Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

M/M, Other

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov & Sasha | Ilya Rozanov's Coach's Son & Svetlana Vetrova

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Sasha | Ilya Rozanov's Coach's Son, Svetlana Vetrova, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

No Smut, Light Angst, Engaged Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, No Beta We Live like Ilya, Humor, Friendship/Love, POV Shane Hollander, Texting Fic, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Past Ilya Rozanov/Sasha | Ilya Rozanov's Coach's Son, Past Ilya Rozanov/Svetlana Vetrova, Wedding Planning

Language:

English

Series:

Part 23 of Just Game Changer things that my brain needs to write

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-25 Updated: 2026-06-09 Words: 5,327 Chapters: 3/?

Love Makes Room

Summary

Svetlana is already invited to the wedding, and Shane assumes his conversation with Ilya means Sasha will be included as well, the wedding still being over a month away.

Or, Ilya’s childhood friends arrive in Ottawa earlier than expected and are unexpectedly helpful with wedding planning.

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

I'm starting another WIP but I swear this idea dug into my brain after I wrote Sasha and Sveta on a team in The Hollander-Rozanov Post Wedding Brunch: Competitive Edition and, uh, this might end up being a whole multi chapter thing and an excuse for me to write about wedding planning? Enjoy!

Shane wandered into the living room to see what Ilya was doing and spotted him out on the back porch, sitting on one of the chairs with a cigarette balanced between his fingers. The sight of it made Shane want to launch straight into a lecture about lungs and the general stupidity of a pro athlete smoking, but Ilya looked pensive in the way he seemed to get more often nowadays, and it softened the sharp edges of Shane’s irritation.

Even after being outed rather spectacularly by fucking Brad, Shane found it incredibly difficult to be affectionate in public. Ilya, meanwhile, took to it as naturally as he did most changes, with a hand at the small of Shane’s back, a finger hooked through Shane’s belt loop, a shoe pressed against Shane’s under the table, a kiss to the top of Shane’s head, not a minute wasted without touching Shane.

Ilya suddenly felt too far away, a furrow to his eyebrows Shane wanted to wipe away. Here, tucked away in the privacy of their cottage with their wedding only a little more than a month away, loving Ilya felt like the easiest thing in the world, so Shane crossed the porch and slid sideways into Ilya’s lap without hesitation.

The cigarette hung loosely in Ilya’s hand, close enough that Shane could smell the smoke curling through the cool evening air, and he swallowed the urge to say something. Apparently, his expression betrayed Shane because amusement flickered across Ilya’s face, and Ilya took one last long drag, then leaned over to stub the cigarette out in the ashtray beside him before settling his hands on Shane’s waist and nuzzling into his neck.

If everything went smoothly with the Centaurs, and Shane hoped it would, he would soon be waking up to Ilya every single day instead of the little pockets of heaven he’d been collecting to tide him over. Shane knew every physical inch of Ilya and wanted to know more, everything about Ilya. “What were you thinking about so seriously out here?”

Ilya’s mouth lingered on Shane’s neck for another moment before he leaned back with a heavy sigh, hands moving absently up and down Shane’s sides. The chair creaked under the combined weight of two hockey players, and Shane would have been concerned if not for the fact that he had checked the weight capacity of these chairs himself before buying them. Somewhere down by the lake, a loon wailed, distant enough to blur into the sound of the water, making them both chuckle, and Ilya relaxed into Shane’s arms.

“I was thinking about Sasha,” Ilya said.

That wasn’t his niece’s name, was it? The name didn’t tug loose a memory, and Shane frowned. “Who’s Sasha?”

“My coach’s son back in Russia.” Ilya’s hands tightened against Shane’s ribs, and Shane saw Ilya sneak a quick look at Shane’s face before falling back to a more neutral state.

Oh.

Sasha was the first guy Ilya had ever been with, a first Shane irrationally wished had belonged to him. Why was Ilya thinking about him? Shane tried very hard not to visibly react, since he was the one engaged to Ilya, in Ilya’s lap, and wearing one of Ilya’s hoodies. “The one you had the same secret with?”

Unfortunately, Shane rarely succeeded in hiding his feelings from Ilya, and Ilya huffed into the cooling evening air, his breath faintly visible in the lingering smoke as he tugged Shane closer. “The same Sasha, yes.”

