Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Background & Cameo Characters

Additional Tags:

best friends au, bros being bros, so many your mom jokes, this is hockey so..., but who can blame them cause Yuna's gorgeous, Fluff and Humor, Angst, Emotional Constipation, Hurt/Comfort, Who Hurt You - Freeform, oh no it was me, Ilya literally treating Shane's wounds, Implied Sexual Content, Story divergence from Prospect's Cup 2008, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunken Kissing, Ilya Rozanov Being an Asshole, Ilya being a menace over text, Idiots in Love, Horny Teenagers, Underage Drinking, NHL All-Star Weekend, Ilya being a menace to Scott Hunter, Best Friends to Lovers, Ilya is a bad influence on Shane, shane loves it, MLH Awards, Rookie of the Year - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Blowjobs, Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Wears Shane Hollander's Hockey Jersey, First Time, Coming Out, Family Fluff, Family Feels, Ilya is an honorary Hollander, Ilya Rozanov's family sucks, Quote: I'm coming to the cottage (Heated Rivalry), Friends to Lovers, Social Media, post-game hookup

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-08 Updated: 2026-10-24 Words: 70,671 Chapters: 7/?

Line Change

Summary

"You're an awesome player to watch."

"I watch you too…I like watching you."

One line changes everything.
---
OR: Instead of turning him down, Ilya and Shane become fast friends at the Prospects Cup. Their relationship (and how they hide the truth) completely changes when the media poses them as best friends instead of rivals.
---
Reads as a series of connected oneshots within this AU. Now including prospects cup 2008, draft celebrations, rookie all-star weekend, their first MLH awards, the cottage, commercial shoots, and post-game hookups.

Notes

I had this idea about what if Shane and Ilya became friends instead of rivals so they didn't have to hide their meet-ups from the media, and how that would change their entire relationship if they weren't sneaking around at the same level. So I wrote this. It was also fun to write them from a younger perspective because they're currently teenagers having their first experience of the spotlight on the world stage, and I think they act a little differently when they're younger than when they start in the professional league (an odd mix of both more honest and more closed off because I think they're both desperate for connection at this point, but trying to hide that desperation).

I'm going to leave it as a completed one-shot for now but if I'm inspired and there's interest in it, I might come back and add chapters for how this AU affects their later careers. We'll see. But for now I've made sure this reads as a completed one-shot.

Comments and kudos are appreciated. Enjoy!
-Oaks

Chapter 1: Prospects

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya are introduced at the Prospects Cup. After a semi-rocky start, they become friends and fuck-buddies over injury care. The media has a field day when the boys get ahead of the rivals narrative to frame themselves as best friends.

Chapter Notes

Update: I've now extended this into a series of oneshots. Updates are currently ongoing until I run out of ideas.

“You’re an awesome player to watch.” That’s what Shane Hollander had said when he’d introduced himself. Not anything about planning to kick Ilya’s ass in the tournament. Not a jibe about his team or his skills or how the media was clearly pitting them against each other. A compliment. And an honest one at that.

Ilya had been ready to let the other player walk away. He hadn’t come here to make friends. He was here to represent his country, to make his father proud. To hopefully secure himself a one-way ticket out of Russia for the rest of his life.

But Hollander had offered him a compliment. An olive branch.

The boy had been walking away, head down since all Ilya had given him in return was a promise to beat the Canadians in the final, when Ilya stopped him.

“Hollander.”

He stopped, turning to look back, eyes a little more guarded than when he’d first approached Ilya.

“I watch you too,” the Russian offered.

Hollander raised an eyebrow skeptically, “And?”

He didn’t seem to take it as the returned compliment Ilya had intended. Maybe he had said it wrong? Ilya was still working on his English.

“I…” he tried to think of how to phrase it without giving everything away. Tried to find a word that would encapsulate how his heart rate sped up every time Shane Hollander graced his tv screen ever since the tournament was announced and the Canadian sports channels had decided they would be the prospects to watch this year. Rivals. Ilya tried to find a way to say that Hollander already had all his attention, but he didn’t know how to say it without seeming like he was too invested (even if we was) or a stalker (even if he had his twitter notifications turned on for Hollander’s name), so he settled on, “I like watching you.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say but Hollander’s expression softened as a light blush rose to his cheeks. He ducked his head like he was trying to hide it. Something ached inside Ilya for the boy to look at him again.

“Cool,” he mumbled.

Ilya didn’t say anything back, just kept staring at the other boy. He seemed younger like this, almost shy. None of the polite upstanding captain or young jock bravado. There were no cameras here.

Finally, Hollander kicked his foot against the pavement awkwardly and glanced back at Ilya for a second, “I’ll uh, see you on the ice?”

Ilya took a long drag of his cigarette and gave a silent nod, not knowing how to say anything else right now.

“Cool,” Hollander said again, looking back at his shoes. “I’m gonna uh…” he pointed back at the door. Ilya took another drag, still not saying anything. There was something about watching the poised Shane Hollander squirm. Especially because of him.

Ilya wondered what it would be like to watch him settle because of him. He gave it a try, “I’ll see you on the ice. Shane.”

A beautifully dark blush rose to Shane’s cheeks, “C-cool.” Ilya resisted the urge to smile. For a hockey player, the boy was awfully cute. Almost smitten. “I’ll uh, see you around. Ilya.”

The Canadian didn’t say anything else, just turned and shuffled back through the door, practically fleeing.

Ilya was left alone outside. He took the last drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out on the pavement, eyes still on the door as if waiting for Shane to come back outside. He blew the last of the smoke from his lungs and let his head fall back against the wall.

“Fuck.”

---

Goddamn fucking ice machine wasn’t working. It shouldn’t feel like such a big deal to Shane but the empty crackle every time he pressed the button kind of sounded like the inside of his head right now.

They’d lost. He’d fucking lost. His mom had said it wasn’t a big deal – that they still made it so far in the tournament – but he could see the disappointment she was trying to hide in her eyes.

Some of the guys on the team had still gone out, wanting to drown their sorrows in whatever booze they could find (whatever they could get their hands on while being underage). Some of them were actually happy enough with the silver to celebrate. But not Shane. Like usual, he wanted to be alone. He’d politely sat through media and shook all the guy’s hands before retreating to his hotel room to order room service and tend to his wounds.

Or at least he should have been. If only the fucking ice maker would work. Shane wanted to punch the stupid button but resisted the urge because the whole reason he needed ice was for the bruising on the back of his knuckles and the purple blotches growing on his shoulder after Ilya fucking Rozanov had checked him into the boards. It shouldn’t’ve hurt as bad as it did except it almost hurt as much as when the boy had leant over in the handshake line to say, “See you at the draft.” His eyes had been full of gloating and Shane thought back to that brief moment outside the rink before the tournament started when he’d thought maybe, just maybe, they might get along. That Shane might have finally made a friend. Well, fuck that guy. And fuck this fucking ice machine.

Shane rubbed his eyes. Why was he fighting back tears? God, he really needed to pull it together. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t cry over losing like some baby. He didn’t hide away from his team because he wanted to sulk. Sure, he wasn’t super close with any of the guys, but he could usually pull it together enough to put on a brave face. Except everything about this tournament was messing with his head. He was caught up in the spotlight and the pressure and the media. And the goddamn fucking Russians—

“Sorry.”

Shane practically jumped out of his skin at the heavily accented apology from behind him. He whipped around to find Ilya Rozanov standing in the hallway, looking like he was trying to get past him.

“Oh uh, sorry,” Shane stepped out of the way, ducking his head to try and hide his reddened eyes. Great. Just what he needed right now. The Russian coming back to gloat some more. Shane resisted saying as much.

He was almost surprised when Rozanov paused to ask, “You ok?”

Shane ducked his head farther, “I’m fine.” Ilya kept looking at him. Shane nodded at the machine, “There’s no ice.” As if him crying over that would make more sense than being upset over their loss.

“Oh,” Ilya nodded as if that was a common thing. As if Shane wasn’t clearly being a total baby about some fucking ice.

“Why are you not with team?”

Shane bristled, not wanting to answer. “I’m tired,” he said shortly.

It was clear Ilya didn’t believe him. Could see right through to the raw hurt Shane was desperately trying to keep from coming to the surface and failing. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes again.

“Is bad?” Ilya nodded at Shane’s reddened knuckles.

Shane hid his hand behind his back as if he could prevent Rozanov from noticing. “It’s fine,” he mumbled again, still a little too short for it to be actually fine.

Ilya hummed, taking a step closer, “I take look?”

Shane frowned, “What?”

Ilya nodded at Shane’s hidden hand again, “I want to see.”

“I said it’s fine,” Shane shrunk back a little more.

Ilya rolled his eyes, “Is not big deal Hollander. Let me look.”

He made a grabbing motion with his hand. Not seeing a way out of it, Shane reluctantly pulled his from behind his back, holding it out to the Russian.

Ilya’s hands were warm as they gently cupped Shane’s. He was surprised at how gentle really. He turned it over with care, lightly feeling along the bones of Shane’s knuckles, pulling his fingers and folding them carefully. He pressed into a red spot and Shane hissed, trying to pull his hand back, but Rozanov gripped his wrist to keep it there.

“Is not broken,” he said, voice deep and quiet.

Shane stiffened, “I know.” He didn’t need this guy thinking he was making a big deal about not even broken fingers. He clearly already thought Shane was weak and pathetic and a loser. But his hand fucking hurt goddamn it (and his shoulder more), and he didn’t want to call down for ice because then his coach might hear or worse, his mom, and then they’d the get medic to look at him and it wasn’t even that bad. He just needed some ice. He could deal with it himself.

Ilya turned his hand over again, running his thumb over Shane’s knuckles, “Yes. You should ice.”

“Yeah well, I’m trying to but,” Shane gestured at the broken ice maker. As if to mock him, it let out another empty rumble.

Ilya frowned before his eyes lit up with an idea, “I have.” He dropped Shane’s hand.

“What?”

“I fix. You come.” Ilya nodded down the hall and started walking away. Shane watched him go, rooted to the spot.

Ilya glanced behind him, clearly expecting Shane to be there, and rolled his eyes again when Shane was still standing where he left him. “Come on Hollander. Do not have all night.”

Ilya started walking away again. Shane took one look back at the door to his room then the empty ice bucket sitting next to the broken machine. With a great sigh, he reluctantly followed Ilya Rozanov.

---

Shane Hollander was sitting on Ilya’s bed. Ilya was trying not to freak out. Badly.

His hands fumbled with the bucket of ice that had arrived with a bottle of champagne. He wasn’t old enough to drink it here, but someone from the tournament had sent it up to the room incognito. Ilya hadn’t had a chance to open it before getting dragged to a bar with his teammates. Now, he unceremoniously pulled the bottle from the bucket, leaving it on the table as he brought the leftover ice and a serving cloth to Shane.

He set the bucket on the bedside table, grabbed a couple cubes with his bare hand (fuck that was cold) and wrapped them in the cloth so it wouldn’t be so cold for the other boy.

He motioned at the Canadian’s bruised hands folded guardedly in the lap, “Give.”

Shane hesitated, fingers twining together.

Ilya rolled his eyes, sterner this time, “Give.”

Shane reluctantly held out his hand, the same way he’d done in the hall – like Ilya was a dog he expected to bite him. The redness on the backs of his knuckles was already fading into a familiar purple. Ilya grasped him by the wrist, fingers firm enough that Shane couldn’t pull away but gentle enough to avoid aggravating the injury. He pressed the ice to the back of his hand. Shane hissed.

“Is fine,” Ilya mumbled. He was trying to go for soothing but it might have come off as annoyed with the way Shane tried to pull his hand back. Ilya gripped his wrist tighter, “Is good. Helps.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “I know how to treat bruises. I’m a hockey player too.”

Ilya just nodded, letting them fall into silence. He could feel the ice melting through the cloth, soaking into his skin. He just stood there, holding it to Shane’s hand and letting it drip onto the floor.

Ilya wondered when he’d gotten the injury. There’d been a couple times where they’d met at the boards, Ilya pushing Shane into the plexiglass or vice versa. There’d been a couple times he’d watched one of his teammates do it and had briefly held his breath before remembering that breathing was important when you were skating as hard as you could up and down the ice.

They’d only seen each other on the ice since the tournament started, hadn’t talked since that moment outside the rink. Ilya had only had a brief chance to ask if he would see Shane at the draft, wanting to ask if maybe he’d want to hang out a little, but the other boy had only ducked his head, barely looking Ilya in the eye as they bumped fists.

Ilya had felt a twinge in his chest. He wasn’t sure when he’d messed up – he’d thought Shane had wanted to be friends. That’s what the olive branch was for. But Ilya had clearly snapped it in two when he didn’t even notice, and now he wasn’t sure how to put it back together—

“I think it’s good,” said Shane.

Ilya glanced up from his hand, finding Shane’s eyes already trained on his face. Ilya looked back at the now soaked cloth, seeing the puddle that formed below them on the hotel’s hard wood. He quickly drew the cloth back, dropping it in the half-melted bucket, rubbing his hand on his pants to dry it off, using his foot to push another towel through the puddle on the floor.

“Is ok?” he asked.

“’S fine,” said Shane. He was watching Ilya, eyes tracking his every movement with the same intensity he used to track the puck on the ice. Ilya resisted the urge to fidget. It was a lot, to have that kind of focus solely on him. The attention was addicting. He needed to be careful with that.

Ilya nodded at Shane’s hand, “You are better?”

“All good,” he flexed it as if to prove the point.

Ilya nodded again and took a step back. He expected Shane to want to leave – he had no reason to stay. Ilya looked around trying to find a reason for the other player to hang around. Maybe they could talk a little more? His eyes landed on the champagne bottle as Shane rose from the bed.

“Do you want to—" Ilya stopped as he caught the Canadian wincing as he stood. Ilya’s eyes did a quick scan of his whole body, trying to find the cause. His hands were a little red from the ice but that was pretty much all they could do for the bruising for now. Ilya had arnica cream in the bathroom, but Shane probably had his own (he was a very good hockey player and the good ones didn’t make it out of games unscathed. Guys like Ilya saw to that). Ilya should probably let him tend to his own sorrows, but he was already moving back to the other boy before his head could catch up with his feet.

“You are hurt still?”

Shane did that thing where he looked at his shoes again, hiding his face. “Nah, it’s all good,” he was trying too hard to seem nonchalant. He shrugged his shoulders and Ilya immediately caught the way the left one didn’t rise as high as the right.

“You are hurt. Your shoulder.”

“Really, I’m good. Thanks for the ice.” Shane tried to get around Ilya but the Russian stepped in his way.

“I take look. You sit down.”

“I’m ok—“

“Sit down.”

Shane must’ve heard how much Ilya was unwilling to budge because he rolled his eyes and made a big show of sitting back on the bed. Ilya didn’t miss the careful way he tried not to jostle his shoulder.

He gestured to his shirt, “Off.”

Shane recoiled, “What?”

Ilya rolled his eyes again, “I look. You take off.” He gave a little tug to Shane’s t-shirt.

Shane sighed, “Fine.” He reached up to grab the neck of his shirt, winced as his shoulder contorted to do so.

Ilya tried to step in, “I can help—”

“I’ve got it,” Shane snapped. Ilya took a step back like Shane was the dog trying to bite.

The shirt came over his head, revealing planes of smooth skin and corded muscle and—

Oh. Deep purple bruising stretching from his ribs to his shoulder. Ilya winced. That had to hurt.

Shane meticulously folded his shirt and set it next to them on the bed, making sure there were no creases in the fabric. Ilya found it slightly endearing. Of course the perfect player was also perfect behind the cameras.

He slowly reached out a hand for Shane’s shoulder, not wanting to spook the boy. Shane kept his eyes firmly on the floor, not looking at Ilya.

His hands met soft skin, hot to the touch. Shane didn’t wince as Ilya prodded the bruise but he could see his jaw clench.

“When?” Ilya asked.

“What?” Shane still didn’t look at him.

“When this happen?”

“Oh uh, I don’t know.”

Ilya scoffed, “Hit like this, you remember.”

“It’s fine,” Shane shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “I get checked all the time.”

“Is from this game?”

“Uh yeah,” Shane squirmed a little as Ilya prodded a darker spot.

Ilya paused, a sinking feeling in his stomach, “I do this?”

Hollander tensed, muscles in his shoulders jumping, “What?”

“I check you. You – you take longer to move. After.” Ilya had already been skating away with the puck, barely noticing Hollander’s hesitation except he’d been expecting the Canadian to be hot on his heels. He’d almost fumbled when he’d noticed Shane wasn’t there, but then another player was trying to take the puck from him and Ilya had put his focus back into the game.

“It’s fine,” Shane mumbled.

Ilya frowned, “Sorry.”

Shane scoffed, “No, you’re not.”

Ilya shrugged, “Is hockey.”

“I know it’s hockey. I’ve been playing just as long as you have.”

“Yes, I know.” Hollander was still all tensed up so Ilya added, “You are good player. Very good.”

That got Hollander’s attention. His eyes snapped to Ilya’s and the Russian was struck with a gut-deep want to make sure he never looked away.

“You think I’m good?” Shane’s eyes were a little too open, his voice a little too hopeful. Ilya’s instinct was to squash it, to hammer home his win. To check someone into the boards and not care if they were able to get up to follow. But the way Shane said it – like Ilya’s opinion mattered…

“Yes,” he let his hand rest on Shane’s shoulder, completely sincere. “I tell you I watch.”

That beautiful blush took over Shane’s face and Ilya was pleased to watch it run all the way down his chest. Shane ducked his head to hide it, “I uh, didn’t think you were serious.”

Ilya couldn’t resist – he needed Shane to look at him again. He let his hand glide over the strong muscles of Shane’s shoulder to the sharp edge of his jaw, hooking under his chin to pull their gazes back together. He dropped his voice low, “I tell you I like to watch.”

And Ilya watched as Shane’s pupils dilated.

“You do?” Shane’s voice came out a little breathless. Ilya could see the rise and fall of his bare chest in his periphery.

He shuffled closer, almost standing between Shane’s spread legs, “I do.”

“What do you…” Shane’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. Ilya fought the urge to chase it. “What parts?”

Ilya let his lips stretch into that slow smirk – the one that put boys and girls on their knees alike, “All of it.”

Shane’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“And you?” Ilya asked. His finger was still under Shane’s chin, keeping their eyes firmly aligned. “What parts do you like to watch, Shane Hollander?” He stretched out the Canadian’s name just to watch his pupils dilate more, until there was no iris left, just deep black holes that Ilya wanted to fall into.

Shane’s eyes darted down to Ilya’s lips and he became suddenly very aware of how close their faces were. And Shane’s eyes – Ilya was starting to realize how awful the other boy was at hiding his emotions – they were filled with unbearable want.

He let their faces sink closer, his own eyes dropping to Shane’s lips. He let his accent thicken, voice almost at a whisper as he asked, “Would you like a personal show, Mr. Hollander?”

---

Shane wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up on his knees with his face pressed to Ilya Rozanov’s underwear. He knew it had happened some time between Ilya’s very big hand gripping Shane’s bare shoulder on his bed, and the Russian telling him drop to the floor. But everything in between was already becoming a little bit hazy.

Shane’s lips were kissed raw, his tongue now knowing the exact shape of each of Ilya Rozanov’s teeth. And his hands knowing the shape of Ilya Rozanov’s chest from when he’d practically ripped the other man’s shirt off. That had earned him a laughing and heavily accented, “Animal,” which Shane chose to ignore because Ilya had attached his mouth to Shane’s neck and found a spot that sent shivers all the way down his spine.

And now those big hands were carding through Shane’s hair as Ilya instructed, “Take them off.”

Shane’s hands fumbled as Ilya lifted his hips, pulling his underwear down to his ankles. Ilya’s hard cock slapped against his stomach and for the first time in his life, Shane’s mouth watered looking at it.

Ilya smiled down at him, “You want?”

There was no teasing in his voice, or his eyes. Shane was already breathing heavy, feeling like he’d skated laps for hours. He looked back at Ilya’s cock and swallowed, “I want.”

“Then have.”

Shane hesitated.

Ilya misread his hesitation and started to pull away, “We do not have to—”

“No,” Shane gripped Ilya’s thighs, keeping him close. His fingers flexed into the muscle, grounding. “I-I want to but…”

“But?”

Shane was still staring at Ilya’s cock. He felt like he was starving – like he hadn’t had a meal in weeks and here was this angel offering him the last drop of water on earth but there was something holding him back from taking it.

He closed his eyes, “This is such a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“B-Because it’s,” Shane didn’t want to say gay – that would make this real. That would be like admitting that he’d thought about this before – not about Ilya but about men. That this was very quickly starting to mean more to him than a hookup should. That it couldn’t be more because if he only got to have this once and then never again, he wasn’t sure he could recover. Not when he’d have to see Ilya over and over again for years to come. Not when he wouldn’t be allowed to touch him again.

But he couldn’t admit that doing this once would never be enough, so he wasn’t sure if it was worth it to start at all – that would give away too much, be too intense – so he settled on, “What if someone finds out?”

“Who would find out?”

“I don’t know. Anyone.”

Ilya sighed, “Is just us here, Hollander.”

Shane just sat there at Ilya’s feet, still not moving. Not letting himself move.

He almost jumped as Ilya’s fingers slipped under his chin, that firm grip pulling their eyes together again. The Russian gave him a small, reassuring smile, “Shane, no one has to know.”

And Shane could see the honesty in Ilya’s eyes. But he could also see the want. There was just as much riding on this for him as there was for Shane.

Shane looked up at Ilya, the dim hotel lighting framing his golden curls like a halo, “You promise?”

Ilya’s throat bobbed, his hand slipping from Shane’s jaw to the back of his neck, giving a gentle squeeze, “I promise.”

After, when they were lying in bed – Ilya’s head cradled on Shane’s chest, Shane holding their hands together to line his fingers up with Ilya’s, breath settling from one of the most eye-opening experiences of Shane’s life – he asked, “How do we keep this secret?”

Ilya shifted, fingers tensing in Shane’s hand, “Secret?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, jostling Ilya’s head a little. “It’s not like we can tell anyone. No one can find out about this.”

He could feel Ilya nod. “Yes.”

“If we’re going to see each other again—"

“Again?”

Shane felt panic rise, “I-I mean, if you want to. I didn’t mean to assume—"

“I want.”

Shane’s heart fluttered a little with hope before sinking again. “But we won’t see each other. It’s not like we’ll end up on the same team.”

Ilya hummed. His thumb was tracing over the bruising on the back of Shane’s knuckles. “We play each other on tour?”

“Yes.”

“We meet then,” Ilya shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Like planning clandestine meetings for gay sex behind their teams’ backs wasn’t going to completely wreck Shane.

But if it meant having more of this…having the full attention of Ilya Rozanov focused entirely on Shane, no pucks or gear or teammates and referees between them…even if it was only a couple times a year…

Shane settled, chest heating, “Cool. Um, I want too.”

“Good,” Ilya brought Shane’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Then I see you next season.”

“Next season,” Shane agreed. After the summer. After months of games and training camps and local tournaments and interviews. After the draft where both their futures would be decided for them. And even then, they’d barely get to see each other because no one could know that Shane Hollander was spending time with Ilya Rozanov – not without them getting the wrong idea.

He ran a hand through Ilya’s hair, not ready to let go yet. He asked quietly, “But how do we make sure no one finds out?”

“Finds out?” Ilya hummed, eyes closing at Shane’s gentle touch.

“Yeah, like we can’t be seen hanging out and stuff.”

Ilya’s eyebrows creased. Shane resisted the urge to smooth it with his fingers. “Why not?”

“What do you mean?”

“We can be friends, no? You are good player. I am very good player. Makes sense, yes?”

“I-I guess.”

“Why would people think different if we are friends?”

“Right,” Shane was starting to catch on. Ilya had a point. If they set the narrative, then maybe people wouldn’t question it. No one would think they were gay lovers because why the fuck would a hockey player be gay.

Shane started to smile. That might actually work. “No one would assume anything if they see us together. They’ll just think we’re friends.”

“Yes.”

“So we can hang out as friends in public…”

“And I will fuck you in my bed.”

Shane blushed. The Russian was so crass sometimes. “Ok.”

“Is ok?”

Shane nodded, that smile taking over his face. He pulled Ilya in a little tighter, planting a kiss on his hair, “Ok.”

---

Ilya could practically see how hard Shane was resisting his eye roll by the set of his shoulders. He was a couple reporters away in the press line, politely answering questions like he always did, media-ready smile firmly in place.

Ilya was barely listening to the reporter trying to keep his attention as he attempted to overhear Shane’s conversation.

“The draft forecast is predicting yourself or Ilya Rozanov as the number one pick. What do you think your chances are of taking the top spot?” the reporter asked. Ilya tried not to scoff out loud. What kind of question was that?

Like always, Shane chose the graceful answer, “I like my chances.”

“You’re not threatened by Rozanov’s win in the tournament yesterday?” the reporter pushed.

Shane just let it roll off him with a shrug, “It’s hockey. No one is basing those kinds of decisions on one game or one tournament. I’ve been a consistent player my whole career and I plan on keeping it that way in the professional league. I’m proud of what our team accomplished here, and I know we’re going to come back stronger and better next year.”

“And you plan on beating Rozanov next time?”

Shane smiled, “I plan on beating everyone every time.”

Ilya’s face broke out into a smile. He couldn’t help it.

“Mr. Rozanov,” the reporter next to him said more forcefully, drawing Ilya’s attention away from Shane. “Do you feel threatened by Shane Hollander for the number one draft pick?”

Ilya shrugged, trying not to seem as annoyed by the press as he felt, “Why would I be threatened?”

“You two are practically on the same level in terms of game play.”

“Exactly. Should I not want people on my level? I like playing Hollander. Is fun.” That seemed to get the attention of more reporters around him. Focus in the room started to draw toward Ilya.

The reporter shoved his microphone closer, “You’re saying you like the rivalry between you two?”

“Rivalry?” Ilya raised an eyebrow with a glance at Shane. He was already looking back at him, the reporter in front of him still chatting his ear off in a way that was clearly getting on his nerves. A devious little smirk took over Ilya’s face. Shane raised an eyebrow.

Ilya took two big steps to put them next to each other, arm wrapping around Shane’s shoulder in an overly-friendly way. He gave the reporters his signature smile, “What is little friendly competition between—” he turned to Shane, “How you say? Mates?”

Shane laughed, catching on and sliding a little closer to Ilya, his own hand coming up to pat him on the back, big hand squeezing his shoulder, “That’s the Brits, I think. We just say friends.”

“But we are friend-friends, yes? Not like acquaintance friends. Good friends.”

“Best friends,” Shane clarified, mouth stretched into a full grin aimed right at Ilya. He was immediately struck with the need to make sure Shane’s face never made any other expression.

Ilya turned back to the reporters, “What is competition between best friends?”

There was a flurry of movement as every reporter in the room rushed to get to the front of the line. Microphones were shoved over the barricade into their faces.

One reporter shouted loudest above the din, “Does that mean there is no rivalry between you two?”

“I am saying we are friends.” Ilya winked, “And we like to compete.”

Another voice rose above the others, “Hollander, you’re not worried about facing Rozanov again next season?”

Shane didn’t even blink, “Who? This asshole?”

Ilya laughed. Maybe Shane wasn’t as boring as he seemed. He was already planning ways to get him to drop the media-façade when they were alone again.

Shane jostled Ilya’s shoulder, “Nah, we’re gonna wipe the floor with Russia next year.”

Ilya scoffed, letting semi-faux disdain drip into his tone, “Russia is not worried about Canadians. I am not worried about Hollander.”

Shane looked at him with mock affront, “You’re not worried about me?”

Ilya could see the mirth in his eyes, playing it up for the cameras. He smirked. He could give just as good as Shane. “I do not think you are anything to worry about. Not compared to me.”

“Oh really? You weren’t saying that last night.”

And that might have been too far except this was hockey and chirping was normal. Expected. Shane’s eyes were still dancing and Ilya knew just what to say to send it home. The kind of thing that would get him decked if he and Shane weren’t actually friends. His smirk turned sleazy, “Is what your mother tell me.”

Shane’s eyes practically bulged out of his head, “You fucking asshole.” Face still grinning, he tried to shove Ilya away, but the Russian slipped his arm to his throat, pulling Shane into a headlock—

“Alright, alright,” their managers came forward to step in. “I think that’s enough questions for today.”

Ilya let Shane go as the horde of reporters surged forward. A cacophony of questions was shouted over the barricade.

“Ok, ok!” Shane’s manager called. “One more question.”

More voices and shouting. Finally, Ilya’s manager pointed at a woman in the crowd, “You.”

Everyone quieted down, giving her space to speak. “You’re both at the top of your divisions this year. That would normally cause a lot of tension between players – especially players fighting for the same spots on teams. How have you two managed to move past that?”

Every microphone in the room inched closer.

Ilya stood there like a deer in the headlights. It wasn’t like he could say that he patched up Shane’s wounds and then sucked his dick. Or that they’d held each other in bed after and shared maybe a little too much about how they were feeling about the pressure of their impending careers.

Ilya felt his throat starting to close up as he tried to find an answer when Shane stepped in. His voice was steady, calm, the media-persona firmly back in place.

“This is a very competitive sport and we’ve both experienced that for our whole lives. It would’ve been easy to let our teams and the media pit us against each other, but I think we both appreciate having someone in the same situation to talk to. We’re both young and being faced with a lot of responsibility, and there are times when we both feel that deeply. It’s nice to have someone who understands what that’s like to share the experience with.”

Ilya tried not to beam too hard as Shane answered. He was always so eloquent. He always knew the right thing to say to give the press exactly what they wanted without giving away too much of himself.

The reporter raised her microphone a little, “Does that mean we’ll be seeing more of you two together even if you end up on opposing teams?”

Shane just patted Ilya’s shoulder, jostling him back to reality a little, “I’ll take any excuse to hang out with this guy.”

Ilya gave Shane’s hand a pat, “And I will take excuse to see Yuna.”

Shane threw his head back with a laugh, rolling his eyes like he couldn’t believe Ilya was standing next to him, running his mouth like that.

Behind the reporters, flashbulbs went off. Ilya just grinned.

---

The next day, Shane woke up to a text from an unknown number.

It was a screenshot of the official MLH Instagram page with the photo of the two of them from the press conference. Ilya’s arm was slung over his shoulder, smug smirk firmly in place. Shane’s eyes were crinkled, head thrown back mid-laugh.

The caption read: Hockey’s new favourite friends are ready for the draft. Tune in June 20 to see who takes the top spot.

The photo was quickly followed by another text.

See you at draft bestie ;)

Shane couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped his lips. He quickly saved the contact into his phone and sent a message back.

To Asshole: Who taught you that word?

Ilya’s response came right away – a link to a twitter thread for #Hollanov.

From Asshole: We are ship

Shane rolled his eyes, scrolling through the outpouring of support from fans for their friendship. There were of course a couple hate tweets and some that skirted a little too close to the truth of their relationship, but everyone for the most part was just appreciating two young professionals finding common ground. No one would even think to believe otherwise.

They had done it. In the eyes of the public, they were just really good friends. No one was going to think anything of it if they were caught at each other’s houses on road trips or seen out at a bar together. No one in the locker room would think it was weird if Shane got texts from Ilya. They could talk about each other and be seen together and everything would be fine. They were in the clear.

Shane let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He typed out a response, slow smile taking over his face.

To Asshole: See you at the draft.

Ilya just sent back a kissy face with a heart.

Chapter 2: Draft

Chapter Summary

Ilya takes the number one spot in the MLH draft and Shane smarts a little at his second place. The boys go out to celebrate and make plans for dealing with their competitive natures.

Chapter Notes

Hello! Due to popular demand, this is officially a WIP :) Thank you for all the lovely comments and support. I love this AU too and I've got IDEAS for extra chapters so hopefully everyone's as excited as I am.

It's going to read more as a series of connected oneshots within this universe, so don't worry about reading it as a WIP - there won't be any cliffhanger chapter endings (but maybe some leading lines to connect stories). Updates will be different lengths but each will be its own completed story. I have no finite ending for this, so I'll just go until I run out of ideas (I'll try for chronological order), and then mark it completed. Think of each update as bonus content (yay), and I'm not committing to an update schedule but they shouldn't be too far between.

This will kind of be a mix of canon moments (I'll do most of the big scenes from the show so far), some scenes from my Episode Aftercare series (sorry if there's overlap, but some conversations need to be had and some parts are too cute not to do twice), and completely new scenes (Ilya formally meeting Shane's parents way earlier???). It'll be a pretty good mix of angst and humor like the first chapter, with their romantic relationship developing a little faster.

I've got some headcanons to start (press conferences, twitter wars, going out to bars, making each other jealous, chirps and bets, and many other ways their public personas will change from the canon universe) but feel free to drop requests in the comments. No guarantees I'll get to them (and I might have some already started) but new ideas are always welcome. And especially if anyone has IRL hockey tumblr moments from that timeframe because I'm gonna build a chapter around that.

Warning: there's kind of drunk sex in this. They're horny teenage boys at the top of their careers - they're definitely gonna fuck about it after celebrating. But it is semi-fade-to-black like the first chp.

Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. It really keeps me motivated, especially on longer fics like this will be. Enjoy!
-Oaks

6:03 pm

Asshole: See you soon

Boring: Good luck today.

Asshole: Do not need luck. I am better than luck

Asshole: Sorry for your loss

Boring: It doesn’t start for another hour.

Boring: You haven’t won yet.

Asshole: ;)

---

Buzz.

Buzz, buzz.

Shane’s phone would not stop going off in his pocket. He was trying to ignore it. His mom was telling a story to the owner of the Montreal Metros about coming to love Canada through the sport of hockey – a story Shane had heard so many times he’d memorized it himself – and he was trying really hard not to zone out. He needed to focus, be present. Be ready for any question anyone might ask him.

This was a big deal. He’d gone number two in the draft (he was trying not to smart at losing the top spot. He wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that the player to beat him had been Ilya) and was about to be thrust into the spotlight even more as one of the best rookies in the league. Sure, he’d been under the microscope as a prospect, but the professional league was a whole other level. A whole new set of expectations. And Shane couldn’t be seen letting anyone down. Especially his mom.

“Right Shane?” she placed a hand on his arm, getting his attention.

Shane shook his head a little, trying to center himself. He really needed to stay out of his head today. Fuck.

“Uh yeah,” he tried to smile at the Metros’ owner. “To be honest I’m still in shock but I’m thrilled.”

The man started talking again, Shane’s mom effortlessly carrying the conversation for him. Next to them, his dad was silently sipping champagne, happy to sit back and watch, letting Yuna do her thing.

Buzz.

Shane should’ve put his phone on do not disturb. He wondered if it would look unprofessional for him to pull it out and turn it off. He really shouldn’t have his phone in his hand at all at this kind of thing. But the constant texts were so distracting—

Buzz.

Shane looked around the room. Maybe he could find an excuse to step away? Figure out what was so pressing…

He spotted Ilya standing on the balcony. He had his phone in his hand and was staring right at Shane. He raised an eyebrow, nodding at Shane’s pocket.

Shane almost rolled his eyes. Of course. They’d been texting a lot for the last six months, Ilya often bothering him at the most inopportune times; during practice, when he was with his parents, working out, in the middle of the night. Everything from random updates about his lunches (which often resulted in Ilya making fun of Shane’s eating habits) to rather inappropriate and unsolicited (but not totally unappreciated) messages that led to…other things. It didn’t matter, Shane always responded. Why would today be any different?

Buzz.

His mom was still talking to the manager but they’d turned away from Shane. Surely it would be fine to check his texts if the man couldn’t even see him do it?

Before he could talk himself out of it, Shane pulled his phone from his pocket. He held it under the little standing table, trying not to make a big deal out of it. It was fine. He was just answering some messages. Like an adult. It wasn’t like someone was going to scold him for having his phone out like he was some school kid.

From Asshole: This party is so boring

From Asshole: My father will not stop talking

From Asshole: Looks like your mother will not stop either

From Asshole: What a fucking day

From Asshole: Shane

From Asshole:  Stop ignoring me

To Asshole: I’m not ignoring you. I’m talking to someone.

From Asshole: No you are not

From Asshole: You are not listening to boring man

Shane tried not to smile.

To Asshole: The party is fine. Shouldn’t you be talking to people?

From Asshole: My father does not want me to talk

Shane frowned. Ilya had been pretty tight-lipped about his home life in the six months they’d been talking. He’d clammed up every time Shane had tried to broach the subject so he’d started avoiding it. He thought he understood – he didn’t like talking about his family shit either. He could leave Ilya alone about that.

Like always, Ilya was quick to change the subject.

From Asshole: Is it everything you dreamed?

To Asshole: What?

From Asshole: The draft.

From Asshole: You be big time hockey player now.

To Asshole: …almost.

Shane swore he could’ve heard a snort from the balcony.

From Asshole: Sorry

Shane lost the battle of fighting his smile.

To Asshole: No you’re not

From Asshole: Come on Hollander. Do not be so sad

From Asshole: You are still good player

From Asshole: But not as good as me ;)

To Asshole: I’m not sad.

From Asshole: No?

From Asshole: You are not sad I beat you? That I take number 1?

To Asshole: No.

From Asshole: You are not sulking like baby?

Shane was full-on grinning now.

To Asshole: No.

From Asshole: Do not worry, I will make up to you

From Asshole: You will not be so sad then

To Asshole: How?

And Shane probably should’ve expected it – it was exactly the kind of risky behaviour Ilya loved – but he almost dropped his phone when a shirtless photo of the Russian popped up – face cropped out, muscled chest and abs leading to pants hanging a little too low on full display. He automatically slammed his phone on the table to hide the screen, which made a sound loud enough to draw attention to him.

