weeks since Rose had mentioned how bad things got in Montreal. They had both needed each other, they had both hurt each other. The only thing that Ilya felt patched over that wound was spending every waking moment with Shane now that he had him again.

All week leading up to their date, Ilya had thought it was sexy to have a secret with Shane again.

The allure of covertly dating Shane lost its luster when they started stretching on the ice and Luca rushed up to begin chatting Shane's ear off. Wyatt nudged Ilya "It's cute, right?" He nodded over at them, Luca practically had hearts coming out of his eyes, and Shane was smiling fondly in a way that would have made Ilya snap his stick in half if he hadn't heard Shane moaning his name that morning.

"Not really" Ilya huffed, and then corrected as he saw Wyatt's face. "Don't want poor Haas to get broken heart over a boring Canadian."

"Don't worry Rozy, I'm sure he'll just latch back onto you if Shane turns him down." Hayes slapped Ilya and skated off, as Ilya spiraled at the mere idea of Shane even being propositioned, having to turn someone down.

***

They arrived at the restaurant promptly. Shane had almost made them late by nervously trying on different variations of the same linen shirt for half an hour. When Ilya had asked why he was so anxious, Shane had adorably informed Ilya that their first double date was a big deal. Ilya suspected that Shane's nerves were centered more on their company, and he was relieved to see Shane's shoulders relax when he greeted Svetlana and Sabrina.

"So is this your first public date?" Svetlana asked, as if Ilya hadn't briefed her thoroughly ahead of time. Shane nodded.

"I tried to ask Ilya on some before this, but he kept arguing that they didn't count as dates."

Ilya was embarrassed that he had so clumsily played hard to get, and had crumbled within weeks. But Svetlana mercifully waved past that.

"Well, we are honored. Now, fast. Sabrina has allowed us eight minutes to talk hockey before she passes out from boredom." Svetlana leaned conspiratorially across the table, and Shane's face lit up.

Ilya and Sabrina shot each other warm glances as the objects of their affection got lost in feverish conversation.

***

Their dinner plates were cleared. Sabrina and Ilya were working on a shared tiramisu they had ordered.

"Shane, we have to talk about you moving here for Ilyusha." Svetlana said, pointedly ignoring the kick Ilya delivered under the table.

"Yeah, I know." Shane looked so calm. Then Shane said something that truly surprised him.

"I kind of have you and Sabrina to thank for that."

Sveta and Sab looked at each other, confused.

Shane grazed his hand against Ilyas and forged ahead. "I found out, maybe six months after Ilya got married that it was just to a friend. But by that point he was just so obviously done with me, and it felt like that was it."

Ilya's heart was breaking. For years he had thought his hurt, anger, and agony were his alone. The more he heard about Shane's experience during their time apart, the more guilt he felt. He wished he had found some courage at any point in the past four years. Wished he had called Shane to tell him that he couldn't stand being apart. But he had forced himself to be cold, aloof. Mean, even, when he had crossed paths with Shane on the ice. Shane had no reason to think the door was open.

"And then I heard he was getting divorced and it just kind of put things in perspective...I missed my chance with him, back then. I wasted a lot of time being scared and living a life I didn't like. So I came out to my team, I thought I'd be able to make my life look the way I wanted it look. But my team sucked."

Ilya's jaw clenched. Sveta was nodding, and Ilya's heart plunged when he saw Sabrina's eyes were glittering with tears.

"I was out, and it did feel good. But it didn't feel like enough. I wasn't sad all those years because I was closeted-I mean that is part of it, it was sad and hard. But I was out and I was still sad because I wanted him. So I had to try."

Ilya wanted to throw him on the table and ravage him. He settled for a quick squeeze of his thigh under the table.

"You are in so much trouble" Svetlana whispered to Ilya in Russian.

He couldn't contain his smile, and she mirrored it. "I am totally fucked."

***

For years, Ilya used to look forward to games in Montreal. He fed off the boos and seething hatred from the crowd, was always motivated to play his best against Shane, and he'd end the night at Shane's apartment, the best celebration or consolation, however the game went..

When things had ended between them, Ilya would get a pit in his stomach days before the game that felt heavier and heavier until he had to take the ice against Shane.

This time, Ilya's primary feeling was concern. Shane had been anxious for a week. A few days ago, Ilya had called Rose for advice.

"He's not eating much, he keeps zoning out. I know Montreal is going to fuck him up." He said to her.

"Has he talked to Hayden yet?" She asked.

"No." Ilya sighed. Shane had excitedly called Rose the morning after their dinner with Svetlana. To his delight, Ilya had heard her screaming through the phone at the news. Shane had not called Hayden, he had insisted that he wanted to tell him the news in person.

"He might feel better after he sees Hayden and Jackie. And the kids. Those kids were one of the only things that cheered him up when things were bad." Ilya's stomach felt like it was being crumpled like a piece of paper. He wasn't sure when he would stop feeling regret about the time they had spent apart, the time that he could have been there for Shane.

"Ok. I will see how he feels after he sees Pike."