Shane determinedly pressed his mouth into a line, which only made Ilya’s lips twitch harder. “Why are you thinking about him?”

“I was actually thinking about the guest list,” Ilya replied, eyes drifting out into the dark yard beyond the porch. “His father died today.” Shane made a confused sound at the correlation, and Ilya explained, “I have not really kept in touch with him, but we are in a group chat with Sveta.”

The irritation drained out of Shane because there were only a handful of people Ilya ever talked about in that tone of voice, and fewer still who belonged to the years before hockey and Shane.

“It used to be me and Sveta and Sasha, our own small gang, our mothers used to say.” A tiny smile pulled at the corner of Ilya’s mouth as he spoke, voice rueful, and lost in memories from more than two decades past. “Sveta and me stayed with Sasha when his mother died, and they stayed with me when my mother died. I do not think I would have played hockey again without them.” Ilya had never told Shane how close Shane had come to never knowing Ilya, and something in Shane’s chest twisted painfully at that. How would Shane ever have played hockey without Ilya? Shane couldn’t imagine a world where he had.

Ilya didn’t often talk of his mother. Whether it was because grief for her was the foundation of who Ilya was, or because he didn’t know what parts to share, Ilya avoided speaking of that time in his life, so Shane knew very little of Ilya as a teenager who had continued to play hockey because his friends hadn’t let him disappear into himself.

“He did not give a single fuck about hockey,” Ilya said abruptly and laughed at Shane’s utter incomprehension of the concept, something he was sure was broadcast on his face. What did Ilya mean his friend didn’t care about hockey? “I know you do not understand this, Hollander, but some people do not like hockey.”

“How do you not give a shit about hockey when your dad’s a coach?”

“Sasha would sit in the stands with Sveta and read his books,” Ilya said, shaking his head, his smile softening into something deeply fond, “Sveta loved to analyse my game, and we were already sleeping together, three of us—” Wait, what?

“How old were you then?” All three of them were sleeping together?

Ilya muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, and Shane’s Russian was improving, but had not quite reached the extent of translating Ilya’s roundabout sentences. Ilya shrugged when Shane looked pointedly at him. “Maybe we were fourteen?”

“Fourteen?” That was too young to be having sex, let alone with two other people, and maybe Shane needed to stop being too judgmental, but was it really judgmental to think children shouldn’t have been fucking around?

“Eh,” Ilya waved Shane’s indignation away with a lazy wave of his hand. “I was just thinking I miss him, and I want—it does not matter.” There it was again, under the jealousy trying to crawl its way out of the ache in Shane’s chest, the sadness he could hear in Ilya’s voice.

Shane hated it when Ilya was sad. “Why don’t you call him?” Shane asked and hesitated when Ilya shrugged a shoulder. “Is it not safe for him? Because he’s gay?”

Ilya was quiet long enough that Shane thought he might not answer. “No, he has French citizenship now, and Sveta says he is okay.” Ilya sent Shane a meaningful look, like he wanted Shane to understand what he meant without saying it. Shane was trying, but he didn’t know what he was working with, so he nudged Ilya to keep speaking. “We talk sometimes in group chat,” Ilya exhaled slowly, “but we have not really spoken since Sochi.”

Jealousy rose so fast up that it clogged Shane’s throat, and he almost did not want to know, but he had to ask. “Did you, um, sleep together? In Sochi, I mean.”

“He wanted to, but I had already seen your boring text,” Ilya said, flashing a mischievous grin at Shane’s affronted noise, “and I said no. I was not very nice about it.” Ilya’s mouth twisted. “It worked too well, yes? Sasha does not talk to me anymore.”

Shane could picture it easily, a much younger Ilya lashing out because he didn’t know what he wanted. Shane had been on the other end of that biting tongue often enough, but he had always gone back to this man who peeled open like an onion, layers and layers of the same man, same but different. Each layer of Ilya was an asshole, and Shane loved every one of them.