“Shane?” his mother paused her conversation to glance at him with a mixture of concern and ‘get yourself together’ – a look Yuna had perfected by the time Shane was in peewee leagues. “Is everything ok?”

He could feel the blush on his face. He could hear Ilya laughing on the balcony.

“Yep. Yes, everything’s fine.”

Except everyone could hear Ilya laughing on the balcony. They all looked up to find the Russian hunched over his phone, shoulders shaking.

He caught them looking and gave Shane a little wave, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ah yes,” the Metros’ owner mused. “The league is quite happy with you two. You make a good pair for optics. Have you had a chance to congratulate each other?”

“Uh no, not yet.”

“I imagine you’ll celebrate tonight then?” he elbowed Shane conspiratorially, like he knew exactly what kind of antics the two rookies were going to get up to.

If only.

Shane shuffled, trying not to give his excitement away. Hoping it came off as nervous jitters or anticipation for a night of partying. Definitely not a long-awaited hook-up. “Uh yeah. We’ll probably do something.”

“Just don’t party too hard. You’ve got more media tomorrow, yes?”

Shane’s mother gave him a stern look.

“Yes sir. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.”

He patted Shane on the back, “That’s what I like to hear.”

---

“To the top of the draft!”

Cheers went up around the hotel club – closed off for the night for the MLH rookies. Ilya linked his arm with Shane’s, throwing his shot back as the other boy did the same. Shane cringed, face scrunching up as he tried to swallow the bitter liquor. Too fucking cute.

“Oh that’s gross,” the Canadian groaned.

Ilya laughed, “You are weak little baby.” He rolled the taste of his drink around his mouth, “But yes, is not good vodka. Russian stuff is better.”

He flagged down the bartender, “Two more, Beluga this time.”

The bartender nodded, not even bothering to ID them.

“Ilya that’s too many,” Shane yelled in his ear over the din of the bar.

Ilya patted him on the back, “We are just getting started.”

In hindsight, Shane was probably right about his limits, because after the third shot, he was almost fully on top of Ilya. The Canadian’s arm was over his shoulder, Ilya’s around his waist as Shane leant into him. Total fucking lightweight. And a clingy one at that.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to go out,” said Shane. His face was flushed, eyes a little hazy as they tracked over Ilya’s face.

Ilya squeezed the hand gripping Shane’s hip, “What were you going to do, huh? Go to bed?”

Shane’s face flushed more, “No.”

Ilya laughed, “You were, right? No party for goody-goody Hollander.”

“I can have fun.”

“Hmm, no, you are boring.”

“I’m not,” Shane pouted. Ilya couldn’t wait to kiss it off his face later. But first…

“Do not worry, I am fun enough for both of us.” Ilya flagged down the bartender again as they lined up two more shots. Ilya took both himself.

“Hey,” Shane whined.

“No more for you. You need learn to hold liquor, Hollander.”

Shane rested his head on Ilya’s shoulder, “I don’t drink much.”

“No shit.”

“Rozy!” another draftee – Lev, gone to Seattle – who Ilya knew briefly from the European circuit but had been playing in America longer, came bounding over. He pulled up short when he noticed Shane leaning on Ilya, “Is he good?”

“Too much too fast,” Ilya offered.

Lev smirked, “These Canadians are total fucking lightweights, da?”

“’m not,” mumbled Shane.

“You are,” said Ilya. “You bring shame to your country.”

Shane didn’t even bother to lift his head.

Ilya rolled his eyes, flagging down the bartender again, “Water please.”

“My mom says you’re a bad influence,” Shane mumbled.

Ilya snorted.

Next to them, Lev jostled Ilya’s shoulder, “Yeah, he is. Got to loosen the Canadians up somehow, right Rozy?”

“Yes. Hear that Shane, you need to get lose.”

Shane guffawed as he dissolved into uncontrollable giggles. Ilya’s shoulders shook.

Shane leaned in in an attempt at whispering in Ilya’s ear, but drunkenly slurred rather loudly, “You can do that to me later.”

Ilya laughed harder, and maybe the vodka was lowering his inhibitions, because he turned his head and licked Shane fully across the cheek, just to watch the Canadian recoil.

“Ew!” Shane tried to push him away but stumbled. Ilya wrestled Shane back, his arm now slung proudly over his shoulder with Shane leaning into his chest.

“You two are nasty,” laughed Lev.

“Are you jealous Lev?” Ilya waggled his eyebrows, “Do you want lick too?”

“You wish you could taste this, Rozy.”

The water was placed on the bar. Ilya grabbed the glass and passed it to Shane, “Got it? Ok. You drink.”

“Yes sir.” Shane tipped the glass back and swallowed the whole thing in three large gulps. Ilya watched with hungry eyes as Shane’s throat worked to swallow.

“Ah,” Shane sighed, licking his lips as he slammed the glass back on the bar. “Another!”

That really cracked Lev and Ilya up.

“Oh, Soko says there’s girls in the next room,” said Lev.

Ilya smirked, “Da?”

Lev smirked back, “Da.”

“Ilyaaa,” Shane whined, tripping over his feet a little, even though he was supposed to be standing still.

“Dude he’s blasted,” observed Lev.

Ilya rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, I will bring him to bed.” (Thank God for the assumption of language barriers and not drunken truths)

“You coming back after?” asked Lev.

“We will see,” Ilya shrugged noncommittally.

“Aw c’mon, Roz. You are number one! You gotta celebrate.”

Ilya glanced at the empty shots lined up on the bar, “I celebrate.”

“You could take home good ass tonight.”

“I take home good ass every night. I do not need win to get girls. Unlike you ugly face, Lev.”

“Oh, is that how it is?”

“Hmm, you should go. Before better players take best girls.”

The dismissal was clear but Lev took it in stride, calling out as he backed away, “Alright, I’ll see you two on the tour. Don’t let him fall asleep on his back!”

Ilya rolled his eyes, “Not my first…” he turned to Shane, “how do you say?”

“Rodeo,” Shane offered. Then his lips stretched into a smirk, “It’s where you ride—”

Ilya’s hand slammed over his mouth before Lev could hear him finish, grateful the other boy was already disappearing into the crowd.

Shane licked his palm. Ilya just raised his eyebrows. Shane bit into his flesh.

Ilya huffed, pulling his hand away and wiping it on the back of Shane’s shirt just to watch him cringe, “Come on, we go back to hotel room.”

“Wanna party,” Shane slurred, swaying into Ilya a little.

“You have enough party. Time to go.”

Shane looked right into his eyes and like usual, all of his emotions were right at the surface, “I don’t wanna go. Don’t want the night to end.”

Ilya couldn’t help the way his own eyes softened. He resisted the urge to brush his hands through Shane’s hair, push back the strands that had fallen into his eyes. He smiled gently, “Does not have to end. Not for you and me.”

Shane’s eyes lit up, darting to Ilya’s lips, “Yeah?”

Ilya tried to resist looking at Shane’s. He failed. “Yes.”

---

Shane felt kind of dizzy. So it was a good thing Ilya was there to hold him up. And he smelled really nice, which was also really, really good.

Shane pushed his face into Ilya’s neck, breathing him in with a little groan. God, he wanted to lick him.

There was a gentle but forceful tug on his hair. Shane whined as his head was pulled away from Ilya’s skin (definitely not because of the fist in his hair). The other boy gave his shoulder a little shove, muttering, “Not here Shane. Cameras.”

Ilya nodded at the red light blinking next to the lens in the top corner of the elevator. Oh shit.

Shane stumbled back, pressing himself against the far wall, as far, far away from Ilya as he could get. Just to be safe. Hopefully no one noticed. He looked around the elevator just to check, finding them alone. Thank God.

Shane tried to keep his eyes on the floor as the elevator rose but he couldn’t help glancing up, catching sight of Ilya’s curls in the moody hotel lighting. God, he looked so good, all dressed up in his fancy suit. Shane wanted to pull his tie off with his teeth. Maybe Ilya would let him? That seemed like the kind of thing he would be into…

Ilya caught him looking. Shane blushed. Ilya smiled, pleased, his own eyes a little hazy. Shane smiled shyly back.

God, he liked him so much. Not just because he was pretty but because he was funny too. And he always did this thing where he complimented and kind of made fun of Shane in the same breath. Sometimes it made him want to shove him into the boards, other times he got a desperate urge to drop to his knees. Either way, he hoped Ilya kept doing it.

Maybe tonight he’d let Shane—

The elevator dinged. Shane took a step for the door but Ilya caught his arm, big hand closing around his bicep, the heat of his skin burning through his own suit jacket.

“Not our floor,” said Ilya.

The doors opened to reveal his mom. Shane broke into a smile—

Oh shit his mom!

“Oh,” said Yuna, looking at Ilya’s firm grip on Shane’s arm. Which was attached to Shane’s obviously very drunk body. “Uh…”

“Mom!” Shane listed to the side in his effort to appear sober. Good thing Ilya was there to catch him.

Yuna kept looking between them, “Um is he…?”

“He is ok,” said Ilya. “I put him to bed. Will be fine.”

Shane tried to stand on his own so his mom didn’t think he was a delinquent.

Yuna still looked unconvinced, “I’m supposed to be going down but I can take him up—”

“I have.” Ilya went for what Shane thought was a very convincingly responsible nod, doing a much better job of standing upright. “Do not worry.”

“Are you sure—”

The elevator doors closed before Yuna could step inside. Thank fucking God.

Shane sagged into Ilya’s already shaking shoulders, lips parting on his own giggle.

“Oh she’s gonna kill me,” Shane groaned.

Ilya just laughed harder.

Shane slapped his chest, “This is your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes. You got me drunk.”

“You took shots willingly.”

“I was coerced.”

“Hmm, not how I remember. I remember you want to stay at party—”

“Only cause I wanted to spend time with you.” Shit. Did he say that out loud? That might have been a little much.

Ilya took it in stride, “I want to spend time with you too. But private.”

Shane went for comedy in hopes of hiding his blush, “Oh so you got me drunk so you could take me home with you?”

“You do not need alcohol to come home with me, Hollander. You do not need convincing.”

Blush definitely not averted, “Only cause—”

The elevator dinged again as the doors opened. Shane looked at Ilya.

He nodded, “My floor.”

Shane grinned as Ilya stepped through the doors and started walking down the hallway. Shane followed after him, stumbling a little. Ilya looked back at him with another laugh.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” Shane grumbled.

“You are like baby deer.”

“’m not a baby.”

“No?” Ilya dug around in his jacket for his key card as Shane caught up. “You do not need me to put you to bed like baby?”

Shane snorted, resting his head on Ilya’s shoulder, both of them swaying a little.

“Do you need me to read you bedtime story?” the Russian cooed.

Actually… “Would you?”

Ilya huffed, opening his door. They both stumbled inside, Shane falling forward a little as he lost the support of Ilya’s shoulder, head too heavy for his body at the moment.

“Woah,” Ilya caught him again. “Ok, you sit on bed. I get you water.”

Shane didn’t protest as Ilya led him through the room, Shane peeling off his too-hot jacket before flopping down on the mattress. It was a little hard – the hotel ones always were. He breathed in deep, hoping to catch a hint of Ilya’s scent on the pillows. No such luck, which made sense considering they hadn’t slept there yet, but Shane tried again anyway, breathing deep—

“Here,” Ilya tapped him on the shoulder, holding out a glass of water. Shane took it gratefully, gulping the entire thing down quickly. Damn, that was good. He kind of wondered if Ilya would get him some more—

“Here,” Ilya passed him another full glass. Shane grinned. “Sip this one,” the Russian warned. “Or you make yourself sick.”

Shane went to take another big swallow but Ilya’s hand tipped the glass down with a stern, “Sip.”

Shane glared a little, but resorted to smaller gulps, not as satisfied. Still refreshing though.

He finished the glass under Ilya’s watchful gaze, Shane eyeing him over the rim, feeling heat sink into his belly. Ilya had ditched his jacket too, and his tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal the line between his pecks peeking out of the fabric…

Shane passed the empty glass back to Ilya. He took it, letting their fingers brush, and set it on the nightstand.

“Better?” Ilya asked.

Shane nodded, flopping back on the bed, head on Ilya’s pillow. His clumsy fingers pulled at his own tie until it came off, then he carefully rolled it up. Ilya rolled his eyes as Shane placed it primly on the nightstand.

Shane laid back again and reached out, making grabby hands, “C’mere.”

Ilya huffed but set a knee on the bed anyway, hoisting his body over Shane’s and flopping on top of him, both of them letting out an, “Oof.”

Shane wrapped his arms around him, opening his legs for Ilya to settle deeper into his body. Ilya pressed a kiss to his chest, hot through the fabric of his dress shirt. Shane ran his fingers through his curls.

“I missed you,” he admitted.

Ilya hummed, “I miss you too.”

And it was definitely the alcohol talking but Shane also admitted, “I was really excited to see you again.”

Ilya pulled back to look at him, propping his body over Shane’s, their faces close together. Shane felt boxed in, just the two of them in their own little world.

Ilya’s eyes scanned his face, “Me too. I look forward to seeing you.”

Shane squirmed under the attention, “We’re um – we’re in the same division. Eastern tour.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll get to see each other more.”

Ilya’s lips stretched into that beautiful smile, “Yes.”

Shane nudged his hips up again, pressing their hardening cocks together, “I like that.”

Ilya’s hips ground down as his hand came up to cup the back of Shane’s neck, “I like that too.”

“I like you,” Shane breathed. He should probably never drink Russian vodka again. For the sake of his own dignity. His only saving grace was that he didn’t desperately ask, ‘Do you like me?’ immediately after.

It didn’t matter. Ilya squeezed the back of his neck and whispered, “I like you too.”

Then he leaned in for a kiss. Shane melted into it, letting Ilya grind their hips together as his tongue swept into his mouth. Shane groaned.

Ilya trailed slow kisses down Shane’s jaw to his neck. Shane sighed into it, rolling his head back to give Ilya more room. At least until the Russian let out a fucking giggle.

“What?” Shane asked.

Ilya just kept kiss him, still laughing.

“What?” Shane thrust his hips up, trying to shift Ilya into looking at him.

Ilya’s hands snapped down to pin Shane’s hips to the bed, “Be still.”

He went back to kissing his neck. Shane squirmed, feeling the sensation all the way in his cock.

“Ilyaaa,” he whined.

Ilya pulled back, still laughing, “You look good all red.”

At first Shane thought he meant his blush but then he took in the overly self-satisfied smirk plastered across Ilya’s face. Shane’s eyes widened, hand slapping over the sore spot on his neck, “You didn’t?!”

Ilya just laughed more.

Shane huffed, “Ilyaaa!” He pushed his hips up again, catching the Russian off guard this time, and rolled them until he was on top. Stradling Ilya’s waist, Shane used his hips to pin him to the bed and leaned close, their lips almost touching. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

Ilya’s pupils were blown as they darted down to Shane’s lips, “What will you do about it?”

Now Shane probably would’ve made a different decision if he was sober, but right now he was looking at the tempting skin of Ilya’s chest with a flush as dark as Shane’s rising all the way up his neck. Shane smirked and dove in, teeth sinking into the skin of Ilya’s jugular and sucking hard.

Ilya groaned below him, rolling his hips into Shane’s as he shivered.

Shane pulled back with an equally satisfied smile, “There. Now we match.”

Ilya growled as he grabbed Shane’s hips, rolling them over again, grinding their hips together, “Now who’s bad influence?”

“You started it,” grumbled Shane.

Ilya grinned, “Should I finish too?”

He pulled back, sitting up over Shane’s hips, fingers fumbling with the remaining buttons of his shirt. Shane was pleased to see the flush go all the way down to his navel. It made him less self-conscious of his own, knowing Ilya was just as flustered.

Shane pulled at his own buttons as Ilya’s shirt slipped off his shoulders, revealing chorded shoulders and veins popping down his arms. God, his arms – Shane wanted to take a bite out of that.

Ilya swatted Shane’s clumsy fingers away from his shirt. He gripped the fabric and pulled. Buttons scattered across the bed and hardwood floor.

“Hey,” Shane whined. “I liked that shirt.”

“I buy you new one,” said Ilya as he pulled it fully off Shane. “I am rich hockey player now. I get big bonus because I am number one pick.”

Shane rolled his eyes.

Ilya smirked as he hovered over him, “Aw do not sulk, Hollander.”

“’m not sulking.”

“No?” Ilya’s hand came up to cup Shane’s face, squishing his cheeks together. “You do not pout like baby?”

Shane glared.

“Do not worry, I said I make up to you, I keep promise.” Ilya let go of Shane’s face and started sliding down his body, trailing kisses as he went.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Shane sighed, arching his back as Ilya kissed his hip bones. “Whoever wins sucks the loser off.”

“Hmm, would make losing feel better,” Ilya pulled at Shane’s belt, then the button on his trousers, then his fly.

“Says you ’cause you won.”

Shane lost his pants. And his briefs.

“Are you complaining about loss?”

“No,” Shane hissed as Ilya’s teeth sunk into his thigh. Ilya trailed his kisses back up to Shane’s stomach. Shane stared at the ceiling, trying to enjoy it but…

Ilya pulled back, “What’s wrong?”

Shane wouldn’t look at him, “Nothing.”

Ilya immediately climbed back up his body, face in front of Shane’s, forcing their eyes to meet, “I am sorry, I take teasing too far.”

“No,” Shane didn’t want Ilya to think he was actually a baby. “It’s not that.”

“What is it?”

Shane squirmed.

“Shane?” Ilya’s hand cupped his face, touch gentle, eyes open. “Tell me.”

Shane sighed, “I know we’re not actually rivals…”

Ilya frowned, “Yes?”

“But we’re still competing for the same stuff.”

“Yes.”

“And we’ll be doing that for our whole careers.”

His fingers traced the skin of Shane’s cheek, “Yes.”

“So…?”

“So?”

Shane rolled his eyes, “So how are we gonna deal with that?”

“Deal?”

He huffed at Ilya’s feigned ignorance, “You know, not get jealous and stuff.”

Ilya shrugged, “I am not jealous.”

Shane rolled his eyes again, “Oh really? So if I had won, you’d be totally cool with it?”

“Yes.”

“No fucking way.”

“I am good sport, Hollander. Unlike you.”

“Bullshit. So if I win next time—"

“If you win what? Next game? Is hardly my fault if team loses. That is team, not just me.”

“Oh so you’re only to blame if you’re solely responsible?”

“Yes.”

“So if I win, say, rookie of the year, you won’t have a problem with that?”

“No.” And the way Ilya said it…

Shane smacked his chest with a scoff, “Fuck you, you think you’re gonna win that too?!”

Ilya laughed with a shrug.

“No fucking way. That one’s mine,” said Shane.

Ilya shrugged again, eyes dancing, “You can try but...”

Shane huffed and tried to buck Ilya off of him. The Russian sat down harder, gathering Shane’s hands to pin them above his head.

“Aw c’mon Hollander, you are still good player,” he cooed, but he still had that smug fucking smirk on his face. “Just not as good as me.”

“I am just as good as you,” Shane pushed against Ilya’s hands, but he held him down harder.

“You are too slow.”

“I am not.”

“With weak backhand.”

“It is not!”

“But you are smarter. I will give you that.”

Shane drew back at the compliment whiplash, immediately forgetting everything else Ilya had said as his body lit up at the praise. He stopped fighting, going soft and pliant in Ilya’s arms. He bit his lip, eyes darting to Ilya’s mouth as he asked breathlessly, “You think so?”

Ilya hummed, leaning down to brush their lips together, “Yes. I look forward to playing you. Is fun to have someone at same level.”

He closed the remaining distance to capture Ilya’s lips, feeling his weight settle over him, pressing his entire body into the mattress.

Shane hummed into the kiss. Ilya could be so cocky, but he could also be so sweet. When he wanted to be. And he was also funny, and affectionate, and gentle, and so, so competitive…Which gave Shane an idea…

He pulled back “Well, if you’re so confident…”

Ilya raised an eyebrow, eyes lighting up as he sensed where this was going.

Shane smirked, “Care to make it interesting?”

---

@TreMi: Looks like the MLH rookies had a good night of celebrations. Congrats to Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander on taking advantage of being this year’s top of the draft. And congrats to whoever took a bite out of that ;)

[photo of Ilya and Shane standing in the press line talking to reporters with the camera zoomed in on hickeys sticking out of both their suit collars]

@Hockey4Life: Fucking rookies always getting the best ass. Nice work lads.

@HollanovUpdates: I think they did it but I just can’t prove it…

@CeltOnTheProwl: Guys, back off, we don’t know anything about their personal lives.

@FuckTheRaiders: Rozanov needs to back off before he corrupts our little baby Shane.

@ILoveShane24: Damn, lucky girl. Wish that was me.

@IlyaRozanovsButt: I’d like to take a bite out of both of them.

Chapter End Notes

And so begins the antics. Ilya would totally get Shane into trouble all the time and pull him out of his shell. Especially because he's so young and impressionable rn ;) (and he's absolutely a lightweight. Would be knocked out by 3 shots of Russian vodka)

I'm so excited for this fic! I can't wait for them both to slowly discover each other's quirks without holding back how endearing they find it. And to fall in love a little faster because they're so young and this is so new and exciting to them. And to be affectionate in public because no one will assume the jokes have any truth to them. These two are about to be MENACES (to the League mostly but also to Yuna lol)

Hoped you liked this. See you in the next one :)
-Oaks

Chapter 3: All-Stars

Chapter Summary

At their rookie All-Star weekend, Shane and Ilya are confronted by what the rest of the league thinks of themselves, each other, and their unlikely friendship.

Chapter Notes

Ilya is so funny. Every time I write him he just possesses me until the jokes start flowing and then I'm cracking up at my own laptop. Anyway he's a menace in this one (especially to Scott Hunter) and of course a 'terrible influence' on Shane because of it.

10:37 pm

Asshole: How is night going?

[photo of a table packed with empty and half-full pints of beer]

Boring: Good.

[photo of a couple bottles of beer, and some sodas]

Asshole: What are you drinking?

Boring: Ginger ale.

Asshole: Boring

Asshole: Is unacceptable

Boring is typing…

Unsent.

Asshole: I come save you

Asshole: Teach you how to have fun

---

They were at some country music bar, rented out for the night by the North American All-Star team. Carter Jones from Florida and Matheson from Colorado were playing pool. A couple other North American players including Cliff Marleau from Boston were sitting around tables with different variations of card games going. They had all been banned from riding the mechanical bull (and no amount of pleading from Matheson or Marleau was changing the league’s mind about the injury risk).

Shane was sitting at the bar between his teammate J.J. Boiziau and Scott Hunter, along with Scott’s Admirals teammate Carter Vaughan and Liam Casey from Pittsburgh. The older players were nursing their second beers – no one wanting to get too sloshed before the All-Stars skills competition tomorrow – but Shane was as usual, sticking to ginger ale.

There was a tv above the bar playing a broadcast of highlights from the MLH season so far. Shane cringed as one of his highlights popped up. It was from his first game against Boston, tied 3-3, him taking the face-off against Ilya.

He could remember it clearly, Ilya teasing him, “Will you disappoint them?” Shane having to try very, very hard to keep his eyes on the puck and not look up at Ilya. Shane winning the face-off. Shane scoring to win the game forty seconds later. Ilya coming to Shane’s apartment after, in a bit of a mood about the loss but Shane cheering him up rather quickly…

“That one was a real beauty, Hollander,” said Scott Hunter, nudging Shane with his elbow.

Shane blushed a little.

“Must’ve felt good,” said Carter Vaughan. “Putting Rozanov in his place like that.”

Murmurs and chuckles of agreement went up from the group. “Thank God someone’s taking the kid down a peg,” said Liam.

Shane shifted a little in his seat as Scott Hunter teased, “Just cause you can’t keep up with him Casey.”

Liam scoffed, “Oh are you the one giving Rozanov a run for his money, Hunter?”

Scott took a sip of his beer, “I certainly don’t let the bastard run his mouth at me.”

J.J. waved him off, “Roz runs his mouth at everybody, even Shane.”

“Ah, Shane’s different – he’s a rookie too. They’re supposed to have competition. We’re not supposed to be dealing with the cocky little shits mouthing off at us.”

Liam laughed, “What is that, some ‘respect your elders’ crap?”

J.J. reached around Shane to poke Scott, “You feelin’ old, Hunter?”

Scott slapped his hand away, “Fuck off.”

“You just wish you could keep up with the rookies like you used to,” said Liam. “God knows I do. Then again, we wouldn’t’ve dreamed of some of the shit that comes out of their mouths.”

“No kidding,” Carter finished off his beer and flagged the bartender for another. “I mean, fifty goals in his rookie season? Who does the kid think he is? And saying it to the press…”

Everyone at the bar knocked on the wooden countertop.

“Hey, Hollander’s giving him a run for his money.” Shane blushed a little as J.J. clapped him on the back. Everyone turned their attention back to him, seeming to remember his presence.

“What do you think of Rozanov’s ‘fifty goal campaign’?” Casey inflected a newscaster cadence.

Shane shrugged, trying not to give anything away, “I think he can do it.”

J.J. nudged him again, “Yeah, but you’re gonna beat him.”

Shane knocked on the counter again with a glare at J.J. The other man just laughed, “What? You’re way better than Rozanov.”

“And less of an asshole,” muttered Carter.

Shane rolled his eyes, “He’s alright.”

Liam frowned, “Wait, are you actually friends with the guy?”

Shane looked around, suddenly feeling like he was in hostile territory. He said quietly, “I mean, yeah.”

“Damn,” Carter blew out a breath. “I thought that was just media shit. Like it’s good for optics so they pretend like you’re buddies or something. You can’t tell me you actually like hanging out with the guy?”

Shane took a sip of his ginger ale, mouth suddenly dry. “I do. It’s uh, not a fake media thing. We’re actually friends.”

Scott was frowning at him, “But isn’t he an asshole?”

Shane chuckled, “Totally.” That got a laugh out of the guys. He shrugged, “But I guess he’s kind of different off the ice.”

“Nicer?”

“No. But he’s…funny, I guess. I don’t know.”

Scott Hunter was looking at Shane kind of funny.

Shane tried to brush it off, “He’s an acquired taste.”

Carter scoffed, “If you say so.”

Shane’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen, finding a selfie of Ilya. He was outside, on a street somewhere, sticking his tongue out and flipping off the camera and if Shane zoomed in a little…yep, that was definitely Bogrov from Colorado standing with his back to the camera, facing the corner of a building with a wide stance and a puddle forming beneath him.

Shane couldn’t help his laugh, but still sent back:

To Asshole: Don’t be a biohazard.

From Asshole: Is organic

“You texting a girl Hollander?”

Shane pulled his phone to his chest to hide the screen as Carter Vaughan leaned around Scott to see it, “No.”

Carter laughed, clapping his hands excitedly, “You totally are. You’re cheesing at your phone too hard. C’mon, who is she?”

The other North American All-Stars sitting around the bar took interest, Scott Hunter eyeing Shane over the rim of his beer, Liam Casey raising an eyebrow.

J.J. waved them all off, “Shane never shares that kind of stuff. He’s too private.” He said it like a joke, even though they both knew it was true.

Carter placed a hand on Shane’s shoulders and shook him a little, “C’mon, spill. We want gossip.”

“Carter,” Scott started to scold him, but Carter waved him off.

“C’mon, Hollander, at least give us her name.”

And because Shane couldn’t see a way out of this and he couldn’t exactly admit that he was smiling at his phone like a smitten fucking kitten because of Ilya Rozanov, he blurted out the first name that came to mind, “Lily.”

Whoops went around the group – mostly from Carter – at Shane caving. Carter waggled his eyebrows with a big grin, “Lily…Got a picture?”

Shane blushed and this time Scott put his foot down, “Alright, Cart, that’s enough. Leave the poor kid alone.”

Carter good-naturedly backed off and Shane shot Scott a little nod of thanks.

“Yo Vaughan, you want next round?” called Carter Jones, standing by the pool table across the bar. Shane assumed he’d won the previous game from the disgruntled way Matheson was thumbing 50’s from his wallet.

Carter Vaughan lit up, “You’re going down Jonesy!” He jumped up, beer sloshing over his glass a little. Shane leaned over to avoid the splash zone.

“Carter on Carter action,” teased J.J. “Now this I have to see.” He clapped hands with Liam as they rose from their seats, the three All-Star hockey players making their way across the bar, leaving Shane alone at the counter with Scott Hunter.

Scott took a casual sip of his beer, eyeing Shane’s half-full glass, “That better just be ginger ale rook.”

Shane looked at his glass as if it might spontaneously turn into champagne, “Oh no, it is. I-I would never indulge in front of you.”

Scott nodded very seriously, “Good. We’ve got a game tomorrow.”

“A-Absolutely.”

Scott leaned over, dropping his voice, “But if you wanted to let loose a little, I don’t think anyone here would rat you out.” And then he winked.

Shane blushed.

Scott waved down the bartender, flagging him for another beer. He looked at Shane, “You want anything else?”

Shane’s fingers tightened on his glass nervously, “Oh no, I’m good with this.”

Scott shrugged, “Suit yourself.” Another beer appeared in front of him and Scott took a sip. “These things are never that serious anyway. It’s more a party than a competition.”

“I thought the competition was the point? You know, North America vs Europe and all that?”

“Maybe for the league and all their marketing crap, but for the players and fans, it’s just a friendly game. Most people are here for the comedy of it all rather than actual competition. We save that for the playoffs.”

Shane looked down at his glass, “Right.”

Scott gave him a good-natured nudge, “You need to lighten up a little, rook. It’s ok to have some fun.”

Shane gave him a small, nervous smile. Scott was nice. A little older, a veteran player by most standards, and a pretty good one. He was also quite handsome.

Scott sighed, placing his beer on the bar and turning his full attention to Shane, “Alright rookie, what’s really got you all twisted up?”

Shane’s eyes widened.

Scott nodded at Shane’s phone, “Is it that girl?”

“N-No, no, definitely not,” Shane stammered.

Scott raised an eyebrow, “Trouble at home?”

Shane shook his head.

“Trouble with your team?”

“No.”

“You worried about tomorrow, then?”

Shane shrugged.

Scott frowned, “Why?”

“I don’t know…I guess I just don’t want to…underperform.”

Shane expected Scott to laugh or at least scoff a little – Ilya would’ve – but instead he just nodded sagely, taking another sip of his beer, “I remember those days.”

“You do?”

“It’s a lot of pressure – being at the top when you’re just a rookie. I do not miss being barely twenty and having all that pressure – all that attention. It’s a lot.”

“It is.”

“I get it. The media likes you a lot, kid, and that’s definitely rough at times.”

“Yeah.”

“Especially when you’ve got competition for the top-top spot,” Scott eyed him, seeing if Shane would take the bait.

He did, “I don’t know, that part’s not so bad.”

Scott waited for him to explain.

Shane shrugged, “Sometimes it’s nice to have someone, you know? Someone that gets it.”

“And Rozanov gets it?”

“Yeah.”

Scott eyed him. Shane wasn’t sure what he saw but eventually he nodded and took another sip of his beer, “Ok then.”

Shane sipped his ginger ale quietly.

After a minute, Scott said, “Just uh, don’t let the league come between you two. Competition gets rough later in the season and this can be a lonely life sometimes. Don’t take what you guys have for granted.”

Shane was a little stunned at the sincerity, not expecting Scott to change his tune so swiftly. He tried to think of something to say back, but before he could respond, Cliff Marleau was yelling across the bar, drawing everyone’s attention, “Well look who it is!”

Shane turned to the door as a horde of hockey players spilled inside.

Scott nudged his elbow with a grin, “Looks like your boy is gatecrashing.”

Ilya appeared from behind one of the Czech players with Bogrov’s arm slung over his shoulder. His face lit up when he spotted Shane.

“Hollander! Hollander, I come to save you from boring Canadians and stupid Americans!”

Next to him, Scott snorted. Shane’s entire face turned beet-red.

Ilya slipped from under Bogrov’s arm and bounded up to the bar. He leaned on the counter next to Shane, flagging down the bartender, “Two beers please!”

“Ilya,” Shane tried to protest.

Ilya grabbed him by the shoulders, hands massaging the muscles, “You need to loosen up, Hollzy.”

“Hollzy?”

Ilya grinned proudly, “Yes, is hockey nickname. You like?”

Shane rolled his eyes as two beers were set on the counter in front of them. Ilya picked up both, forcefully handing one to Shane, “Take. Yes, good. Ok, now drink.”

Shane just looked at him, feeling the condensation run from the bottle to his hand.

Ilya guided the bottle to Shane’s mouth and tipped it up, “Drink. Come on, you can let go for one night.”

“We have a game tomorr—” the bottle tipped fully as liquid spilled into his mouth (he wasn’t fighting very hard, Ilya looked too pleased).

Ilya kept his hand on the bottom, keeping the liquid flowing until the bottle was about half-finished and Shane finally pushed him back, “Ok, ok.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “That’s enough for now.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, tipping his own bottle back, looking at Shane as he swallowed gulp after gulp until it was finished. He slammed it back on the bar. “You make being not boring so hard.”

And because the beer he’d drunk was already sitting warm in his belly, or maybe because he knew it would make Ilya’s eyes light up as they watched him, Shane tipped his bottle back again and finished it.

---

Ilya once again had his arm around Shane’s back with his head on his shoulder, keeping them both upright as they swayed a little. They weren’t drunk-drunk like last time, but pleasantly tipsy, faces and chests warm.

Ilya liked this – having Shane so close, even while out in public. It had taken Shane some getting used to – he’d been paranoid about people making assumptions at the start – but everyone had seemed to settle into their friendship narrative pretty easily and Shane had loosened up too. Especially when Ilya managed to convince him to drink more than one beer.

Now, he was definitely loose, warm body pressed to Ilya’s as they watched J.J. chirp at Bogrov with Cliff Marleau caught in between.

“There’s no way you’re taking the speed round,” said J.J. “Our team’s gonna put you so far in our dust, you’ll be plowing snow for a week.”

“Americans maybe,” Bogrov casually picked at the label on his beer bottle with a glance at Cliff.

Cliff raised his hands, “Hey, don’t bring me into this. I’ve still got to play with the enemy next week.” He winked at Ilya. Ilya raised his beer back.

Bogrov rolled his eyes at Cliff, turning back to J.J. and Shane, “But Canadians are sooo slow.”

Ilya snorted as Shane scoffed, “We are not.”

Bogrov pointed his bottle at him, “Not from what I’ve heard.” His eyes darted to Ilya, dancing with humour.

Shane’s eyes widened as he turned to him, whole body tensing in panic, “What did you—”

“I tell him you are very slow with backhand,” Ilya was quick to clarify. Shane’s shoulders sagged a little and Ilya hammered the point home with a casual shrug, “Is very weak.”

Shane tried to slip from under his arm with a glare, but Ilya kept his grip on his waist with a teasing grin.

J.J. jumped to his defense, “Shane could take you any day. No way you fucking Russians think you’ve got anything on us.”

Bogrov squared his shoulders a little, “You want to find out Frenchman?”

Shane forgot to be mad at Ilya, whining, “Aw, c’mon, can’t we all just get along for one night?” God, he was such a goody-goody.

Ilya smirked, “You will not be so nice when we beat you.”

Shane nudged his arm, “That’s not happening.”

Ilya raked his eyes over Shane’s body, “Guess we will have to see.”

He watched as a blush rose to Shane’s face. Then he shifted his feet, legs clenching together. Ilya grinned.

Shane sighed, announcing, “Alright, I gotta piss.”

He swayed a little and Ilya steadied him with a hand on his arm, “You good? Want me to come with?”

Cliff laughed, “What you two can’t even piss by yourselves?”

Shane frowned. Ilya kind of wanted to punch Cliff for the comment but settled on, “Fuck off.”

Shane stepped away and Ilya went to reach for him again but Shane waved him off, “I’m good. I can manage a trip to the bathroom by myself, thank you very much.”

Ilya frowned a little as Shane walked away, not liking the tense set to his shoulders. Oh well, guess he couldn’t sneak off to join him now. Goddamn fucking Marleau…

“I do not know why you hang out with that dude,” said Cliff.

Ilya turned to him with a scowl, “Why?”

“Isn’t he like, super uptight and stuff?”

J.J. was watching him curiously, waiting for his answer. Bogrov was sipping his beer like he didn’t care, but Ilya could see the way he was looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Ilya shrugged, overly casual, “Maybe. Sometimes. Is not big deal.”

Cliff shrugged back, “Ok. Just seems like a little bit of a wet blanket.”

Ilya tensed. He couldn’t help it, coming to Shane’s defense, “He can be fun. He is funny but it is like secret. You have to earn it.”

Cliff raised an eyebrow, “Earn it?”

Ilya shrugged, “Is acquired taste. You would not know, Marleau. You have no patience.”

“Oh patience?” Cliff rolled his eyes. “Is that what I need to stomach Hollander? I thought that’s what I needed to be friends with you, Roz.”

Ilya scowled more, he was about to say something about being better friends with Shane than fucking Cliff, but a thump caught his attention.

Across the bar, Shane stumbled a little as he came out of the bathroom, bumping into Scott Hunter. Scott reached out to steady him, hands gripping Shane’s biceps. Ilya could see him giving them a light squeeze.

Shane looked up and smiled at Scott gratefully. Scott smiled back, eyes crinkling as he laughed it off. Ilya felt something twist in his chest.

He set his beer on the table, muttering to the guys, “Sorry, I must go save.”

He walked over to Shane as Scott called out to the bar, “Alright, who got the rookies drunk?”

Cliff gestured to their table of empties and yelled back, “I think they did that to themselves.”

Scott’s eyes went from the table to Ilya as he walked over. His hand was still on Shane’s shoulder.

“Rozanov, you’re a bad influence,” Scott said it with a smile, teasing.