***

Shane felt bad, leaving Ilya behind. Being in Montreal was surreal, being in Montreal with Ilya felt even more confusing, and leaving Ilya in a hotel room in Montreal felt worse. But Ilya had waved him off, told him to enjoy his visit with Hayden before their game tomorrow.

Shane had brought a bottle of wine, some wine Ilya had recommended, and Jackie seemed surprised.

The kids were all over Shane as if he was a jungle gym, and he and Hayden spent the first half hour of their visit assaulted with pillows as the girls insisted on a pillow fight. Arthur chewed on a teething biscuit in interest, taking in the whole scene. Finally, Jackie corralled the kids for early dinner, and Hayden flipped on ESPN. Shane nervously fidgeted, drawstring of his hoodie in his mouth as Hayden told him about the kid's preschool, the vacation they had planned for next off-season, and JJ's new girlfriend.

Shane seized the opportunity for a segue. "I'm seeing someone too."

Hayden clapped his hands in delight. "So Boston Lily finally locked you down?"

Shane was dreading this so much. "I mean, I locked him down. But yeah."

"Tell me about him, all I know is you've been seeing him for years and he makes you play better." Hayden was grinning a wolfish smile. "And hey, your season so far speaks for itself."

Shane stared at the ceiling. "Uh. It's someone you know."

Hayden frowned. "I don't know anyone in Boston."

"Yeah, you do."

Hayden was emphatically shaking his head. "No, nobody besides the guys on the Raiders."

Shane was patiently staring at Hayden until it dawned on him.

"Oh my god. No way. How did you keep that a secret that long??" Hayden's gears were turning. "Wait. Who?"

Shane was chewing his lip now. Hayden could probably get there on his own.

"You've been talking to him since like...rookie season. There's not a lot of guys who are still there...oh my god." Hayden looked stunned, which was not quite the look Shane expected. "Cliff is gay??"

Shane burst out laughing, and Hayden looked bewildered. "No. Not Cliff."

Hayden frowned, and Shane finally took pity on him. "He and I hooked up before our rookie seasons."

Hayden's face finally ran the gamut of expressions Shane had expected. Confusion, understanding, disgust, denial.

"No. No way."

"Yes."

"Since your rookie season??"

Shane shrugged "The summer before that. But yeah."

Hayden seemed to be stumbling over his words now. "But he's such an asshole. He hates you! You hate him!"

Shane shook his head. "Not really. I love him." It was the first time he had said it out loud, and it was not lost on him that he probably should have said it to Ilya first, rather than Hayden of all people. But those words did seem to make Hayden close his mouth for a moment.

"You really moved to Boston for him. Of all people."

Shane nodded firmly "Yes. And I'd do it a hundred times if I had to."

"So ...he's your boyfriend? Since when?"

Shane frowned. They hadn't gotten that far yet. "It’s new. A couple weeks. We haven't called each other that yet. Trying to take it slow, you're only the second person I've told."

Hayden looked flattered for a moment before he threw up his hands in confusion. "You're obsessed with the guy for ten years, you move to Boston for him, you love him, and you're going slowly??"

"I'm trying! We fucked things up before, and I can't risk it happening again. And he doesn't know I love him yet, so please don't tell him."

Hayden sank his head into his hands. "When would I tell him? We're not exactly BFFs."

***

The boos had been pouring down since pre-game. Shane had been completely calm, which almost scared Ilya more. He had come back from Hayden's the night before much happier. Rose, Ilya begrudgingly had to acknowledge, was right. She and Hayden had both been present in Shane's life in ways Ilya had not, and he wasn't sure how long it would take to make up for that gap.

He watched Shane chatting with Bood and Haas as if this was practice on home ice, as if there hadn't been people burning Shane Hollander jerseys in the street outside the stadium. Ilya could feel the hair on the back of his neck raised, an old instinct to assess for danger was clawing its way from the back of his brain. The Metros, aside from Pike and JJ, had been glaring daggers at Shane. Ilya hoped for his sake that Shane's time on the ice would be brief that night.

***

Shane could feel the hatred focused onto him whenever he took the ice that night. Whether it was the crowd or the players, it was ugly, violent, and weirdly calming. He had spent too long feeling confused and upset about the way the Metros had cast him aside when he came out. Open hate felt easier to process.

The first line had just swapped in during the third period, Boston up by one. Shane was moving to the bench when he heard a violent yell, and then the crowd started to roar. He whipped around and Ilya was laying into Mitty, punching him everywhere he could reach. He watched with shock as Hayden zoomed over, not to break it up, to begin pummeling Mitty as well. The crowd was completely losing it, and the benches emptied, Shane racing over as Ilya slammed Mitty against the boards to scream in his face. This was turning into something uglier than an average hockey fight.

"Ilya, Jesus, lay the fuck off him." Shane started trying to wrench him away, but Ilya and Hayden had formed a wall between Shane and Mitty.

"Say that again and I will fucking rip your tongue out." Ilya spat into Mitty's face.