“His father was also asshole like mine, maybe why they were friends,” Ilya added when Shane stayed quiet. “I am so happy with you, Shane. I want him to be happy too, and I want Sasha to share in our happiness.” How was Shane supposed to stay jealous when Ilya said stuff like that? It was annoying, honestly. Shane supposed this Sasha would be getting a wedding invitation. What was one more person who’d slept with Ilya?

“Just text him,” Shane muttered, leaning over to pick Ilya’s phone up from where it was facedown beside the ashtray, open to their shared list of guests that Shane suspected Ilya hadn’t updated with everyone he had invited. Shane itched with the need to know exactly who was going to be at their wedding, and had a separate list for people he had sent invitations to, including the ones Ilya mentioned to Shane, but he wondered if he would see any unfamiliar faces at the wedding.

Ilya’s eyes narrowed with a delight that came with teasing Shane. “You won’t be jealous, котик?” Ilya tapped at Shane’s scrunched nose, “You still glare when I talk about Sveta sometimes.”

“I won’t be jealous,” Shane scowled and pointed out, “Svetlana is very pretty, and you’ve slept with her.” Ilya just looked at Shane. Oh right, Ilya had slept with Sasha too. “You’re jealous of Rose and handle it just fine. I can handle being a little jealous.”

A pleased sort of softness settled over Ilya’s face at Shane’s words, like they’d freed him to retrieve something precious. “I do not handle Rose Landry fine, but thank you, моя любовь.”

Shane thought they would both always be a little jealous as Ilya tapped on a group chat called Бесы, which Shane was fairly certain translated to demons. How oddly appropriate. Ilya’s love was deep, almost cruel in its intensity, and every person who held a piece of that love felt strangely important, but Shane only understood it in the way you understood some things when you loved someone, that loving Ilya meant making room for the people who had loved him first.

𓅢 𓅢 𓅢

Sveta

you can't go to the funeral sasha

Sasha

i fucking know

what do you want me to do

Ilya

come to my house

i have good vodka

Sveta

your fiancé does not mind???

Sasha

oooooh a fiancé

who's the lucky man

Sveta

fuck sasha

what rock are you living under

Ilya

it was his suggestion

It had absolutely not been Shane’s suggestion, but Ilya figured he was allowed a little white lie. Sasha’s father had been a bigger bastard than his own, and it was probably a good thing Sasha couldn’t go back for the funeral.

Sasha would probably take Ilya up on the offer to come to his house, and Ilya could invite him to visit in time for the wedding. Yes, that would work great.

Sasha

*attached ticket from paris to ottawa*

i will be there tomorrow morning

Sveta

that was fast

Ilya

i will pick you up

will you come too @Sveta

Sveta

fine twist my arm

*attached ticket from miami to ottawa*

i land a little earlier but we can wait for sasha together

Sasha

why are you in miami anyway

@Ilya bring snacks

Ilya

my house is only 30 min from airport

Sveta

BRING SNACKS

just sold an ugly orange ferrari but 💰💰💰

Ilya

you are paying for vodka then

Sasha

what happened to your hockey money

are you still playing

Ilya

fuck off sasha

🙄

Sveta

😂😂😂

Shane had assumed Ilya would invite Sasha to their wedding, and correctly so, because that had been Ilya’s original intention. He had invited Sasha and Sveta on impulse, but now they were coming to Ottawa, and Ilya had to figure out how to tell Shane that two people he used to sleep with would be sleeping in their home tomorrow.

Chapter End Notes

I went to look up what we know of Sasha, but all we know is he was the coach's son, so he's basically an OC, and we know I have a weakness for those haha, so it was inevitable in a way that is like holding back the tide.

Let's assume the texting is in Russian and there is, of course, a tiny suspension of disbelief needed for this fic with Sasha not knowing about the engagement yet, but I want to write about Sasha asking Shane how he's going to support Ilya haha. It's going to be funny for one paragraph, but I still want to write it.

Anyway, my headcanon is that Sveta and Sasha and Ilya grew up together, and they helped each other through the deaths of the boys' mothers, and their strict fathers, and Sveta was the brash influence they needed to balance out the boys' sensitive sides. Ilya's refusal to talk in Sochi made Sasha mad, but he also does not believe in grudges so he's been waiting with a healthy amount of self respect for Ilya to make the first move?