Ilya still bristled, “Hunter you make very boring impression. Is bad for Hollzy. Maybe because you are geriatric.” (He’d learned that word specifically to use on Scott. Shane had taught it to him, but he hadn't known why Ilya asked.) He grabbed Shane’s other arm, gently encouraging (pulling) him out of Scott’s grasp.

Shane slapped his chest, “Ilya!”

“What?” Ilya shrugged innocently, still eyeing Scott. “He is like, one-hundred years old.”

Shane looked at Scott apologetically, “I’m sorry about him.”

Scott rolled his eyes.

Ilya nudged Shane in the ribs. He looked at him, pouting a little. Ilya waggled his eyebrows.

Shane burst into giggles. Ilya’s own lips stretched into a smile.

Scott rolled his eyes again, walking away as he muttered, “Fucking rookies.”

Ilya leaned in close to whisper to Shane, “You have nice trip to bathroom?” He glanced down at Shane’s pants, which were (thankfully (disappointingly)) not tented.

Shane squirmed, “You didn’t follow.”

Ilya smiled apologetically, “Sorry. Could not get away.”

Bogrov called out in Russian, “Roz, we’re heading out!”

Ilya saw the rest of the European team settling tabs and heading for the door. He waved back before turning to Shane. “See you tomorrow?” he tried to keep the hope out of his voice but with the way Shane smiled, he knew he failed.

“Yeah,” said Shane. “Good luck in the game. You’re gonna need it.”

Ilya scoffed, “I need no luck. Not against slow Canadians.”

“You think we’re slow?” Shane faked offense. It made Ilya want to kiss him.

“Hmm,” Ilya smirked, glancing down, down, down Shane’s body. “You are quick about some things.”

Shane’s eyes widened, “You’re an asshole!” He slapped his chest. Ilya reveled at the contact.

He shrugged, laughing, “Is true.”

“Just for that, I’m gonna kick your ass tomorrow.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“I know so.”

Ilya’s eyes lit up as an idea took form, “Care to make interesting?”

Shane pursed his lips, “What do I get if I win?”

“Hmm,” Ilya pretended to think about it. “Shall we say, house rules?”

“House rules?”

He leaned in close to whisper in Shane’s ear, “Winner sucks loser off.”

Shane snorted, wide eyes glancing around for anyone watching them, his face instantly heating up. Ilya loved seeing him get all flustered, loved being the one to make it happen.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Shane mumbled, keeping his voice low and their conversation (hopefully) private.

Ilya just raised an eyebrow, “You do not like prize if you win?” He gestured to the lower half of his body, hand stopping right over his—

Shane’s face turned even redder. “Fine.”

Ilya leaned in again, “Do not worry, Hollander. I will make so good for you, you forget about being sore loser.”

“Hey, I’m not—” Shane started to protest, but Ilya was already walking away, head tipped back in laughter. Bogrov met him by the door, slinging his arm over his shoulder with a glance between Ilya and Shane as the Europeans stepped out into the night.

---

They sat at a press table, a sea of reporters in front of them. They were wearing their game-day suits. Ilya had raked his eyes over Shane before they’d entered the press room.

He’d grinned salaciously, “Fun night?”

“Fuck off,” muttered Shane. He knew his hair was a little askew and that he looked tired. He shouldn’t’ve had that beer last night – definitely shouldn’t’ve had the second one.

Ilya grinned more, nudging his shoulder. Shane reveled at the contact. He couldn’t wait for later, after the competition, when they’d know who’d won and they…

But currently, Shane needed to focus because reporters were bombarding them with camera flashes and questions.

“Ilya, you’re having a legendary rookie season – both of you are. You said you’d hit fifty goals this year. You’ve had twenty-eight so far and we’re in the middle of February. You still thinking about that fifty-goal campaign?

Ilya shifted in his seat. He seemed uncomfortable. Shane didn’t know why – he was usually very charming.

Ilya leaned in close the microphone before deadpanning, “Yes.”

A light chuckle went up around the room.

“Shane, kind of the same for you. You’ve scored thirty-one goals. Any chance you want to speculate how the season is going to end for you guys?”

Shane shook his head with a smile, “No chance.”

“How does being so close in scoring drive you two on the ice?”

Shane looked at Ilya. Ilya nodded at him to take the question.

“We’re both very competitive so I’d say it motivates us pretty well.”

“Ilya, you’ve gained quite a reputation for your, shall we call it, arrogant, behavior both on and off the ice. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Ilya shrugged, “Is not arrogance if I have skill to back up.” Shane pretended to cough, hiding his smile behind his fist. Ilya wasn’t doing anything to help smooth over that observation.

“Are you worried it might rub some of the other players the wrong way?”

Ilya shifted – annoyed. Shane tensed a little, also annoyed with the line of questioning.

“I play my game. I do not worry about um…with other players…” Ilya shifted again, looking at Shane and muttering, “Um, how do you say?”

Shane smiled, whispering back, “Opinions.”

Ilya turned back to the reporters, “I do not worry about other player opinions. Is my game only.”

More flashes went off.

“Question for Ilya but it’ll be the same for Shane. Boston is an original six legendary team that has struggled to get to the playoffs for the last three seasons. How much pressure do you feel from the fans – from the hockey world in general – to restore Boston to its former glory, and how much of that do you take on personally?”

Ilya kept glancing at Shane and…oh. He didn’t have the words.

The reporters were talking too fast and the room was too loud. Ilya couldn’t translate quick enough to keep up but he clearly didn’t want the press to know that. Knowing him, Shane knew Ilya would see it as a weakness – one he didn’t want exposed.

Shane tapped his foot against Ilya’s under the table as he said into the mic, “Sorry, not to jump the gun here, but with Rozanov’s permission…?”

Ilya nodded gratefully.

Shane continued, “I know it’s only been two seasons since Montreal has made the playoffs, but I think I get the idea. So look, my mom is the world’s biggest Metros fan – she’s obsessed. And like all Metros fans, she wants us to be in the playoffs and she wants us to win some cups. And I want the same thing. I want to be in the playoffs and I want to win some cups. I feel pretty aligned with the fans because we want the same thing. And at this point, it’s my job to take that personally.”

“Ilya?” the reporter asked.

Ilya leaned into the mic with a dramatic pause before saying, “What he said.”

More chuckles from around the room. Ilya’s foot tapped against Shane’s. He tried to keep his smile in check.

One reporter asked, “Does your friendship affect your gameplay at all?”

Shane frowned, “How do you mean?”

“Is there anything off the ice, that would influence how you play each other?”

They were both silent, leaving room for the reporter to explain more. They both knew what question he was asking, but if he wanted a straight answer, then he was going to have to say it out loud. Shane raised a disapproving eyebrow. Ilya scowled.

The reporter sighed and he must’ve been pretty ballsy – or just stupid – because he flat-out asked, “Would you ever let the other one win?”

Shane was quick with his answer, giving a deadpan look and leaning close to the microphone, “I’d rather die.”

Ilya nodded, “What he said.”

The press was quick to move on, sensing their displeasure.

“We’ve established that you are both very competitive and that won’t change on the ice, but how do you manage being up against each other in so many career-defining categories and still maintain your friendship?”

Shane glanced at Ilya. He gave him a knowing look back. Both of their lips twitched upward.

Shane leaned into the mic with a smirk, “We have our ways.”

“Care to share?”

“Let’s just say, we’ve got competitive stakes in how this season turns out off the ice too. Tell the fans they don’t need to worry about our friendship affecting how we play – we’re both pretty invested in winning.”

“Are you saying you have a private competition regarding your accomplishments this season?”

Shane shrugged, Ilya did the same. Both of their smiles gave it away.

The reporter asked, “Will we get to know the stakes of this competition?”

Shane looked at Ilya. He winked.

Shane leaned back into the mic, “Don’t worry, you’ll find out eventually.”

---

“Yes!” Shane pumped his fist in the air as the announcer came over the loudspeaker.

“Shane Hollander just knocked almost a second off the record that Ilya Rozanov just set!”

Shane skated back to his bench, smiling ear-to-ear. He caught Ilya’s eye along the way, expecting to see him pouting at the loss but instead the Russian waggled his eyebrows and pushed his tongue into his cheek like he was—

Shane plopped down hard on the bench next to Scott Hunter, face on fire. He didn’t look at Ilya, but he could hear him laughing over the boards.

Next to him, Scott sighed as he watched his record get beat twice in a row, “Fucking rookies.”

---

@TreMi: Looks like this year’s All-Stars got up to some fun last night. Especially team Europe…Hopefully they’ll still have the energy to play today ;)

[paparazzi photo of the European All-Star team stumbling out of a bar, arms around each other, with Ilya licking the side of Bogrov’s face]

@Hockey4Life: Damn are those rookies even old enough to be at a bar lol?

Reply: @IceBaby: it’s hockey, what do you expect?

@CeltOnTheProwl: They’re gonna get creamed in the tournament if they keep up the partying.

Reply: @IceBaby: Real hockey players know how to perform and how to party.

Reply: @CeltOnTheProwl: Real hockey players don’t fuck around when they’re paid not to.

@IlyaRozanovsButt: @IlyaRozanov81 you can lick me anytime, anywhere ;)

@HollanovUpdates: Shane come get your man and put him on a leash.

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Don’t worry, he took care of business.

[blurry photo through a dirty bar window of Shane and Ilya talking with J.J., Bogrov, and Cliff, Ilya with his arm around Shane’s back]

Reply: @HollanovUpdates: Literally screaming rn! They’re so cute together!

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Apparently they talked ALL NIGHT!

Reply: @HollanovUpdates: Did you see that face Ilya made when Shane set the shot record??

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Yes! WTF was that???!!

Reply: @CeltOnTheProwl: They’re just joking around like close friends. Lots of guys in the league are.

Reply: @HollanovUpdates: @CeltOnTheProwl what do you know?

Chapter 4: House Rules

Chapter Summary

Shane wins Rookie of the Year...and the bet.

Chapter Notes

This was one of the first ideas I had when I wrote the first chapter if I was going to expand it. Hope you like it!

Peep the updated tags for explicit sexual content. That section is marked by *** for anyone that wants to skip it. But the scene was too good to fade it to black so you get something a little spicey ;) And I've updated the rating to Mature since there is now graphic sex but it's still skippable if you want.

Also, I've planned out most of the rest of this now up to the end of the show. I debated following canon and doing some back-and-forth breakup stuff but ultimately, I want this to be a happy/fun fic so there will be some canon-divergence in the timeline of their relationship (which I think will make the later chapters more fun).

Comments and kudos are appreciated. Enjoy!
-Oaks

3:16 pm

Boring: How was your flight?

Asshole: Boring.

Asshole: Too long from Boston to Vegas.

Boring: At least tonight will be exciting ;)

[picture of Shane’s jersey and a tuxedo hanging in a hotel closet]

Asshole: You are very optimistic.

Boring: Wow that’s a pretty big word for you.

Asshole: I learn just for you ;)

Boring: And using punctation…

Boring: You trying to impress me Rozanov?

Boring: Doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you.

Asshole: I do not need easy

Asshole: I will not be losing

Boring: Now who’s optimistic?

Asshole: It is not too late for you to back out…

Boring: Not a chance.

Boring: You’re going down.

---

Ilya wanted to die. Especially because if he didn’t find a way to do it himself, then his father was going to kill him.

Buzz, buzz, buzz, bu—

Ilya sent his phone to voicemail again.

Shane had won. He’d actually fucking beat him. Ilya was doing his best to act like it didn’t sting.

He’d be more upset if it wasn’t for the look on Shane’s face. Happy. Proud.

He caught Ilya looking at him in the crowd, face beaming. Ilya smiled back, completely meaning it.

Shane held up his Rookie of the Year trophy as the room cheered. Yuna and David Hollander stood behind him, Yuna looking gorgeous, of course, in her evening gown. When they were both dressed up like this, Ilya was struck by how much Shane looked like his mother.

Shane was quickly swallowed by a crowd of well-wishers. Ilya thought he could see the MLH Commissioner congratulating him. Ilya himself stood at the back of the room, close to the bar, trying to stay out of the way. This was Shane’s moment and he deserved to celebrate it.

Buzz, buzz, bu—

“Tough break, kid,” a voice came from beside him just before a hand clapped him on the shoulder. Ilya turned to find the hand was attached to Scott Hunter. He let the frown that had been growing with every denied phone call take over his face.

Scott removed his hand, shaking it out awkwardly, “You both made good candidates.”

“Yes,” Ilya deadpanned. Like all the other players, Scott was wearing a suit with his hair all done up and his playoff beard trimmed down neatly. Stupidly fucking handsome, as usual. Scott tried for what Ilya assumed was a dazzlingly charming smile. It didn’t work on him.

“Still lots to celebrate tonight, though,” Scott nodded at where Shane was shaking hands with the MLH Commissioner. “He seems happy.”

Ilya watched Shane smile at the Commissioner. Then he watched as Yuna said something, placing her hand on Shane’s shoulder, clearly showing him off. Shane’s eyes tightened imperceptibly, but Ilya caught it.

“You know,” Scott mused, not bothered by Ilya’s lack of attention. “I don’t say this often, and you’re probably the last person I should say it to, but make sure he has fun tonight.”

Shane looked through the crowd until he found Ilya. The tightness around his eyes loosened, lips breaking into a smile. Ilya couldn’t help but smile back.

Scott clapped him on the shoulder, “Catch you later, rook.” He faded back into the crowd as Shane started pushing through people, politely smiling and shaking hands as he made his way toward Ilya.

Buzz.

Buzz. Buzz.

Ilya ignored the texts, fixing his smile firmly in place.

When Shane was finally in front of him, Ilya could see the way his fingers were nervously clutching his trophy. The way he was still smiling at Ilya, but this time it was a little unsure.

Shane glanced down at the trophy, then looked up at Ilya, “Sorry.”

Ilya put on his own forced smile, “No you are not.”

“No, really. It could’ve gone to either of us.”

“But it went to you.”

“But you also—”

“Shane,” Ilya placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight, grounding him. “It went to you, because you deserve it. I am happy for you.”

Shane’s cheeks went instantly red, “Yeah?”

Ilya resisted the urge to kiss him, “Yes.”

“Thanks.”

Ilya turned, waving down the bartender, “Two champagnes please.”

Shane started to protest, “Ilya, we can’t drink here—”

“No one cares if you have one glass, Hollzy.” Shane blushed even more at the nickname. Ilya grinned salaciously, “Besides, we are celebrating, yes?” Ilya nodded at Shane’s trophy as two glasses were placed on the bar. He took one for himself, then passed the other to Shane, letting their fingers brush.

Shane’s eyes followed that point of contact, tracking down Ilya’s body. Something about the award must have been making him brave because he leaned in a little, muttering, “Not the only thing I won.”

Ilya felt his whole body heat up under his suit. He tried (and failed) to not track his own eyes down Shane’s body – there were too many people around.

Instead, he clinked their glasses together and winked, “Later.” Then he took a very long sip. To his delight, Shane did the same.

“Shane, honey,” Yuna came up behind them, placing a hand on her son’s arm. She frowned a little at the drink in his hand. “Some of the press would like to speak with you – oh, hello, Ilya.” She gave him a tight smile once she realized who Shane was talking to.

Ilya gave Shane’s mother his most charming grin, “Hello, Mrs. Hollander. You look lovely this evening.”

“Ilya,” Shane groaned.

“What?” he shrugged innocently. “Shane, do you not think your mother looks beautiful?”

Shane just shook his head, hiding his smile by taking another sip of champagne.

“No?” Ilya grinned. “Well, I think she looks very—”

“Ok, ok, enough,” Shane bumped their shoulders together lightly. “C’mon I’ve gotta go talk to the press.”

Buzz.

Shane tried to grab Ilya’s arm to drag him along, but Ilya pulled back a little, “You go. Is your night.”

Shane’s eyes dimmed slightly and Ilya put on another forced smile, “Go. Be charming. I will see you later.”

Seeming to sense that Ilya wouldn’t budge, Shane nodded and followed his mother into the crowd.

Ilya glanced around, making sure no one was watching him, before pulling out his phone.

3 missed calls from The Colonel.

Alexei: Call your father you fucking loser. He’s losing his shit.

Alexei: You better bring some of the good shit back with you or don’t bother coming home.

Alexei: Ilya

Alexei: Answer your fucking phone! I don’t want to deal with this shit!

Ilya ignored the messages, turning his phone off and slipping it back into his suit jacket.

He needed some air.

---

“Ginger ale again, rookie?”

“Um…” Shane’s eyes widened in panic as Scott Hunter sidled up to him at the bar. He knew he shouldn’t’ve let Ilya talk him into imbibing in front of the most important people in the fucking league.

Scott just laughed, delighted, “Champagne? Good for you. It’s a big night, you deserve it.”

“T-Thank you,” Shane’s returning smile was relieved.

Scott gave him a little nudge, muttering conspiratorially, “What would you say if uh, me and some of the other old fucks wanted to do some shots with the three rooks?” He leaned casually against the bar, eyes scanning the room. Most of the more important people had left – the Commissioner included – leaving room for everyone to let lose a little more.

Shane’s grin widened, “Fuck yes, I would.”

“Ok, then where’s your boy Rozanov?" Scott had called Ilya that before – his boy. Like Ilya belonged to Shane. If only he knew how true that was.

“Oh uh,” Shane looked around the room, not seeing the Russian anywhere. “He’s around here somewhere. We got separated.”

“You two stick together pretty tightly, huh?”

Shane felt that panic rising again. He tried to play it off. “Um, yeah, I guess. W-We’re friends.”

Scott gracefully ignored Shane’s squirming, “No worries. I’m sure someone else grabbed him. C’mon.”

Scott guided Shane to a smaller room with a private bar where Carter Vaughn, Liam Casey, and the other rookie, Vincent Lemaire, were waiting. No Ilya.

Shane shot off a quick text:

To Asshole: Where are you?

Scott nudged him into line at the bar, “Alright boys, who’s ready for some tequila?”

Whoops went up around the room as shots were poured. Shane glanced at the door, trying to see if someone had in fact grabbed Ilya, but there was still no sign of him.

“Bottoms up!” called Carter and everyone raised their shots. Shane grabbed his, throwing it back with a grimace.

The shots were refilled and Shane tried to keep up, stumbling through the jeers and conversation happening around him. Where was Ilya? Normally he’d be the first one up for this kind of thing. Had he seemed off earlier? Was he mad at Shane for winning? Where did he go? Did he leave the party? Without saying goodbye? They were heading into summer, now. They wouldn’t see each other for a while. What if Shane didn’t see him until next season and they didn’t say goodbye?

He needed some air.

Shane politely waved off Carter as he tried to offer him another shot. Instead, he held up his phone, pretending like he needed to take a call. The boys called out after him as he fled the room, but Shane ignored them. He needed to find an exit, or something—

There!

Shane stumbled out the door of the emergency stairwell and onto the roof of the hotel. The cool night air of the desert was a welcome reprieve. His fingers fumbled to loosen his tie a little. This suit was so fucking hot.

It was a clear night – big open sky – and the noise of the street was quieter up here. Shane’s eyes tracked over the lights of the Las Vegas strip, the mountains like a dark cloud behind them, and right in the middle of the view, leaning against the balcony with a plume of smoke rising above him, was Ilya Rozanov.

Shane stopped to take him in, admiring the way his suit jacket clung to his shoulders, outlined his waist. His curls had been tamed slightly. Shane couldn’t wait to mess them up later.

He took slow steps forward, calling out, “I don’t know if it’s worth jumping over.” He sidled up next to Ilya and draped his arms on the railing, trying to stop himself from swaying a bit. He hadn’t done tequila shots since one of his teammates had snuck some to a post-game party in juniors.

Ilya ignored the joke (very unlike him) and took another drag of his cigarette before asking, “Party all done?”

Shane shrugged, still leaning heavily on the railing, “No, I just needed some air.”

Ilya caught on quick, lips pulling into a smirk, “You are drunk.”

“I’m not,” Shane said defensively.

Ilya laughed, “Good for you. You finally manage to drink without me.”

“Only cause you weren’t inside.”

Ilya ignored the dig, taking another drag and tipped his head back to let the smoke out. Shane stared, admiring the way the city lights brought out the sharp edge of Ilya’s jaw, the long planes of his neck. It was dark here, and there was no one around – he could allow himself this one moment.

When the silence started to take over, Shane said, “I texted you.”

Ilya looked confused, pulling his phone from his pocket, checking the screen, before showing the black rectangle to Shane, “Sorry. I turn my phone off.”

“Why?”

“Was busy.”

Shane bristled, “Busy? With who?”

“No,” Ilya gave him a gentle smile, pocketing his still turned-off device. “Was too many calls. I do not want to answer.”

“Oh.” Shane looked at the breast pocket the phone had disappeared into and then at the tightness in the set of Ilya’s jaw. “Calls from who?”

Ilya didn’t respond.

“Your family?” Shane hedged.

Ilya took a long drag, blowing out the smoke into the night.

“Is it bad?”

“Shane,” Ilya said warningly.

“We don’t have to talk about it…but if you do, y-you can talk to me.”

Ilya looked at him for a long time. Shane tried to convey how earnestly he meant it.

Finally, Ilya turned back to the skyline and admitted, “I go home in three days.”

“Oh…And that’s…” Good? Bad? Shane never knew with Ilya. He knew his family put a lot of pressure on him. That they liked control. That Russia wasn’t a great place for people like…well, them, but Ilya never really talked to Shane about it. He always dodged the more personal questions.

Ilya just shook his head, jaw clenching.

“Are they um…are they mad about…” Shane gestured vaguely back to the party. Shane wanted to win, but it didn’t feel as good if it meant Ilya getting in trouble at home.

Ilya shook his head again, offering Shane a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Shane said instead.

“Don’t be,” Ilya was quick to reassure him. “Is not your fault they are not good people.”

“Still,” Shane shuffled his feet. “Sucks anyway.”

“Yes,” Ilya smiled a little again, seeming to find Shane amusing. “Sucks.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“No. But thank you for trying.”

“Course,” Shane shrugged. “And we don’t have to talk about the competition stuff if it’s—”

“Is not that,” Ilya waved him off. “Is more…complicated. I do not care about trophy.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at Ilya’s obvious lie. Ilya scoffed, punching him in the shoulder. “Is not about you, really.” His eyes turned a little sad again, “I just…am sad to go. Will miss this.” Ilya gestured at their surroundings – the opulent hotel, the bright city lights…Shane.

Shane ducked his head a little to hide his blush, asking quietly, “What would happen if you didn’t go?”

Ilya just shook his head, “Does not matter. I have to go home because…I have to go.” Shane could see the weight of familial obligations pressing on Ilya’s shoulders. “But I do not like it there.”

Shane tried to think of something else to say – a way to make the situation better – but Ilya brushed it off before he could. “Enough of this,” he straightened up, dropping his cigarette and snubbing it out with his fancy shoes. “Is time for you to collect winnings.”

“What?” Shane tried to recover from the tonal whiplash. “I-It’s ok, we don’t have to do that.”

“No Hollander, a bet is a bet. You win fair and square.” Ilya started walking towards him and Shane automatically backed up.

“Yeah, but you seem to be feeling kind of…"

“Is why you must cheer me up.” Ilya grinned as Shane tried not to trip on the stairs. “House rules, remember?”

Shane could remember. And he could also remember the other part they’d agreed upon almost a year ago, right after the draft.

His back hit a wall, “Are you sure you’re up for—”

“Shane,” Ilya placed both hands on his shoulders, pinning him there. “I do not want to think about my shitty family and going back to my shitty home.” He brought their faces close together and dropped his voice low, accent thick, “I want to go back to your hotel room, and be very good sport about losing, because you are going to make it very worth my time, yes?”

Shane swallowed, voice a little hoarse as he breathed, “Yes.”

“Good. And then I want to spend the rest of night congratulating you on big win, because you are very good player who deserves award and I need you to know that.”

Shane felt his entire body heat up, pupils dilating.

Ilya’s eyes grew heated to match, “Ok?”

Shane could never resist that smile, so he just nodded emphatically and let Ilya tug him towards the stairs.

--- ***

“Sit,” Ilya said, gesturing to the chair across from the bed in Shane’s hotel room.

Shane plunked down on the leather, body already feeling heavy with want.

“Good,” Ilya smirked. Shane felt a zing run through him at the praise. “Stay there. Eyes on the bed.”

Shane kept his head facing the pillows as Ilya moved around the room where he couldn’t see. Shane tried not to squirm, tried to be patient. Tried to ignore the press of his shirt collar against his neck, wanting to be rid of the rest of his clothes and not just the jacket Ilya had peeled off of him as soon as they’d shut the door.

“Ok,” Ilya’s deep voice permeated the silence along with Shane’ s quickening heartbeat. Ilya stepped in front of Shane, standing between the chair and the bed.

He was wearing Shane’s jersey. Only Shane’s jersey.

Shane’s throat went dry. If he wasn’t already so fucking hard, he knew all the blood in his body would’ve shot straight for his dick.

His desire must have shown on his face because Ilya smirked, “You like?”

Shane had to swallow a couple times before he could croak out, “Yes.”

And because Ilya was clearly trying to kill him, he turned around. The hem landed just below his perfect ass, muscular thighs peaking out below the fabric, but that wasn’t the part Shane was focused on. Instead, his eyes were pinned to the broad expanse between his shoulders.

Fuck, his name looked good on Ilya’s back.

Ilya chuckled, and yep, Shane had definitely made that observation out loud.

The Russian turned back around, eyes raking over Shane’s flushed face, his tented pants. He bit his lip and said in a low, commanding voice, “Get on your knees.”

“I thought I was supposed to be running the show?” Shane asked but he was already dropping to the floor. “It’s my prize.”

Ilya smirked, looking down at him, “Would you like me to stop?”

Shane bit his lip, feeling all the blood in his body rush to his face, then his dick. He looked up at Ilya towering over him, “No.”

Ilya placed a hand in his hair, gently running his fingers through the strands before gripping it tight, giving a little tug, “Do you want prize?”

Shane eyed where the jersey was tenting up from Ilya’s cock. He licked his lips, “Yes.”

Ilya’s grip tightened in his hair, “You think you deserve it?”

Shane couldn’t help the little bit of snark in his response, “Well, I did beat you.”

Ilya’s grin turned practically wolfish. With one hand still holding Shane’s head back by the hair, he trailed the other to the bottom of the jersey. He gripped the fabric between his long fingers, and slowly, slowly pulled it up.

Shane’s mouth watered as Ilya’s dick was unveiled, pressing up against the dusting of hair that went from his v-line, up his abs, and between his pecs. Every inch revealed made Shane want to dart his tongue out to trace a matching path over Ilya’s skin.

Ilya stopped with the jersey at his chest, the curve of his pecs just peaking out below the fabric.

Shane looked up at him and with his best puppy-dog eyes said, “Please.”

Ilya’s hand tightened in his hair, his own hand wrapping around his cock, “You want this?”

“Yes.” Shane watched as Ilya’s hand stroked from root to tip, once, twice. Ilya’s eyes fluttered a little.

“Please,” Shane said again. Ilya kept stroking his cock right in front of Shane’s face. It made Shane feel like he was going a little crazy. “I won so I have to suck you off. House rules.”

Ilya’s hand paused, “Hmm, since it is rules…” His grip loosened in Shane’s hair and Shane took full advantage, darting forward and swallowing Ilya down whole.

The Russian groaned above him, legs shaking a little as Shane took him as deep as he could manage. “Fuck, Hollander.”

Shane moaned around the dick in his mouth, using his tongue to trace the vein underneath all the way to the tip. Ilya shuddered above him, grip in his hair tightening again, guiding him into a steady pace.

Shane closed his eyes, falling into the feeling. His hands rose to grip the backs of Ilya’s thighs, kneading the muscle, feeling them twitch every time he took him deep, or flicked the head with his tongue.

Fuck, he loved this. Loved being this close to Ilya. Loved the smell of him, and the heat of his skin, and the muttered praises spilling from his mouth. Except Ilya had gone a little quiet…

Shane glanced up and was absolutely floored by the vision that greeted him. The jersey draped over Ilya’s pecs, his nipples peaking below the fabric with every thrust of his hips, abs flexing. His gold cross bouncing on his chest on full display because the hem of the jersey was pulled all the way up and Ilya was gripping it between his fucking teeth.

Ilya moaned around the fabric as Shane gagged a little on the next thrust. He pulled his hips back quickly, both hands now petting through Shane’s hair, but Shane just tightened his grip on his thighs, pulling Ilya back in deep.

“Fuck,” Ilya groaned, hips speeding up a little.

Shane doubled his efforts, tongue sliding along Ilya’s shaft, feeling his thighs quiver with each thrust, watching his eyes turn hazy as they watched Shane until—

Ilya’s hips stuttered and hot cum shot down Shane’s throat. He held the Russian’s gaze the entire time, watching his eyelashes flutter, the flush going from his chest to his cheeks. His jaw clenching as he bit down harder on Shane’s jersey.

Shane pulled back, sliding off Ilya’s dick with a pop, giving a kitten lick to the head just to watch his hips jerk.

The jersey fell from Ilya’s lips, sliding back over his chest. He flinched a little as the fabric brushed over his sensitive head, mouth panting.

Ilya’s eyes were practically feral, “Fucking…get on the bed.”

Shane scrambled to his feet, already kicking off his dress shoes, hands fumbling with his tie. Ilya’s found the buttons of his shirt, opening them efficiently before pulling the fabric from Shane’s shoulders and shoving him to the mattress.

Shane landed, hands immediately going for his belt, lifting his hips for Ilya to pull his pants and briefs off in one go.

The Russian immediately crowded overtop of him, the soft fabric of Shane’s jersey rubbing against his bare skin. Shane rolled his head back with a groan and Ilya immediately sunk his teeth into his neck.

“No hickeys this time,” Shane whined, but he still tilted his head to give Ilya more room.

“Why?” Ilya mumbled, licking Shane’s skin to soothe the ache from his teeth. “You win big tonight. Is expected for you to pick up.”

“I can’t keep showing up after parties all marked up.”

Ilya pulled back to look at Shane’s face, eyes dancing, “You can mark me too.”

Shane’s hands slid over Ilya’s shoulders, tracing the lettering on his back, “I’ve already marked you.”

Ilya’s pupils swallowed his irises, then he swallowed Shane’s tongue. He ground their hips together, Shane feeling completely smooshed to the mattress as Ilya kissed him, pleasure zinging up his spine where his dick was pinned by Ilya’s thigh.

“Fuck, please,” he panted into his mouth.

Ilya pulled back and Shane almost protested except he watched as the Russian slunk down his body, peppering kisses as he made his way to Shane’s dick.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, accent thick. Shane knew his flush was going from his chest to his face, but he didn’t care when Ilya was looking at him like that. “Very handsome tonight, all dressed up.”

Ilya placed a kiss to Shane’s hip, then his thigh. “And now I am going to suck your dick while I am all dressed up for you.”

And Shane probably would’ve said something about how much he liked that idea except Ilya took his entire dick down his throat and started sucking Shane’s soul out of his body. He threw his head back with a groan, hips rolling—

Ilya’s massive fucking arm settled over his hips, keeping them pinned to the bed and took him even deeper. “Oh fuck,” Shane whimpered.

He looked down, seeing Ilya’s head bobbing over him, those pretty fucking curls and yeah – Shane sank his fingers into them, pulling at the strands, messing them up. Ilya groaned, sending vibrations through Shane’s dick that made his stomach flutter.

Ilya was such a fucking vision like this. His shoulders boxed out, holding Shane’s thighs up, keeping his hips pinned to the bed. And the way he was ducking his head and arching his back meant Shane could just make out the tips of the letters along his back – the H distinctly over his left shoulder, practically over his heart.

“Fuck, Ilya.” Shane wasn’t going to last. “I need – I need – fuck—”

Ilya’s other hand came up, resting over Shane’s heart, feeling it pound against his skin. He squeezed his pec, fingers skirting over his nipple, and his tongue darted out to lick behind Shane’s balls as he sunk down—

“Fuck,” Shane came with a shout, Ilya swallowing, throat working him through it. Shane whimpered, hips trying to twitch against Ilya’s hold, thighs shaking.

Ilya pulled back once he was finished, tonging at the head in vengeance for Shane’s treatment earlier. He flinched just the same, dick twitching as it softened.

“Stop, please, fuck.”

Ilya laughed as he pulled back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, grinning at Shane where he kneeled over him, still in his fucking jersey. Shane’s dick twitched again.

“Holy fuck, we should do this every year,” Shane panted as he tried to get his heartrate to slow.

Ilya patted his chest before flopping down on the bed next to him, “Yes. But I will win next time.”

“You can try.”

Ilya scoffed.

Shane was still marveling at the sensations running through his body. The heat of Ilya lying next to him was so fucking good, he never wanted him to leave.

He rolled his head to look at him, “That was so fucking hot.”

Ilya smirked, “Just wait until I wear to lunch tomorrow.”

Shane’s eyes traced the Metros logo over Ilya’s chest. He could see the glint of his gold chain disappearing under the collar. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna get hard again just thinking about it.”

Ilya laughed.

Shane groaned, hands coming up to cover his face, “I’m gonna get hard every time I look at you.”

“You are going to get hard every time you look at jersey.”

“Fuck me, I’m gonna get hard in the locker room!”

They both dissolved into uncontrollable laughter until they fell asleep.

--- ***

“Ilya.”

Something was nudging his shoulder. “Ilya are you awake?”

Ilya groaned blearily, “What?”

“I have an idea.” The bedside lamp flicked on and Ilya blinked against the light.

“What?” Shane was lying next to him, propped up on an elbow with the hotel bedsheets draped over his waist. “Hollander, what time is it?”

“Late. Or early, I don’t know. I have an idea.”

Ilya tried to catch up. He’d been having a nice dream. One where he’d walked into his bedroom to find Shane sprawled out on the covers, ROZANOV printed across his back in big block letters…

“What if you didn’t go home?”                

“Huh?” Ilya looked at Shane. His eyes were bright, like he’d been awake for a while. Ilya shook his head a little, trying to wake up more.

“What if you didn’t go home?” Shane said again.

“What? Hollander, I have to.”

“I know. But what if you didn’t go back right away?” Shane said it so clearly. He’d obviously been thinking about it for a while. Ilya wondered if he’d even gone to sleep yet.

“My parents have this cottage on a lake in Ontario,” Shane continued. “It’s really nice, I spend every summer there. You could come anytime – you could even fly back with us if you want. Stay for a week, or even two…We could have fun.”

Shane was serious. He was seriously asking Ilya to come to his parents’ house for the summer. He was giving him a way not to go back to Russia. Except…

Ilya frowned, “Your parents would have me at their house?”

“Yeah.”

“Hollander, your mother does not like me.”

“She likes you.”

“You said she called me…what is it? ‘Bad influence’?”

Shane cringed, “Uh…”

“I cannot come to your house.”

“She didn’t mean it, ok. A-And this would be a good opportunity to show her otherwise! You know, you could like, make a good impression and stuff.”

“Good impression?”

“Yeah.”

“On Yuna Hollander?”

“Yeah.”

“Who I publicly called hot?”

Shane stopped.

Actually, now that Ilya thought about it… “You know, maybe this is good plan. I go to house with Yuna—"

Shane’s eyes widened in horror, “No.”

“And I win her over—”

“No!”

“And I become your dad.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ilya.” But Shane was laughing now, climbing over top of him to pin him to the bed. Ilya laughed too, not even putting up a fight as Shane wrestled his arms above his head, holding him down.

“You’re a fucking menace,” Shane bent close, teeth bared but still grinning. Ilya surged up, capturing his lips in a kiss. It was nice. Warm.

Shane pulled back with a grimace, “Bleh, you have sleep breath.”

Ilya scoffed, “Not everyone stays up all hours coming up with elaborate plans. Some of us like to sleep.”

Shane ignored the teasing, “So you’ll come?”

Ilya cringed, “I do not know…” He wanted to. He really wanted to. A week or two spent with Shane at a lake…watching him be all pretty and sun-kissed…Spending the summer with the Hollanders instead of returning to all his own familial problems in Russia…It sounded like heaven.

Except his family wouldn’t be happy, and the longer he stayed away, the worse it got. But maybe a week wouldn’t hurt…

“Maybe…I will try…Not the whole summer.”

“O-Of course! Literally as long as you want to stay, you’re welcome to. Even if it’s just a week.”

Shane was smiling at him, very pleased with his little plan. Ilya pulled him in for another kiss, Shane melting against him, sleep breath and all.

When they parted, Shane sat back, and Ilya could see the gears turning behind his eyes. It was probably his hyperactive brain and lack of filter that made him ponder, “You know, marrying my mom wouldn’t even make you my dad. It’s not like my real dad would be gone – he’d still be my dad.”

Ilya nodded pensively, holding back a smile, “You are right. I be your stepdad.”

“Ok, no—”

“Do not worry, Hollander, I will be good stepdad. I barbecue, I throw ball for you to catch—"

“I’m not a dog—”

“I read you bedtime story when I tuck you in—"

“I guess that would be nice of you—”

“Before I go to bedroom with Yuna and I—”

Shane shoved a pillow over Ilya’s head, smothering his stupid, laughing, grinning face.

---

@MLH_Official: This year’s Rookie of the Year is @ShaneHollander_Official.

[photo of Shane holding up his trophy at the MLH awards]

@ILoveShane24: Congrats Shane! No one deserves it more!

@Hockey4Life: Tough pick this year, but well deserved.

@CeltOnTheProwl: Nice work rookie, you deserve it!

@TreMi: According to sources, the trophy wasn’t the only thing @ShaneHollander_Official won. Our condolences to @IlyaRozanov81 for losing the bet.

[photo of Ilya walking out of a casino with Shane in Vegas, wearing his Metros jersey]

@HollanovUpdates: Omg no fucking way!