"I don't care, your fucking teammate over there is a fucking fa-" to everyone's surprise, Hayden was the one who delivered the punch that knocked Mitty down to the ice. The refs succeeded in prying Ilya and Hayden off him, and it was absolute chaos as they tried to restore order. Ilya wouldn't look at anyone, just skated off the ice and headed down the tunnel the second that he was ejected.

Shane was left to lead the post game questions. Wiebe had cautioned him on what to say, and Shane lamely avoided any statements about the fight, tried to steer conversation back to their win.

Ilya wasn't in the locker room when Shane finally went back, and dread started to mount in Shane's stomach. A few guys asked Shane if he was ok, but he just numbly waved them off.

"Haven't seen Roz like that in a while." Marleau sighed.

Connors was nodding "Montreal gets under his skin so bad. Remember when he punched a locker a couple years ago?"

Shane changed quickly after showering and hurried to the hotel, too worried to wait for the stragglers to get on the team bus.

He knocked on Ilya's door, heart pounding, and was both relieved and horrified when Ilya opened it with an ice pack on his mouth.

"What the fuck did he do to you?" Shane shut the door behind him, reaching for the ice pack. Ilya winced as Shane moved it to reveal a split lip.

"Is not bad. I hope he is worse." Ilya shrugged.

"Ilya, I don't need you to do that for me." Shane sighed, eyes roving over his face and hands for other injuries.

"Didn't do it for you. Did it for me." Ilya muttered. "I can not hear someone say those things about my boyfriend. How is Pike?"

Shane's brain stopped for a moment. "Boyfriend?"

Ilya suddenly looked nervous "I mean...if you-" Shane's smile must have been unmistakably thrilled, because Ilya started grinning back before he winced and slapped the ice pack back on. "Fucking Mitty. Can't even kiss my boyfriend because he fucked up my mouth."

Shane leaned in to plant a soft kiss on the half of Ilya's mouth that wasn't covered.

***

Wiebe was pissed. Worse than pissed, he was disappointed. Ilya sat across from him in his hotel room, fidgeting with his hands while Wiebe sighed and stared at him.

"Ilya, it's been a while since you've had a fight bad enough that you've gotten ejected. I thought things were going well, you seem a little happier this season."

Ilya blinked. This was not what he had expected. Wiebe wasn't the kind of coach to yell at them, but he would have been justified, Ilya was suspended for three games. He had pinned Mitty down when Hayden had knocked him onto the ice, a move that went beyond the permissible hockey violence. If the refs hadn't interfered, he and Hayden may have taken turns kicking the shit out of Mitty. Which was a weird thought, fantasizing about teaming up with Pike of all people.

"Hollander told me what started it. You shouldn't have done it, but I get it." Wiebe grimaced.

"You do?"

Wiebe nodded gently. He looked as if he was about to say more, but then he straightened up.

"Hey. Bet you're glad we signed Hollander now, eh?"

Ilya groaned. He was correct. Shane would be able to fill in for him, and the team wouldn't miss a beat.

***

Ilya was maybe the most nervous Shane had ever seen him. He had started to pick up on the signs when Ilya was nervous. Darting hazel eyes, rigid posture, an adorable impulse to comb his hand through his curls. Right now, Ilya was exhibiting all three.

"They're going to like you." Shane tried to soothe him, as their car approached his parent's home. Ilya didn't seem like he could even speak.

His mom, adorably, must have been watching for them out the living room window, because she threw the door open before they could ring the doorbell. She wrapped Shane in a hug. They didn't see each other nearly as much now that he was so far from Ottawa.

She turned to Ilya and happy surprise washed over her face as Ilya thrust a bouquet in her hands. Peonies, her favorite. Last week Ilya had nagged Shane to ask his dad which flowers Yuna loved the most.

"I'm Yuna. It's good to finally meet you." She gave Ilya a half hug that elicited a surprised, warm expression on his face.

"Ilya. It is good to meet you. Like this, not at the draft or commercial." Ilya smiled, and some humor appeared in Yuna's eyes.

Yuna ushered them inside. Shane's dad emerged from the kitchen, looking nervous and thrilled at the same time.
"Dad, this is Ilya." Shane introduced, feeling clumsy.

David wiped his hand on a kitchen towel he had been holding, and shook Ilya's hand.

"I am looking forward to your dinner. Shane cooked one of your recipes for me." Ilya said softly, and Shane's heart almost exploded when he saw how happy that made his dad.

"You know, I think that recipe is what convinced Yuna to marry me" David shot him a smile, and now Shane wanted to crawl into a hole, because his parents should know better than to talk about marriage to his boyfriend of five minutes.

Except, a tiny part of his heart registered, Ilya had nodded so seriously. As if that dinner could convince Ilya to spend the rest of his life with Shane.

Chapter End Notes

Dinner with the Hollanders next!

Chapter 6: Wanting to be Caught

Chapter Notes

Shane had driven fear into Ilya's heart many times. When they had first met. When he had walked out. When he had come back to him. None of these compared to the fear Ilya had in his bones when Shane asked him to meet his parents.

If they hated him (and they had every reason to) that would be it. He and Shane would have made it just short of the finish line, and this time it would rip him apart even worse.

He had talked through all of these fears with Galina, they had walked through possible outcomes and coping mechanisms.