This is where I'm at, and maybe some of the story will change, but we'll see. I want to see Shane be flabbergasted by the stories they share and the bullshit they used to get up to together. I think Shane would like Sasha and Sveta because they're at the same level of assholery as Ilya, and they're basically two more Ilya's Shane's not sleeping with. Okay, I'm going to leave a little story to write about instead of in an A/N, but I think every A/N of mine has some weird headcanon at this point lol.

> this man who peeled open like an onion, layers and layers of the same man, same but different. Each layer of Ilya was an asshole, and Shane loved every one of them.
You've all gotten so good at guessing my favourite lines! ♡ This is the one from this chapter, I almost cried when I reread it, idk what it is but it's hitting me right in the feels.

Your wonderful, beautiful comments always make my day, and are the highlight, really. Hope you like the premise of this fic, and thank you for reading mwah mwah!

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

I wrote a ton of Sasha and realised it was getting longer than I expected, but I didn't want to cut Sasha off in the middle, so here's a short chapter for the road while I edit the rest. :) Enjoy!

Shane didn't really want more friends.

He was happy with the ones he had. Keeping up with them was difficult enough now that Shane and Ilya were outed, but unlike Shane, Ilya collected people wherever he went. He loved his friends, made new ones at every opportunity, and somehow managed to annoy everyone into liking him.

Shane wished he wasn't dragged into it, but he also wanted Ilya's time all the time, so he unfortunately had to share, which led him to where he was, tapping nervously on the steering wheel as they waited at the Ottawa airport, preparing to share Ilya’s time with two people he'd never even met, people who'd slept with Ilya years before Shane had come along, one of them who had kept sleeping with Ilya until only a few years ago. Shane wasn’t sure he could have taken it if it turned out Ilya had slept with another hockey player, but Ilya had assured Shane he hadn’t. Thank fucking god.

Still, it was enough to make a fucking nun jealous, and Shane was no nun. Ilya definitely wasn’t one because Ilya had apparently been sleeping with Svetlana and Sasha a long time. Shane felt a pressing urge to go back in time and hug a teenage Ilya, but also a competing need to punch present-day Ilya in the face for inviting them a month before the wedding, even if they were his family.

Though, if Shane was being honest, he didn't actually want to meet Svetlana and Sasha for the first time at the wedding. All of Shane’s family and friends had already met Ilya, and Shane wanted to be fair, so all things considered, it was probably a good thing they were coming early. Ilya had spent years making room for Shane in his life, even when they had to keep their relationship secret, and Shane wanted to do the same for Ilya, so he was going to smile, be polite, and do whatever else he needed to do.

Earlier in the morning, Shane had walked out of his post-workout shower to find Ilya pacing outside the bathroom at six in the morning, something that had immediately spiked his anxiety, considering Ilya called mornings the devil's time and routinely complained about Shane abandoning their bed before sunrise. Shane had been planning to crawl back under the covers with a sleepy Ilya, maybe wiggle his way into some lazy morning sex, or at the very least get Ilya to cup his dick while they dozed in a patch of morning sun.

Instead, Shane had stared at a fidgeting Ilya, confused to see the man who was rarely embarrassed look embarrassed. Shane sometimes suspected Ilya might be physically incapable of embarrassment, and yet a faint flush had been creeping across Ilya’s cheeks, sending Shane's panic levels shooting through the roof. “What’s wrong, Ilya?”

The night before, Shane had left Ilya alone to message Sasha after their talk. Later, when Shane had glanced over and found Ilya furiously typing on his phone, he had assumed there was another bizarre argument unfolding in the Boston group chat. There always seemed to be some nonsensical discussion happening in that chat, but whatever the fuck was going on with them, Ilya only seemed peripherally involved for the most part. Worrying about meeting them was a problem for future Shane, a problem for a married Shane really, since he would only meet the Boston players at the wedding, ideally after their vows, very much unlike Svetlana and Sasha, who would be arriving today and were the reason Shane was sitting in an airport parking lot, if he had correctly interpreted Ilya's incoherent mumbling, though it could have also been the wool in Shane’s head muffling Ilya’s words.