@IlyaRozanovsButt: Literally losing my mind rn!!!!

@ILoveShane24: Wish that was me!

Reply: @IlyaRozanovsButt: Wish that was me!

@FuckTheRaiders: That’s it Hollander, you show him who’s boss!

@CeltOnTheProwl: Damn that’s rough for him. Not that he didn’t deserve it though…nice to see Rozanov get a little payback.

@HockeyPrintsessa: Totally making this my lockscreen.

Chapter End Notes

If you liked the smut in this and want more, I've got a one-shot called Dressed to Impress that's a similar vibe.

And I've just started a new WIP called The Short Game which is an AU where Shane moves to NY instead of Ilya moving to Ottawa, which means Shane plays with Scott Hunter, and Ilya gets to stay at the top of his game. So if you like the Hollanov being menaces to Scott vibes from this fic, go check that out.

Next chapter we're going to the cottage!
-Oaks

Chapter 5: Sleepover

Chapter Summary

Ilya spends a week at the Hollander's cottage. His relationship with Shane flourishes under the Muskoka sun as they get to know each other better.

Chapter Notes

Hello! So funny story, I was thinking about how I wish someone would write a fic where Hollanov were never rivals and how that changes their careers and then I was like, oh shit, I'm supposed to be writing that. Like I've literally spent so much time at the cottage that I forgot these bitches played hockey. So anyway, this took 3 months to write because it's over 30k words, so thank you for your patience and support of the writing process (and lowkey y'all better not let me down in the comments lol).

Warning that there is smut in this. I didn't call it out because it has emotional plot within the greater story. There's two scenes and they're a mix of their first time from the book and show so if you've seen those, you'll probably be ok with this and you can definitely see them coming as you read.

I also just want to note that this chapter is a little bittersweet. I know a lot of you have loved how light-hearted this AU is, but I pride my writing on staying within character and realistic worldbuilding. And I think some of you have sensed the other shoe getting ready to drop from the other chapters (especially with Ilya's family). In canon, we get to the cottage 7 years into their situationship. It's about solidifying them as a couple and making the choice to be together. This scenario is different. They're younger, they haven't formed their individual identities or couple's dynamic yet, Ilya still has strong ties to Russia, and the world is also different (we're missing 7 years of cultural progress towards homophobia). This timeline is still Shane pre-admitting-he's-gay and Ilya still with a sex addiction, a phase they mostly skip in canon due to the length of their situationship. Right now they're still kids beholden to their families and unsure of their futures. The stakes of their relationship are different and we'll be seeing the effects of that as this fic progresses (and a lot of this is set-up for some big payoff in my later plans).

Don't worry, there's still an unbearable amount of fluff. They're still silly stupid boys, it's just sometimes the silly stupid doesn't work in their favour. And I promise there is sooo much cute content in this update :))

Now without further ado, let's go to the cottage!
-Oaks

June 24, 2011, 11:13 am

Boring: Offer still stands.

[photo of a dock with the sun glinting off the water]

Asshole: Are you there already?

Boring: No. I’ve got a couple things to wrap up in Montreal first.

Boring: Photo’s from last year.

Boring: Heading there on the 27^th.

Asshole: I go to Russia on 26

Boring: You could push your flight

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Boring: It’s just a week. You’ll have all summer in Russia.

Asshole: Shane

Boring: Relax. Don’t overthink it.

Asshole: YOU are telling ME not to overthink?

Boring: Cottage Shane mentality ;)

Asshole: Cottage Shane?

Boring: Ya

Boring: You wanna meet him?

1:52 pm

Asshole: Moved Russia flight to Jul 2

Boring is typing…

Unsent.

Boring is typing…

Boring: If you fly into Montreal on the 27^th I could pick you up on my way there?

Asshole: Ok

2:46 pm

Asshole: I land at 2:30

Boring: I’ll be there.

---

When Shane asked his mother if Ilya Rozanov could come visit them for a week this summer, she hadn’t exactly been thrilled. But since this was one of the first times Shane had truly asked to have a friend over in years, she’d reluctantly agreed.

Which was how Shane ended up waiting in his car in the Montreal airport pick-up lane with a very attractive Russian man walking up in his rearview mirror.

Shane got out with a big smile, which got even bigger as Ilya’s face lit up upon seeing him.

“Good flight?” Shane asked, reaching out to take Ilya’s suitcase.

“Was fine,” Ilya shrugged, pulling his suitcase out of Shane’s reach and hefting it into the trunk himself.

Shane rolled his eyes. Ilya threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him in for a hug. Shane patted him on the back to make it look more bro-y because there were definitely people with cell phones taking their picture. Oh well, it wasn’t like they’d be needing to leave the house for the week, and the lake was private enough that they wouldn’t be bothered by the public.

When they pulled back, Ilya looked into Shane’s eyes and squeezed his shoulder. Shane’s knees wobbled a little in pure elation. Ilya looked good – really good. Curls spilling out of his backward cap, dark sunglasses that complimented his bone structure, and a black tank top that showed off his tanned toned arms. Fuck. How was Shane supposed to get through a two-hour drive with a man who looked like that?

Shane stepped back before he succumbed to the urge to kiss Ilya, turning away and walking to the driver-side door, letting the car put some distance between them. Ilya shot him another smile as they both slipped into their seats, Shane letting out a shy chuckle, trying not to blush.

His door clicked as Ilya closed his, and then they were alone. Not alone alone of course – there were people everywhere around the pick-up lane – but the car Shane used to put some space between them moments ago now pushed them closer – into their own little bubble.

Shane let his eyes unabashedly rake over Ilya. He swallowed. Licked his lips. “You look good.”

The Russian smirked. “So do you.” He scanned the open collar of Shane’s light blue button up, eyes dancing. “Is this ‘Cottage Shane’?”

Shane scoffed, shaking his head as he turned on the car, biting back a grin. “Not yet.”

He checked his side mirror and pulled onto the road, putting the airport in the rearview. He could feel Ilya watching him drive, his eyes on his hands where they gripped the steering wheel and gear shift, on his neck exposed by the shirt that he purposefully left open for this specific reason.

Then Ilya eyed the dash. “What is this, a jeep?”

Shane rolled his eyes. Ilya had just bought his first Porsche. Shane would admit that it was nice – sleek blue exterior with a rich brown leather interior. At least, Shane kind of remembered the interior being brown. He hadn’t paid much attention to the car when Ilya sent him a rather suggestive photo of himself reclined in the driver’s seat, tank top riding up a little to show off a strip of his abs…

Ilya was surveying the drab grey of Shane’s car skeptically.

“No, it’s British,” Shane said defensively. “Practical. Good in the snow.”

“Ok.” Ilya did not sound impressed.

Shane rolled his eyes again, pulling onto the highway.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “It’s about a two-hour drive but we can stop for something if you want.”

“No, I’m ok.”

Shane nodded. “I think you’re gonna like the cottage. It’s relaxing.”

“Ah.” Ilya grinned teasingly. “Is that what we’re going to do? Relax?”

Shane didn’t take the bait, instead opting for sincerity. “I hope so. I would like to relax with you.” This was a rare opportunity for them both – having time to just be quiet together, doing nothing. Sure, they partied and competed and fucked around during the season, but Shane was looking forward to seeing a softer side of Ilya. Of seeing the sweet part that got locked behind hotel room doors outside in the sunshine. He’d been trying to contain his nervous excitement since Ilya sent his flight information.

Ilya didn’t say anything in response to that. Shane could feel the Russian watching him still. He kept his own eyes on the road.

“My mom’s making spaghetti for dinner tonight. She picked up a bunch of groceries and stuff so we shouldn’t have to leave. Or not leave much, i-if we don’t want to. I got her to grab you some cokes too—”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Ilya interrupted his rambling.

Shane glanced at Ilya. Swallowed. Nodded. Turned back to the road. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted quietly.

“Me too.” Ilya gave him a shaky smile. “But also like, terrified, yes?”

Shane grinned, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, my parents will love you.” Kind of a lie, but Shane was hoping they’d like him more once they got to know him.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at Ilya again, finding him smiling back. They fell into silence, watching the trees and fields pass by outside the car, just the gentle hum of the radio between them.

Ilya shifted in his seat a little. Shane glanced over. Ilya’s eyes darted to him before looking away.

“What?” Shane asked.

Ilya shifted again. “Do they know?”

“Know?”

“Do your parents know about…” Ilya gestured between them.

Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “About you? Of course not.” He almost laughed at the notion. He could imagine how well that would go over with his mother: Hey mom, remember that friend of mine you don’t really like? Well, sometimes I suck his dick. Casually. She’d be real pleased about that.

But maybe with this week…maybe she’d get to know Ilya like he did (well, not exactly like he did, even though Ilya would probably not be opposed to that. Shane metaphorically rolled his eyes again) and then Shane could tell her…

Ilya frowned. “Not about me, about you.”

“Me?”

“Do your parents know you are gay?”

Shane bristled. “I’m not—"

“Ok.” Ilya stopped him before they could get started.

Shane shifted this time. He worked his jaw, eyes firmly on the road as he admitted, “They don’t know anything. About you or me.”

“Would they not be good about it?”

“I don’t know.” Shane’s hand tightened on the gear shift. “I mean, no they’d be fine, I’m sure they would be…I don’t know, we haven’t talked about it.”

The car fell into silence again. It wasn’t that Shane’s parents were homophobic or something. They were fine with people being gay. He just wasn’t sure they’d be fine with him being…whatever he was. He had a lot of responsibilities and they were relying on him to keep to those standards. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

He also didn’t want to hide. Or lie. At least not to his parents. He’d thought about telling them a bunch of times since he’d invited Ilya over – what kind of friends they really were. But every time they’d talked, Shane had choked just thinking about how it would change things. What if his parents wouldn’t want Ilya to come visit? What if they made assumptions about their relationship and said something to Ilya and then Ilya freaked out? Maybe Shane was better off keeping things to himself until he knew there was something to tell.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was gay, gay. He just liked Ilya.

A hand settled over his on the gear shift, stopping the anxious tapping of his fingers.

Shane swallowed, glancing at their hands, not looking at Ilya. “I’m sorry. I was gonna tell them. I think. At some point. I want to, it’s just…”

“Hard?”

“Yeah.”

Shane swallowed again – his throat was so dry, he should’ve grabbed some water bottles from the back before they left the airport. “I-It’s not like we can’t do anything. We’ll still hang out all week and my parents go to bed super early. I hope it’s ok if we’re not all like, you know, in front of them and stuff and maybe we could just keep to ourselves like usual? Just until I tell them or something cause I don’t want to like, spring it on them. I-I don’t know if that changes things for you with coming here, and I’m sorry. I know I should’ve—"

“Shane.” Ilya’s hand snaked to the back of Shane’s neck, giving the muscles there a squeeze. Shane’s shoulders dropped a little at the contact as he settled more into his seat. He glanced at Ilya who gave him a reassuring smile.

“You do not have to tell anyone anything you are not ready for. Not for me.” He gave Shane’s neck another squeeze. “We are friends, yes?”

Shane looked at Ilya gratefully. “Yeah.”

The hand on his neck slid down his arm, settling over his hand on the gear shift again, twining their fingers together.

Shane swallowed, glancing at their joined hands. “Friends.”

---

“Wow,” Ilya gaped as they arrived at Shane’s parents’ cottage. It was more of a house than a cottage, at least by Ilya’s standards. Brick detailing with large windows surrounded by a beautiful garden of towering plants.

“Come on, I’ll show you inside.” Shane passed him carrying two suitcases – his own and Ilya’s. Ilya jogged to catch up.

“I can carry my own bag.” He reached for it but Shane shrugged him off. “Shane,” Ilya protested again.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Shane shoved open the front door with his shoulder. Ilya glanced around, surprised. Guess they keep their doors unlocked here? Fucking Canadians.

“We’re here,” Shane called into the house, depositing their bags in the foyer and slipping off his shoes. Ilya stepped inside, following suit as the door shut behind him.

“In the kitchen,” called a woman’s voice – Yuna, if Ilya had to guess.

Shane gave Ilya one more reassuring but slightly nervous smile before padding barefoot into the house ahead of him. Ilya followed, eyeing the cozy living room overlooking the garden.

“How was the drive?” asked a man as Shane turned the corner. Ilya rounded it with him, finding Yuna standing at the kitchen island chopping lettuce with David assembling meatballs on the other side. Ilya stopped in his tracks as he came face-to-face with Shane’s parents. It wasn’t like this was his first time meeting them, but this was the first time they were doing this formally. And also the first time he was doing this sober now that he thought about it.

Shane breezed through the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. “It was good. Bit of traffic getting out of the airport but nothing major.” He pulled two cans from the fridge – one green, one red.

“You guys know Ilya,” Shane said casually, gesturing at him with the coke.

Ilya gave Yuna and David a nervous smile. “Hi.”

Ilya had to give Shane’s parents credit, because they both offered him genuine greetings in return.

“Nice to meet you, Ilya,” said Yuna, putting down her knife and coming around the counter to shake his hand. “About time we got a formal introduction.”

Ilya chuckled nervously, totally overthinking his grip strength as he shook Shane’s mother’s hand.

Shane muttered a disgruntled, “Mom.”

She turned on him. “What? No hug for your mother?”

Shane rolled his eyes but gave Yuna a half-hug anyway. “I just saw you last week.”

“Doesn’t matter, I always miss my baby.” Yuna kissed his head in a way that Shane clearly found embarrassing. It made Ilya smile.

“I’d shake your hand but…” David glanced at his hands covered in raw meet.

Ilya gave him another nervous smile. “Is ok.” He shrugged. “Later.”

David nodded. “Later.”

“Ok,” Shane said loudly, stepping around the island. “I’m gonna give Ilya the tour. Let him get settled in.” He tossed Ilya the coke, cracking the tab on his ginger ale.

Yuna went back to her lettuce, picking up the rather large knife again. “You can set him up in the guest room next to yours. That way you’ll have the basement all to yourselves.”

Shane nodded. “Already planned on that. Just gotta put our bags in there.” He gave Ilya’s shoulder a nudge as he passed, heading back for the foyer.

“Dinner’s in less than an hour,” called Yuna as Shane walked away.

He shot her a thumbs up without turning back.

Ilya looked at Shane’s parents. It felt kind of rude to just leave…

“Ilya?” Shane called from down the hall.

Ilya nodded at both parents again and muttered, “Thank you for having me.”

“Anytime,” said David as Ilya turned to follow his son.

Shane let Ilya carry his own bag this time, on account of their beverages (Shane was chugging his like he was dying of thirst, Ilya still hadn’t popped his tab) and led him to the lower level. When Ilya thought of basements, he usually pictured dark rooms with concrete floors and exposed ceilings, insulation spilling out of walls, mildew, and cold, and a weird kind of smell. This was not that.

Wood paneled the walls and a rather comfortable looking couch faced a large-screen tv. It was covered in pillows and there was a stack of blankets in the corner. It wasn’t dark at all – windows overlooking the lake with a screen door stepping out right into the backyard of the split-level house (“cottage” seemed to be a loose description in these parts). Warm and inviting. He could easily see himself curling up with Shane here every night. His heart ached a little just at the thought of it.

Shane disappeared behind a door then came back without his suitcase. “That’s my room,” he said, then pointed at a door across the room. “Bathroom’s through there.” Then he pushed the door next to his own open. “And this will be your room.”

He stepped inside and Ilya followed.

Shane stopped in the middle of the room, right next to a rather cozy-looking bed. “Everything is clean and stuff. Feel free to put any of your things in the drawers or closet. And if you need other clothes, you can always borrow mine.” He was shifting from foot to foot, glancing between the bed, the door, and Ilya, except he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Ah. Shane was nervous. He’d seemed a little anxious in the car but had calmed down on the drive. And he seemed much more in his element now that they were home – walking around like he owned the place. Or like he needed to keep busy so no one would notice him fidgeting. Ilya tried not to smile about it. Predictably cute, as usual.

“My parents don’t really come down here a lot – except to do laundry. But my mom mostly does that on the weekend,” Shane continued to ramble. “I didn’t make many plans but there’s lots of stuff to do here – canoeing and swimming and campfires. Or we don’t have to do anything. We could just lie out in the sun…”

Ilya set his suitcase down. Set his unopened coke on a side table. Then he shut the door. Shane’s eyes darted to it immediately, then right back to the bed.

Ilya didn’t hold back his smirk this time, taking a step forward. He tried not to grin as Shane’s entire body locked into place. Ilya heard him stop breathing.

He took another step forward, putting Shane within arm’s reach. Then he kissed him.

Shane melted into it immediately. Ilya cupped Shane’s face, thumb dragging along his jaw to tilt his chin up into the kiss, claiming Shane’s mouth like he’d been dying to do since getting in the car. He would’ve done it right at the airport if there weren’t so many people with fucking camera phones around.

Shane hummed a little as Ilya’s tongue swept into his mouth. Ilya traced his hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath the soft well-loved shirt, and let them settle on Shane’s hips. Then he gave him a little shove.

Shane fell back on the bed with a huff, a little surprised as their kiss abruptly ended. Ilya didn’t let them stay separated for long, climbing over Shane to kiss him again.

Shane groaned below him as their legs slotted together. He was already getting hard – Ilya could feel his cock pressing against his thigh. His own blood was quickly rushing south. He grinded his hips forward, hoping for Shane to make that noise again. He did.

“Ilya,” Shane breathed into his mouth between kisses. Ilya set a steady rhythm with his hips, slow drags forward, lots of pressure. Shane rolled his hips back.

“Fuck,” he mumbled and Ilya pulled back enough to watch Shane’s back arch, head lolling to expose the long planes of his neck. Ilya got to work immediately, trailing warm kisses over the skin, feeling Shane squirm under him.

“Ilya,” Shane groaned again. “Fuck, Ilya, we can’t.”

“Hmm?” Ilya kept kissing his neck. “Why not?”

“My parents are upstai—” the last bit got choked out on a moan as Ilya rocked his hips in a longer glide.

“Then you better be quiet,” he mumbled into Shane’s neck.

“We can’t just—” Shane continued protesting but he was matching Ilya’s rhythm beat for beat. “Dinner is soon.”

Ilya hummed again. “Then you better be quick.” Then he pulled all the way back from Shane.

The other boy looked momentarily confused by the loss of contact. Ilya took a second to admire his flushed face, and neck, and the little scrap of his chest he could see under Shane’s open collar. Fuck, this shirt was really doing it for him. Shane all relaxed and rumpled and his lips all kiss-swollen…

Ilya’s hands settled on Shane’s belt buckle, making quick work to pull it open, then sliding his pants off.

Shane’s brain caught up enough for him to prop himself up on his elbows as his pants hit the floor, followed by Ilya’s knees. “What are you—”

His head fell back with a groan as Ilya took his dick into his mouth. Ilya grinned around it – he couldn’t help it, Shane was just so fucking easy.

“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane whimpered as Ilya took him deep, dragging his tongue along the vein on the way up before flicking over the slit. Shane’s hips jolted forward like he couldn’t help it, a little puff of air escaping from between his lips.

Ilya settled an arm over Shane’s hips, keeping him pinned to the bed as he set his own rhythm, going deep and then sucking hard on the upstroke. Like usual, that really did it for Shane.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he mumbled, trying to keep quiet. “Fuck – fuck, Ilya, I’m—”

Ilya hummed around Shane’s dick and Shane threw an arm over his face to muffle his moan as he shot into his mouth. Ilya swallowed, licked everything up, felt Shane’s hips jump as he whimpered into his palm in an effort to keep quiet. Normally Ilya would’ve slapped that hand away so he could hear him, but he (regrettably) did need to make a good impression on Shane’s parents so…

He released Shane’s dick with a pop, flicking his tongue one more time as he pulled off.

“Fuck,” Shane groaned, hips jumping a little as Ilya removed his arm.

He sat back on his heels, grinning from between Shane’s legs. “Shane Hollander, really known for his speed,” he teased.

Shane removed the arm over his face to glare at him. “Fuck off, it’s been a while.”

That just made Ilya grin more. He knew Shane wasn’t the type to get off as often as Ilya, but if he was saying the last time was at the MLH awards…He’d gone almost a whole week without…even by himself…oh this week was going to be fun.

Ilya gave him a pat on the stomach as he got up, flopping down on the bed next to Shane. He turned toward the other boy, finding that strip of skin on display from his open collar. Ilya traced a finger there and Shane shivered.

Shane’s head rolled to look at him, eyes a little glassy, cheeks adorably flushed.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

Ilya traced his finger over Shane’s freckles. “Hi.”

He hooked a finger under Shane’s chin and pulled him in for a kiss. The other boy swayed into it, propping his body over Ilya’s. Ilya melted back into the mattress, hands tracing over the muscles in Shane’s back from his waist to his shoulders.

Shane’s body settled between Ilya’s legs, his thigh pressing into his hard cock. Shane hummed into his mouth as Ilya let out a little sigh at the friction.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” Shane teased. Ilya huffed as Shane pulled back. He knew he probably looked in a similar state to Shane right now – lips swollen, skin flushed (don’t tell the Russians) – but he didn’t care. It was just them in this room. Was going to be five whole nights of just them.

He pushed back a strand of Shane’s hair that had fallen into his eyes. “I am happy to be here,” he admitted quietly.

Shane’s eyebrows twitched a little and Ilya could see something break through the cracks before he covered it up. Shane pulled all the way back, sliding down Ilya’s body as he went. Ilya resisted the urge to pull him back up, keep him close. Instead, he watched Shane sink to his knees at the end of the bed.

“I’ve been thinking about this.” Shane turned hungry eyes on Ilya’s dick tenting his shorts. He licked his lips as he unfasted the button to pull them off.

Ilya watched him intently, lifting his hips a little to help. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Shane was focused on his task, avoiding looking at Ilya’s face. He tried not to think too much about that.

Instead, he smirked, pulling them back to the playful banter from earlier. “You go one week without my dick and you—"

“Shut up,” Shane said and took him down to the root. Ilya forgot what he was going to say.

Shane was getting better at this. Not that he’d ever been bad. Just inexperienced. And now…now he had quite a bit of experience, and he was going to have a whole lot more by the end of the week if Ilya had anything to say about it.

Shane sank down, only gagging a little, throat rippling around Ilya’s cock. He fought to keep his hips still, letting Shane explore, letting his tongue lave over his cock from root to tip and back down to suck one of his balls into his mouth. Ilya groaned. Shane really had been getting good at this.

So good he kind of wondered if he’d been practicing more often. More than with Ilya. Because they only saw each other a couple times a year and yet every time, Shane could take him a little deeper…

Had he been seeing someone? Or multiple someones? Shane didn’t seem like the type for hookups – too paranoid and anxious – so Ilya had just assumed…but maybe there were other boys? Or other girls? Ilya had made a lot of assumptions about the Canadian but maybe he’d been wrong…

Whatever. It’s not like it mattered. They weren’t exclusive. They weren’t even together.

It’s like Shane said; they were friends. They hooked up because it was fun and convenient. Ilya had lots of friends like that – Svetlana, Sasha, countless girls in Boston. Shane knew Ilya wasn’t some kept man so it shouldn’t be weird if Shane had those kinds of friends too, especially when they only saw each other a couple times a year.

Something inside Ilya ached at the thought of Shane seeing him as only that type of friend.

There was a pinch to his leg as Shane hummed around his cock, drawing Ilya back into the moment. He looked down at the hazy brown eyes staring up at him as if begging for Ilya to give him more attention.

Ilya set the ruminating aside and turned his focus to the very pretty boy with his dick in his mouth. He sat up a little, hand coming to cup the back of Shane’s neck, giving a squeeze, fingers petting through his hair. Shane preened at the affection, sucking a little harder.

Ilya groaned, “Fuck yes. So good.” Shane’s head bobbed, his cheeks hollowing. Ilya gently grinded his hips forward, keeping control. “So good for me.”

Shane followed the pace he set, sucking slow with the roll of Ilya’s hips, sinking down and back up, letting Ilya gently fuck his face as he liked.

Ilya could feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine. He kept going, feeling Shane’s tongue slide along his shaft, the friction welcome against the hot wet slide of his mouth.

“Fuck Shane,. Ilya gripped his hair tighter, panting heavily. “Hollander.”

Shane looked up at him, eyes dancing as he doubled his efforts, flicking his tongue against Ilya’s crown on the upstroke—

“Fuck,” Ilya’s eyes rolled back as he shot down Shane’s throat. Fuck that was so—

“Boys, dinner’s almost ready!” Both of them froze at the sound of Yuna’s voice at the top of the stairs. Shane immediately pulled off of Ilya, face red, lips swollen, eyes wide.

“Com—” he coughed a little to clear his throat. “Coming!” he called again, louder this time.

Ilya looked down at the boy on his knees in front of him. Who’d just told his mom he was…right after Ilya had…

Ilya immediately started laughing, shaky little exhales as he tried to hold it back. Shane’s eyes widened a little in realization and also outrage.

“Fuck you,” he whispered angrily at Ilya, but his shoulders had started shaking too. Ilya’s laughter just got louder, until Shane started giggling too. He laid his head against Ilya’s knee, resting it there as he calmed down.

Ilya admired the redness creeping up the back of his neck. He placed a hand there, giving the hot skin a gentle squeeze, carding his fingers through Shane’s hair.

Shane lifted his head, biting back a smile. “Fuck you, this was totally your fault.”

“Mine?” Ilya’s eyes widened in faux offense.

“Yes, yours.” Shane got to his feet, giving Ilya a little shove. He didn’t let it phase him, hands instead settling on Shane’s hips as he stood between his legs. This way, Shane was a little taller and Ilya grinned up at him happily, even as Shane continued with his fake anger.

“You’re the one who…” Shane gestured between them.

Ilya squeezed his hips, pulling him forward a bit. “I didn’t hear you protesting.”

Shane shoved him again. “Fuck you, I said it was a bad idea.”

Ilya just pulled him down for a kiss. Shane went willingly but mumbled into his mouth, “You’re a bad influence.”

“Hmm, good thing you have all week to turn me into good boy.”

Shane broke the kiss with a huff, stepping forcefully back from Ilya. His hands immediately set about fixing his hair, looking in the mirror until he was presentable enough for his parents.

Ilya glanced pointedly down at Shane’s cock which was already getting hard again.

“Fuck you,” Shane said again, pulling his pants back up, zipping them firmly into place.

“Yes, seems you want to,” Ilya teased, but he also set about straightening himself up. He didn’t need Yuna Hollander to know he’d been defiling her son only moments ago.

Shane’s eyes raked over Ilya, more assessing than appraising. He stepped forward and Ilya stood very still as Shane tucked one of his curls back into place.

Shane’s eyes darted to his lips again. Ilya’s did the same. He was about to lean in when Shane’s hand fell over Ilya’s face, giving him a good-natured shove.

“No more,” Shane said firmly as Ilya laughed, stumbling back. He tried to grab Shane’s hand again to pull him back in, but Shane took quick steps away and slipped out the door.

---

This was going…well? Shane kept glancing between his mom and Ilya, his dad and Ilya, and his mom and dad.

Ilya was shoveling down spaghetti like he hadn’t had a homecooked meal in ages. Actually, if Shane thought about it, Ilya probably hadn’t had a homecooked meal in a long time. He wondered if his family cooked for him back in Russia. Or maybe Ilya was the one that cooked? Or maybe they just ate out all the time?

“More bread, Ilya?” asked Yuna, holding up the bowl of dinner rolls.

Ilya nodded, carefully selecting a roll and adding it to his plate before taking another large bite of pasta. He spoke through a mouthful of food, “This is very good pasta.”

David pushed the pot towards Ilya. “Have as much as you like.” Ilya piled another helping of noodles onto his plate. David passed him more cheese too.

“And these are very good meatballs, Mr. Hollander,” Ilya continued his praise. Shane tried not to laugh through his own bite of caesar salad. Ilya was totally sucking up, and his parents were totally falling for it.

“David, please,” his dad grinned proudly. “And thank you. It’s a family recipe.”

“Reminds me of tefteli.”

“What’s tefteli?” asked Shane.

“Is like Russian meatball,” explained Ilya. “I used to make as child.”

Shane remembered one night at Ilya’s apartment last season – him serving Shane some sort of grilled meat on skewers after their game in Boston. Shane had been a little surprised by the other boy cooking for him. Most of Shane’s teammates barely knew how to cook – either ordering in all the time or their wives making their food. Shane had learned to cook from his dad, on account that his parents would be horrified if he was unable to prepare food like a stereotypical jock. He wondered what else Ilya knew how to make.

“We’ll have to try it,” offered Yuna politely.

Ilya nodded, “I make for you sometime.”

They talked a bit more about Ilya’s culture, what growing up in Russia was like, what other types of foods were his favourites. Shane filed the information away for later, but he couldn’t help but notice that Ilya only provided vague details. He avoided talking about his family or giving any concrete details on childhood milestones. He answered questions shortly, often pausing for lengths before speaking. Shane didn’t think his parents noticed, too busy talking about Shane as a kid, which was absolutely mortifying.

“Really?” Ilya’s eyes lit up in sheer glee. “He ran around with no clothes?”

“I was five!” Shane exclaimed.

Yuna plowed right on. “Could barely get him out of the lake. He was either buck naked in there or in full gear on the ice, no in between.” Shane hid his face in his hands as his mother spilled his childhood secrets.

“Except for that year we couldn’t get him to stop wearing his Power Rangers costume,” added David.

Ilya didn’t even try to hide his laugh. “Oh please tell me he was the blue one.”

Shane immediately whipped his head up to look at him. “How did you know that?!”

Ilya looked him up and down. “Is very you.”

“How?!”

Ilya shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “You are very blue.”

Shane groaned as they all laughed.

Yuna stood from the table. “I’m going to grab dessert. Ilya, what kind of ice cream would you like? I’ve got vanilla, chocolate, cookie dough…?”

“Ooh, cookie dough please.” Ilya wiped the last of the spaghetti sauce from his mouth with his napkin. There of course wasn’t any sauce there, but Shane was quickly learning that this hockey player’s table manners were surprisingly impeccable.

Yuna left for the kitchen to grab dessert. Shane got up from the table to collect everyone’s dishes. Ilya rose to help him, but Shane waved him off. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

“I can help,” Ilya tried to protest but then Yuna appeared in front of him, holding out a bowl heaping with cookie dough ice cream.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest, Ilya.” Yuna set the other bowls of ice cream on the table – chocolate for her, vanilla for David and Shane – and took her seat. David got up to help Shane bring the dishes to the kitchen instead.

He started to scrape the leftovers into Tupperware while Shane quietly put the plates in the sink, trying to listen in to the dining room.

“How did you get into hockey?” He heard Ilya ask Yuna. Shane almost rolled his eyes. Here comes his mom’s speech about hockey integrating her into Canadian culture…

“Can you pass me the red Tupperware?” asked David, pointing to the cupboard above Shane’s head. Shane pulled it down and passed it over. David started carefully placing the remaining rolls inside, making sure they didn’t crush each other.

“He seems nice,” said David. “Very polite.”

“Oh uh, yeah.” Shane tried not to give away how much his dad saying that meant to him. “H-He is nice.”

“I just thought, from what I’ve seen of him during games…” They both knew he was referring to the numerous times Ilya had already gone to the box in his rookie season for starting or egging on a fight. Shane had only gotten one real roughing penalty so far. It was in a game against Boston.

David shrugged. “Guess we shouldn’t believe everything we see on tv.” He wiped his hands on a towel and walked back into the dining room. Shane was quick to follow.

“But I’ve been a Metros fan since I was a kid,” Yuna finished her usual spiel.

“Ah of course,” Ilya smiled a little teasingly at Shane. “So it is a family team.”

Shane rolled his eyes, taking his seat back at the table. “That’s not why I signed with them.”

“I know.” Ilya looked conspiratorially at Yuna again. “Historically, they are the best team in sport.”

“Better than the fucking Yankees.” David grinned proudly, digging into his ice cream.

“Oh I know so.” Ilya shoveled down another scoop of cookie dough.

Shane couldn’t help his own smile. Ok, so maybe he was falling for the sucking up too.

“I’m impressed you know that, Ilya,” said Yuna.

“He knows hockey, mom,” said Shane.

“Well, he plays for Boston…”

“Jesus, Mom!”

“What?”

Shane rolled his eyes at her this time before turning to Ilya. “My mom cares a little too much about hockey.”

“Yes, I see where you get it from,” Ilya laughed through another mouthful of ice cream, already scooping up more.

“So Ilya,” David had taken great effort to start calling the Russian player by his first name instead of his last in the days leading up to his arrival at the cottage, since Shane insisted they weren’t hyper-competitive hockey players here. “What got you into hockey?”

Ilya finished chewing before saying, “My mother.” Shane perked up. Ilya had never mentioned his mother before.

“Did she play?” asked Yuna.

Ilya chuckled. “No. But she liked to watch.” Shane couldn’t help but notice Ilya spoke of his mother in past tense. Probably why he didn’t talk about her…

“Has she been to any of your Boston games?” asked David.

Shane stiffened. Ilya swallowed. “Uh, no, she…passed away.”

“Oh.” The table fell silent.

Yuna grabbed David’s hand over the table. “We’re sorry to hear that.”

There was an incredibly awkward pause. No one took another bite of food.

“You know,” Shane started, voice too high as he tried to break the tension. So much for this going well. “Ilya’s never been canoeing.”

It was a total divergence from the previous topic but everyone jumped in. Yuna and David lit up, their voices a little too enthusiastic.

“Oh you have to go!” said Yuna.

“You could take him out tomorrow,” offered David.

Ilya smiled at all of them. “Yes, I would like that.”

Shane smiled back. If there was one good thing about his parents, it was their ability to take everything in stride.

---

Ilya yawned, pulling his shirt off. It was an old one of Shane’s – Ilya normally slept in his boxers, but Shane had looked so horrified by the thought of Ilya doing that in his parents’ house that he’d accepted the old band tee when Shane offered it, along with the fire-engine-red plaid pajama pants. (Those had taken more convincing. At least they were soft.) Needless to say, Ilya looked very “Canadian” and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. And he was definitely not sleeping in a shirt, especially with the amount of pillows and blankets on this bed (seriously, how many decorative throw pillows did the Hollanders think their guests needed?).

Shane offered him the pajamas after dinner, telling him to take a shower before their “nightly plans.” Ilya thought he knew what that meant (and was very much looking forward to it. They’d never had so much time together, always hindered by gameday hookups and too-early flights) but turns out the regularly scheduled evening programming at the cottage was watching a family-friendly movie.

So instead of ravaging Shane in his parents’ basement, Ilya spent the evening watching a pack of golden retriever puppies face the perils and comedy of the Alaskan wilderness. Apparently, this was one of Shane’s childhood favourites. He’d claimed it was a crime Ilya had not seen it when they’d talked favourite movies after a Boston/Montreal game last season and vowed to rectify that as soon as possible. Ilya had spotted a whole franchise of dog movies in the Hollanders’ DVD drawer, which Shane said they could watch later. Ilya could admit that he was rather endeared by the little family of dogs (he might have even shed a tear at the husky’s tragic backstory) and he was definitely curious about the series of other sports these dogs played, but it was a little hard to understand with his limited English and the puppies obviously having no mouths to match the words in the voice over.

At least they were cute and fluffy. Maybe Ilya could get a dog like that someday? What would Shane think about that? Would he want a dog? Did he like dogs? (His collection of dog/sport movies said yes, but knowing Shane’s slightly obsessive tendencies to cleanliness said maybe not…)

The evening was nice regardless of the quiet plans. Ilya liked curling up on the living room couch with Shane, his parents on the other couch, everyone swaddled in blankets as the sun went down over the lake. Yuna made popcorn, David made cocoa.

Ilya had been a little surprised at the welcome the Hollander parents gave him. He knew he hadn’t made the best first impression at the events this past year. He’d thought Yuna might be a little stand-offish or David might quietly frown at him in disapproval. He hadn’t expected them to be so…warm. So easygoing (especially for people who raised Shane Stick-Up-His-Ass Hollander). They’d taken a quick interest in Ilya, welcoming him into their home and their dinner table with open arms.

That warmth trickled into the quiet comfort of watching a silly movie together. It was cozy. Domestic. Ilya hadn’t done something like this in a long, long time. He chased away that thought with the warmth of the cocoa and the heat of Shane’s body next to his.

Ilya desperately wanted to lean into the other boy, maybe lay his head in Shane’s lap, but that would probably be hard to explain to Shane’s parents, so he kept his hands to himself. For most of the movie at least.

Shane shifted halfway through, legs widening under his blanket so his knee pressed into Ilya’s thigh where his legs were folded up on the couch under his own blanket. Ilya looked over at Shane but he was focused on the movie, a contented little smile on his face as the puppies chased each other through the snow. Ilya then checked on Shane’s parents, but they were equally enraptured by the film, David with an arm around his wife, Yuna leaning back on his chest. Ilya had never seen his own parents display open affection like that. (He had another sip of cocoa.)

Not seeing any harm in it, and deeply craving some form of connection, he slipped a hand under the blankets and placed it on Shane’s thigh – not high up, not anything sexual, just a point of contact, just something. Shane’s breath hitched, eyes snapping to Ilya immediately. Ilya turned his own back to the tv, watching a puppy tackle another. He waited for Shane to shove him off, to say he’d gone too far, but instead, his body relaxed after a moment, the muscles in his thigh once again going lax under Ilya’s touch. Ilya still made no move to take it farther, and Shane slipped his own hand under the blankets after a quick check that his parents weren’t watching. He pressed his palm on top of Ilya’s, lacing their fingers together in his lap.

They spent the rest of the movie like that, grip on each other tightening as the tension rose in the music, loosening back up when everyone was reunited. Shane’s thumb pet over Ilya’s hand as his breathing steadied, shoulders relaxing as the exhaustion of the day set in.