But now he stood in the Hollander's living room with his head spinning and no idea what to do next.

"Ilya, do you want any wine? Dinner should be ready in twenty." Yuna asked. Ilya nodded stiffly, and she moved out of the room, returning with a glass for him and a ginger ale for Shane.

They sat awkwardly for a moment, before she said something that surprised him.

"It’s bullshit that you're suspended."

Ilya's laugh escaped him quickly, readily. "Yes, isn't it?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy we get to see Shane start at center tomorrow, but he told us what started the fight and I think it's bullshit." Yuna pursed her lips and Ilya tried not to worry too much about the first half of the statement.

Yuna steered the conversation to their road trip, the eastern conference, topics that Shane was happy to talk about and Ilya could contribute to without his head spinning out.

David called them in for dinner, setting a heaping plate of pasta in front of Ilya. At the first bite, Ilya could understand why Yuna had locked him down for life.

"David, this is very good." Ilya said earnestly.

"Thanks. It's one of Shane's favorites." David smiled fondly at his son, who Ilya realized was furiously scarfing down his bolognese. Maybe Ilya wasn't the only one who was nervous.

They ate for a bit, and Ilya watched Shane's parents with fascination. Shane was right, they were deeply in love. Adoring glances, soft touches, finishing each other's thoughts. It was a tender and well-worn love that Ilya had never seen with parents. A fantasy started blooming in his mind of him and Shane at that age, decades of being together.

"So, Ilya..."

"Mom..." Shane threatened.

"What did you think when you heard Shane was willing to go to Boston for a pay cut and demotion?" Yuna's eyes were sharp, but her tone was casual.

"You don't have to answer that." Shane muttered. "My mom is kind of intense about hockey."

Shane shot a pleading look at Yuna, but Ilya waved it off. "Is ok. I thought he had a terrible concussion and was not thinking properly."

David laughed, which helped ease Ilya's nerves a fraction, even if Yuna and Shane looked deadly serious.

"Well, when Coach Wiebe told me he said Shane had reasons. I thought they sounded partly true. And then Shane told me why he really signed with Boston. And it terrified me." Galina would be so proud of Ilya, but really, being honest felt easy in this warm home.

"How long until he stopped terrifying you?" David chuckled.

Never. He still does. He makes me happier than I ever thought possible, and that scares me more than anything.

Ok, maybe Ilya didn't have to be that honest. "I am embarrassed by how quickly I forgot to be mad at him."

Yuna's face finally softened, and Ilya knew what he could share to soothe her nerves.

"I am so happy he came to Boston. He was very brave." Ilya had meant to say something about how he promised to take care of Shane, how he'd give up being the starting center if he needed to. He was struck by a wild realization that he'd give up hockey if he needed to. But all those words caught in his throat because Shane was looking at him with wet, gorgeous brown eyes. Ilya's thumb flew out to blot the single tear that escaped Shane's eyes, and then kissed the damp spot on his cheekbone.

In an instant, he was flooded with belated fear and regret. Maybe Shane didn't want any physical affection in front of his parents. Maybe his parents weren't ready to see their precious son kissed by a man they had hated for years.

His gaze flicked across the table and he was stunned to see a tender expression on both their faces. Yuna cleared her throat as if she needed to exorcise emotion from herself, and David gave Ilya a tiny nod of approval that felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place in his core. A stability he didn't know he needed.

Yuna and David waved off Ilya's repeated attempts to clean up after dinner, so he followed Shane on a tour of the home. Shane's childhood bedroom had ostensibly been turned into an office, but about two thirds of the room were hockey trophies and photos of young Shane.

"You were very cute." Ilya traced the outline of a six year old Shane in his team photo.

"I hated that team." Shane frowned. This might have been the first time Shane admitted hating anything about hockey aside from the Metros locker room.

"Why? Other six year olds played like shit?"

Shane shook his head. "No. I was the only kid who wasn't white. The other kids used to talk to me in like, pretend Japanese. They would laugh at me, and they would make fun of the way my mom looked when she dropped me off." The words were tumbling out of Shane's mouth.

"And one day I got in the car afterwards and just lost it. I started crying." Ilya was clutching the framed photo so hard that he worried the glass would shatter.

"My mom was so mad. Madder than I've ever seen her. Well, no. She was madder at the Metros." Shane was looking wistfully at the photo of himself now. A little ruddy checked child who only deserved kindness. "But I didn't want to let them get to me. So I just made sure I was the best."

"I would have smashed their kneecaps." Ilya said, and he meant it.

"I know it's not an excuse, but...I was so afraid to come out, partly because of that. I hear all the time that Asian kids look up to me. You know, hockey is such a white sport. And just...what a letdown I'd be to everyone if I wasn't what they wanted."

Ilya's throat was tight. He hadn't heard Shane explain it quite like this. "And how do you feel now?"

Shane gave him a stare that was so serious, so warm. "I'm still worried about that. I think I'll always have a hard time with it. But...do you know how much it would have meant to me, when we were seventeen, if there was a gay Asian player in the NHL?"