“Sorry, Shane,” Ilya said for the hundredth time from beside him, “I did not know Sasha would agree to come so soon.” Shane had seen Ilya's message and the booked tickets that had appeared two messages later. Ilya seemed just as surprised by Sasha's quick agreement. "Sasha used to stay angry longer," Ilya mused. "Maybe old age made him easy to forgive?”

Shane snorted. “If he’s anything like you, he probably wants an apology on your knees in person, Ilya.” From everything Ilya had told him, Sasha was basically Ilya without the hockey, which still boggled Shane’s mind. What was life without hockey?

𓅢 𓅢 𓅢

“You’re just as adorable in person, Hollander,” Svetlana said to Shane as she slid into the front seat. Ilya had gotten out to help her with the bags and held the door open for her. Svetlana had a Boston accent, something Shane hadn’t expected, since he’d assumed she was Russian like Ilya. “Those amazing hands? Worth waiting for my stupid delayed flight,” she said, slanting a look at him that made Shane want to tuck both hands under his thighs, “and I’ve told Ilya this before, but I think you should center him on the first line next season.” She thought that? Wait, how did Svetlana know Shane would be signing with the Centaurs?

“She’s a hockey witch, Hollander,” Ilya muttered when he saw Shane’s alarmed look and scoffed at Svetlana as he stuck his head through the gap in the front seats with Anya in his lap. Shane was spared from having to answer as Svetlana's attention shifted to the dog. “I’m too good to be playing wing for Hollander, Sveta.”

"And I’ve told you many, many times," Svetlana continued, petting Anya, "Hollander is better than you.”

Shane bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, and Ilya pouted at her from the back seat. “Boo, you can go back to Boston now.”

"No, I can’t," Svetlana glanced at Shane, "Ilyusha loves me.” She sang the last part exactly the way Ilya usually did, and it seemed to annoy Ilya just as much as it annoyed Shane whenever Ilya pulled the same trick, which was wonderful.

“I’ve never seen anyone bother Ilya so well.” Most chirps ran off Ilya’s back, so Shane might end up loving Svetlana too if she kept baiting Ilya like that, and maybe Shane was still a little nervous, but the anxiety that had been sitting in his chest all morning had loosened considerably seeing Svetlana treat Ilya like the lovable nuisance he was instead of the ex Shane was worried she would treat him as. Shane needed Svetlana to teach him her ways, and they would certainly have enough time to do that in the next few weeks.

“See how mean my fiancé is to me, Sveta?” Ilya crossed his arms and slumped back into the seat, drawing Shane’s attention to his biceps. Fuck, Ilya was so hot, and they could’ve been home right now with Ilya fucking Shane’s brains out. "You are such an asshole, Hollander, but no one believes me.”

Shane laughed despite himself, his nervousness easing more at the familiar argument. “Like you’re not?”

Svetlana turned towards Shane and did a little hop in her seat, her eyes lighting up as if she'd been waiting. "And there it is!"

“What?” Shane blinked at her, still smiling, wondering what he’d missed.

"I was beginning to think Ilya was lying to me about how beautiful you look when you smile," She waved a fine-boned hand at his face. "This is really so much better than your constipated media ones, Hollander.”

"Thanks?" Shane offered uncertainly, unsure what to do with that statement. “You can call me Shane.”

"Oh my god, you are so much prettier up close,” Svetlana looked entirely sincere, though the glint in her eye gave her away, “Sasha is going to lose his fucking mind.” Shane felt heat creep up his neck. What was happening? Shane was tempted to tell her to fuck off, but that might make a terrible first impression.

“Stop flirting with my fiancé, Sveta,” Ilya growled from behind them, looping an arm around Shane’s neck and the headrest, “he’s mine.”

"I was complimenting him, Ilyusha,” Svetlana shot Shane a conspiratorial look, “don’t be a bear and learn to share.” Shane sometimes forgot that Ilya had a sibling, not that Shane would know what that meant, but he seemed to have shared enough with Svetlana and Sasha, and Shane immediately regretted that line of thought. Ugh, Shane needed to stop seeing that visual.

"Don’t listen to her.” Ilya leaned forward until his chin landed on Shane's shoulder and covered Shane’s ears with both hands. Shane tried to bat him off, charmed by this version of Ilya like he was by all the others. "Sveta is trying to steal you from me.”