David took their dishes to wash up after the movie ended while Yuna wished them both goodnight (she also threw in a warning not to stay up too late or they’d miss breakfast). Shane tensed up again as they folded the blankets, but Ilya tried not to read into it, palm still warm from Shane’s. Then Shane practically fled once they reached the basement, muttering a goodnight before rushing off to his own room, leaving Ilya to sort through the many pillows on his bed for one to sleep on.

But his solitude didn’t last for long. There was a light knock on Ilya’s door just as he was pulling the covers back.

“Come in,” he called and the door clicked open. Shane slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. His shoulders were still up to his ears. Ilya watched him endearingly.

“Is someone chasing you?”

“What? No.”

“Then why so secretive?”

Shane glanced back at the door. “My parents are upstairs.”

“I thought your parents cannot hear us down here?”

“They can’t.” His eyes dropped to Ilya’s bare chest. Ah. This was going to be fun.

Ilya took a step into Shane’s space. “Then why so nervous?”

Shane squirmed. “I’m not.”

“No?” Ilya set a hand under Shane’s chin, drawing his face up.

“No,” Shane muttered, eyes darting to Ilya’s lips.

Ilya smirked. “I do not make you nervous?”

Shane’s feet shifted. He licked his lips. “No.”

Ilya gave into temptation, drawing their mouths together. Shane melted into that first touch like always – easy, willing, and oh so soft.

Ilya let his hand come to cup Shane’s jaw, the other sliding around his waist to pull them together as he deepened the kiss. Shane went willingly, back arching as a little sound escaped his lips into Ilya’s mouth.

Ilya set firm hands on Shane’s hips, guiding him back to the bed and pushing him onto the mattress. Shane shuffled up as Ilya climbed over him, ducking down for another kiss. Ilya leaned back to ditch his pants (see Shane? Should’ve just let him sleep in his underwear) as Shane propped himself up to pull his own clothes off. Then leaned back in to kiss down Shane’s chest all the way to his dick.

The moan Shane let out when Ilya took him into his mouth was loud before he choked it back. “F-Fuck Rozanov.”

Shane’s back arched and Ilya pulled off before he could cum – he had better plans for them tonight.

He kissed back up Shane’s chest and mumbled, “Get on your stomach.”

Shane looked up at him, eyes already a little hazy. Ilya tapped his hip. “On your stomach.”

Shane turned over, Ilya getting into position behind him. He could feel his cock rubbing against Shane’s ass. Ilya rocked his hips a little. Shane choked out another moan as his cock dragged against the mattress.

Ilya cupped Shane’s pec, squeezing as he whispered in his ear, “Have you ever?”

Shane shook his head. Ok, so maybe there hadn’t been other boys.

“Do you want to?” Ilya placed a kiss to Shane’s temple and he almost flinched away.

Ilya pulled back immediately, taking in the tense set of Shane’s shoulders, the way he was avoiding eye contact.

“You’re scared,” Ilya observed gently.

Shane tensed up more. “I’m not scared.”

“No, is ok.”

“I’m not scared,” Shane said more forcefully.

Ilya took that as a cue to slow things down, once again realizing where Shane’s jitters from earlier were coming from. There was something so…fascinating, about Shane’s wishes to hide his insecurities and how they came screaming out in his body language anyway. At least to Ilya. He probably appeared fine to other people, but Ilya was really starting to get to know this boy…He hoped he would get to know more soon.

He rolled off Shane, taking in the broad planes of his back, the dimples at the base of his spine, ass propped up in a way that made Ilya want to bite. Maybe another time…

He pet a hand over Shane’s flank, fingers coming up to swipe between his ass cheeks as they brushed over his hole. Shane’s thighs jumped a little, but he didn’t push him away.

“Do you ever touch yourself here?”

“Jesus Christ,” Shane huffed.

Ilya was kind of glad Shane couldn’t see his face right now, because he’d totally kick him out if he saw how much fun he was having with this. “What? Does touching your ass make you gay?”

“Rozanov.” Shane responded like he always did to the teasing; a little annoyed, a little turned on, totally into it and trying not to let it show.

Ilya leaned over him again, voice crooning low into Shane’s ear, “Cause you know what else makes you gay is sucking my dick.”

“Shut up,” Shane snapped. He craned around a little, still avoiding Ilya’s eyes but enough that Ilya could now see his face. He was blushing to his ears. Ilya bit back a grin. “Fuck…I’m trying to say I have a thing. Ok?”

Ilya’s brow furrowed. “A thing?”

Shane almost rolled his eyes. He squirmed a little, Ilya’s hand still on his ass, fingers petting lightly over his hole. Shane admitted through gritted teeth, “A dildo.”

Ilya made no effort to hide the grin this time. “What. Colour?”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s big?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Is it here?”

Shane tried to roll away. Ilya put a big arm around his chest, pulling Shane back into him.

“No, no, Hollander, I want to fuck you.” His teeth scraped over Shane’s ear as he said it, just to make the other boy shiver.

Shane rolled back over, finally looking Ilya in the eye. “Not…not now. My parents are upstairs.”

Ilya surveyed him for a minute. Shane’s body had gone lax under him, eyes a little clearer but looking at Ilya in that overly fond way he’d become addicted to.

Ilya let his thumb trace over Shane’s freckles, watching his lashes flutter as his head tilted into the touch. “Ok. So we find somewhere your parents are not.”

“What? Now?”

Ilya laughed at Shane’s widened eyes. “No. Tomorrow. Or next day, does not matter.”

Shane’s whole face scrunched up in adorable confusion. “Where?”

Ilya glanced out the bedroom window overlooking the lake. “We are in middle of nowhere. Must be somewhere without people.”

“Outside?”

Ilya waggled his eyebrows. “Where is your sense of adventure?”

Shane was still staring at Ilya with wide eyes.

Ilya rolled his own. “You have car, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“So we go somewhere.”

“Closest hotel is thirty minutes away.”

Ilya shrugged. “So we make excuse to leave for while. Pick up groceries, go on hike trip, or something.”

He could feel Shane’s heartbeat hammering against the palm on his chest.

Ilya huffed, “Hollander you are having panic attack. Is just a plan to fuck.”

Shane nodded, agreeing, calming down. Ilya could practically see the thoughts sprinting through his mind. He turned a little more serious, thumb back to gently tracing Shane’s cheek. “We do not have to do anything you do not want to do.”

“I-I know. I want to.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Ilya kissed him before he could overthink it. Shane sunk farther into the bed, a pleased little hum escaping his lips as Ilya’s tongue swept into his mouth. He trailed kisses from Shane’s lips to his jaw, placing a quick peck over those freckles before pressing his lips to Shane’s neck. Shane huffed out a moan, hips rolling as Ilya breathed hot against his skin.

“But for now…” Ilya started leaving kisses down Shane’s body again, making his intentions clear.

Shane arched his back, hips thrusting up a little. He rolled his head back against the pillow with a contented sigh. “Yeah ok. That works.”

---

Shane let his canoe paddle cut easily through the water from his seat in the stern of the boat. He had a very nice view of Ilya’s shoulders and bulging arms as they pulled his own paddle through the water. He couldn’t see his entire back because it was obscured by the lifejacket Shane insisted they wear (he was only slightly regretting that now) but the padding also accentuated Ilya’s trim waist so not a total loss. His hair was tucked under a baseball cap which was regrettably turned forward to block his face from the sun (Shane almost swooned when he’d first seen Ilya with a backward cap and was plotting how to get him to repeat the look soon) but what had really done it for him was the dark blue swim trunks that hugged Ilya’s thighs in a way that was almost obscene.

Shane cut his paddle through the water again, matching his rhythm to Ilya’s as he turned them into a small bay at the bottom of a cliff. Ilya’s head was tilted up to look around, light glinting off the sharp cut of his jaw, shoulders already sun-kissed in the midday heat. Shoulders that Shane had rubbed sunscreen into earlier (totally platonically since his parents were watching them pack the canoe from the shore).

Yuna had loaded them up with snacks and sandwiches for a day out on the lake before they set off. Ilya, to his credit (and Shane’s surprise) hadn’t made a single pass at Shane’s mom since arriving. Passes at Shane though…That sunscreen stint already had him regretting turning down a morning blowjob.

They’d woken up together in the guest room, Ilya’s head pillowed on Shane’s chest from where they’d curled up last night. The late-night orgasms had turned into lazy kisses and cuddles until the kisses had turned into sleepy breaths. Shane wasn’t sure who’d succumbed to the night first (probably Ilya, on account of his flight, but maybe Shane, on account of the drive) but he hadn’t actually meant to fall asleep there. He was supposed to go back to his room after they finished (just in case his mom came to wake him up in the morning) but he’d been so warm and comfortable and Ilya kept switching from kissing his lips, to the tip of his nose, to his forehead and Shane might have nodded off a little…

Ilya tried to convince him to go another round when they woke up, but Shane pushed him off with a laugh, going back to his own room to get dressed before his mom called them up for breakfast (pancakes with fresh strawberries. Shane really loved summer).

Before they set off, David, of course, gave Ilya a quick but thorough lesson in boat safety while Shane helped his mother pack lunch, and once again to Ilya’s credit, he’d indulged Shane’s father with rapt attention.

They’d shoved off with Shane telling his parents they’d be “around the lake.” Yuna had rolled her eyes at the vague description (but didn’t worry – Shane took a whistle). Ilya had pressed him for more information when they’d gotten out of earshot of the shore, but Shane cryptically answered with, “You’ll see.”

The bay was one of his favourite spots on the lake. The water wrapped around the shore, the cliff face blocking the little strip of beach from view of the greater lake. It meant the water was calm when people sped by on motorboats and jet skis. It also meant it was private.

The spot was usually home to a couple teenagers hiding from their parents – it was well known that people came here to hook up in the woods (or drink underage), but Shane usually went canoeing with his dad so they tended to avoid the area. He’d come through by himself in a kayak a couple times, but he’d never actually found the courage to join any of the kids on the shore, so he mostly just paddled along.

Ilya scanned the empty shore then craned around in his seat to grin at Shane. He waggled his eyebrows as the boat rocked. “Are we alone here?”

Shane made a show of scanning the woods for anyone hiding in the brush before turning back to the Russian. “Looks like it. Teens come here to hang out sometimes but you can usually see them jumping from the cliff when you’re out on the lake.”

Ilya’s eyes lit up more. “They jump from cliff?”

Oh no.

Ilya pointed at the shear rock face. From their canoe, they could just make out a little footpath leading up the rock. “That cliff?”

Shit.

“Uh, yeah.” Shane’s voice cracked. Maybe this was a bad idea. He’d just wanted some alone time with Ilya but he was definitely about to suggest—

“Can we go jump?”

“Well, there might be rocks at the bottom.”

“Has anyone ever been hurt here?”

“No but—”

“So will be fine. Let’s go.”

Shane eyed the cliff again. His mom would kill him if she found out.

As if sensing his train of thought, Ilya said, “Come on, no one has to know. There is no one to see.” That seemed to be the common sentiment between them. Just one more thing to do in secret…

Ilya splashed Shane with his paddle. Shane sputtered, flinching back as the cold water soaked into his swim shorts. “Hey!”

Ilya laughed as the canoe rocked beneath them. “Come on, Hollander. Live a little.”

“I live just fine.” Shane glared and splashed Ilya back, scooping up probably more water than necessary. Ilya just laughed more.

“Will be fun. Just one jump.”

Shane continued to glare. If he kept it up maybe Ilya would drop—

Ilya’s face softened, eyes widening a little, lips pouting. “Please…You know you will like it, Hollzy.”

Fuck.

Shane steered them to the shore with a scowl on his face.

He severely regretted it by the time Ilya reached the top of the footpath. Shane was still one ledge below, looking up at the boy. His hair was haloed by the sun, making him glow. The trim waist of his silhouette was on full display, their lifejackets and hats ditched in the boat (probably another regrettable decision, but Shane wanted full range of motion climbing the cliff). Shane could see the sweat clinging to Ilya’s abs as he grinned down at Shane. From this vantage point, haloed by the sun, Ilya looked like a god. Shane felt a little breathless and it wasn’t from the climb.

“Come on, you are almost there.”

Shane made the mistake of looking down. Did it look farther from here? Had he misjudged the distance from the shore?

Ilya reached a hand down. “I promise, will be fine. Will be fun.”

Shane had no idea how Ilya was so ok with this. He was always so confident, so sure of himself. So fearless. Shane’s hands were sweaty where they gripped the rock and his knees were shaking a little as he tried to hold himself steady on the uneven surface.

He eyed Ilya’s hand, then his eyes, the crinkle in the corners taking on more sincerity than their earlier teasing. It was just one more step. Ilya wasn’t going to let him fall.

Shane slipped his sweaty palm into Ilya’s allowing the other boy to haul him up the final ledge. They stood with their backs pressed to the rock, nothing but air and the lake in front of them. A lot of air.

“Maybe we shouldn’t—"

“What, you are going to climb down?” Ilya suggested sarcastically.

Shane eyed the footpath which looked even more treacherous from here. Ok. Definitely not an option.

“Hollander, you are shaking.” Ilya hadn’t let go of his hand. Shane probably wouldn’t’ve let him even if he tried.

“I’m not.” He totally was.

Ilya squeezed his hand back. “No, is ok to be scared.”

“Thought you said this was going to be fun?”

“Will be, yes. But scary part is what makes it fun.”

“You’re such an adrenaline junky.”

“Adren…? I do not know word.”

“Adrenaline. It’s what makes your body ready to fight or flight when you’re in dangerous situations. Or when you’re excited and you get all pumped up.”

“Or when I have puck and you are chasing me.”

Shane rolled his eyes again. Of course in this scenario, Ilya has to be the one with the puck.

“Or when I have the puck and you are chasing me.”

“Mm, no, I do not think so. Because I score winning goal in our last game—"

“And I won Rookie of the Year,” Shane snarked. Ilya grinned, giving Shane a little nudge with his shoulder.

“Hey, watch it!” Shane’s shaky legs kept his footing as his body swayed, still clinging to Ilya’s hand. His other pressed back against the rock like he could grab onto the smooth surface if he started to fall.

Ilya just laughed. “Relax. Will be over before you know it. Is just…” He gauged the distance. “Two second fall?”

Two seconds. Shane could do two seconds. He could do anything for two seconds.

“This is so fucking stupid.”

Ilya was still laughing. “Yes. Is the fun part.”

“You really do like trouble, huh?”

He nudged Shane again, a little gentler this time. “Only with you.”

Shane tore his eyes away from the drop to meet Ilya’s gaze. His baby blues were shining in the sunlight, lips parted in a gentle smile. Shane’s heart started beating faster for a totally different reason.

“Ok,” he breathed.

“Ok?” Ilya asked. “We jump?”

“Together?”

Ilya’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Together.”

And then he flung his body off the cliff, dragging Shane with him before he could have a second thought.

Shane didn’t even have time to scream before he hit the water. His body was instantly enveloped in cold as he sunk into the deep, the weight of the water pressing him down into a cacophony of bubbles. There was a matching cloud next to him. Ilya. They’d lost touch somewhere in the air.

Shane kicked to the surface, the sunlight glinting off the water as his lungs fought for air. He came up spluttering, rubbing the water out of his eyes, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

Ilya came up laughing, head already tipped back to the sun as he shook out his hair. Shane cringed back from the splashing water.

“What the hell!?”

“See, I told you would be fun.” Ilya’s wet hair was plastered to his face. He was still glowing, eyes alight with adrenaline…and something else when they caught on Shane.

Shane wanted to protest that that was terrifying, definitely not fun…except it kind of was. The drop in his stomach followed by the cool water. The relief of being alive. Of seeing Ilya again at the bottom. But he couldn’t admit that so he settled on, “Fuck you.”

Ilya took two strokes to put himself next to Shane. “You liked it.” He was looking down at Shane with sun-kissed cheeks, hair slicked back from his face. He looked radiant.

Shane could feel the blush heating his skin even through the water. Maybe he could just blame the sun.

Ilya nudged him as he sang, “You liked it.”

“Fuck off.” Shane shoved him back.

Ilya splashed him in return.

Shane spluttered again, but he could feel the laughter bubbling in his own chest. He splashed back.

That set off a war, the both of them kicking up water into each other’s faces, their laughter ringing through the bay as they swam back to shore, Ilya chasing after Shane through the water.

“Ok, ok!” Shane tried to run off when his feet could touch the ground again, but Ilya was on him quickly, hands finding his waist and tackling him back into the water. Shane rolled them, pushing Ilya under in retaliation. His hands were on Ilya’s shoulders and Ilya’s were on his waist and suddenly they were so close together and then their lips were touching and Shane was breathing into Ilya’s mouth as his tongue swept inside…

“Fuck, Hollander.” Ilya pressed their hips together. He was hard against his thigh. Shane was the same, a little zing of pleasure shooting up his spine.

“Ilya, we’re in public,” Shane mumbled but he didn’t pull away.

Ilya kept kissing him. “There’s no one here.”

“But there could be.”

“Place is private. We will see people before they see us.”

“What, you want to be like all the other—” Shane almost said couples, but held himself back.

Ilya pulled back, eyes dancing. “Ah is that what this spot is for?”

“I mean, people hook up here. Sometimes.”

Ilya licked his lips. Looked at Shane’s. “And you bring me here…away from your parents…”

Shane was staring at Ilya’s mouth too, wanting to kiss him again, but… “We’re not hooking up here.”

“No?”

“No.” He reluctantly took a step back, water flowing between their bodies again. He already missed the heat of Ilya’s chest pressed to his. “We’re too exposed here.”

Ilya’s eyes trailed away until they lit on something close to the shore. Shane turned, spotting their bright red canoe. When he looked back at Ilya, the Russian had his eyebrows raised suggestively.

Shane rolled his eyes. “We are not having sex in the canoe.” That would be even worse for Shane’s first time than his bedroom at his parents’ house. Even if he really (really) wanted to have sex with Ilya, he was not letting himself be that vulnerable in a goddamn fucking canoe.

Regardless, Ilya waggled his eyebrows more and reached down to cup Shane’s straining erection. Shane sucked in a breath at the contact as Ilya started a steady kneading motion.

“We’re not,” he reiterated firmly, trying to keep still.

“Then I guess we should stay in cold water.” Ilya glanced at his mouth again. Shane huffed.

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Yes.” Ilya stepped closer until they were pressed together again, hands settling on slick wet skin. He dropped his voice to a low rumble. “I get you into so much trouble.”

Shane caved as Ilya kiss him, melting into each other’s warmth.

Guess he could settle for an underwater handjob.

---

“Blyat,” Ilya swore as his marshmallow was once again engulfed in flames.

Shane had the decency to duck his head to hide his laugh, but Ilya could still see his shoulders shaking. The Canadian’s marshmallow was turning a perfect shade of golden brown over the heat of the campfire.

“Oh sure, brag about your special skills,” he said while blowing it out. Once the flames were gone, he surveyed the damage. Black and shriveled to a crisp. Unsalvageable.

“I can’t help that I’m just good at it.”

“You’ve had more practice.”

“You’ve got to hold it over the coals, not stick it directly in the flames.”

“That takes forever.”

Shane held up his perfectly toasted marshmallow. “But the reward is so much sweeter.” He blew on it gently before popping the whole thing in his mouth.

Ilya quietly cursed Shane out in Russian before scraping his charred marshmallow into the fire and watched forlornly as it disintegrated.

Shane stuck two marshmallows on his stick this time and held them expertly over the fire.

“Show off.”

Shane got that pleased little smile on his face.

Ilya sat on the couch, tipping his head back to watch the night sky. They could see so many stars here – nothing like in the city. It reminded him of the time his mother took him out of Moscow to the countryside, driving out to a lake for the weekend with him and Alexei while their father had to work. They’d spent the whole day running in and out of the water, Alexei occasionally trying to drown Ilya, then at night, they’d curled up under blankets to watch the stars.

“Found the big dipper?” asked Shane as he sat next to him. He held out a smore with a perfectly browned marshmallow, the chocolate already melting between the graham crackers. Ilya took it gratefully.

“Which one is that?” he asked.

Shane pointed to a spot in the sky just beyond the trees. “Those stars over there. They kind of look like a giant ladle.”

“Ladle?”

“A spoon.”

Shane’s finger traced through the sky and Ilya followed it from one star to another until the constellation became clear.

He smiled. “Yes, I see now.” Then he took a bite of the smore.

Ilya’s eyes widened immediately as he groaned in delight. “Oh this is so good Hollander.”

Shane laughed at the marshmallow smearing across Ilya’s lips. “Yeah, I know.” He reached out like he was going to wipe it off, then paused. Shane looked back at the house. They could see his parents watching tv through the window, backs to them.

Shane turned back to Ilya and wiped off the burnt sugar from his lips with his thumb. Ilya took the opportunity to suck the digit into his mouth before he could pull away, licking the sticky substance from Shane’s skin before letting it go with a pop.

Shane pulled back with a small smile and a deep blush.

They fell into silence as they watched the fire, both finishing their smores.

“You want another?” Shane asked.

Ilya shrugged. “Maybe later.” He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want Shane to get up either. This was nice, just sitting here, together, watching the light dance into the night like magic, warm and cozy. It seemed like the kind of activity Shane would like. Which meant Ilya should definitely rib him for it.

“So we just sit here and look at it?”

“Yes.” He could hear Shane’s eyeroll without even having to look at him. “We just sit here and look at it.”

“Canada is fun,” his tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Shut up.” But Shane laughed anyway. Ilya loved that he could get him to do that.

Their laughter was suddenly interrupted by a wolf howling into the night from across the lake.

Ilya immediately sat up straighter, head whipping around for the source of the noise as a chill ran down his spine. “What the fuck was that?!”

Shane looked at him, confused. “A loon.”

Ilya returned the confusion. Shane did not seem very concerned about the predator in their midst. “A what?”

“A loon. It’s a bird.”

“Sounds like a fucking wolf.”

“It’s a bird. Trust me.”

The howl came again. Ilya searched through the trees with wide eyes.

Shane laughed again. “You’re so scared.”

“What kind of a bird makes a noise like that?”

“A loon, not a fucking wolf.”

A bird. A fucking bird. Ilya felt kind of silly for his reaction. “Stupid Canadian wolf-bird.”

Shane lifted both hands to his lips. Then he made the howling sound.

Ilya rolled his eyes, trying to shake off the chills. “Oh, so now you speak bird too?”

“Fluent.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

They fell into silence again, the peace occasionally broken by the howl. Bird call. Whatever.

Shane’s parents came out briefly to say goodnight before heading off to bed, reminding Shane to put the fire out before they came inside. The boys were left alone with a dim light filtering from the kitchen through the windows of the house and the steady glowing warmth of the fire.

Eventually Ilya slumped down on the couch until his head was pillowed on Shane’s lap. Shane rested one hand on Ilya’s shoulder, the other occasionally petting through his hair.

The silence was nice. Peaceful. Ilya hadn’t felt this calm in a long time.

Until Shane asked, “What did your family say? About delaying your return to Russia?”

If Ilya hadn’t been so relaxed, he probably would’ve brushed off the question, but there was something about the warmth of Shane at his back and the fire at his front that made him say, “My father was not pleased. My brother did not care.”

“Oh.”

Ilya tried to brush it off. “But I do not care. They suck.”

Shane pet a hand through his hair again. “I’m sorry your family sucks.”

Ilya swallowed against a tightness in his throat. That wasn’t right. His whole family didn’t suck. He needed Shane to know that.

“My mother didn’t suck. She was great.”

He knew opening the door to this would lead to more questions. This was Shane, he was always full of questions. But maybe the fire really was magic because when Shane asked, “How did she die?” Ilya actually wanted to answer.

“By accident,” he said automatically. That was what his father always told people, that she’d died by accident. But Ilya knew the truth. “She accidentally swallowed the whole bottle of pills.”

Shane, to his credit, only stiffened slightly beneath him. “How old were you?”

“Twelve…I found her…” Ilya hadn’t said any of this before. “I don’t want you to think she was weak.”

“I don’t.”

“She wasn’t. She was so funny and beautiful…She was so sad. And my dad was so hard on her, and—"

The infernal bird called again, startling Ilya from his melancholy. He stared into the woods, heart beating fast as he calmed down with a chuckle. “Motherfucker.”

Shane laughed too, the moment gone. After a minute he asked, “Do you wanna go inside?”

Ilya stared into the fire. Shane kept running that hand through his hair. “No.”

Shane reached around so they could hold hands.

Ilya didn’t ever want to leave.

---

“Would you like some chocolate, Ilya?” Yuna asked while holding out a bowl of melted chocolate, the morning sun strewing through the windows over the breakfast table.

Ilya lit up with glee. “Ooh, yes please.”

Yuna passed over the bowl of pure sugar for Ilya to add to his waffle, already piled with the remaining strawberries from yesterday.

“Try it with whipped cream,” David said while handing over the bowl of fresh-made whip.

“That is so much sugar,” said Shane, already cringing. His own waffle had butter and strawberries with a tiny, tiny bit of maple syrup. Since it was the off season. Sue him.

“It is delicious,” Ilya responded, taking a heaping bite that consisted more of waffle toppings than actual waffle. He groaned in delight. Shane cringed again at the memory of that sound coming out of Ilya’s mouth for different reasons. Ones he’d rather not think of in front of his parents.

“You want some chocolate, Shane?” asked Ilya, trying to shove the bowl towards him.

Shane eyed the bowl, then Ilya’s waffle, which did look really good. Or at least, what he could see of the waffle through the massive pile of toppings.

Ilya nudged his elbow. “You know you want to…”

Shane eyed his own empty-ish waffle.

Ilya lifted the spoon out of the bowl, a generous helping of chocolate cradled inside. “Is the off season…”

Shane still hesitated.

Ilya rolled his eyes. “And I promise not to tell anyone the great Shane Hollander eats sweet things.”

Fuck it.

“Fine.”

Ilya dumped the entire spoonful over Shane’s waffle.

“Ok, ok, that’s lots.”

“Little more.”

“That’s good. Ilya, it’s enough.”

“There. Is perfect.” Ilya grinned as he put the spoon back in the bowl.

Shane looked down at his waffle which was also grinning at him, two dots and a curving wiggly line made out of chocolate.

He glared at Ilya but there was no heat behind it. “Gee, thanks.”

Ilya just took another big bite of his own fully stacked waffle.

Shane did the same, still frowning. The chocolate was very good. He frowned more.

“So your mom and I are going to take the boat out today,” said David.

That caught Shane’s attention. “For the whole day?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You boys can handle lunch on your own,” added Yuna. “There’s lots of food in the fridge.”

“We’ll be back for dinner though,” said David.

“But make sure to take the chicken out in case we don’t catch any fish.”

David turned accusingly to his wife. “You have no faith in me.”

Yuna just looked at Shane with an innocent shrug. One that they both knew meant the lack of fish was a common enough problem that he should definitely take the chicken out of the freezer.

“You fish here?” asked Ilya.

David wiped his mouth on a napkin. “When I can. You ever been?”

“No.”

“We could go tomorrow if you want?”

Shane was already thinking about how boring Ilya would find sitting silently in a boat waiting for fish that don’t bite with only his father for company. “Dad, Ilya doesn’t want to—"

“I would love that.”

Shane turned to the Russian in surprise.

“Great. We’ll go in the afternoon. That way you boys can sleep in – I know you don’t get to do much of that during the season.”

Ilya even laughed at David’s bad attempt at a joke.

He got along great with Shane’s parents – better than Shane expected. He didn’t know if this was how Ilya was all the time, or if he was just on his best behavior for the week. Did he actually care about making a good impression on Shane’s family?

Maybe. After everything he’d revealed about his own family last night…

Twelve. It had only been seven years since Ilya lost his mother. Since Ilya found his mother. Shane couldn’t imagine what that had been like, Ilya left all alone in that big empty house with those hateful people…

Yuna forced the boy to eat a second helping of bacon. Ilya didn’t take much convincing, happily accepting everything Shane’s parents offered – not just their food, but also their kindness. He seemed to come alive under their attention in a way Shane hadn’t seen before. More comfortable. More…free.

He hadn’t realized how much Ilya’s bravado covered until he’d watched those walls slowly fade under the Muskoka sun. That as much as the asshole tendencies were for fun, they also kept a distance between his personal and professional life. No one pushed to get to know a guy they didn’t care to get to know.

Shane had a brief thought of locking Ilya up in the cottage and never letting him leave. Convincing him to not get on a plane to Russia in four days. Maybe if he didn’t go back…he would stay this way.

Before long, the dishes were washed and David was steering the boat away from the shore, Yuna waving from the bow. Shane and Ilya waved back until his parents disappeared around the bend.

Then Ilya turned to Shane. “We are alone.”

Shane froze. Right. Alone. Which meant…

Ilya set a hand on Shane’s waist. His whole body tensed.

“I’m gonna go grab a shower.” His voice was a little too high, his step away from Ilya a little too fast.

“Are you ok—?”

But Shane was already running back into the house. He didn’t take another breath until he was in the bathroom, the door firmly locked behind him.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was still a little askew from how he slept last night (in his own bed. Ilya had given him a single sweet kiss before they said goodnight, smelling of campfire and cool summer air. It made Shane all gooey inside and he probably fell asleep with a smile). Now, his eyes were wide and a little panicked as they stared at his face in the mirror.

He was alone with Ilya. Really, truly alone. Which meant they could finally…

Right. He could do this.

Shane got in the shower and washed his entire body.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t done anything before. Hell, he’d done plenty with Ilya so far…but not…

Sex.

God, he couldn’t even say it to himself. Which was stupid. Shane could have sex.

Shane wanted to have sex.

And sex with Ilya was undoubtedly going to be amazing. Pending Shane didn’t fuck it up. Shane had no idea how sex with Shane was.

But he could do this. He stared at himself in the mirror again, towel wrapped around his waist.

He could do this.

Shane opened the door, steam billowing out behind him. He took a step out, wondering if he could sneak back to his room before—

Ilya rose from the couch, setting the book he’d been reading on the coffee table. Shane froze. Ilya’s eyes traced over his torso, the remaining droplets of water on his bare shoulders, the towel slung low on his hips.

Ilya licked his lips. Shane swallowed.

“Your parents will be gone all day,” said the Russian. He took a step forward. Shane remained very, very still.

“Yes.”

Ilya took another step. Then another. “We’re alone.”

“Guess we are.”

One more step put him right in front of Shane. He smelled of sugar and cigarettes, two things Shane wasn’t supposed to have.

“Do you still want?”

Shane swallowed. Licked his lips. Looked at Ilya’s deep blue eyes, a little breathless. “I still want.”

Those eyes crinkled. “We have whole house to ourselves…” Ilya lifted a single finger to trace Shane’s bottom lip. His breath hitched as Ilya teased, “Where do you want me? In the kitchen…on the floor…”

Shane rolled his eyes, placing a single kiss to Ilya’s finger, his own hand coming up to twine their hands together. “Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

He led him across the basement and opened the door for Ilya, kind of expecting him to push him up against it and kiss him stupid, but instead, the boy dropped his hand to walk in alone, surveying the space. Shane suddenly became very self-conscious of his interior design choices.

“Did your mom buy all these pillows?” asked Ilya. That wasn’t helping Shane’s anxiety.

“No…” Lie.

“You think there is enough?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I think that you like it.”

“You know I can smell the cigarettes on you from here?”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “I had one. Outside…You took long shower.”

“So what, my parents leave and suddenly you’re the spokesman for sex and cigarettes?”

Actually…

“Yes. Is my brand.” God, Shane hated him.

“You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“And you shouldn’t be talking.” Ilya raked his eyes over Shane’s half-naked body again. “Come here.”

He tensed, feeling that flutter deep in his stomach. This part was familiar. “You come here.”

“No, you come here.” But they were both already taking steps towards each other. Ilya was across the room in two strides, his mouth on Shane’s. Shane was instantly hard, cock tenting the towel as Ilya’s large hands found his hips, pulling at the fabric until it fell at their feet. Normally Shane would want to hang the wet towel up, but Ilya pulled back enough to take off his shirt and Shane forgot what he’d been thinking about.

His hands went for the drawstring tying Ilya’s shorts around his waist until those too fell at their feet along with Ilya’s boxers. They stood there, naked in front of each other. It wasn’t anything either of them hadn’t seen before, and yet, this time it felt different.

Ilya scanned Shane’s body hungrily. “Get on the bed.”

It was probably a sign of Shane’s nerves that he didn’t argue, climbing back on the sheets until his head rested on the pillows. Ilya crawled over top of him, his cock settling next to Shane’s as he parted his legs. Shane of course knew that Ilya had a rather large cock, but he hadn’t really thought about how large until now. Now that he was face with the prospect of it somehow fitting inside him…

Sensing the tension in his body, Ilya leaned into him with that stupidly sexy lopsided smirk. “Don’t worry, it will fit.”

Shane didn’t even call him an asshole for the comment.

“Trust me,” Ilya assured him again. “Where is the stuff?”

Grateful for the distraction, Shane pushed Ilya away slightly, rolling to the nightstand. He rooted around to the back where he’d hidden the bottle of lube (in case his mom decided to clean his room).

He showed it to Ilya. “I’ve got, um, lube. I ordered it online. It’s supposed to be the best for…this.”

“Ass fucking?”

Shane rolled his eyes, his earlier nerves forgotten. “You sweet talk everyone like this?”

“I’m very charming.” Ilya gave him that look again – the one that made Shane’s insides all gooey. Charming indeed. Motherfucker.

Shane let the comment go again, rooting around in the drawer for…ah, there. He held up the strip of condoms for Ilya’s approval.

His previous goodwill didn’t last as Ilya laughed. “Woah, wow, you think this will be enough?”

“Fuck off.” But Shane chuckled along.

Ilya didn’t give him another chance to overthink it, taking the strip of condoms and pulling him into another kiss. Shane melted back into the bed, the heat of Ilya’s body blanketing him as his tongue claimed his mouth. Shane groaned when Ilya pulled away, the heat disappearing as he shuffled down the bed.

He took one of Shane’s nipples in his mouth. Shane’s cock twitched. Ilya sucked the bud between his teeth and gave a gentle pull. Shane squirmed beneath him.

Ilya’s fingers wrapped around Shane’s thigh to hold him down. Shane marveled at the length of his fingers. They would probably be good for—

“Fuck, Rozanov.” Shane threw his head back on a moan as Ilya took his cock into his mouth. He bobbed his head once, twice. Shane’s hands sunk into the pillow at his head in an effort not to grab Ilya by the hair and fuck his face.

Then those big hands on his thighs hefted Shane’s legs until his ankles were at his ears. Shane automatically collapsed his hands behind his knees, a little confused.

“Wha—”

Shane’s eyes rolled back in his head as Ilya’s tongue laved over his hole. “O-Oh fuck.”

That was new. And it felt so fucking good. Shane huffed as Ilya hefted his hips up higher for better access. He gripped his knees tighter, giving Ilya more room to…

“Oh fuck yeah.”

Shane was too distracted by everything Ilya was doing to him to notice the cap clicking on the bottle of lube. He didn’t even register it until Ilya replaced his tongue with a finger prodding at Shane’s hole.

Shane gasped again as Ilya gently pushed inside. His body almost tensed up on instinct, but then Ilya sucked one of his balls into his mouth and Shane forgot everything he was ever worried about in the history of his entire life.

“Please,” Shane whimpered.

“Please what?” Ilya teased.

Shane groaned. “I don’t know, just fucking…”

“Please more?”

“Yes. Yes, more please. Please – oh my God!” Ilya slipped a second finger inside him as his other hand wrapped around Shane’s cock, thumbing the slit.

Shane couldn’t help the sounds he was making now. Thank God they’d waited until his parents were gone.

“That’s it, you are doing so well, Shane.” Ilya scissored his fingers, stretching Shane out. For his cock. His cock that was going to go inside Shane.

Holy fucking God.

Ilya kept fucking Shane with his fingers while lazily stroking his cock. Shane succumbed to the sensation, everything together feeling so fucking good. Ilya briefly let go of his cock to pour more lube on his fingers, adding a third—

“Holy fucking shit!”

Ilya grinned down at him as his fingers prodded Shane’s prostrate. “Good, yes?”

Shane would normally be more annoyed by that haughty satisfaction if he wasn’t the one reaping all the benefits of Ilya’s clearly undeniable skill right now.

They’d talked about that before – that Ilya had hooked up with his coach’s son in Russia. That Ilya definitely knew what he was doing when it came to anal sex. All sex, really. Ilya had kind of a reputation and Shane definitely didn’t, but right now he was feeling all the feelings and Ilya was so fucking good at this.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, trying to keep the whimpers inside. Ilya was having none of that. He pulled his hand off Shane’s cock. “No, no, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck. Please,” Shane panted. He needed Ilya to keep touching him. He needed—

Ilya went back to thumbing his slit. Shane felt all the muscles in his legs tense. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, Rozanov stop.”

Ilya immediately stilled, hand leaving Shane’s cock, fingers slipping from his body. Shane let out a heavy breath.

Ilya was looking at him in concern. “Ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah…very ok. Too ok.”

“Ah.”

Ilya lazily stroked his own cock while Shane gripped his at the base. Fuck this was good. He had expected it to be – everything with Ilya always was – but it was also a lot. Ilya was a lot. His cock was going to be so fucking much…

“Relax.” Ilya drifted a hand up Shane’s side, broad palm settling over his chest where his heart was beating too fast. “I’ll go slow.”

“Yeah. Yeah ok.”

Ilya nodded, grabbing the lube and condoms to get himself ready, then he returned his attention to Shane. Ilya crawled up the bed, hovering over him. Shane wrapped his legs around his waist, Ilya’s cock brushing against his as their hips settled together again.