Ilya wondered often if things would have been different if ancient Scott Hunter had come out earlier. He would never admit it to Hunter, but that moment of bravery meant a lot to him. He had been heartbroken over Shane, sullenly watching the Admirals win the Stanley Cup, and then, suddenly, he saw that he and Shane were not alone, freak anomalies in an aggressively homophobic sport.

He couldn't imagine how Shane must feel. The weight of expectations, a heavy burden that Shane was carrying constantly.

Yuna broke the moment, poking her head in. "Ilya, do you want to look at some baby photos?" She was proudly waving an album, and as Shane groaned Ilya could feel his heart expanding. There was so much love in this home. Here, at least, Shane felt safe.

By the time they left, David had slipped Ilya a handwritten index card with his bolognese recipe, and Yuna had given Ilya a copy of Shane's funniest primary school photo. She and Ilya had laughed over his bad haircut and extremely serious expression until they cried, while Shane hovered over Ilya's shoulder and pretended to be offended.

***

Playing as the starting center again wasn't a jarring as Shane expected. Ottawa's defense was poor, and the Raiders ran away with the game. What was jarring was not having Ilya around. Even before they had gotten back together, Shane's first glance after a goal would be to Ilya. Ilya's feigned distance at the time never held up in those moments, and Shane could catch him beaming and banging on the boards, cheering for him. It felt wrong playing without him.

In any rational world, Ilya would have just flown home after his Montreal suspension and rejoined the team for the last two games of the road trip. But Ilya had said something to Wiebe about wanting to stay with the team so "Hollander does not steal my spot," and that meant he had been able to meet Shane's parents yesterday, and sneak into his hotel room last night.

Shane could not believe how happy a simple dinner with his parents had made him. Having Ilya in his childhood home, laughing with his parents over photo albums and embarrassing stories, felt like the most natural thing in the world. Ilya had been quiet on the drive home, but he had a small smile on his face the whole time.

***

Ilya was finding it harder and harder to sneak around. The team didn't seem to bat an eye than he and Shane now always sat together on the team plane or bus. When they saw the two of them locked in conversation in between drills at practice, they probably thought they were just two former rivals who had developed mutual respect for one another.

Wiebe had given Ilya a few piercing glances in the past week that unsettled him. Maybe his excuse to stay with the team had sounded as fake as it was. But Ilya was finally back from suspension. Being back on the ice, especially when he and Shane were together on the power play, felt incredible.

He and Shane usually waited till late in the evening to sneak into each other's rooms, but tonight he couldn't wait.

"You're early!" Shane whispered, yanking open the door. His grin betrayed the fake outrage he was trying to muster.

"I couldn't wait two more hours, was torture." Ilya said simply, pushing Shane onto the bed.

Shane squirmed happily as Ilya pinned him down, trailing kisses along his neck. "I cannot wait until you can be loud again." Ilya murmured in his ear, and Shane let out a breathy sigh. The hotel sex had felt like fun nostalgia at first, but the novelty had worn off and Ilya resented the thin walls, the sneaking around.

He trailed hot kisses down Shane's torso, pulling off his sweatpants and briefs to wrap his mouth around Shane's cock.

There was a knock at the door. They both froze. Ilya was pretty sure Shane stopped breathing. Another knock. The light was on, whoever it was could see Shane was inside.

"Uh. Who is it?" Shane yelled, and Ilya muffled a laugh. Shane looked so disheveled and adorable. He couldn't resist running his tongue up the length of his cock, and Shane shuddered.

"It’s Luca and Wyatt!" Luca said cheerily. Ilya continued, slowly bobbing his head as Shane clutched his hair.

"Oh. Uh. I just got out of the shower, I -ah!!" Shane cried out as Ilya swirled his tongue.

"That's ok, we're heading out for a drink. Tried Roz's but it seems like he's already out."

"Fuck, I mean. OK! Go on without me. I'm staying in." Shane was clearly desperate to have them leave, and Ilya was having too much fun, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, torturing him.

"Sounds good!" They could hear Luca and Wyatt shuffling onto the next door the hallway, Marleau answered with much more enthusiasm than Shane had.

"I fucking hate you." Shane hissed, which made Ilya slip off of him with a wet pop. Shane whined at the absence of his mouth.

"I do not think this is true." Ilya shook his head, grinning. I think you love me, he thought to himself. I know I love you, I never stopped, no matter how much I wanted to. Maybe his thoughts were transparent on his face, because Shane's eyes went from lustful and frustrated to adoring.

"You're right. I don't." He admitted. Ilya raised an eyebrow. "But I will if you keep teasing me. Please."

The sound of Shane begging was all Ilya needed to resume with enthusiasm

***

For once, Ilya woke before Shane. He had curled around Shane at some point in the night, spooning him closely. Ilya nuzzled his neck, breathing in his scent, and Shane let out a contented little sigh that melted his heart. He was still so completely in awe of how Shane made him feel.

Shane's hair was standing up in every direction, the result of Ilya fisting it in his hands last night. Ilya planted one soft kiss on his cheek and then stood up. Shane would be so surprised and happy to be woken up with coffee.