Svetlana gasped dramatically, but before Ilya could argue further, Svetlana straightened and peered through the windshield. "Oh, there’s Sasha." Shane followed her gaze toward the terminal doors and spotted a tall man dragging a suitcase behind him. Ilya’s hands stilled on Shane’s shoulders, tightening for a brief moment, and then he went quiet.

Chapter End Notes

Ugh, having five half-written pieces, but none getting finished is so fucking frustrating because I don't seem to be able to feel like they're done yet, and I keep going back and forth between the lot of them, trying to make it sound right. Anyway, that's what was happening with this too, and I needed to push past the block, so I posted the small part of it I already edited so I can get on with the rest. I might end up writing a new board game chapter next though, or finish the Hammer/Sebbin smut that's really hot (had to take a break writing it honestly), but you never know haha, I might end up finishing something else entirely, so, uh, surprise incoming lol.

Also, I guess this entire fic is going to be Shane POV, and we'll be seeing the trio through his eyes, so be aware that he might miss a lot of subtlety, and I will try to convey things another way, but just to let you know that it's a biased perspective, and Sasha's here! Well, almost here, and thank you for reading, happy to know what you think! <3

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

Sasha's finally here, enjoy!

“Is this a Jeep?” was the first thing Sasha asked, a disgusted look on his face as he slid into the back seat after dumping his suitcase. Shane literally meant dumping it, because the sound had reverberated through the car from the force Sasha put behind it.

Shane ignored the impolite question about his car and pulled out of the airport parking lot, heading toward Ilya’s house, theirs now, Shane supposed, their house in the city. There was no need to hide anymore, so they’d decided to spend some time in the city with Ilya’s friends instead of driving all the way out to the cottage. Ilya also wanted Shane to meet the Centaurs this month, but Shane wasn’t too sure yet about meeting so many people at once.

“I thought it would be rude earlier, but really,” Shane saw Svetlana shake her head in disapproval out of the corner of his eye, “what the fuck are you driving, Hollander?”

Ilya snorted but didn’t add to the conversation, leaving Shane to defend his perfectly nice SUV. “What? It’s practical, and it’s good in the snow.”

“Are you poor now, Ilyushka?” Sasha ended his staring contest with Ilya to scratch Anya behind the ears when she jumped into his lap. “You can’t buy your fiancé a nice car?”

“I can buy my own fucking car,” Shane answered when Ilya still said nothing, looking at Sasha like he was seeing a ghost, and it probably felt something like that, considering how long it had been since they’d seen each other. Shane couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Ilya this quiet, and he wished Ilya would start talking soon so Shane didn’t have to. “And it’s better than a stupid sports car where my knees are over my damn head.”

“Hm,” Sasha poked his head between the front seats to peck Svetlana on the cheek, then turned to get a better look at Shane. “Oh, I know you.”

“You know him?” Ilya’s hands on his shoulders pulled Shane back tight against the seat, Sasha’s comment breaking through Ilya’s silence. “You know Hollander, but you don’t know anything about my hockey?”

“He’s the model on the Rolex commercials, right?” Sasha waited for Shane’s shrug before continuing, “and look at those hands,” Sasha crooned, leaning a little too close for Shane’s liking. What was it with these people and Shane’s hands? “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

That would be nice, considering Shane wasn’t even sure Sasha was the man’s name. Shane’s Russian tutor had told him that Sasha was usually a diminutive for Alexander, and Shane wasn’t close enough to use the nickname. An introduction would be helpful, and Sasha could tell Shane what to call him.

Ilya made a dismissive sound. “Hollander, this is Alexander Morozov, and he is an asshole. Sasha, this is my pretty model fiancé, Shane Hollander.”

“Fuck off, Ilya.” It was a terrible way for Shane to react to being introduced, but Sasha was laughing. “Nice to meet you, Alexander.”

Sasha scrunched his face in distaste. “Call me Sasha, Shane.” He seemed to have already decided to call Shane by his first name, so why not?