Ilya kissed him. “Ready?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Then Shane felt the blunt head of Ilya’s too-large cock at his entrance. Ilya kissed him one more time before he could think too much about it, pushing in slow and careful. Shane’s whole body trembled anyway.

There was a slight pinch, a stretch, and then Ilya was sinking inside of Shane. The pressure was the most overwhelming part, Shane suddenly impossibly full. He was almost worried Ilya wouldn’t be able to move once he was all the way in but the Russian on top of him paused before he got there.

“Is ok?”

Shane nodded, forcing himself to take a breath.

Ilya pulled almost all the way out, then pushed in a little deeper on the next thrust.

“Fuck,” Shane gasped. “Wow.”

Ilya didn’t even laugh, instead letting out a strained breath as he repeated the motion. And again.

One of his big hands grasped Shane by the hip, fingers digging into skin to drag him up a little and…

He hit Shane’s prostate on the next thrust.

“Holy shit, Ilya!”

“There?” Ilya gave another thrust. Shane’s entire body lit up with sensation.

“Fuck. Rozanov.” Ilya set a rhythm, cock dragging against Shane’s prostate on every thrust. “God, yes! Keep doing that, fuck.”

“I will. Don’t fucking worry.”

Ilya was panting above him, his cross necklace dangling in Shane’s face, right between the curve of his pecs. Fuck he was hot. The whole thing was so, so fucking hot.

Shane started to roll his hips with Ilya’s movements, unable to help himself.

“Yeah?” Ilya noticed the movement, hips working a little harder. “Is good?”

“So good. Fuck, don’t stop.”

The sound of their skin slapping filled the room, accompanied by their heavy breathing. Ilya was staring down at him, looking Shane right in the eye and for once in his life, he didn’t feel the urge to look away. Shane was lost in Ilya’s baby blues and the pleasure that was running through his entire body. Both of Ilya’s hands were gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks, thumbs hooked into his hip bones for leverage as he pulled Shane onto his cock with every thrust.

Shane was making little punched-out moans that he would’ve found embarrassing if everything didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya groaned as his hips sped up again. “Touch yourself.”

Shane got a hand around his cock. He was going to cum all over himself.

Ilya’s hips stuttered in their rhythm, growing frantic. Shane’s hand stripped his cock, every muscle in his body tensing.

“Fuck, Ilya!” Shane came so hard that cum landed on his chin. He was so dazed he almost didn’t register when Ilya tensed, gritting out Shane’s name as his hips stilled. He was vaguely of the warmth inside him, or at least, inside the condom.

Then, to Shane’s dismay, Ilya flopped down on top of him, smearing cum into both their chests.

“Now we’re both dirty,” Shane whined.

Ilya buried his face in Shane’s neck, mumbling “Shut up,” as he placed a kiss there. Shane closed his eyes, enjoying the weight of Ilya on top of him as his cock softened.

They were barely even finished but Shane already couldn’t wait to do that again. He was starting to understand the hype about sex. Especially sex with Ilya Rozanov.

Shane knew he was grinning at the ceiling, fingers carding through Ilya’s hair where his head lay on Shane’s chest. He could feel their heartbeats synching together as their breathing evened. Shane kind of never wanted to leave this moment.

But he was also kind of sticky, sweat and cum drying on his skin.

He must have made some sort of involuntary movement because Ilya pulled back, eyeing Shane’s spend on their chests with a little chuckle.

He gave Shane a peck on the lips. “Stay here, I will be back.”

Shane fully ogled Ilya’s ass as he walked away. That was one hell of a first time, even if they had done other stuff before. Shane recalled his reluctance to make their friendship physical when they first met, worried that they wouldn’t be able to stop if they started. He was so glad they’d gone through with it anyway. He was never going to get enough of this.

Ilya returned with a wet towel which he tossed at Shane to wipe his stomach. Shane rolled his eyes when he caught it, cleaning himself up before chucking it back at Ilya…who unceremoniously dropped it on Shane’s bedroom floor.

“The hamper is right—”

Ilya flopped back on top of Shane, uncaring of his hygiene habits. Shane groaned a little in mock-protest, but Ilya started kissing his neck again, and then his jaw, and then his forehead, and both cheeks, and all his freckles until they were both laughing into each other’s mouths.

Ilya pulled back to look down at him, his whole face shining. He paused for a moment, something behind his eyes a little funny.

“What?” Shane asked, self-conscious.

“Is this ‘Cottage Shane’?”

Shane rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Fuck off.”

“Hmm, no.” Ilya’s whole face split in a grin. “I like him.” He trailed a finger up Shane’s chest to hook under his chin again. He waggled his eyebrows. “Cottage Shane.”

Shane let out a little puff of air as Ilya kissed him.

“He is fun. Not like Normal Shane.”

“What? Normal Shane is fun!”

“Hmm, no, he is boring.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did that but if you want to go again…”

Instead of a pillow, Shane smothered him with a kiss.

---

Turns out Ilya was very bad at euchre. Or maybe Yuna Hollander was just too good at euchre. He and Shane were losing. Badly.

Yuna added another two points to her and David’s cards as they won another round. Because Ilya had picked the suit and yet the Hollander parents had won anyway. He should not have done that.

Shane was glaring at him for it from across the table.

“You’re probably gonna have to go alone and euchre us if you want enough points to win,” Yuna bragged. Ilya was a little taken aback by Shane’s mother’s ability (and enthusiasm) to trash talk, but he realized he probably shouldn’t be. She had raised Shane after all.

“We can still get it back,” Shane grumbled as David dealt another hand. He gave his partner a stern look. “Right Ilya?”

Ilya looked at his new cards. “Right.” Total fucking lie, they didn’t stand a chance. His cards were shit.

“Pass,” Shane said when asked to pick the suit.

Yuna took one glance at her own hand, declared, “Clubs. I’m going alone,” and Shane groaned as David folded his cards on the table with a chuckle.

Ilya tried to console Shane. “Maybe she’s bluffing?”

Shane played his first card. Yuna dropped the jack of clubs.

Shane stared at Ilya like he should’ve known better. “She’s never bluffing.”

Yuna won the hand. And the game.

“Should we play again?” she asked.

“No,” grumbled Shane. Ilya couldn’t help his little laugh. Shane was so competitive about everything. Not that Ilya wasn’t as well. They’d played soccer all afternoon on the lawn, Ilya mostly keeping the ball away from Shane just to watch him get frustrated. It had resulted in Shane pushing him up against a wall when they’d come in for a snack, which Ilya took full advantage of in mutual blowjobs.

He’d probably be in a worse mood about losing if he hadn’t gotten laid today. But since he had…

“How about ice cream?” David suggested to lighten the blow of their complete and utter failure.

“Yes please,” said Ilya.

“That’s too much sugar,” whined Shane.

“It’s the off season – you can eat your feelings,” teased Yuna.

Shane glared at his mother for a second before caving. “Fine.” Then, slightly quieter, “I want chocolate.”

“Me too please,” said Iya.

“Such wonderful manners.” Yuna beamed at Ilya before glaring at her son.

Shane rolled his eyes. “I’ll have chocolate please.”

Yuna returned with the ice cream and Ilya happily tucked into his chocolatey goodness. Shane sulked a little, but even he couldn’t resist the healing powers of chocolate and started to perk back up. Enough that he joined back in the conversations about the time David accidentally dumped Yuna’s dad out of the canoe (totally his fault), and the time Shane had done the same to David (he claimed that was an accident even if David disagreed).

The Hollanders were nice to talk to. They had funny stories and Ilya was learning much more about Shane than he thought he would. Turns out the boy hadn’t always been so uptight, but rather a chaotic kid, one that his parents struggled to wrangle in the early years, especially with the freedom of the cottage (except he’d refused to get dirty, even as a child. Yuna always had to carry double packs of wet wipes in case Shane felt sticky, a true plight for a child).

The Hollanders were also curious, asking Ilya about his own childhood. He kept the details vague, light stories about roughhousing with his brother that skirted around the real extent of their violence. Avoiding talking about his father as much as he could. Mostly he talked about his favourite places in Moscow; restaurants he’d frequented with his team after games, playing in the woods behind his house, walking along the river.

It was nice to talk about his home without the weight of expectations, but most of all, it was nice to talk about his mother. Ilya hadn’t done that in a long time. He told the Hollanders about gardening with her in the summer and cooking together in the winter. He talked about how lovely she was and beautiful, and Yuna made a comment about how Ilya must look like her which made him fight back tears. Shane quickly brought the conversation back to food at his slight distress, but Ilya was grateful for the sentiment – to have someone look at him and still see his mother even without ever meeting her.

And of course, by the end of the night, the topic turned to hockey. Ilya loved learning about Shane’s early years in the sport (even if Shane seemed less thrilled to share this information). Yuna started talking about how small Shane looked in all the gear and then David was jumping up from the table in excitement, returning with a scrapbook. He flipped it open to pages and pages of old photographs taken with various types of cameras, everything from digitals printed on the home computer to disposable films developed at the local department store. The Hollander parents showed Ilya every single one beaming: Shane as a toddler not even big enough for his skates (Yuna had apparently already known he was a prodigy by then), the year Shane was accepted to a prestigious hockey program, his junior teams hoisting trophies, Shane with his first C, him receiving his team Canada jersey for the Prospect’s Cup. It was like a treasure trove of Shane and his family’s love for him. Their pride.

Shane blushed through the whole thing. Ilya snuck a hand under the table to squeeze his knee.

There were things besides hockey too: pictures of Shane at the cottage, canoeing with his dad, his mom holding him as a chubby little baby on her knee and an oversized yellow sunhat on his head, the whole family curled up under blankets as they watched fireworks. One of Ilya’s favourites was a maybe six-year-old Shane holding a frog in his hands, his own face replicating the amphibian’s silly grin (Yuna added a funny anecdote about having to thoroughly clean Shane’s hands of ‘frog juice’ after he set the creature free and Shane found out in this moment that the frog had totally peed on him, much to Ilya’s joy at Shane’s disgust).

He kept flipping through photos, making fun of Shane’s baby face and his questionable haircuts (like all other Canadian boys, he had a hockey flow phase in his early teens. What Ilya wouldn’t give to have seen that). But out of all the fun and cuteness of the photos, one thing was clear; Shane truly loved hockey more than anything. It had been his life since he’d been old enough to walk. It was the one thing he’d clung to over all these years. It meant the world to him.

Ilya flipped to the end, eyes alighting on a different photo; a much younger David in his early twenties done up in full gear, face flushed and grinning with a team of guys on the ice.

That peaked Ilya’s interest. “You played hockey?”

“Yeah, he played for McGill,” said Shane proudly.

Ilya raised a very skeptical eyebrow. “What is McGill? Is it a town?”

Shane laughed. “No, it’s a really good school.”

“They were U Cup winners all four years he played,” said Yuna, mirroring Shane’s pride. David blushed at the praise, making him look remarkably like Shane. Shane might have gotten most of his looks from his mother, but Ilya was quickly learning that most of his mannerisms came from David.

Ilya regarded the man with new interest. “You did not want to play professionally?”

“Oh no,” said David, still blushing. “I was never that good—

“You carried that team—” cut in Yuna.

“I was on the second line,” David said good-naturedly.

“You scored the game-winning goal—"

“One time.”

“Come on, dad, you know you were good,” said Shane.

“Fine, I was pretty good,” David acquiesced with a little smile. He turned that smile to Ilya, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Hockey was never my dream. That was this one.” He pointed at Shane. Normally Ilya would’ve taken that to mean hockey was Shane’s dream, not David’s, but something about the way Shane ducked his head to hide his own blush said otherwise.

“I always wanted a family,” David continued. “I like the simple things. Just all of us together out here, a cold beer, and fish for dinner.” The remnants of said dinner were sitting deliciously in Ilya’s stomach, along with some barbecue chicken since said fish had been barely a foot long.

Ilya looked out the window at the lake. The sun was just starting to set, lighting up the sky in a pale pink. He could see their beach towels drying on the deck railing and birds pecking at the feeder. It was nice, peaceful.

He looked back at the table with their finished bowls of ice cream and the people Shane loved most. He tried to imagine what this kind of life would be like – David’s dream. No hockey, no roaring crowds, no spotlight. A quiet life. A private one. A family.

Somehow the Hollanders made that not seem so bad.

---

Shane woke up to a steady heartbeat thumping against his cheek. He was warm. The sun was shining through the bedroom window, casting a radiant glow over golden blond curls and blue eyes that were already blinking awake.

He couldn’t help but smile at Ilya. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Ilya responded. His voice was gravelly from sleep. He ran a hand through Shane’s messy hair, looking at him with something in his eyes. Then he said, so earnestly, “I like you.”

Shane’s response was automatic. “I like you too.” And he really, really meant that.

Ilya’s hand cupped his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss. Shane cringed a little at the sleep breath, feeling the need to brush his own teeth too, but that would mean leaving the warm bed and Ilya’s warm embrace and Shane wasn’t quite ready to start the day yet. He felt sleepy in the way too much sun and water did to a person, his body comfortably warn out and groggy like he was waking from hibernation. That, coupled with their activities from yesterday and another late night laughing with his family, Shane’s heart was so full it felt a little like it might beat out of his chest.

Or that might be from the way Ilya was kissing him – slow and sweet, tongue sweeping into his mouth in a way that was both possessive and tender. Shane shifted, their legs slotting together. He could feel Ilya’s hardness against his thigh. Felt his own pressing into Ilya’s hip. He rolled his hips forward with a groan.

Ilya moaned into the kiss, following the movement of Shane’s body to match his pace. It felt good to move like this – no talking, no urgency, just little shifts that made pleasure settle low in his stomach as his body slowly woke up for the day.

“How am I going to go a whole summer without this?” Shane mumbled against Ilya’s lips.

He hummed sleepily, lazily tracing his tongue over Shane’s. “Will go by fast. I’ll see you next season.”

“Do you think our first game will be in Montreal or Boston?”

Ilya groaned. “I don’t know Hollander.” He rolled overtop of Shane, still kissing him.

Shane’s hands started a gentle exploration of Ilya’s muscled torso as his mind drifted, thinking about Ilya’s next visit to Montreal. Hopefully in October. It would be nice then, the trees turning red. They could grab hot drinks at Shane’s favourite café…Ooh!

“Maybe you could meet Hayden?” Hayden Pike was the left winger on Shane’s line on the Metros. Shane was supposed to go to his wedding this summer.

It would be nice for him and Ilya to meet – Shane’s two best friends. Or, Shane’s best friend and his…whatever was more than a best friend?

Ilya groaned again, kisses going from Shane’s lips to his neck.

“And I could meet your friends in Boston,” Shane continued.

Ilya scoffed. “You want to meet Svetlana?”

“Who’s Svetlana?”

“She is friend from Russia. Lives in Boston now. I’ve known her long time.”

“Oh…” Shane wondered if she was pretty. She sounded pretty. Svetlana. If she was friends with Ilya then she probably was pretty. Shane wondered if her and Ilya had ever…

Ilya’s kisses started to trail from Shane’s neck down his chest.

Shane stared at the ceiling. “What kind of friend is she?”

Ilya scrapped his teeth over Shane’s nipple. He arched on a gasp. It still didn’t deter his questions.

“Are you friends with her like you’re friends with me?” Are you also whatever was more than best friends?

Ilya pulled back with an eyeroll. “Hollander, where is this coming from?” So the answer to that was undoubtedly yes.

“I’m just curious about your friends.” Ilya gave him a deadpan look. Shane stared back.

Ilya sighed. “I do not know when you can meet her. She goes to Moscow in summer. I do not know when she returns to Boston.”

Oh. “You’ll be in Moscow together?”

“Yes. We grew up together. Her dad is famous goalie.”

So they were childhood friends. Ilya had known this Svetlana a lot longer than he’d known Shane.

Ilya captured Shane’s lips in another kiss before he could worry about that, banishing all thoughts from his head.

Ilya started up that roll of his hips again and pleasure zinged up Shane’s spine. He settled heavily into the mattress, limbs going lax as Ilya’s long fingers traced up his ribs and over his shoulders. He guided Shane’s hands above his head until he had both wrists collapsed in one hand.

Shane sighed, trying to arch up as Ilya held him down, not giving him an inch.

Shane could really get used to this – waking up with Ilya, letting him take him apart as their first act of the day. Or just being close together. Being warm and safe and comfortable and feeling so, so good—

“Shane?” his mother’s voice called from the top of the stairs.

Shane immediately stopped moving – his hips halted their rutting against Ilya’s thigh, his lips pulled away as he propped himself up. He stared down at the Russian in his bed with panicked eyes as both their heartrates picked up rapidly.

“Shane?” Yuna’s voice was closer now, just outside the door. Shane was still frozen in bed. Should he get up? Put his clothes on? Maybe he could hide Ilya in his closet? Or no – that would be terribly metaphorical.

“Y-Yeah?” Shane called, voice cracking. Ilya shifted beneath him, getting out of bed as they both tried to come up with a place for him to hide. If Shane wasn’t so panicked, he might’ve found it comical – the both of them frantically searching his room in nothing but their underwear.

The door handle twisted. Shane looked frantically between the brass knob and the practically naked boy in his room.

“Are you ok?” Yuna asked as she swung the door open. Ilya immediately dropped below the other side of the bed before Yuna could see, her eyes instead finding Shane tangled in the sheets. She raised a concerned (unimpressed?) eyebrow. “Are you not up yet? It’s almost noon.”

“Um, yeah.” Shane felt like his heart was beating out of his chest for very different reasons from moments ago. “Dad said we could sleep in.”

Yuna huffed. “I guess it’s summer…I was going to run to the store to pick up some last-minute things for Canada Day. Is there anything you want to add to the list?”

Groceries were the last thing on Shane’s mind right now. “Um, no – I don’t know – maybe. I-I’ll think about it.”

“Well think fast, I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

“O-Ok.”

Yuna started to head for the door. “I’ll go ask Ilya if he’s got stuff to add. Maybe we can try one of his Russian recipes. Don’t think he’s up yet either—"

“No!”

Yuna swung back around to Shane, eyes even more skeptical now.

“I-I mean, h-he’s probably still sleeping. I don’t want to wake him up early on vacation.”

Yuna stared. “It’s noon.”

Shane gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug (it wasn’t). “He likes to sleep.”

Yuna eyed her son. “Well I don’t know what to get for him…”

“I-I’ll come with you. To the store,” Shane offered.

Yuna raised another eyebrow. “Really?”

Shane shrugged again. “I know what he likes. I’ll just pick up that stuff.”

Yuna stared for a moment longer before she acquiesced. “Fine, but I’m still leaving in ten minutes. Holiday shopping is already a nightmare.”

And didn’t Shane know it. He was already regretting volunteering for the task. But he really needed his mom to leave so… “I’ll be up in five.”

Yuna nodded, heading for the door again (hopefully to go back upstairs this time). “And tell Ilya he needs to get up soon. Your dad wants to get the boat out.”

Right. Fishing.

Shane stared longingly at his rumpled bedsheets, the warmth of their bodies completely dissipated now.

Yuna shut his door (small mercies) but Shane still held his breath until he heard her footsteps reach the top of the stairs. He let out a great big sigh, falling back against the pillows as the adrenaline drained from his system.

Then came the laughing from the floor.

“Shut up,” Shane groaned, throwing and arm over his rapidly-heating face.

Ilya continued laughing. “You make me seem like monster to your mother. She thinks you would rather shop for holiday groceries than wake me up.”

“Better than me accidentally coming out by her catching us in bed together.” But Shane couldn’t help his own laugh at the absurdity of it all. It probably wouldn’t’ve even been that bad if Yuna had caught them. Sure, Shane might get a talk about safe sex and possibly lying to his parents, but it wasn’t like the guy thing would be the biggest deal…right?

“Could’ve been worse,” said Ilya. “We could’ve been naked. Or I could’ve been inside of—"

“Fuck off.” Shane threw a pillow at his head.

---

Ilya was patiently waiting to understand the hype about fishing. David seemed to be enjoying it. Or at least, Ilya thought he was. The man was rather quiet, sprawled across one of the boat’s couches, reading a magazine, occasionally glancing at his rod in the holder as they slowly bobbed down the lake, the engine off while they trolled with the current.

Ilya himself was lounging on the opposite couch, eyes scanning the tree line for anything interesting, like a bird, or a squirrel, or he’d even take a cool bug at this point, because there were definitely no fish. He’d long ago given up on watching his bobber, hoping for it to tip over with the nibble of his worm.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to Shane. Waking up together this morning after everything that happened yesterday felt different. Warmer. Softer. It made Ilya want to wake up like that every day, cradled in the warmth of Shane’s body, the soft puff of his breath against his neck, the slow blinking of his eyes before the corners crinkled as they alit on Ilya as the first thing he saw that day.

He was already trying to think of ways to get Shane alone again. Sex with him hadn’t been like any of the sex Ilya had had before. That too was softer. There was no rushing, no unfamiliarity, no overwhelming lust of a casual hookup. Well, there was definitely lust, but Ilya had felt that come over him slowly, pumping through his veins all syrupy and smooth with every beat of his unsteady heart. It didn’t cloud his vision or rush him to the finish line. If anything, it sharpened his senses, attuning him to Shane until their breathing and bodies became one.

It was addicting. More so than the addiction he’d already developed for Shane’s attention.

Yesterday had undoubtedly been the best day of Ilya’s entire life. This whole week had been really, and he knew that today was going to be more of the same. He was really looking forward to it.

If only they could catch a fish.

“What are you reading?” Ilya asked David, just for the sake of starting conversation. He’d been excited about connecting with Shane’s dad on their little excursion, but there hadn’t seemed to be much of that yet.

David made a humming sound then held up his magazine. “An article about people moving out of the cities for the suburbs.”

Ilya craned his head to see the cover. It showed an illustration of a woman and man walking two dogs that looked remarkably like their owners. At the top in big capital letters was “THE NEW YORKER.”

“Ah. Is it interesting?”

“I guess. Makes some good points about privacy and community. Says everyone’s trying to get the quiet life – good for raising families. But they’re saying the city is better for environmental planning.”

Ilya did not know anything about urban planning, let alone the environmental aspects of it. He also did not think that qualified as interesting, but David seemed to like it.

“You live in a city though, yes? Ottawa?” he asked, just to keep the conversation going.

David shrugged. “Ottawa’s more like a big suburb than a city. Nothing like Manhattan.”

“Ah,” Ilya pretended like he was following. “I like Manhattan.”

David laughed. Ilya wasn’t sure when he’d said a joke. “I bet you do. Gotta be a nice place for young folks like you kids. Bet the boys get up to some crazy shit when you win there.”

Ilya had won there – the Raiders beat the Admirals 4-2 in their last away game. And David was right, the celebration after had been…wild. But he definitely wasn’t going to tell Shane’s dad about that.

Seeming to sense that, David asked another question. “Did you grow up in the suburbs?”

“Oh uh, no.” Ilya had grown up in what most people would describe as luxury. A big house with thick heavy drapery and antique wood furniture. They’d lived in a gated community with large gardens. His house had a view of a river and huge old-growth trees outside.

But it was also dark, those heavy curtains blocking out the summer sun and making the long winters feel greyer. The gates isolated Ilya from the neighbourhoods where other children played in the street. It had been lonely, but he’d had Svetlana sometimes, and his mother for a while, and hockey, which was a way to get out of the house and away from his father.

He should be grateful that he’d grown up with enough money and food. Enough opportunity to have led him to living in Boston. But there was a pit in his stomach at the thought of returning to that house.

Ilya didn’t know how to say all that in English, so he just left it there. He wasn’t doing a good job of this whole ‘connecting with Shane’s dad’ thing.

David took the silence in stride. “I did. Spent my whole life in suburban neighbourhoods. Never even lived in an apartment.”

“Not even when you were younger? My age?” Ilya tried to imagine buying a house when he moved to Boston – having to take care of it on top of his rookie season, the lawn, and the maintenance, and the isolation from the rest of the city. No, he much preferred his apartment right downtown (easier to get home from the club at 4 am).

Plus, Svetlana was there. Ilya liked having a Russian friend in the city. He hadn’t expected Shane to express an interest in his life in Boston, let alone his friends, especially Svetlana. She was a special friend, like Shane. Well, not like Shane anymore – they hadn’t slept together since Ilya went to Allstars. He’d only hooked up with random girls since then and only when he was really lonely. The rest of the time he texted Shane, preferring to tease him over the phone (Ilya could practically see him blushing just from a couple texts, Shane was always so easy to rile up).

He’d see Svetlana again when he arrived in Moscow and was probably going to have to let her down easy when she undoubtedly made a move (Ilya was truly too hard to resist). After this week with Shane – falling asleep together, and waking up together, and having Shane’s attention on him all the time…Ilya was trying to figure out a way to get more of that. Maybe they could see each other more during the season?

“Nah, my place in college was a verifiable frat house,” said David. Right. Ilya was in the middle of trying to make a good impression on Shane’s dad. “Six guys, one house. Place was kind of a dump but we were all too busy at the rink to worry about what our bedrooms looked like. I’m sure you get it.”

Ilya did get it. Many of the guys back in Russia would strew their stuff all over the locker room, and the hotel rooms, and the buses. Not Ilya. His father didn’t stand for any type of mess. Ilya learned that lesson quickly and young.

It was hard to picture the man sitting across from him – the one that worked for the Treasury Board of Canada and spent his weekends fishing – living in such a state, let alone what could be described as a ‘frat house.’ Maybe there was more to David Hollander than met the eye. Ilya had certainly discovered that about Shane – that underneath the stoic ‘golden boy’ exterior, there was the soft part, and the snarky part, and the endearingly funny part (that was Ilya’s favourite).

David shrugged again. “But that’s part of the whole hockey life thing. God knows Shane’s been around a lot of those frat types over the years, and I know you have too.” He looked at Ilya over the rim of his sunglasses, eyes a little sharp.

Ilya had never really worried what the media said about him. He didn’t have anyone in Boston who cared what he did off the ice and if his family ever commented about his exploits in the tabloids, then Ilya just shrugged it off. He didn’t care what his father thought of him (lie) and he didn’t give two shits if his behaviour had repercussions on his family in Russia (also a lie, even if he didn’t want it to be).

But David…Ilya was kind of hoping he could gain the man’s respect. He wanted to be liked by him.

“Look, I don’t know what you and Shane get up to in your free time,” said David. Ilya swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know where this was going. “But as long as you’re not getting him into any trouble—”

“No. No trouble. Definitely not.”

David nodded. “Good.” Then he really looked at Ilya. “You’re a good kid. I want you to know you’re welcome here anytime. No matter what.”

Ilya had trouble swallowing this time, his throat a little choked up. But he still managed to get out a quiet, “Thank you. I have had a good time this week.”

David grinned. “Good. I’ve gotta say it’s nice to have another young person around here. You’ve really brought Shane out of his shell.” Ilya was a little surprised by the change in demeanor, David once again perking up to talk about his son. “Shane’s always been a bit of an introverted kid, so Yuna and I appreciate you making him be a bit more social.”

“Even though that might cause trouble?”

David raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you two were staying out of trouble?”

Right.

David dropped the eyebrow with a smile. “I’m just kidding, I’m sure you two have gotten up to some crazy shit that I don’t want to know about. And as long as it stays out of the papers, we don’t have to worry about it.”

“Yes sir.”

“And as long as my son doesn’t come home crying about you, then we don’t have to talk about it. Deal?” There was something behind what he said there. Something that gave Ilya pause. Wait. Did David know?

Ilya fought past the lump in his throat. “Ok.”

“Good.” David picked up his magazine again, going back to his article.

Ilya stared for a second before letting his eyes drift back to the lake. There was no way David knew about them – the real truth about Shane and Ilya’s relationship. Because if David knew, then Yuna definitely knew and Ilya felt like he would’ve caught on if Shane’s mom thought he was fucking her son. Right?

But maybe they’d done a worse job of hiding it that morning than they’d thought—

A tug on his rod.

“Oh shit!” Ilya had forgotten why they were out on this boring ass boat. He jumped up, grabbing his rod from the holster in a panic. “What do I do? What do I do?!”

David dropped his magazine, coming over to Ilya’s side, the boat rocking beneath them. “You’ve gotta reel it in!”

Ilya grabbed the handle and started rapidly turning. He could feel resistance as it did – a fish. There was a fish on his line!

David placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good, that’s good. Just reel it in nice and gentle, you don’t want it jumping off.”

“It can jump off?!” Ilya was a little more worried about losing his fish now.

“Well, it could spit the hook out.”

“Spit it out?!”

“Don’t worry, you’ve got this, just keep reeling. I’ll grab the net.”

David stepped away as Ilya kept turning the crank. He tried not to panic at being left alone with this very important task. He could see his line cutting through the water and then a flash of silver and a little puddle at the surface.

“I see it!”

David came back with the net, eyeing the end of Ilya’s line as another flash of silver streaked through the water.

“Alright, nice and gentle now. Lift your rod up more – there you go. Just got to get him close enough to…” David swiped the net through the water, scooping the fish up. Ilya backed away, gripping the rod with both hands as David hefted the fish into the boat.

He’d done it! He couldn’t believe it. He’d caught…

Ilya frowned as David held up a shimmering silver fish that was barely longer than Ilya’s cock. He couldn’t help the disappointment on his face. “It is a little small.”

David shrugged with a smile. “It’s big enough to eat.”

“It is?” Ilya wondered how many fish sticks the little guy would make. Two? A two-bite fish.

“Just a sec.” David puttered around the boat, slipping a glove with rubber grips on his hand. David wrapped long fingers around the wriggling fish while Ilya peered closer. David unhooked it from the line with pliers, then hooked it up to a small handle, which he squinted at before announcing, “7.1 pounds. Good enough to take home.”

He shot Ilya another one of those wide smiles. Then he suddenly turned held the wriggling thing out, waving the fishy face in front of Ilya’s nose. “Wanna give him a kiss?”

Ilya jumped back again. “No way!”

David just laughed. He looked a lot like Shane when he did that, eyes crinkled, lips turned up. Ilya hadn’t noticed before, but Shane clearly got his smile from his father. His sense of humour too apparently.

“Alright, your turn to hold it.” David held out the fish still attached to the scale. It wriggled on the end, flinging slimy fish water all over Ilya’s shirt.

“Eugh!” He jumped back, the boat rocking.

David just laughed, shoving the fish more towards Ilya. “Come on, he’s not gonna bite ya. You can do it.”

Ilya reached out a hesitant hand for the line. The fish immediately wriggled as soon as it was in Ilya’s clutches, flinging more slime all over him.

“Hold it up!” David was still grinning as Ilya cringed, but he did as he was told, holding the fish far out in front of him as it twisted, hanging from a hook in its mouth.

David held up his phone. “Smile! This one’s going in the scrapbook.”

Ilya paused in shock, looking at David who was grinning as he snapped pictures of Ilya with his first ever fish. For their family scrapbook.

Ilya felt a genuine grin stretch across his face, wriggling slimy fish be damned.

He couldn’t wait to show Shane when they got back.

---

Shane was trying really hard not to stare at his mom as she drove. The radio was playing some sort of country station, but it was doing nothing to distract him from the thoughts rapidly running through his head.

She’d almost walked in on them that morning. Shane was still trying to calm down from the adrenaline rush, but laughing with Ilya while they’d gotten dressed had helped a little. So had the long kiss Ilya pulled him into before leaving his room (after Shane checked that the coast was clear, of course).

He’d left the other boy packing the boat with his father. Shane hoped that would go ok, but really, he knew the worst of what could happen would be Ilya getting bored. Hopefully they at least caught a fish for some excitement.

He wondered what they’d even talk about. It wasn’t like they had much in common – his dad worked for the Treasury and Ilya was a Russian Allstar professional hockey player coming off his rookie season. Ilya liked parties and cars and loud music, and David liked reading and numbers and sitting quietly in a boat.

Maybe they’d just talk about hockey? Or, God forbid, they’d talk about Shane. Actually, that would probably be the thing that could go wrong on their excursion. What if Shane’s dad told Ilya so many embarrassing stories about Shane that he no longer wanted to sleep with him? Sure, he said Shane was boring all the time, but could Ilya lose attraction to Shane by osmosis of his boring father?

Or worse, what if Ilya started telling David about Shane? What if he told his dad all the shit they got up to at parties? And what if that meant Ilya accidentally letting slip all the other stuff he did with Shane? Oh fuck, what if Shane’s dad found out about Shane sleeping with a boy from Ilya?

Would he be ok with it? Would he freak out? If David freaked out, then would Yuna freak out too? Shane didn’t think his parents were homophobic but what if that was different if it was their own son? Their son who played professional hockey so he definitely could never ever, ever come out.

“What?”

Shane started. Yuna was glancing between him and the road.

Oh. Seems like he’d been doing a bad job at not staring.

“Nothing,” he said a little too shrilly.

Yuna pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. Shane shifted in his seat.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Surely his mother would be fine with it, right? She wouldn’t freak out. And maybe if Shane told her instead of her accidentally walking in on her son kissing a boy while half-dressed, then maybe that would lessen the blow?

“I…” Shane tried to figure out how to say it. It wasn’t like he could just come out and say it, could he? Fuck. Why was this so hard?

Yuna was looking at him expectantly.

Shane chickened out. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Yuna stared for a moment longer then seemed to decide that there would be no cracking Shane right now. “Ok.”

She turned off the car. Took the keys out of the ignition. Grabbed her purse from the backseat.

Shane didn’t move.

Yuna opened her door.

“Wait.” Shane put a hand on his mom’s arm before she could get out. She turned back to her son, eyes a little concerned at how tense he surely was.

Shane couldn’t meet her gaze. “I have to tell you something.”

Yuna paused. Closed her door. Turned her full attention to Shane, face serious. “Ok.”

Ok. Shane was going to say it. He was finally going to say it. He could say it…

“So me and Ilya…”

“Yes?” Yuna prompted at his pause.

“We’re…” And now Shane was realizing the real problem with how to tell his mom about his relationship with Ilya was that he had no idea what that relationship even was. It wasn’t like he could tell his mom that Ilya was his friend that he occasionally hooked up with a couple times a year when they were in the same city.

But he was also hoping that might become more after this week. The last three days with Ilya had been amazing and Shane was already trying to figure out a way for them to see each other more during the season. If Ilya would want that. Would he want that? Or did he prefer being casual friends with Shane like he was casual ‘friends’ with other people in Boston?

Plus, there was the whole ‘them being professional hockey players who could never come out of the closet’ thing. That really put a damper on Shane’s hope for the future.

Whatever. That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was telling his mom so she wouldn’t walk in on him sucking Ilya’s dick or something more atrociously gay.

Shane swallowed. “We’re um, kind of…more than just friends.”

“Ok,” Yuna said calmly.

Shane looked at his mother, clocking her complete lack of surprise.

“Wait, did you…did you know?”

Yuna practically rolled her eyes. "Shane, you two sneak into each other's rooms every night. And let's not forget after the draft in Vegas when you showed up with a goddamn hickey on your neck to press in the morning—"

"That doesn't mean it was him!"

"Were you so drunk that you forgot I saw him take you up to your room? I know you didn't go home with a girl, Shane, so unless a ghost put that mark there or you got creative with a vacuum cleaner—"

"Ok, ok, I get it. You knew."

"Uh huh.”

Shane sat with that for a second. Then he asked, a little more quietly, “Does dad know?”

Yuna turned serious again. “He does. Or at least, we…suspected something…for a while.”

Ok. So they knew. His parents knew about him being…not straight? They knew about Ilya. They’d known about Ilya, or at least suspected. And they’d still let him come to the cottage.

“So…you’re ok with it?”

Now Yuna looked at her son in surprise. “Of course.”

Shane swallowed again. Ok. That was good. It was good. It was ok. He’d admitted it and nothing bad happened and it was all ok—

“Shane, look at me.” Shane made reluctant eye contact with his mom, trying to keep his heartrate from speeding up. She reached out a hand to cup his face. “Shane, of course we’re ok with it. All of it.”

He felt a sudden sting behind his eyes. Yuna noticed. She cupped the back of his neck, running comforting fingers through the hair sticking out from under his baseball cap, still looking him in the eye. “I am so proud of you.”

That was too much. Shane dropped the eye contact before the tears could spill over.

“Really. Shane, I am so proud of you. We both are – me and your dad.”

His voice wobbled a little as he said, “Thanks.”

Yuna lasted all of three more seconds before her curiosity won out. “So…what is the…situation…with you two?”

“Oh um, we’re uh…friends?” Wait. He just said they were more than friends. Shit. “We’re um…we’re not like dating but we’re not like, strictly friends cause we um…” Shane let the thought hang. He really didn’t want to tell his mother that he was hooking up with Ilya Rozanov.

She seemed to catch on anyway. “Ah…lovers.”

Shane immediately cringed. “Ew mom, no. Don’t say it like that.”

“Well, what do you call it?”

“Just not…that. It’s…early, ok? We haven’t like, defined anything yet. And besides, we live in different cities – we barely even see each other. And we’re hockey players so it’s not like we could ever be…”

“Be?”

“More…I don’t know.”

That made Yuna quiet.

“Would you want to be more?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” Shane didn’t want to think about this. And he certainly didn’t want to talk about it with his mom. “It doesn’t matter right now.”

“And if it did?” Count on Yuna to always be the one wanting to have a plan.

“It just…” What would that even look like, if him and Ilya were actually together-together? Would they try to come out? Surely not. There was no way that would go well for either of them. So they’d just have to…hide? Forever? Or at least as long as they played hockey.

That sounded kind of awful. Maybe it would be easier if they just stayed friends? Or friends-ish. Whatever they were doing right now. That way no one would get hurt.

Right?

“It doesn’t matter,” Shane reiterated. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He went to open his door. “Um, we should probably start shopping. There’ll be a line—"

“Hey.” It was his mom’s turn to stop him with a hand on his wrist. Shane looked back at her, feeling a little wrung out and raw. She regarded him with complete sincerity. “This doesn’t change anything. Ok?”