Ilya threw his clothes on and slipped out of the room, smiling to himself at how adorably wrecked Shane looked. He made it two steps down the hallway before he looked up and locked eyes with a confused Luca.

Luca was a few paces down the hall, but his forehead wrinkled as he looked at the room number Ilya had walked out of. Took in the sight of Ilya with rumpled hair, and -oh fuck. Ilya's shirt was inside out.

From Luca's horrified expression, he had taken in every detail.

Ilya took a deep breath and grimly marched up, grasping Luca around his shoulders. "Haas, come. We will get coffee."

Luca didn't protest, but he looked terrified. They rode the elevator in silence, Ilya's mind racing. He could deny it. He and Shane hadn't talked about exactly when they wanted to tell the team, but the plan certainly hadn't been to tell them this quickly. And Ilya felt a nagging guilt, however misplaced it was. Luca had confided in him about his little crush, and now Ilya was strolling out of Shane's room at seven in the morning with sex hair.

They walked out of the lobby in similar silence, Luca seemed determined to not be the one to break it. As they started down the street, Ilya decided honesty was the only option.

"So. Me and Hollander-"

"I won't tell anyone!" Luca interrupted.

Ilya smiled. "It is ok. Yes, please do not tell anyone yet. But we will tell everyone. Soon."

Luca looked stunned. Ilya's stomach flipped. The old Ilya had been too scared. Content to hide. Now it was like he couldn't scream loudly enough about how much he loved Shane.

"You're going to tell everyone...what?"

"That we are together." Luca had to have known this was the case, had to. But he still looked shocked.

"How long?"

"This time, not very long. But we were something before. For many years, and then we stopped. But now we are trying to do it the right way." Ilya didn't feel like giving Haas a lot of details.

He tried to picture what he would have done if this had happened five or six years ago. If he had gotten lazy and been caught sneaking out of Shane's room at an All Star Game. He would have been terrified about what it meant for him, going back to Russia. But he probably would have done anything. He would have begged, threatened, and denied, if it meant he could keep seeing Shane in stolen moments.

"I like you." He said to Haas as they entered the coffee shop. "You are a good hockey player."

Luca looked endearingly flattered. "Thank you. I promise I won't tell."

Ilya clapped him on the shoulder. "I know you won't. "

***

Luca might have agreed not to tell anyone, but Ilya had not considered that he was incapable of having a poker face. His eyes had gotten huge when Shane boarded the bus and walked up to sit with Ilya. At the airport he kept stealing glances at the two of them, and by the time they landed in Seattle, Ilya had accepted that they needed to have an intervention.

"I think you need to talk to Haas." He said to Shane after he had slipped into his room that night.

"I thought you talked to him, you said he was fine." Shane wrinkled his nose. Ilya couldn't resist leaning down to kiss it, to see his face un-scrunch.

"He is fine with me, because he knows I will not be mad at him for a little crush on my boyfriend. But I think he is afraid of things changing with you." Ilya cast around trying to think of the right words. "You know he looks up to you, not just as player. Like you look up to Scott Hunter."

Shane considered this. He had told Ilya that Scott had unwittingly helped plant the seed of the idea to come to Boston, so Ilya begrudgingly had to admit that he owed Hunter a modicum of credit for his happiness.

"Ok. I'll talk to him."

***

Shane still didn't really believe Ilya's assessment that Luca had a crush on him. He was sitting across from Shane over breakfast looking like he was going to throw up. Shane had asked Ilya to come along to help him have this conversation, but Ilya refused, said it was better for the two of them to talk alone.

"So. Ilya told me you guys talked."

"Yeah. I promised I won't tell anyone." Luca said quickly.

"That's ok. I'm not very worried about that anyway." Shane shrugged.

Luca looked surprised.

"Ilya said you might...uh...he thought maybe you're gay too?" Shane wasn't sure how to start this conversation.

Luca fidgeted a little. "Yeah, I am. I thought it was so cool when I heard you came out."

Shane was touched. "Thanks. I think I'm going to be more...public about it soon." He hadn't really said that part to anyone yet, he and Ilya hadn't gotten around to specifics yet.

"That's exciting." Luca looked like he really meant it.

"It is. When I was your age, I don't think I ever thought I would get here." As Shane spoke, he could understand why Ilya had pressed him to do this alone. Luca was visibly relaxing.

"What changed?"

Shane considered, and decided to go with the blunt truth. "I lost Ilya. We were both too scared. And it took some time, but I realized I wasn't going to get him back if I was scared and still closeted."

Luca was nodding vigorously.

"Are you...is there anyone you're out to?" Shane asked.

Luca shrugged. "I am out to my sister. But..." Shane was struck with how shy and scared her looked. "I don't really have any friends here. Besides the team, you know?"

Ilya had been right. As usual. There was a reason why Shane had needed to talk to Luca himself.

"That's got to be hard. I think a lot about how brave Ilya was, when he was your age. Coming here without family, learning a new language and customs. What you're doing is really impressive." Shane meant it, Luca's English was even more confident than Ilya's had been at that age. And in his earnest way, he was brave. Shane thought drily to himself that he never would have dreamed of inviting himself along to hang out with older players, the way Luca had in Denver.