“Okay, Sasha then.” Alexander Morozov was pretty in a way that was undeniable even to Shane, like one of those Ken dolls the Pike twins used to have, except with darker hair, and long, curled eyelashes, and sharp angles that reminded Shane of Ilya, but nothing like Ilya at all in the way Sasha held himself. Shane had spent most of his life deliberately not appreciating men, steering his thoughts elsewhere so he wouldn’t seem obviously gay, and this was the first time outside of Ilya that he felt like he could stare. He wasn’t being obvious though, only sneaking little looks through the rearview mirror.

Oh fuck, Sasha’s dad had died yesterday. “I’m, um, very sorry for your loss.”

“What loss?” Sasha looked confused, and Shane would have wondered if Ilya had made the whole thing up so Shane would be sympathetic to Sasha, but Ilya would never lie about something like that.

“Your fucking father died, Sashenka,” Svetlana snickered, “what loss, he asks.”

“Eh,” Sasha waved them off, “I’m only sad he took so fucking long to die.” Regardless of how much someone hated their father, that didn’t seem like a healthy reaction, but then again, what did Shane know about bad fathers? Shane’s father was the best, and even Ilya said so.

However, neither Svetlana nor Ilya looked particularly bothered by Sasha’s statement, and Ilya was actually nodding in agreement, so Sasha’s father must’ve been vile as hell. Ugh, and this man had been Ilya’s coach? Ilya hadn’t mentioned much to Shane about fathers except for calling his own a not-good one who could be nice sometimes, but was also terribly hard on Ilya and his mother and his brother. Whatever Sasha’s father had done, it had clearly been enough that none of them seemed interested in mourning him.

𓅢 𓅢 𓅢

“So what do you do, Shane?” Sasha asked suddenly when they were halfway home, his cheek smushed against the side of Svetlana’s seat as he stared at Shane. “Are you leeching off our Ilya?” Why would Shane leech off Ilya? Not to be an asshole about it, but Shane had way more money than Ilya.

“Even though he won't let Ilya buy him a nice car?” Svetlana asked dryly, rolling her eyes. “You should let me help you pick out a nice car, Shane.”

“No, thank you, I like my car,” Shane said automatically before sending a quick sideways look at Sasha to see if he was being punked. “Is he serious?”

“Yes, he does not know who you are, Hollander.” Ilya’s gruff voice drifted in from behind Shane. “You’re not as famous as you think you are.”

“Fuck off, Ilya.”

A warm hand nestled against the side of Shane’s neck, a thumb rubbing absent-minded circles. Ilya had been doing that on and off ever since the airport, and it soothed Ilya more than it soothed Shane, but Shane certainly wasn't complaining. “Sasha has only seen your hot Rolex ad.” As long as Ilya didn’t start calling Shane mister Rolex or something equally ridiculous.

Sasha frowned. “So you’re not a model?” Oh, he really didn’t know Shane. Maybe Shane could learn to like the fact that Sasha would like Shane outside of hockey, even though Shane didn’t know who he was besides hockey.

“I do photoshoots for brands sometimes,” Shane shrugged, “but I play hockey.”

“Oh, so you found another!” When Ilya made a questioning noise, Sasha gestured vaguely toward Shane, “One of your hockey people.”

“Yes, I’m one of the hockey people,” Shane repeated, a little insulted by how little Sasha seemed to care about hockey. Ilya had warned Shane, but no amount of warning ever prepared Shane for people who didn’t give a shit about hockey.

“Are you any good?” The question was so earnest that Shane almost laughed. “Anywhere near as good as Ilyusha?” That became less funny when Ilya snickered behind him.

“So much better, Sasha,” Svetlana said, barking out a laugh and sticking her tongue out at Ilya. “The best actually.”

“Fuck off, Sveta, I am obviously better at hockey,” Ilya glared at her before giving Sasha a shake, “Shane is my sugar daddy.”

Ew. “Don’t ever say those words again,” Shane retorted, “what the fuck, Ilya?”

𓅢 𓅢 𓅢

Sasha whistled when Shane started up the steps to the front door, so Shane turned around, scanning the yard to see if they’d spotted a dog or something interesting. Instead, Shane found all three of them staring at him.

“What?” Shane looked down at himself. “Do I have something on my shirt?” He grabbed the hem and pulled it forward, trying to inspect whatever they were seeing.