“Ok.” Then, because she really was the best, “Thanks mom.”

“I love you.”

Shane took a deep steadying breath. “I love you too.”

She let go of his wrist and they got out of the car. Shane stretched his back, taking off his cap to fluff out his hair and feel the midday sun warm on his face. He was trying to ignore how crowded the parking lot was, everyone getting their last-minute items for family barbecues and fireworks before tomorrow.

He felt a little lighter now. He’d come out to his mom and the world hadn’t ended. Ilya was out catching dinner with his dad and they were all going to spend the evening together outside at his cottage. And maybe Shane would hold Ilya’s hand this time as they watched the sunset.

Yeah. That sounded really nice.

“Woah, are you Shane Hollander?”

Shane turned immediately at the sound of his name, finding two teenage boys staring at him from across the parking aisle. One of them had a Metros cap on.

“Uh…yeah,” Shane admitted, seeing no way out of this. He put his cap back on. It was plain black, unassuming, designed to blend in. So much for that.

“Dude, wicked! Can we get a picture?”

Shane glanced at his mom. She nodded at him to play nice.

“Sure.”

He walked over to the boys, posing with a smile as one of them held up his phone.

“Could you, um, sign my hat?”

“Of course.” Shane glanced around nervously, hoping they weren’t drawing attention. He pulled his own cap lower on his head as one boy pulled out a pen.

Hat signed and picture taken, he went for his usual out: a friendly smile and, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Thanks so much dude! Good luck this season!” The boys bounded off back to their car, excitedly passing the hat between them.

Shane returned to his mother who was pulling a shopping cart out of the corral. He kept his shoulders hunched and hat low as they walked into the store.

---

Ilya expected to return to cheering glory – or at least minor cheering until they announced their single-catch fish – but instead Shane was rather quiet as he and Yuna pulled the boat in. He was avoiding Ilya’s gaze a little, eyes instead trailing to David as he tied off the rope.

Ilya wasn’t sure what happened in the hours he’d been gone so he tried to lighten the mood, excitedly showing Shane their haul (if a single fish even counted as such. It didn’t matter to Ilya though, the day still felt like a great success).

“Look, I caught a fish!” He was resisting the urge to grab Shane and kiss him in his excitement.

“That’s great, Ilya.” Shane hummed noncommittally. There was a thought behind his eyes, like he was bothered by something. Preoccupied.

Shane glanced at his dad again. Ilya was getting the sense that there was something else going on.

Yuna stepped in. “Ilya, why don’t you help me inside? I got the stuff to make those Russian meatballs from the recipe you gave me. We can have them for dinner with the fish.”

Ilya took one more glance at Shane. He was still looking nervously at his father. Ilya turned back to Yuna with a forced smile. “Ok.”

He left the fish with David to get cleaned on the dock, walking quietly up to the house, trying not to stare at Shane who was anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

Yuna set about taking food out the fridge, setting different items on the counter. Ilya saw everything he’d listed for the meatballs – ground beef, rice, onions, herbs, tomato sauce... She’d gotten all of it, just to try something that made Ilya feel like home.

Then she set a bag of fuzzy peaches candy on the counter and Ilya’s eyes lit up. “Oh these are my favourite.” He grinned gratefully at Yuna.

She gave him a knowing smile in return. “Yes, Shane said you were fond of them.”

That look gave Ilya pause; the way she was smiling, Shane said you were fond of them translating to Shane is fond of you.

Oh fuck. Did she know too?

Ilya felt instantly more on edge. Was he the one who’d given it away? Maybe it was how he looked at Shane? Draped himself over the other boy when they’d come in from swimming, pushing each other around on the beach? Or maybe she’d caught them cuddling on the couch while watching movies?

He hoped Shane wouldn’t be too upset by it. Ilya couldn’t help himself, he looked at Shane and his heartrate picked up, and Russians might not blush but Ilya was getting used to the feeling of heat in his cheeks and lips twitching up without him meaning to.

Yuna gestured to the candy. “You know that brand’s reached out a couple times to see if Shane wanted to collab. He’s always turned them down because he barely eats sugar, but I could forward them your name if you’re interested?”

Ilya looked at Yuna in surprise. He couldn’t, that was too much kindness. She’d already offered him so much just by having him here for the week. But he looked at the bag longingly thinking about a lifetime supply of fuzzy peaches...

“Who’s your manager?” asked Yuna.

“Oh uh…” Ilya’s manager was fine. He wasn’t good but he did alright. Nothing flashy like Rolex or Speedo but enough extra cash to pay the bills (or Alexei’s debts). Ilya had been with the same guy since he’d come to America with the Prospects team but he’d been thinking about looking for a change. But he didn’t want to say all that to Yuna so he settled on, “He is Russian.”

“Ah. You happy with him?” Yuna asked a little too casually.

Well since she asked… “Not really.”

“Why don’t you send me your info and I’ll see if I can hook something up with the candy for you?”

“You would do that?” Yuna offered her help so easily. Like it wouldn’t be a burden to take on another client, even for just one brand deal.

“Course.” Yuna moved on before he could overthink it, opening up the rice. “Now how do I start with this? Anything that needs to be combined first?”

Ilya tried to catch up. These Hollanders really did think quickly. “Uh you cook the rice first and then you throw it all together.”

“Sounds good.” She set a pot to fill with water, then tossed Ilya the onions. “Start chopping these, I’ll wash the rice.”

She puttered around the kitchen, falling into an easy practiced rhythm. Ilya busied himself with chopping. It had been a long time since he’d cooked with someone else in the kitchen. A long time since he’d cooked for anyone really. The last had been Shane during the season, or maybe once when Svetlana came over, but that usually ended with her bossing him around and doing most of it herself.

Ilya was trying not to get too distracted while chopping, but his eyes kept straying from the knife in his hand to Shane standing outside. David hadn’t even started cleaning their fish, opting to fully face his son for whatever conversation they were having. From the looks on both their faces, and the way Shane was avoiding eye contact, it was serious.

Serious enough that it was distracting Ilya from being alone with Shane’s mother, who’d come to stand next to him and was adding the meat and spices to the bowl (and looking damn fine while doing it).

“So how did you like fishing?” she asked conversationally. Ilya blinked, eyes focusing back on the knife that had stalled in its chopping.

Yuna gave him a little nudge. “You can be honest with me. I won’t tell David if you didn’t like it.”

Outside, David was putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. Ilya tried to shake off his distraction.

“No, no, it was good. Very exciting. At least when we caught fish.”

“So exciting once?”

“Um…” David was pulling Shane in for a hug. Were those tears in his eyes? In Shane’s?

Shane pulled away and gave his dad a small smile. Then he turned back for the house, leaving his father on the dock. Ilya watched him approach with growing anxiety, Shane wiping something from his eyes as he came in the door.

“Dad wants his knife kit for the fish.”

Yuna was eyeing her son suspiciously. When he finally met her eyes, he gave her a small smile and a single nod. Yuna let out a breath, giving him her own comforting smile back.

“He also wants a beer,” added Shane, eyes darting to Ilya who’d totally given up on chopping.

Yuna paused, looking between Shane and Ilya. Then she nodded. “I’ll take it to him.” She grabbed the knife kit and two beers from the fridge and went outside, pointedly leaving Shane alone with Ilya.

Ilya tried not to read too much into it. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been alone here before. They hung out alone all the time. Even if his parents knew…but maybe they didn’t and Ilya had been reading things wrong—

“I told my parents about us,” said Shane.

Oh.

Suddenly the way Yuna and David kept surreptitiously glancing at them through the patio windows made more sense.

“Us?”

Shane blushed. “Just that we’re, like, not strictly friends. I-I didn’t like, give them details or anything but I wanted them to know that we – well that I…I don’t know. But they know. About us.”

Us. Shane said ‘us.’ Ilya’s heartrate picked up again, that stupid un-Russian warmth rising to his cheeks.

“How did that go?” he asked cautiously.

Shane shrugged. “Fine. Good. It came up at the grocery store.”

That surprised Ilya. He really was learning so much about Shane this week. “You came out to your mother in a grocery store?”

“Well, it was in the car. Not like actually in the store or anything. I don’t know, after she almost walked in this morning it just seemed better if she heard it from me, you know?”

“Ok.”

“And she’s ok with it. Dad too. Sorry, I just wanted to talk to him when you guys got back.”

Guess that’s what that was about: us.

“Ok,” Ilya said again.

“So um, yeah. Just thought you should know.” Shane sidled up next to him so their shoulders were touching. “Do you want some help with that?”

Ilya glanced down at the knife in his hand, then the boy pressed to his side, then his parents still stealing glances at them through the glass.

He raised an eyebrow at Shane. “You want to help me make tefteli?”

Shane’s eyes dropped to Ilya’s lips. Then he too glanced at his parents. Yuna and David both rapidly spun around, backs to the glass, David pointing at a bird in a tree.

Shane laughed. Then he looked back at Ilya’s lips. Then he looked him in the eye, determination with the hint of a question there.

Oh.

Ilya put the knife down. Then he turned fully to Shane. Then he placed a hand deliberately on Shane’s waist.

Shane’s eyes dropped to his lips again with a little smile. “So did you actually like fishing with my dad?”

“Hmm, maybe not most of it. Was pretty boring without fish. But I had good company.”

“Even if he talks about boring stuff?”

“Ah, he’s not so boring. You have been holding out on me.”

“What?”

“You did not tell me you once screamed like little girl because you dropped live fish on your foot.”

Shane groaned. “Oh my God, he did not tell you about that.”

“Oh yes, fishing trip was very educational.”

“It was slimy!” Shane whined.

Ilya gave a gentle tug to Shane’s waist and the other boy fell into him until their lips touched. The kiss was sweet and warm and it made Ilya’s insides flutter. He felt Shane’s lips stretch into a grin against his, their kiss breaking because neither of them could stop smiling.

Shane let out a little laugh. “Well I’m glad you learned something.”

He stepped back, eyeing the ingredients strewn about the counter. Then he spotted the fuzzy peaches. “I see you found the new stash.”

“Yes.” Ilya didn’t move his hand from Shane’s waist. He glanced outside – Yuna and David were still very interested in the bird – then leaned in to whisper, “I think I sold my soul to your mother.”

Shane pulled back with a laugh. “What?”

“Something about brand deal. With unlimited supply of candy.”

“Great. Just what you need.”

“Yes, will make me very happy.”

“Oh I’m sure. You and your sweet tooth.” Shane kissed him again. Ilya was still smiling into it. “Insatiable.”

They eventually got back to cooking, Ilya showing Shane how to combine the rice gently with the meat so it didn’t get too tough. This was nice, cooking together, making something. Ilya was already thinking about the next time they could do this. Maybe he’d show Shane how to make pelmeni the next time he came over? Those were always better to make with more people.

Yuna came back inside to throw the fish in the oven. David stopped in for more drinks. Both times Shane’s entire face turned red and he avoided his parents’ knowing gazes as they watched the boys work together. Ilya thought it would make him more nervous to have them know, but instead he almost felt more comfortable, like this was how things were supposed to be. Either way, he was absolutely thrilled when Shane placed a deliberate hand on Ilya’s back, right in front of his mother as they set the table on the deck.

The Hollanders all made complimentary noises at Ilya’s cooking, even if he thought the tefteli turned out a little dry. It didn’t matter though, he was in too high of spirits to be bothered by anything right now. Today had been another absolutely perfect day.

Ilya couldn’t deny his rapidly developing feelings for Shane. Shane, who was so sweet and earnest and shockingly (addictively) enthusiastic in bed. Shane, who’d brought Ilya into his home with his family and made him feel like he belonged there. Shane, who chased away Ilya’s demons with freckle-strewn cheeks stretched in a smile.

He had that smile on his face right now. Shane was pressed warm at Ilya’s side as the evening cooled. Ilya had an arm on the back of Shane’s chair, Shane’s hand on his knee, neither of them caring about their audience. His eyes were light as they laughed with his parents, David showing everyone the photo of Ilya with his fish. That led to a story about Shane’s first time fishing, catching a monster salmon that was just as tall as him. Shane of course saw this as a competition that he’d won since Ilya’s fish really did only make two measly fish sticks (doesn’t matter, they were delicious) to which Ilya protested that wasn’t fair since Shane had caught the salmon on a bigger lake, one that actually had salmon, unlike the practically barren body of water Ilya had been forced to fish in. That of course led to much debate from Shane which was settled by David inviting Ilya out on a larger expedition next summer.

Next summer. The Hollanders were already making plans to have him over again next summer.

Ilya felt like his face might crack from smiling so much.

He excused himself, needing a little break from all the joy. “I need to use the restroom.” He placed a kiss on Shane’s head as he got up, the other boy leaning into it a little, and headed back into the house.

Business taken care of, Ilya stopped in the kitchen before he went back outside, grabbing another ginger ale for Shane and a coke for himself. He could see the Hollanders through the window, Yuna pointing to the sunset as Shane and David paused in their cleaning the table to watch. All of them had easy smiles on their faces, completely at peace here in this perfect place.

Ilya felt his face cracking again.

He walked through the kitchen seeing the remains of their cooking, but before he made it outside, his eyes caught on his phone. He’d left it on the counter, distracted by a very good view of Shane’s ass as he’d carried their dinner outside.

He really shouldn’t’ve picked it up. His heart dropped into his stomach as soon as he did. Three missed calls from his father, all made within the last hour. Before he could make a decision about calling back, his phone started ringing again.

He answered quickly, not wanting the noise to disturb the Hollanders outside.

“Papa?” he asked in Russian.

“Ilya? Ilya are you there?”

His father didn’t sound angry exactly, more frustrated. “Yes, I am here.”

“When are you coming home? Why are you not here?”

He glanced outside. He could see Shane building the fire for their smores tonight, Yuna standing with an arm around David as they watched the last of the sun disappear from the sky.

“I told you I needed to make a quick trip first. I will be home the day after tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“In two days, papa.”

“You should be here now.” Ilya was still trying to get a read on things. Normally his father would be shouting, but he didn’t sound angry. He mostly sounded—

“I need you to pick up some bread on your way home.”

Oh.

He was confused.

The dread from the MLH Awards that had been creeping up on him over his impending return to Russia slammed into Ilya at full force.

“Papa, where is Alexei?” Ilya tried to keep his voice gentle, but he could feel his frustration mounting at his brother.

“What?”

“Alexei? Where is your son.”

“He is not here. My son is very far away from home. Ilya has left us.”

He felt a sting behind his eyes. “Papa, I am Ilya. I will be home in two days.”

“You are coming home?” There was an aching type of hope in his voice.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ok.”

“Ok? I will be home soon.” Even if he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to deal with any of this. He wanted to stay here, in the sun with Shane, curled up in the warmth of his bed at night. He didn’t want to go back to that cold dark house.

But reality could not stay this kind to him forever.

Grigori didn’t say anything else so Ilya just said, “Goodnight papa.”

“Goodnight,” Grigori grunted and then hung up the phone.

Ilya was left staring at the screen. His father was right; he’d left. He’d abandoned them and Grigori needed him and the worst part about it was how glad he was to have done it. Ilya hated his home. He did not want to stay there. Leaving had been the best thing he’d ever done.

When he was a child, he used to love the summer for the beauty of the world outside coming alive. He loved the sun and the flowers in his mother’s garden. But now he’d come to dread the season because it meant the end of hockey, which meant he needed to show face at home or succumb to the wrath of his family. He knew as he got more rich and famous in America that it would only get worse; the government getting involved with his public image, his own reputation being used to bolster his father’s.

He was supposed to be grateful to be of use to his family, but being used didn’t fill him with pride like it did as a teenager. Not when he understood how tentatively that reputation was hanging on to thinly veiled secrets.

But he would go. For his family, he would return to Russia.

He tried calling Alexei. No answer.

“Motherfucker.”

Ilya typed out an angry text.

To Alexei: Father needs help

To Alexei: You are supposed to be with him

It took a minute, but the reply came through.

From Alexei: I am busy

To Alexei: He called me

To Alexei: He asked me to pick up bread on the way home?

From Alexei: It’s fine. He’s fine

To Alexei: You should check on him

From Alexei: I will later

To Alexei: He needs help

Ilya looked outside again. Shane had settled back on the couch and his mother was laying a blanket over his shoulders. He looked so soft like that, lit by the fire, hair fluffed up from another day of running in and out of the lake. Ilya wanted to curl up next to him, see if he could share the blanket. Or maybe Yuna would drape one over his shoulders too.

From Alexei: Then you should come home and help him

From Alexei: Now fuck off I’m busy

But that wouldn’t last. Ilya had too much…baggage. He didn’t come from a family where his dad made cocoa and took him fishing and his mom…was still here to love him. They didn’t play cards, or sleep in, or laugh around the dinner table.

The Rozanovs worked and schemed and lived angry little lives until they ended, and Ilya fell into that too easily whenever he returned home. He was no better than the rest of them.

It became all too clear that whatever he was beginning to feel for this boy didn’t matter. Not if he wanted Shane to stay as sweet and optimistic as his parents had raised him to be.

Ilya didn’t want any of his own upbringing – his bad habits – to touch Shane. He would make sure they didn’t.

But he wasn’t ready to give it up yet.

Ilya turned off his phone, set it on the table, and plastered a smile on his face as he went back outside. Two nights. He could have this for two more nights.

---

Shane was going to miss this. He’d woken up in Ilya’s arms again this morning, the two boys having no need to hide before going into Shane’s room last night (and his mother definitely did not come downstairs this morning). They’d slipped into sleep quietly, not saying much as they crawled under the covers, no funny business to be found. Shane noticed Ilya’s quiet was slightly uncharacteristic (even more so than him not making a pass at Shane) but maybe he’d been thinking about how soon he’d have to return home. Shane was definitely thinking about that.

He was going to miss having the other boy here for the summer. After spending a solid week in each other’s company, it was going to be a stark difference to go back to just Shane and his parents. Or just himself when he went back to Montreal. At least there he’d have his teammates, but it would still be a while before he saw Ilya again. He couldn’t wait to find out when the first Montreal vs Boston game would be. Hopefully soon.

He was going to make their last day together count. He and Ilya were laid out on the beach, their canoe pulled up on the shore of the bay and tucked into some reeds, the cliff blocking them from view of the wider lake and some foliage keeping their resting place hidden from the water. The bay was blessedly empty again today, everyone off with their families for Canada Day preparations. Shane had managed to convince his mom to let them escape the cottage for the day on account of Ilya leaving tomorrow (it was worth it, even if it did come with an incredibly awkward whispered lecture about safe sex).

Shane was taking full advantage of the privacy to admire the man next to him. He’d become quite tan over the past week, shoulders a little red, the moles speckled across his body standing out against golden skin. Shane wanted to reach out and trace between them. He almost did, but Ilya rolled onto his side, propping himself on an elbow to look at Shane inquisitively behind his sunglasses.

“You had girlfriend before, yes?”

Shane was a little taken aback by the question. Where had that come from?

“Yes,” he answered shortly. She hadn’t exactly been a ‘girlfriend’ – not officially – but they’d gone out a couple times when they were in high school. Their first date had been before Shane’s first Prospects Cup tournament, and they’d broken up after the draft. Shane probably should’ve ended it sooner, even if they hadn’t been exclusive (as far as he knew) when he’d met Ilya. He’d lost interest in her pretty quickly and they’d barely hung out even when he was at school, but she’d seemed happy enough to look the other way when he spent late nights texting Russia if it meant dating the next up-and-coming MLH superstar.

But still, it wasn’t meant to last…

“You broke up after the draft?”

“Yes.”

Ilya hummed. Shane tried not to take offense by that sound. “What?”

Ilay looked around. “Did she like swimming?”

“Huh? I guess.”

Ilya’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did you not swim together?”

Shane’s furrowed back. Where was this sudden curiosity coming from? “No, we did.”

“In lake?”

“Yeah. Her parents have a cottage.”

“Here?”

“A couple lakes over.”

“But not here?” Ilya gestured to the bay.

Oh.

“I’ve never taken anyone here,” Shane admitted quietly.

Ilya’s eyes immediately softened with that thing again. Shane was getting a little addicted to being looked at like that.

“We um, weren’t together very long,” he clarified. “She never came to my cottage.”

Ilya nodded, settling on his back again. They stayed like that for moment, both watching the wispy clouds drift by overhead. Then Ilya broke the silence again, voice a little too casual as he asked, “Would you bring a girl here?”

Shane was taken aback again. “What? Why?”

“Just want to know.” Ilya was still doing that overly casual thing. “You have friends in Montreal?”

“Friends? Like Hayden?”

Ilya knew Shane and Hayden weren’t friends like that, not like Shane was with Ilya. Shane didn’t have any friends like Ilya.

“No.” Ilya frowned at the mention of Hayden. “Girls,” he clarified.

“I don’t…” Shane did not want to admit that he didn’t pick up during the season, especially with all the street cred of being the top rookie in the league. Especially with Ilya garnering his own reputation as a ladies’ man in Boston. Especially if he had a Svetlana. Shane didn’t need another reason for Ilya to think he was boring.

He propped himself up this time, looking down at Ilya. “Where is this coming from?”

“Nothing. Does not matter.”

“Seems like it does.”

“It doesn’t. Hollander, I do not care if you bring girls here.”

“Why? Because you bring girls home?” They hadn’t talked about this before. They hadn’t dared to broach the subject. It wasn’t like Shane didn’t know Ilya saw other people back in Boston – that made sense, they only saw each other a couple times a year and they weren’t…anything, really. But he’d kind of thought after this week…

“Yes. You see girls too?”

And because Shane didn’t want to look like some abstinent loser, he said, “Yeah.”

They both knew he was lying. Shane was always a terrible liar when it came to Ilya.

Still, Ilya went silent, watching the sky again, deep in thought.

Suddenly a clunk echoed through the bay, followed by giggles. Shane sat up immediately, Ilya rising slower beside him just in time to see another canoe coming around the cliff.

The hockey players sat frozen on the shore. Shane became very aware of every part of his and Ilya’s bodies, from their shirtless chests, to their short swim shorts, to the flush of his skin. Were his lips still swollen from all the kissing they did earlier?

The canoe held two boys in their late teens, not much younger than Shane. He was debating if he should move around the bushes or make some noise to alert the other boys to their presence when they set their paddles in the canoe, turned around to face each other, and shuffled closer.

Shane held his breath when they started kissing. He felt his whole body flush, heart dropping through his stomach, air caught in his lungs. Next to him, Ilya was stalk still. Shane felt like he could hear the Russian’s heart beating in his chest.

The boys pulled back with more giggles, clumsily shuffling closer again as the canoe wobbled.

Rustling. A bird landing in the tree above Shane’s head. He stared wide-eyed as the boys jumped apart, startled by the noise, and their eyes settled on the top of his and Ilya’s heads poking out of the bushes.

Shane didn’t know if they could see his face. He had no idea if they would recognize him or Ilya. They were teenage boys on a lake in Muskoka, the odds of them knowing the next Canadian hockey Allstar who’s face had been plastered all over the news for years…

The boys stared with matching wide eyes back. It was like they were all stuck in a trance, both pairs caught doing the one thing they could never get caught doing.

Except Shane and Ilya weren’t doing that. They weren’t even doing something they weren’t supposed to. They were friends hanging out on the beach. Lots of friends do that.

Except this beach, this particular spot, was known for hookups. It was what those two boys had come here for. And they clearly knew that.

They broke eye contact first, rapidly shuffling around their boat to take their seats again, picking up their paddles to haul ass out of the bay. Shane felt his own fears at his back, wanting to get up and outrun them just as badly.

The hockey players remained frozen until the canoe disappeared from the sight.

“Do you think they recognized us?” Shane jumped at the sound of Ilya’s voice. He hadn’t expected the Russian to be the one to ask, but his voice was small, the most unsure Shane had ever heard it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted at a whisper.

“Hopefully not.”

“Yeah.” And then, because it was the only thought running through Shane’s mind, he voiced aloud, “What if they thought we were here for the exact thing they were here for?”

Ilya tried for optimism. “Not everyone comes for sex, yes? Some just jump from cliff?”

“Right.” Shane didn’t even sound convinced to himself.

Ilya was shaking his head. “Will be fine. Should not worry.”

“Yeah.”

“They don’t see our faces.”

“Right.”

“And is not like we were kissing.”

“Uh huh.”

Ilya seemed to run out of ideas for why they shouldn’t be nervous sweating out of their skin.

Shane stood abruptly, whole body on alert. He kept glancing at the mouth of the bay as he collected his towel. “We should get back. My parents will start cooking dinner soon.”

“Yes.”

“We should help them.” Even though Yuna had told him to enjoy the day and wasn’t expecting them back until dinner was served.

“Ok.” Ilya followed suit, collecting his own things to head back to the canoe.

They loaded the boat silently, Shane lost in his thoughts as they paddled out of the bay.

He felt like every fear he’d ever had was crushing down on him as their boat cut through the water, moving a little faster than on the way here. He wanted to get back behind the walls of his cottage, where he was safe, where Ilya could be safe. Where people knew and were ok with it and he didn’t get this feeling like he was going to be throw up as the boat rocked on the water.

They’d been careless. Reckless. The cottage had lulled them into a false sense of security, making them forget about the world that was constantly knocking at their door. That they had a secret that could ruin both of their careers. One that could be even more dangerous for Ilya with his family.

If those boys recognized them and made assumptions about why they were there…If they told anyone…Shane kept telling himself that they couldn’t see them clearly, that it wasn’t going to matter, but there was something in the back of his head that kept asking, what if it did?

He remembered the teens from the grocery store yesterday. They had recognized him so easily. Sure, Shane was used to that by now – after Captaining the Prospect team and playing for the Metros – but it usually happened more in Montreal. Not here. Not at his cottage – his safe place – when he was shopping with his mom.

He suddenly had another thought: what if he’d been shopping with Ilya?

What if Shane had been walking around with his…friend…and those boys had recognized both of them? It wasn’t like it would be weird for them to be hanging out. Friends hung out all the time. It probably wasn’t even weird if Ilya was seen going on vacation with Shane’s family. Because that’s what good friends did. Close friends.

They just needed to be sure no one would ever realize how close they actually were.

How many summers could Ilya come visit before people thought it was weird? Especially if they were both still single? How long before they were too old for casual public affection and family vacations? When would they be expected to grow up into respectable men of the league? Husbands with wives? Fathers with kids?

When might Ilya decide that this thing with Shane was too hard and settle down with a woman?

Shane kept his eyes on his cottage coming into view over Ilya’s shoulders, becoming very sure of one thing: whatever this was between them, whatever it might have been, it wasn’t going to work long term.

---

Ilya sat at the end of the dock, bundled up in a blanket and one of Shane’s hoodies. The moon cast a gentle glow over the lake, its reflection in the water trailing towards the dock. He’d pulled his feet out of the water some time ago, the evening cooling as the sun sank behind the trees. The stars had come out as always, his eyes easily finding the big dipper, followed by Orion, right where Shane had pointed them out every night this week.

He felt footsteps rocking the wood behind him. Ilya didn’t look, he could recognize that gait anywhere.

Shane stopped next to him. He didn’t say anything. Ilya kept his eyes on the rippling water, giving Shane time. He’d been quiet since they’d returned from their canoe trip – enough that Yuna and David had noticed. Ilya hoped they chalked the boys’ odd mood up to Ilya’s departure tomorrow and not the crippling doom he was feeling inside.

One night. One last night.

A loon call echoed across the lake. Ilya didn’t even find it creepy anymore. All he could think about was how much he was going to miss it.

Shane eventually sat next to him. Ilya held out one end of the blanket in offering. Shane hesitated before tucking himself into Ilya’s side. They both wrapped an arm around each other, the heat of their bodies mingling in the cooling summer air – Ilya’s favourite feeling in the world.

“Are your parents coming?” he broke the silence.

“They’re gonna watch from up by the fire.”

“You don’t want to watch with them?”

Shane looked right at him. “I like this view better.”

It was a good thing it was dark enough that Shane couldn’t see the heat rising in Ilya’s cheeks. Hopefully he couldn’t see the water welling in his eyes. Ilya glanced back at the lake – there were no boats going by, no docks close enough to make out the two figures sitting at the end of theirs.

He raised a hesitant hand, hooking a finger under Shane’s chin to pull him closer. Shane went willingly, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss. The warmth of Shane seeped into Ilya, chasing away some of the gloom.

Boom!

Ilya jumped, pulling back a little as the night sky lit up in colour.

Shane laughed and Ilya joined in with a little chuckle. The lights of the fireworks spider-webbed across the sky, red and green and purple.

Shane ducked his head to Ilya’s shoulder. Ilya pulled him in a little closer. Their gazes stayed tilted up as the explosions echoed across the lake, little pockets of fireworks going up from various houses; ones that whistled, ones that boomed. Orange spirals shooting into the night. Little streaks of red that burst into giant bulbs of green. Blue spiderwebs with little gold points on the ends.

“Those ones are my favourite,” Shane muttered. Ilya tilted his head down to look at Shane. He could see the colours lighting up his face, the freckles on his cheeks (he’d gotten more over the week. Ilya had given up counting them while he slept after their third night, the sun revealing too many things about this boy). The bursts of the fireworks reflected in Shane’s eyes, little flecks of light more beautiful than all the stars in the sky.

“Beautiful,” Ilya muttered.

“What?” Shane asked. “What does that mean?”

Oh. He’d said in Russian.

Ilya kissed him again to avoid translating. He couldn’t put what he was feeling into words anyway, let alone English.

It didn’t matter, he could feel that Shane knew through the kiss, pressing himself harder into Ilya, like he could fuse them together and then Ilya would never have to leave.

But he did have to leave.

What they were doing wasn’t sustainable. There would come a day when Shane found a nice girl. One who cooked with his mom and went fishing with his dad. One he’d show the bay to and maybe she’d convince him to jump from the cliff. Someone from a nice family who could give Shane his own nice family. Ilya tried to picture it, two kids running around the cottage with hair like Shane’s and faces like…someone else.

He kissed Shane harder.

The other boy’s breath caught, gasping into Ilya’s mouth. He felt something wet against his skin.

When pulled back, there were tears in Shane’s eyes. He tried to wipe them away, ducking his head so Ilya couldn’t see.

“Sorry,” Shane’s voice cracked. Ilya ran a hand up and down his back, trying to comfort them both with the gesture.

Then Shane admitted almost at a whisper, “I’m going to miss you.”

Ilya felt his own lip wobble. “I will miss you too.”

“It’s…it’s been nice having you here. Special.” That last word came out on a breath, like Shane hadn’t meant to say it.

Ilya wished he hadn’t.

“We still have one more night. I do not leave until morning.”

“Right. One more night.”

Ilya tried to lighten the mood. He didn’t want to end the week like this. “Then no more Cottage Shane.”

Shane played along. “Yep. You’ll have to settle for Normal Shane.”

Ilya gave an exaggerated sigh. “He is not so bad.”

“No?” Shane finally looked at him again with those wide-open eyes, the ones filled with flecks of fireworks.

Ilya was enough of a sucker that he couldn’t help but admit, “I like Normal Shane too.”

Shane pulled him in for another kiss as a reward.

When they broke apart, because Ilya was a glutton for punishment, he asked, “Do you want to go to bed?”

Shane hesitated. He shuffled a little closer to Ilya, if that was even possible. “I think I’d like to sit out here a little longer.”

“Ok.”

The fireworks kept booming in the background. Neither of them watched the display.

They stayed there long after the lights stopped, just the steady swish of the water and the lonely call of the loons for company.

Ilya so desperately wanted to do this every summer. He wanted to stay here for the rest of this summer. But he couldn’t do that to Shane. He couldn’t ask him to take that risk.

Their lives were too public. Ilya’s family was too harsh. Ilya himself wasn’t built for the kind of open love and laughter the Hollanders had raised Shane with.

What they were doing now, during the season – the going out, the casual hookups, the competitive inside jokes with the press – was fun, but this – the cottage, the closeness, Shane sharing his family with Ilya – that was too much. That was the part that couldn’t last. Ilya didn’t know how to have this for only a short time. How could he give this up if he knew how good it could be?

He needed to let go now, before it became something that he couldn’t live without, but he also didn’t know how to do this without Shane. Not now that he’d had him. If Shane asked, Ilya wouldn’t be capable of saying no.

They could stay friends. That’s what Ilya was good for – casual, easy, uncomplicated. He could give Shane that.

It was the safe option. Ilya couldn’t jeopardize Shane’s career. He couldn’t bring him into all the drama with his family. He couldn’t risk anything happening with the league or the press that made it harder for Shane to keep playing, or worse, kicked him out altogether.

There was nothing in the world Shane loved more than hockey. Ilya would make sure no one ever took that away from him.

They could stay friends – just friends – and Ilya would see Shane during the season when they played against each other. He’d step back when Shane eventually found that girlfriend who could give him everything (as long as she treated him right, Ilya thought he could stomach it if she made him happy). Then they’d both go on to win so many Cups and awards that they’d end up in the Hockey Hall of Fame (maybe they’d even be placed next to each other if Ilya was lucky, so they could be remembered together like that) and Shane would live his happy perfect life.

When they went to bed that night, Ilya poured his heart into Shane’s body. This would be the last time. He’d go back to Russia, and he’d make his excuses, and when he saw Shane again during the season, he’d make sure they didn’t sleep together.

They’d be friends. Best friends. Just like everyone thought they were.

Ilya could do that.

---

The car ride to the airport was quiet. Ilya had opted to fly out of a more local airport that connected through Toronto before heading off to Moscow. He’d said it was so Shane would have less of a drive to drop him off. Shane was kind of wishing for the longer drive now.

Shane’s parents had waved them off from the front porch after breakfast (more waffles at Ilya’s request). Ilya had looked a little surprised when Yuna pulled him in for a hug and even more so when he went to shake David’s hand and he’d hugged him instead too. Shane would’ve laughed if he wasn’t feeling so bummed by Ilya leaving.

The Hollanders promised Ilya he was always welcome and could come back anytime. Shane hoped he took the sentiment to heart, knowing his parents really meant it. His one wish for the weekend was that his parents would like Ilya once they got to know him. He hadn’t expected them to practically welcome him into the family, but Shane should’ve known that Yuna and David were always ready with open minds and even more open hearts. Hopefully they’d keep that up when Shane and Ilya inevitably faced-off on the ice next season.

Shane was still trying to figure out how to say goodbye when he pulled into the drop-off lane. He didn’t know why this felt like such a big deal. Ilya came and went from his life all the time. Why did this one feel so final?

There was something wrong with Ilya. Something had happened to make him all quiet again and Shane could tell it wasn’t just the prospect of returning to Russia.

He’d really felt it last night, the way Ilya leaned into him a little heavier as they watched the fireworks. Shane himself had been lost in thought. He’d spent all day trying to figure out how this thing between them could work, but everything he came up with just felt sad and lonely. If they ever did have a relationship – a real one – it would mean hiding for as long as they played hockey, which Shane intended to do for a long, long time. He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to make Ilya do that. Shane didn’t think either of them could handle the stress of so many secrets.

The only other alternative was to lose hockey. That wasn’t even on the table for Shane.

But maybe they could stay like this: friends. Best friends.

Shane could handle the missing parts if it meant keeping Ilya and hockey. In that case, the good times would surely outweigh any hardships.

Besides, Ilya was going back to Russia anyway. He’d see all his Russian friends and then his Boston friends and all his girls…Shane was supposed to be fun for now, a little bit of trouble, something uncomplicated because they understood each other’s circumstances. He should keep it that way so Ilya would keep him.

He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find a way to break the silence, hesitating as he tried to find an empty spot to pull over. Seemed like everyone was travelling today with the end of the long weekend, people hugging everywhere as they fumbled with suitcases and backpacks, horns honking as some took too long to say goodbye.

Surprisingly, Ilya broke the silence first. “I um…I might not be able to talk as much when I am in Russia.”

“Ok.” Shane’s voice cracked with disuse. Definitely not from something else even if he could feel a pressure behind his eyes.

“But I will try,” Ilya offered.

“Me too.”

“And I will see you when season starts.”

“Yeah. For sure.”

Ilya pointed to a car pulling away from the curb. “There’s a spot.”

Shane signaled and pulled the car over silently. Ilya took off his seatbelt. Hesitated with his hand on the door.

He looked at Shane, sunglasses hiding his eyes, hat pulled low to hide his face. There would undoubtedly be people who noticed them here – it was why Shane wouldn’t be getting out of the car – but he kind of wished he could get out for one more hug.

He really wished he could get one more kiss, but they definitely couldn’t do that here, not with the possibility of a camera catching them through the windshield. It shouldn’t matter – they’d said their goodbyes last night – but Shane still wanted one more.

Ilya dropped the handle. He turned to Shane. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

Shane’s heart sunk with disappointment.

Ilya nodded at him once and turned to the door again.

Shane didn’t like that. Something about this felt too final. He looked over at Ilya and couldn’t help the little bit of hope he was still clinging onto. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Ilya’s jaw worked for a second, then he nodded again. “See you next season.” He gripped the door handle again.

“See you next season.”

Ilya opened the door. “Goodbye, Hollander.” He stepped outside.

“Goodbye…” He closed the door. “…Ilya.”

Shane sat in silence while Ilya popped the trunk and pulled his suitcase out. He hefted it onto the curb, pulling his hat a little lower. He turned his back on the car – on Shane – and walked away.

Shane stared out the window, one hand on the steering wheel, getting ready to signal, the other on the gear shift. There was a couple in the car in front of him, the woman folding herself into the man’s arms for a lingering kiss.

Fuck it.

“Ilya!” Shane jumped out of the car, jogging around to the other side.

Ilya stopped in his tracks. Turned slowly back around. He raised a haughty eyebrow at Shane.