"Thank you." Luca whispered, looking genuinely touched.

"And...I know it helps to have friends who don't play hockey. But I consider you a friend. So, you ever want to talk, about like...boys..."

What possible advice could he have about boys? Hook up with someone at 19 and then never forget about him?

"Or anything, I guess? I'm here." Shane

Luca's smile could have lit up an entire city street.

***

Harris: hey have you guys seen this?

Shane squinted at his phone and then shook Ilya, who was asleep on his chest.

"What?" He sounded grumpy.

"Ilya. Look at this." Shane thrust his phone in his face, tapping on the link from the group chat Harris, the team's social media manger, had started with the two of them.

Ilya's frown only deepened. It was an Instagram account named Hollawife24, and the photos were grainy shots from their dinner with Svetlana and Sabrina.

Shane was irritated that they had been photographed, but the part that really pissed him off was the comments.

"Isn't that Rozanov's ex wife?"
"Did Hollander swoop Rozanov's ex?"
"Weirdest pairing ever, I thought they hated each other."
"What kind of polycule is this?"

Ilya scrolled the comments, and he started grinning.

"What's so funny? This sucks!" Shane was irritated.

"It is kind of funny. People really think we are straight, hm?"

Shane glared at Ilya, who rolled his eyes. "Why does this suck? Is ok, we ignore it"

"It sucks because...I don't know. I mean look at this photo," Shane scrolled over to one where Ilya and Shane were looking at each other. Shane's smile was so broad it looked like it could split his face in half. Ilya's eyes were burning with a heat that Shane had seen again later that evening, when he hadn't let Shane get more than a few steps into his home before he started ripping his clothes off.

"We look very happy, this is true." Ilya said, kissing Shane's shoulder.

Shane couldn't really take it anymore. "We look like we're in love. I love you. And I'm mad that people can't tell that."

Ilya's mouth dropped open, and Shane had a moment of fear. "I mean- I..."

Ilya covered his mouth with his, kissing him until Shane almost forgot what he had said. Ilya began whispering between kisses "Ya tebya lyublyu." Shane felt the words wash over him. Ilya finally pulled away to look in Shane's eyes. "I love you."

Shane could feel a tear streaking down his face, Ilya was already crying. His hazel eyes were darting between Shane's, an aching vulnerability on his face.

"Oh my god, Ilya I love you so much." Shane pulled him closer. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. I pictured it so differently, I-"

"Did your plan involve more candles?" Ilya teased, before reaching up to kiss Shane's temple. "I love you."

"Can you say it again? In Russian?"

Ilya climbed on top of him, pressing kisses on his neck. "Ya tebya lyublyu."

***

The team was headed back home. Ilya was ready to get on the plane and nap on Shane's shoulder, and then finally fuck him in his apartment where they could be as loud as they wanted.

"Hey, Roz. Walk with me." Wiebe beckoned to Ilya when they got to the airport. Ilya's blood ran cold. He nodded weakly and followed Wiebe as he held the door open to leave the lounge.

"I always like to work on some crosswords on the plane, I need a new book." Wiebe said with a breeziness that did not calm Ilya's nerves.

By now Ilya had done enough therapy to understand that his childhood had instilled an overactive fight or flight response, but it didn't stop his heart from racing, eyes scanning for an escape because Wiebe's expression looked a shade too serious for this to be a harmless jaunt to get a puzzle book.

"So. I'm happy you and Hollander are getting along." This was it. Ilya felt dread mount, his mouth tasted metallic.

"Yes. Me too." Ilya sounded like a sullen child.

"I have to ask...Harris mentioned we might get some questions about some photos of you two, out to dinner?"

Ilya couldn't figure out how to handle this. He must have looked as sick as he felt, because Wiebe abandoned his casual tone for a gentler one.

"Look. I...is there anything you want to tell me?"

Ilya stared at the floor and sighed. "What do you want me to say? I love him. We are in love."

A grin split across Wiebe's face before he recentered to a professional one. "I wondered."

Ilya blinked at him, waiting to hear that this was unacceptable, that Shane was going to get traded or Ilya would be cut from the team.

Wiebe seemed to read his thoughts. "You're not in trouble, if that's what you're thinking. I mean, it's going to be a fascinating problem for HR. And our comms team should work with you on a statement, when you want to announce." Ilya's head was spinning.

"You are not mad."

Wiebe frowned. "No, I'm not mad. Ilya..." He sighed and looked over his shoulder. "I went through something similar when I was a player. I mean, I was in love with him, he was never in love with me."

Ilya was staring at him as if he had grown horns out of his head. This was the last response he had pictured.

"You are gay?"

Wiebe shot him a look. "You've met my wife, Ilya."

Ilya nodded. "Sorry. Very biphobic of me." Wiebe was grinning. "I am bi as well."

"So. Tell me how this all started." Wiebe gave Ilya a pat on the back as they entered the bookstore, and Ilya struggled to think of a work-appropriate answer.