“Look at those fucking thighs,” Sasha said, and a heavy hand landed on his shoulder with enough force that Shane winced on his behalf. Ilya clearly meant it as a warning, but Sasha seemed delighted by the threat. “He could smash your head like a watermelon.” What did that have to do with Shane’s thighs?

The hand loosened on Sasha’s shoulder instead of taking offence, and Ilya dragged Sasha into a headlock, Ilya’s face easing completely for the first time since they’d spotted Sasha at the airport. “You have such good ideas, Sasha,” Ilya leered at Shane, who was frozen halfway up the front steps, “we should try this, Hollander.”

“Ooh, can we see you crush a watermelon?” Svetlana clapped her hands and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, looking expectantly at Shane. “You can do it with a bicep instead, I don’t mind.”

Shane tipped his head back and searched the sky for patience. He didn't particularly believe in a higher power, but if one existed, this seemed like a good time to intervene. “Are the next few weeks just going to be you three perving on me?”

Anya sneezed. "See?" Svetlana said in response, gesturing toward the dog she’d scooped into her arms, although Anya was perfectly capable of walking on her own. "Even Anya knows that’s right, doesn’t she?" Anya was going to be unbearably spoiled by the time they left.

“Your boyfriend is so cute,” Sasha announced as Shane scrubbed a hand across his face to rid himself of the blush he was sure was rising on his face, “I like him.”

Ilya's leering morphed into a boyish smug smile, a soft look he reserved for Shane. “I like him too.”

Shane’s ego was going to get a good hit for the next month, not that Ilya didn’t regularly say nice things to Shane, because he did, but Ilya loved Shane so he was biased. Shane’s mom and dad were biased, and Hayden would rather eat glass than compliment Shane’s looks, and Rose was too nice not to, but Sasha and Svetlana seemed like they wouldn’t say it if they didn’t think it, and it wouldn’t make up for any of the shit that happened with the Metros, but for once, Shane was going to allow himself to enjoy it.

Svetlana and Sasha sounded like Ilya, the Ilya Shane loved, and Ilya was home, and they were a part of Ilya’s home. It all made sense to Shane. By the time Shane surfaced from his thoughts, the conversation had switched into Russian, but he caught the tail end of it and was reasonably sure he was translating it right.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Sasha swallowed, sincerity a tad out of place on his face, even with how little Shane knew him, and it eerily reminded Shane of the same words Ilya had said to him on his first visit to their cottage. “I didn’t think you would ever.”

“I’m glad you're here,” Ilya said quietly as they walked into the house.

Chapter End Notes

I borrowed the initial dialogues about the jeep from both the book and the show haha, they're just so funny to me. Also, Shane compares everyone to Ilya because that’s his benchmark! High standards who??? I did do some basic research into Russian diminutives, but if you see something odd, please tell me, and I’ll fix it because I wouldn’t want it to break you out of the story.

I would also like to apologise for the weird daddy issues, uh, they're being written for not-so-mysterious reasons because I'm working through something myself, but you're welcome to ignore them if you don't like them. Shane doesn't expand on Sasha's tone or expressions when Sasha talks about his father, because his focus is on driving, but there might be something there. There might be a few more recurring discussions about fathers in the fic, maybe a David cameo or two, but it won't be the focus. And don't worry, Ilya and Sasha will have it out, big meltdown style, and Sveta will eat popcorn, but they're working up to it :) Maybe also a little angst? I haven't decided yet.

I read too much Grisha fanfiction to not have taken the opportunity to name Sasha Alexander Morozov hehe, so there we goooooo. Might do a crossover there at some point. Sasha could totally have a threesome with, like, Alina and Genya, or ooh, Nicolai, or Nina, idk, we'll see :)

Oof, writer's block is killing me with the rest of my WIPs. I keep trying so hard to finish them, but there are so many bits and pieces I need to put together 🤞 ughhhh just can't focus because I've needed to actually "work" work blegh, so I haven't been able to write as often, but I'm getting to the end of the project and should be free to write again soon!

Thank you for reading mwah mwah, I think this fic is going to have shorter chapters, more scenes than setup. Hope you liked Sasha and my Shane POV (how did I end up writing Shane POV? It's mostly an excuse to not write much Russian because Shane can't understand much anyway, and he can translate the little he does know.) Let me know what you think!