***

Shane had been wondering where Ilya disappeared to when he entered to lounge with Wiebe, a confused expression clouding his face. He came over to Shane and jerked his head at Bood, who had been chatting with Shane.

"Bood, I need to talk to Shane." Bood didn't seem to mind his rudeness, and got up to sidle over to Marleau.

"What's going on?"

"Wiebe knows. Or he guessed, and I told him." Ilya said with a clenched jaw.

"Oh." Shane's mind was racing.

"He is not mad. He does not care, really." Ilya looked stunned as he delivered the news.

"Oh."

"Shane, please say something else." Ilya was practically yanking his curls out, trying to soothe himself. Shane reached up and tugged his hand away, pulling it into his lap. Ilya froze.

"Do you want to tell everyone?" Shane asked, and Ilya gripped his hand.

"Do you?" Ilya looked scared.

"I do. Only if you're ready, of course."

Ilya nodded weakly. For the first time since Ilya had commented on it, Shane felt confident. He was confident in how much he loved Ilya, he was confident that they could navigate whatever this would look like together.

"Is now ok?" Ilya's eyes snapped with an eagerness that sent a thrill up Shane's spine. Shane nodded, and Ilya grinned his wicked, half smile that had hooked him from the first time they met.

Ilya hopped up on his seat, calling out to the room. "Hey, shut up! Hollander and I have news."

Shane took a moment to look at the team before things changed. Scott Hunter had been right, this team was nothing like the Metros. But what if they felt differently about their two centers lying to them this whole time?

"We are in love. He is my boyfriend." Ilya said simply. Ten years of yearning and messiness and growth really did just end with that conclusion. They were in love. They were together, finally.

Luca let out a gigantic woosh of air, as if he had been holding his breath ever since they had asked him to keep their secret.

"Oh my god, is that why you guys slept like that on the plane? I'm such an idiot." Wyatt groaned.

"No," Shane shook his head. "We weren't together then."

"True." Ilya smirked "We got back together the morning after. Was very passionate."

"Wiebe, can we report him to HR?" Marleau groaned.

"BACK together?" Boodram asked

"Long story," Ilya waved his hand. He was having way too much fun. "Hollander moved to Boston because he was madly in love and needed to win me back."

Shane smacked his leg, and Ilya shot a mischievous grin down at him.

"I have a very hard time believing Shane was chasing your sorry ass," Connors sighed. "Look at him, he's like the hottest guy in the league."

Ilya looked so smug, but he just locked eyes with Shane instead of arguing. Yes, through flowers and non-dates, Shane had chased him. What had evaded Shane until recently was that Ilya had been waiting. He had wanted to be caught.

***

"Come here, your hair is a mess." Shane waved Ilya over. He started combing his fingers through his curls, slicking them back. Ilya moaned.

"If you keep doing that, we will not leave this room."

"And Svetlana and Sabrina will fucking murder us if we're late to the ceremony, don't get any ideas." Shane stepped back to take in his handiwork. Ilya was stunning, in an expertly tailored suit, hazel eyes fixed on Shane.

"Are you wearing the socks I packed for you?" Shane checked.

Ilya rolled his eyes "Yes, Sveta was very clear about what we need to wear, head to toe."

Shane smiled at him. "You know...when I was packing, I found something in your sock drawer."

Ilya's eyes flashed, a smirk growing on his face.

"I can't believe you kept the card from those flowers. That was over a year ago." Shane said. He was half-teasing, but his heart had felt like it was going to burst when he first found it, carefully tucked beneath Ilya's socks.

Ilya narrowed his eyes, playful glint growing in them. "You should not talk about things hidden in sock drawers"

Shane felt his mouth dry up. "What...how do you-"

"I found it so long ago." Ilya rolled his eyes as Shane's panic mounted. "Many months I have waited for you to make me an honest man." He pouted.

"Shut up! I have a plan-"

"Yes yes, with many candles I am sure. How long have you been making this plan, with this ring?" Ilya started running his hand through Shane's hair, gently weaving through it.

"Um. Since our first date."

Ilya's hand stilled and his eyes widened. "You bought a ring after I cried all over your shoulder?"

Shane felt how pink his cheeks were getting. When he had pictured getting down on one knee, he had not pictured Ilya asking that specific question.

"Not the date in my apartment where we cried. I got the ring after breakfast in Vegas."

Ilya looked bewildered and delighted, all at once. "You went on 8am breakfast date and decided you were going to marry me?"

Shane shook his head. He knew he had wanted to marry Ilya earlier than that. Honestly, he had known for years. But their awkward breakfast, laughing at their stupid younger selves, had given him a glimpse of hope. And Shane felt a small thrill, hearing Ilya finally admit that breakfast counted as a date. 

***

Chapter End Notes

That's it! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. I love terrorizing Ilya with a more confident version of Shane.

I have no idea if anyone is going to be interested in a baseball au, but that's what I'm working on next. I cannot write convincing hockey to save my life. I do love baseball, so it's been much easier to write Shane as a neurotic ace pitcher and Ilya as a flashy shortstop. Hopefully someone besides me wants to read that?