Shane blushed. He heard the snap of a camera nearby. So much for avoiding attention.

He jogged over to the other boy quickly, mindful that he was totally taking up a parking spot in a busy lane. He kept his own head low, trying to remind himself that friends dropped their friends off at the airport all the time. It wasn’t a big deal unless they made it a big deal.

He arrived in front of Ilya, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You um, forgot something.”

“Forgot?”

Shane pulled him into a hug. Ilya folded into it in surprise.

Shane pressed his lips to Ilya’s ear, whispering quietly so no one else would ever, ever hear, “Don’t forget me in Russia. Please.”

Ilya tensed in his arms. Shane held on tighter. “Please.”

“Ok,” Ilya breathed, body sagging a little.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Ilya pulled back again. “Ok, Hollander. Ok.” He clapped him on the shoulder, keeping Shane at arm’s length. More cameras flashed around them.

Right. Bros.

Best bros.

Shane gave him an easy smile, feeling a little lighter now. “I’m gonna hold you to it. You promised to introduce me to that Russian friend of yours.”

“Svetlana?”

“Yeah.” Shane wasn’t really thrilled at the prospect of meeting Ilya’s other hookups but he needed a reason for the Russian to come back to him, and maybe it would be a good thing for Shane to meet someone from Ilya’s life. Maybe it would help Shane understand him more.

He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Ah, maybe Russians are growing on me.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, a movement so exaggerated Shane could see it even behind his sunglasses. “Fine, Hollander.”

“And you’ve gotta meet Hayden.”

Ilya groaned. “Really?”

“Next time you’re in Montreal. We’ll make a night of it.”

“Ok, yes fine. Whatever you want.”

“And then we’ll kick your ass on the ice.”

Ilya’s lips pursed like he was fighting a smile. “Hmm, no, is not how I think it will go.”

“Oh really? You know I’ve got a new training plan for this summer? It’s pretty top-notch. And after you spent the week eating all that candy and ice cream…”

Ilya scoffed. “You ate ice cream too.”

“Not as much as you.”

“Hmm, no I think was pretty even. I see you sneaking—"

“I did not!” Shane slapped Ilya’s chest.

Ilya laughed, full smile splitting open, no longer fighting it. “Fine, fine. Ok. You are model athlete who eats no sugar.”

“You got that right.”

Ilya’s chuckle died off, his shoulders more relaxed. Good. Shane didn’t want to send him home all sad.

Ilya glanced regretfully at the doors. “I will miss my flight.”

“You’re two hours early, you’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked mockingly. “Is international connecting flight. Your dad said three hours minimum and you agreed even though I say two hours is fine—"

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Shane rolled his eyes this time. Then he glanced regretfully at his car. “But I should move…”

“Yes. I must go.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Neither of them moved.

Shane scuffed his foot on the ground. He dropped his voice low again. “No disappearing on me. You promised.”

“Yes. Promise.”

“Good. Cause I want my friends to meet you.”

“Wow, first your parents, now your friends. Careful Hollander or I will think this is serious.”

He stared straight in Ilya’s eyes. He wished there was more of a joke there.

“I’ll uh, see you around, Rozanov.”

Ilya’s throat bobbed once. He gave Shane one of those signature single nods. “See you next season, Hollander.”

Shane gave one more friendly tap to Ilya’s shoulder and then he turned to his car. He tried not to look back as he got in the driver’s seat, but he couldn’t help himself once he was in the car, craning to see the airport doors.

Ilya was still standing there. He raised a hand to wave at Shane.

Shane rolled down his tinted windows, hanging an arm out to wave back. He couldn’t help his stupid little smile as he pulled away from the curb.

---

June 27, 2011, 3:06 pm

@TreMi: Spotted outside the Montreal airport. Are #Hollanov spending the summer together?

[photo of Shane and Ilya hugging outside the airport]

[photo of Shane getting into the driver’s seat of his car with Ilya at the passenger door]

@HollanovUpdates: lol not a Hollanov mention on main #HollanovSummer

@ILoveShane24: Aw they’re spending Canada Day together! #HollanovSummer

Reply: @IceBaby: Do you think they’ll watch fireworks together? #HollanovSummer

Reply: IlyaRozanovsButt: Oh totally. #HollanovSummer

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Literally a fireworks kiss would be so perfect!

@FuckTheRaiders: Please tell me I’m not gonna have to start liking this guy.

Reply: @CeltOnTheProwl: Feel you on that one.

June 28, 2011, 6:13 pm

@IlyaRozanov81: Cottage Shane

[selfie of Ilya grinning at the camera wearing a baseball cap with the Canadian flag while sitting in the front of a canoe on a lake. Behind him is Shane, dressed similarly, paddling and looking off in the distance, totally unaware of the photo being taken]

@HollanovUpdates: omg what do we do?! What do we do?! #HollanovSummer

IlyaRozanovsButt: Those fucking shoulders are OBSCENE #HollanovSummer

@IceBaby: So many freckles!!! #HollanovSummer

@CeltOnTheProwl: Have a great summer boys! Enjoy the break

Reposted by: @TreMi

@HockeyPrintsessa: cuties

@ILoveShane24: This is so boyfriends coded #HollanovSummer

Reply: @HollanovUpdates: fr at this point they’re just playing in our faces

Liked by: @ShaneHollander_Official

@Hockey4Life: enjoy the offseason boys! Can’t wait to see you back on the ice!

@MoscowMistress: Ilya bb come home, the kids miss you #MoscowSummer

Reply: @IceBaby: he’s too busy with hot Canadian ass #HollanovSummer

@Player15: HE got invited to the cottage??!!!???

Reply: @CeltOnTheProwl: what like he was gonna take you??

July 2, 2011, 11:54 am

@TreMi: Spotted AGAIN! outside the airport. The #HollanovSummer vacation is over :(

[photo of Shane and Ilya hugging outside the airport]

[photo of Shane slapping Ilya’s chest while Ilya throws his head back laughing]

[photo of Shane waving goodbye from the car]

[photo of Ilya standing alone at the door with his hand raised in a wave]

@HockeyPrintsessa: <<33 #HollanovSummerIsOver time for #MoscowSummer

@HollanovUpdates: Nooo! Don’t separate them!

@ILoveShane24: How am I supposed to get through summer without my #CottageShane content??? #HollanovSummerIsOver

Reply: @CeltOnTheProwl: I’m sure they’ll still post on their own accounts.

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Puhlease, Shane never posts on his own account.

Reply: @IceBaby: Real. Like get your bag bb but we want to c more than brand deals!

Reply: @ILoveShane24: !! Literally we only ever see Shane when he’s with Ilya (God knows that boy loves a summer thirst trap)

Reply: @IlyaRozanovsButt: You got that right! Lemme c those teeny tiny running shorts! #HollanovSummerIsOver #MoscowSummer

Reply: @FuckTheRaiders: Can’t believe I’m saying this but @IlyaRozanov81 please come back and give us more #CottageShane

Chapter End Notes

It has been lowkey funny to watch all the comments from the last three months talking about how good they are at communicating and loving each other in this AU, knowing how this chapter was going to go down. Sorry y'all. Whoops.

I would like to assure everyone that this isn't a breakup and nothing is going to come of the two boys who caught them on the beach, that was mostly just a scene to remind them of the reality of their stakes. There's still lots of obstacles in their way of having an official relationship, even in this happier universe, and I want to explore that because even though they're able to be more affectionate in public, there's still real consequences of people discovering if it's real. Plus, I think each of them wanting 'better' for each other than what they think they can offer is very in character for both of them. Also, I wanted to keep Ilya's playboy ways because his sex addiction is part of his character and it's one of the main reasons no one figures them out in canon (and I've got a fun chapter planned around that later).

From here on out, the time between updates will depend on the length of the chapters, but I'm thinking the next few are going to be similar lengths to the others so shouldn't take as long. And I'll try to leave a warning next time if an update is going to take forever because of the content length. Also, there's a special chapter coming next update that I'm super psyched about :))

Anyway, it's been a long day of editing this entire fic so I'm going to bed. Hoping to wake up to a very full inbox tomorrow/this weekend <3 Thank you for reading!
-Oaks

Chapter 6: Media 1

Chapter Summary

Transcript from TSN interview at CCM commercial shoot with Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.

Chapter Notes

Hello! So remember when I said this was going to be more so a series of oneshots than a chapter-by-chapter narrative? This update and last chapter's were the reason why, because they really read as their own complete things.

So anyway, the social media snippets haven't just been for fun, I've been setting up this "Media" chapter and a couple more like it that I'll strew throughout the fic. They're outsider perspectives on the Hollanov friendship for how their perception has changed in this AU (this one is the CCM shoot, but I moved it on the timeline because Ilya wouldn't've needed to request Shane in the commercial to see him again, since they were already talking at that point. So this one is all manager Yuna's doing).

The Media chapters will still follow the same format as the others with the timeline set-up in their texts, then it'll switch up the formatting to suit the type of media, and then the socmed comments at the end.

For the Media chapters, I thought it would be fun if we make the comments in-universe. So I'll start the comments off with the tweets like usual at the end, and then y'all can play around like we're really on 2010s twitter reacting to the commercial/interview :)) and feel free to be as unhinged as you want (2010s tumblr gays don't let me down!) and I'll respond in-universe to some of the comments (feel free to get some threads going).

Note on the timestamps for the texting; Ilya has a fucked up sleep schedule and he would absolutely be up at all hours (Russia is 7 hours ahead of Ottawa, all timestamps are in EST).
Also shout out to everyone who correctly predicted that Ilya will not be sticking to his 'no sleeping with Shane guns'. That boy is going to cave sooo fast.

Ok! Hope you have fun with this one :))
-Oaks

July 3, 2011, 6:14 pm EST

Boring: How was the flight?

July 4, 2011, 10:18 am

Boring: How’s Russia?

July 5, 2011, 5:52 pm

Boring: Dad made meatballs again.

[photo of a plate of spaghetti with meatballs]

July 7, 2011, 6:14 pm

Boring:

[photo of the lake and dock with the sun setting in beautiful red and orange]

July 9, 2011, 11:42 am

Boring: Are you ok?

July 9, 2011, 8:33 pm

Boring: Please just tell me if you’re ok.

Boring: Or alive.

July 10, 2011, 1:08 am

Boring: Come on Ilya, you promised.

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Boring: I can see you typing. Just fucking talk to me.

Asshole is typing…

Asshole: Sorry was busy with family stuff

Boring: Is everything ok?

Asshole: Is fine

Boring is typing…

Unsent.

Boring is typing…

Boring: Are you ok?

Asshole: I’m fine.

Boring: Want to talk about it?

July 11, 2011, 11:16 pm

Boring:

[photo of a bowl of cookie dough ice cream]

Asshole: Oh no what happened?

Boring: Mom won at gin.

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended July 12, 2011, 12:22 am.

July 12, 2011, 6:14 am

Boring: Sunrise run

[photo of a sweaty Shane on a running path along the lake with the sun rising over the water]

July 13, 2011, 2:03 pm

Boring: Got new swim trunks

[photo of Shane wearing a swimsuit, showing just from his abs to his thighs, the fabric wet and clinging]

July 15, 2011, 8:13 pm

Boring: How do you say hello in Russian?

Asshole: Why?

Boring: Cause I wanna know.

Asshole: Yes obviously

Asshole: But why?

Asshole: Who is speaking Russian to you?

Boring: YOU dipshit.

Boring: I just wanted to know a couple words.

Boring: Didn’t think it would be such a big deal.

Asshole: Is not

Asshole: Russian word is privet

Boring: Cool thanks.

Asshole: Do you want to know more?

Boring: Sure.

Asshole: Ok. I teach you couple words.

Asshole: But we call so I can hear your pronunciation. Cannot have you saying words stupidly.

Boring: Fine.

Incoming call from Boring.

Call ended 10:04 pm.

July 17, 2011, 4:22 am

Asshole: I think this is my new favourite flavour.

[photo of Ilya licking a cookie dough ice cream cone]

July 17, 2011, 8:12 am

Boring: Breakfast of champions.

[photo of a bowl of cookie dough ice cream]

Asshole: Wow did you actually eat that?

Boring is typing…

Unsent.

Boring is typing…

Boring: No.

Asshole: Omg Hollander live a little.

Boring: Fine.

[photo of Shane eating a spoonful of ice cream]

Asshole: Very good.

Incoming call from Boring.

Call ended 9:04 am.

July 20, 2011, 2:32 pm

Boring: Missing my canoe partner :)

[selfie of Shane and David in the canoe]

Asshole: Did you take him to our spot?

Boring: Obviously not.

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Asshole is typing…

Asshole: I could use a running partner

[photo along the canal in Moscow in early morning light]

Boring: Looks gorgeous.

Asshole:

[photo of sweaty shirtless Ilya on a break from his run]

Boring: Like I said, gorgeous ;)

[photo of Shane lounging in the sun, also shirtless and a little sweaty]

Asshole: Fuck Hollander

Asshole: You home alone?

Boring: Yes.

Incoming call from Asshole.

Boring: Aren’t you on a public running path right now?

Asshole: Yes so fucking pick up fast

Call ended 2:54 pm.

July 23, 2011, 8:03 pm

Boring: Did you see the new Captain America movie?

Asshole: No

Asshole: Why would I watch movie about American superhero?

Asshole: I do not need American propaganda.

Boring: It’s not propaganda.

Asshole: You sure?

Boring: Ok maybe it’s a little bit propaganda-ish.

Asshole: Yes. Great big American hero defeats Russians.

Boring: Pretty sure it was the Germans.

Asshole: Was movie good?

Boring: It was ok.

Asshole: Boring?

Boring: No.

July 24, 2011, 8:14 am

Asshole: I watched move. Was boring.

Asshole: But Captain America’s friend was very sexy.

Boring: Peggy?

Asshole: No the boy. Who died on train. Tragic ending for someone so hot.

Boring: You’re ridiculous.

July 26, 2011, 7:02 am

Asshole: Good morning my little pomidor

Boring: Google says that means tomato??

Asshole: Shane you are not supposed to google

Asshole: You are supposed to know word

Boring: How am I supposed to know that?

Asshole: I am teaching you right now

Asshole: You must pay attention Hollander

Incoming call from Asshole.

Declined.

Boring: I’m about to go for a run.

Asshole: Take me with you

Asshole: You need Russian practice

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 8:05 am.

July 29, 2011, 7:13 am

Asshole: Losos

Boring: Salmon?

Asshole: Did you google?

Boring is typing…

Unsent.

Boring is typing…

Boring: No.

Asshole: Liar

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 8:07 am.

August 1, 2011, 7:01 am

Incoming call from Asshole.

Declined.

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 8:00 am.

August 2, 2011, 7:03 am

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 8:03 am.

August 3, 2011, 7:00 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Call ended 8:42 am.

August 4, 2011, 7:01 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Call ended 8:09 am.

August 4, 2011, 9:56 pm

Boring: Need you to come save me.

[photo of a loon bobbing by the dock]

Asshole: *middle finger emoji*

Boring: It’s so scary, it might eat me alive.

Asshole: *two middle finger emojis*

August 5, 2011, 7:04 am

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 8:01 am.

August 6, 2011, 7:06 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

August 7, 2011, 7:00 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

Boring: Hey, you ok?

August 8, 2011, 6:59 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

August 8, 2011, 9:43 am

Boring: Ilya? You alive?

August 8, 2011, 8:32 pm

Asshole: Sorry was busy

Boring: With what?

Asshole: Nothing Hollander

Asshole: Do not worry

August 9, 2011, 7:13 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

August 13, 2011, 12:33 pm

Boring: Mine’s bigger than yours.

[photo of Shane holding up a fish slightly larger than the one Ilya caught]

Asshole: Sure about that?

[photo of Ilya’s dick]

This message was deleted.

August 15, 2011, 7:23 pm

Boring: Went back to the cove today.

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Asshole is typing…

Asshole: How was it?

Boring: Fine. A little boring without you.

Asshole is typing…

Unsent.

Asshole is typing.

Asshole: You went alone?

Boring: Yeah.

Asshole: Ok.

Boring: You know, it kind of made me think of…

Asshole: Think of what Hollander?

Boring: You know.

Asshole: Do I?

Boring: Yes you do.

Asshole: I’m not so sure

Boring: Don’t make me say it you asshole.

Asshole: You alone?

Boring: Yes.

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 9:52 pm.

August 17, 2011, 2:33 pm

Boring: You busy?

Asshole: I’m out at club

[blurry photo of an obviously drunk Ilya in a dark club with lots of people around, most notably beautiful women]

Boring: Oh.

Boring is typing…

Unsent.

Boring is typing…

Boring: Who are you with?

Asshole: Svetlana

[blurry photo of still drunk Ilya with his arm around one of the women from the previous photo. She’s smiling and very pretty]

August 18, 2011, 12:23 am

Asshole: Ugh hangovers suck

August 18, 2011, 8:30 am

Asshole: I feel like shit

August 18, 2011, 9:00 pm

Asshole: Shane?

August 19, 2011, 6:02 pm

Boring: Thought Russians didn’t get hangovers

Asshole: Yes. Don’t tell anyone I told you this

Boring: You gonna get burned at the stake?

Asshole: Why do I sense that is what you want?

Boring: I didn’t say that.

Asshole: Is in your tone

Boring: We’re texting. There’s no tone over text.

Asshole: Yes there is

Asshole: You are mad at me

Boring: No I’m not.

Incoming call from Asshole.

Declined.

Asshole: See you are mad

Boring: I’m having dinner with my parents.

Asshole: So can text at table but no call?

Boring: I’m busy.

Asshole: Too busy for this?

[photo of Ilya’s hand cupping himself in small shorts]

This message was deleted.

Boring: My mom is literally right next to me!

Asshole: You should show her. Maybe she will appreciate me more

Boring: Fuck off Rozanov.

Asshole: She would answer phone call

Boring: Fuck you.

Asshole: Yes, is what I’m trying to get you to do

This message was deleted.

Asshole: Stop being baby and answer phone

Incoming call from Asshole.

Declined.

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 7:35 pm.

August 20, 2011, 7:57 am

Asshole: My favourite. I bring you some

[photo of Ilya holding a handful of karovka]

Asshole: I don’t care about diet, I make you eat candy

August 20, 2011, 8:09 pm

Asshole: Russia is so boring

[photo of Ilya lounging alone in bed]

August 21, 2011, 7:31 am

Asshole: Going to be faster than you this season

[photo of a sweaty Ilya running along the canal]

Boring: I don’t think so

[photo of a sweaty Shane running through the woods]

August 22, 2011, 8:12 am

Asshole: Stronger too

[photo of Ilya curling a dumbbell, bicep bulging, weight heavy]

Boring: Eat shit Rozanov

[photo of Shane lifting heavier]

August 23, 2011, 12:17 pm

Boring: House to myself

[photo of Shane lounging on the deck]

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 2:11 pm.

August 24, 2011, 9:42 am

Asshole: Shayba

Boring: Puck

Asshole: Yes! Very good!

Asshole: Wait

Asshole: Did you google?

Boring: No.

Asshole: Are you lying?

Boring: No. Remember you taught me that one last time we called?

Asshole: Yes. I remember

Asshole: Good

Asshole: Ok I teach you more now

Incoming call from Asshole.

Call ended 4:55 pm.

August 25, 2011, 1:02 pm

Boring: Mom and dad went out on the boat again

August 26, 2011, 9:00 pm

Boring: Summer’s almost over

[photo of the sunset over the lake]

August 27, 2011, 9:00 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Call ended 9:03 am.

August 28, 2011, 12:30 pm

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

August 29, 2011, 11:14 am

Incoming call from Asshole.

Declined.

Boring: Sorry I’m at a photo shoot.

Asshole: Send pretty picture

Boring:

[photo of Shane done up for the commerical in a full suit with his middle finger raised to the camera, Rolex on his wrist]

Asshole: Very nice Hollander

August 29, 2011, 7:46 pm

Incoming call from Boring.

Call ended 9:58 pm.

August 30, 2011, 7:12 am

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

August 31, 2011, 3:42 pm

Incoming call from Boring.

Declined.

September 1, 2011, 9:01 am

Boring: Everything ok?

September 2, 2011, 7:23 am

Asshole: Will be back in 3 days

September 5, 2011, 9:36 am

Asshole: Landed

Boring: Good flight?

Asshole: Long

Asshole: Jet lag will be a bitch

Boring: Lol good luck with that.

September 7, 2011, 9:41 am

Boring:

[selfie of Shane in the Metro’s locker room, showing the A on his jersey]

Asshole: Wow. Fancy.

Boring: Suck it Rozanov

Asshole: Suck what?

Asshole: This?

[selfie of Ilya in the Raider’s locker room, showing the A on his jersey]

Asshole: Or do you mean this?

[photo of Ilya with a hand cupped over his jock]

This message was deleted.

Boring: Stop sending dick pics when I’m in public.

This message was deleted.

Asshole: You like it ;)

Boring: No I don’t

September 8, 2011, 2:18 pm

Boring: You see the schedule?

Asshole: First game of the season :)

Boring: See you in October :)

Asshole: Maybe sooner…

Boring: ??

Asshole: ;)

---

TSN Pre-Game Segment

Filmed: September 10, 2011

Aired: October 6, 2011, 6:50 pm

[Opening Graphic: Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov framed in a close-up at the faceoff in their hockey gear. Energy is intense, peak competition. Both team logos are above their heads.]

[Two Sports Commentators, Richard Pierce and Carl Siegen, sit at a desk with the opening graphic behind them]

Richard Pierce: …And tonight’s game sees the Boston Raiders facing off against the Montreal Metros.

Carle Siegen: Rick, what can we expect from this first game of the season?

RP: Well, both teams made it to the playoffs last year but were knocked out in the first round. But that was to be expected. These teams are in their rebuilding years. They’ve got a lot of young talent that needs to get a couple seasons under their belts to be real contenders for the Cup.

CS: Young talent indeed. Everyone knows the ones to watch this year are none other than Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.

RP: Oh yes. They were quite the hot topic last season. You’ve got Rozanov – the Russian-born phenom who was the number one draft pick – and Hollander – a Japanese-Canadian who grew up in Ottawa – came in at number two, but these boys are pretty evenly matched.

CS: You bet. A whopping 67 points each in their rookie season and both teams making the playoffs. But it was Hollander who came out on top at the end with Rookie of the Year.

RP: Yes, we saw Rozanov showing his support for Hollander’s win last year in Vegas.

[Photo from account @IlyaRozanov81 showing Shane holding the Rookie of the Year trophy with a bashful smile, clearly taken by Ilya backstage. Caption reads: Congrats bestie @ShaneHollanderOfficial #RotY #TimeToParty!]

RP: You would think coming from competing countries and being on teams with such long histories of opposition, that these two would be the next big rivalry in hockey but no, they quickly put those rumors to rest at the Prospects Cup in ’09 because these two are pretty close.

CS: Yep. Self-proclaimed best friends. And you can see it in how these boys show up for each other.

[Paparazzi photo of the boys walking out of a bar, arms slung around each other, laughing.]

[Game-day photo of the boys in their All-Star jerseys, standing at the boards with their respective teams, but at the end of each line so they’re next to each other. Ilya is clearly talking while Shane tries to hide a laugh.]

[Far-away cell-phone photo of the boys at the Montreal airport over the summer.]

RP: You got that right. There’s no shortage of antics when these two get together.

CS: I heard last year’s All-Stars was quite the party.

RP: Got to expect that with Rozanov around.

CS: Hollander doesn’t really seem like the type. He’s been known as a pretty quiet kid for most of his Junior career.

RP: Maybe Rozanov is bringing him out of his shell?

CS: Or maybe it’s a newfound confidence that comes with being on an up-and-coming team because these boys do not look like they’ll be slowing down this year.

RP: That’s right Carl, they’re no longer rookies and that became obvious when both teams announced that Hollander and Rozanov have been given A’s this season.

CS: Big responsibility.

RP: I think they’re ready for it.

CS: Let’s see how they feel about it. TSN Correspondent, Jeremy Walsh, caught up with Hollander and Rozanov at a recent CCM commercial shoot ahead of training camp. Take a look.

[Ice rink interior in Toronto. Camera and lighting rigs are set up on the ice. TSN Correspondent Jeremy Walsh stands at the side of the rink, talking to a camera with Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov skating in the background dressed in CCM branded hockey gear.]

Jeremy Walsh: It’s no secret that the next big stars in the MLH are Shane Hollander of the Montreal Metros and Ilya Rozanov of the Boston Raiders. Everything about this pair screams the next big rivalry in hockey, and yet, despite being on rival teams and fighting for the same awards, they’ve quickly made a name for themselves as the best friends in the league. Today we’re joining the boys on set for the CCM fall campaign to get the inside scoop on how they feel about the responsibility of becoming leaders in their respective franchises, and how they balance their on-ice competition with their off-ice friendship.

[Cut to Hollander standing at the boards with Walsh, a little flushed from all the skating, looking serious but with a polite, media-ready smile. Rozanov is still skating in the background for photography.]

JW: Hollander, good to see you.

Shane Hollander: Good to see you too, Jeremy.

JW: Now, you had quite the rookie season – one like we haven’t seen in years – including the Rookie of the Year win. How are you planning to keep up your success this season?

SH: Uh well, I’ve been training hard all summer. I think the team was really coming together by the end of last season and I think we’ll see more of that in training camp. I think our dedication is what’s going to keep us going.

JW: You dedicate a lot of your success to your team – to the way you work together. How does it feel to be heading back into the locker room with the guys?

SH: I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again. This game is really about how you gel with the guys, so it’s been nice to have such a welcoming team.

JW: And what do they think of your other friends? [nods at Rozanov]

SH: [turns to watch Rozanov skating] Um, I don’t think…sorry um… [looking back at Walsh] You know, I don’t know if they’ve really met off the ice yet…

JW: [joking a little] And we all know how Rozanov is on the ice.

SH: [laughing back, a little shy] Yeah.

JW: The Raiders have a long-standing rivalry with the Metros and yet you’ve become good friends with one of their top players. What do you think that says about bipartisanship in the league? Do you think we’ll see more of this reaching across the ice in future generations as the MLH continues?

SH: [still glancing between Rozanov and Walsh but back to serious] Um, I can’t speak for other players, but I hope so. I think me and Rozanov have learned a lot from each other. If there’s anything I can express to young players, it’s that sport transcends all barriers. Everyone can play and everyone should be welcome. Who knows, maybe you’ll find your best friend somewhere you never thought you would.

JW: Just like you and Rozanov. An unlikely meeting coming from different countries across the world and yet, you’ve been brought together by hockey.

SH: [still watching Rozanov] Yeah…

JW: So Hollander, what’s the goal this year? Making it farther in the playoffs? Scoring more goals? Beating Rozanov?

SH: [focusing back on Walsh, chuckling politely] Uh well, the goal is always the Cup – I think that’s every season for every player. But you know, it would be nice to score more goals than Rozanov.

JW: I’m sure he’d say the same thing.

SH: [small smile] I’m sure he would too.

JW: And you’re settling into a leadership role this season with Rozanov—

[Skates skidding to a halt as Rozanov slams into the boards next to Hollander]

Ilya Rozanov: You are talking about me?

SH: [rolling his eyes, instantly relaxing] No.

IR: [pouting] No?

JW: We were talking about that little development for you two over the summer…

IR: [frowning] Uh…

SH: [wide eyes] Um…

JW: You’ve both been named Alternate Captains!

SH: [shoulders sagging] Haha, right.

IR: [chuckling] Yes, yes, the A’s.

JW: How does it feel?

[Pause as the boys decide who answers. Rozanov looks at Hollander expectantly.]

SH: It feels great. I’m honored that the team would think of me in that way, and I hope I don’t let them down.

IR: Same.

JW: It’s a lot of responsibility to be taking on. Rozanov, how are you boys preparing?

IR: Um…[glances at Hollander] I think Hollander probably prepares very much. He probably has big binder of notes—

SH: [exasperated] I do not.

IR: And also very extensive training plan, and team building activities—

SH: Ok that’s—

IR: Maybe zappy ice breaker game—

SH: How do you even know—

IR: [self-deprecating but with an edge] But I do not have this because I am known as much more lazy person.

SH: [Pauses, turns to Rozanov seriously] I don’t know that side of you at all.

[Long pause as the boys stare at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation.]

SH: [turning back to camera] He’s going to be a great Alternate Captain. He’s a great leader, really knows how to rally a team.

IR: [shifting uncomfortably at the praise, nodding at Hollander] He will also be very good. [nudging Hollander with a smirk to lighten the mood] Has highest hockey IQ in league. Good for making very serious plans.

SH: [rolling his eyes again] Don’t they need you in front of the camera?

IR: No, I am finished. They are resetting camera for you. [eying Hollander with a smirk] You look pretty.

SH: [disgruntled] You’re wearing makeup too.

IR: Yes, but I do not look pretty. [shrugs to camera]

JW: [getting the interview back on track] How about we talk about what you two got up to in your time off?

[Both boys stiffen.]

JW: We saw you both spent some time together in Canada. Rozanov, what do you think of the Great White North?

IR: Is very nice. But no snow because was summer.

JW: Anything special you two got up to in your time off?

IR: Um… [looking expectantly at Hollander]

SH: We uh, went to my parents’ cottage. Outside Ottawa.

JW: [joking] No tropical vacations for you two?

SH: Uh well, I grew up in Ottawa, so it was nice to spend some time at home.

JW: What was your favourite part of cottage country, Rozanov?

IR: Lake was nice. Swimming. Fire. Cooking.

JW: What do you boys like to cook?

[Rozanov looks to Hollander again.]

SH: Uh, he was introducing me to some Russian food.

JW: And you Hollander? Did you introduce Rozanov to some Canadian delicacies?

[Rozanov snorts]

SH: [giving Rozanov a stern look] Um, we had smores, I guess.

JW: Ooh, what were your thoughts Rozanov?

IR: [smiling] Very good. The Hollanders had many sweet things.

JW: What was your favourite?

IR: [winks] Fuzzy peaches.

JW: And Hollander? Do you have a favourite candy?

SH: Uh I don’t know, maybe Nutri-grain bars?

IR: [rolling his eyes] No, is not true. He likes Snickers.

[Hollander looks at Rozanov betrayed.]

JW: So he has a secret sweet tooth?

IR: [smirks knowingly] He can be a bit of a gazonokosilka.

SH: Ilya.

JW: What does that mean? Do we need to bleep it?

IR: [shrugging innocently] You’ll have to ask Shane.

SH: I’m not translating that.

[Commotion across the ice. Both boys look behind them.]

SH: Uh sorry, they’re calling me over…

JW: No problem, we’ll get to know Rozanov a little more.

[Hollander skates away to start shooting skating photography. Rozanov watches him go before turning back to Walsh, jaw stiff.]

JW: So Rozanov, you returned to Russia for the rest of the summer.

IR: Yes.

JW: Was it nice to go home and spend time with family?

IR: Sure.

JW: Did you get up to anything fun while you were there?

[Rozanov stares deadpan.]

JW: Ok…How about we talk more about hockey?

IR: Ok.

JW: You and Hollander have set a precedent for making things friendly off the ice. Last year’s All-Star Competition saw more camaraderie than we expected from North America vs Europe. Can you say anything about your role in bringing those teams together?

IR: We had drinks together.

JW: Right. Um, how was it playing with other European players?

IR: Was nice. Locker room made more sense.

JW: How so?

IR: Europeans are more…flexible, than Americans. No, is not right word. Um…casual?

JW: Nonchalant?

IR: Yes. More fun too. [shrugs] I am trying to teach Hollander this too.

JW: How so?

IR: [shrugging again vaguely] We have fun.

JW: You two certainly seem to get up to some trouble. Anything you want to share?

IR: [smirks] Ah, how you say, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

JW: [laughing] Ok, ok. And do you think we’ll be seeing you and Hollander play together in a future All-Stars?

IR: Is up to league but I would like that. Finally someone to keep up with me.

JW: Of course, you two have become known for your competitive spirit. Did you get any hometown reactions to the now-famous bet you and Hollander had last season? I can’t imagine the Boston fans were too happy about you stepping out in his tarp.

IR: [lighter] Yes well, I am not sore loser, so I wear jersey. And I still look hot in blue.

JW: I’m sure the ladies appreciated the variation in attire. Can we speculate on another bet being made this season?

IR: You’ll have to wait and see. [winks]

JW: We’re looking forward to it. And we’ll be seeing you two together again for the first game of the season when the Raiders head to Montreal.

[Rozanov stiffens again.]

JW: Thank you for your time today, Rozanov. [to camera] Back to you in the studio, Rick.

[The segment graphic fades out as Pierce and Seigan appear still sitting at the broadcast desk in the studio.]

RP: Thanks Jeremy. Looks like the boys are having fun.

CS: And that fun continues tonight as Boston and Montreal face off for the first game of the season on Montreal’s home ice.

RP: Let’s head down to the rink to our colour commentator Jack Obrien with the call.

[Closing Graphic: Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov framed in a close-up at the face-off in their CCM hockey gear, faces smiling, caught mid-laugh.]

---

@ccm_hockey: Shooting with @ShaneHollander_Official and @IlyaRozanov81 #PlayTogether

[photo of Shane and Ilya on the ice in their respective team gear, backlit, standing side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, holding their sticks with serious mogging faces staring straight at the camera]

[photo of Shane and Ilya framed in a close-up at the face-off in their CCM hockey gear, faces smiling, caught mid-laugh.]

[photo of Shane taking a slap shot at the net]

[photo of Ilya skating gracefully across the ice]

[photo of Shane and Ilya from a distance, chatting and laughing as they grab a drink of water by the boards]

@HollanovUpdates: They’re back! Finally!!! #HollanovIsHere #PlayTogether

@IceBaby: Omg the new gear looks amazing! Can’t wait to get my hands on it @ccm_hockey #PlayTogether

@ILoveShane24: They look soooo good! Shane all done up <<33 #Hollanov #PlayTogether

Reply: @ShaneIsPretty: @ShaneHollander_Official has never looked better #HollanovIsHere

Reply: @HottestInTheLeague: Two pretty best friends #HollanovIsHere

@ShaneLovesIlya: Omg the photo of them at the faceoff! #Hollanov #PlayTogether

Reply: @IlyaRozanovsHair: How much you wanna bet Ilya was the one to make Shane laugh? #Hollanov #PlayTogether

Reply: @FuckTheRaiders: Rozanov once again being a bad influence on Hollander

Reply: @Besties8124: I can’t imagine how hard it must be shooting with those two and getting them to focus lol #Hollanov #PlayTogether

@MetrosForever: That’s my Alternate Captain! #Congrats #PlayTogether

@JustFriends2481: They’re literally best friends your honour! #HollanovPhotoshoot

Reply: @HollanovBesties: Petition to get them on the same team! #HollanovPlayTogether

Reply: @Hockey4Life: They would literally be unstoppable together. RIP the rest of the league if that ever happens #HollanovPlayTogether

Reply: @HockeyPrintsessa: Scott Hunter is rolling over in his old man grave just at the thought #HollanovPlayTogether

Reply: @Player15: Hollander is never leaving the Metros

@GoodOlCanadian: Can’t wait for this season! Good luck boys and #Congrats on the A’s!

Reposted by: @ShaneHollander_Official: Had a great time shooting with @ccm_hockey and @IlyaRozanov81 #PlayTogether

Reposted by: @IlyaRozanov81: Yes so much fun ;) @ShaneHollanderOfficial @ccm_hockey #PlayTogether #besties

[mirror selfie taken by Ilya of Shane getting his makeup done before the shoot, Ilya making a face behind him in the mirror]

Reply: @HockeyPrintsessa: Cuties

Reply: @HollanovUpdates: Ilya back on the game of BTS Shane content <3

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Thank the Lord for Ilya Rozanov

Reposted by @TSN: TSN Correspondent @JeremyWalsh sits down with @ShaneHollander_Official and @IlyaRozanov81 to talk about their All-Star rookie seasons, friendship, and heading into their sophomore seasons with the A on their jerseys.

[Link]

@HollanovTruther32: I love how serious Shane is until Ilya shows up. That boy is DOWN BAD. #HollanovPhotoshoot

@ShaneLovesIlya: lol did you see Shane’s reaction when asked about his teammates thoughts on Ilya?? That boy DOES NOT like to share #HollanovPhotoshoot

@HollanovUpdates: Ok but did y’all see the look on their faces when the interviewer brought up the summer? Seriously WHAT HAPPENED at that cottage??? #HollanovSummer

Reply: @IlyaLovesShane: No fr, like Ilya got to spend what? like a full WEEK with #CottageShane. Don’t tell me nothing happened

@HollanovBesties: Ok but the way Shane takes all the hard questions. All Ilya has to do is look at him with those puppy dog eyes and the boy caves IMMEDIATELY #HollanovPhotoshoot

Reply: @HollanovTruther32: Like I said, DOWN BAD!

@ShaneIsPretty: Mr. Hollander you can make serious plans with me any time any day

Reply: @HottestInTheLeague: Fr my schedule is WIDE open

@ShaneLovesIlya: You guys he called him pretty!!!!

Reply: @ShaneIsPretty: So does everyone else

Reply: @HottestInTheLeague: Real. @ShaneHollander_Official IS the prettiest in the league #PrettiestShane

@Besties2481: Guys they cook together! #HollanovSummer

@HollanovTruther745: Canadian delicacies? Why’d you laugh at that @IlyaRozanov81? #HollanovPhotoshoot

Reply: @IlyaLovesShane: Oh he absolutely sampled those Canadian delicacies

Reply: @HollanovTruther26: I think he had more than a sample if Hollander’s blush is anything to go by

@Maynards: @IlyaRozanov we’re also big fans here at #FuzzyPeaches. Check your dm’s ;)

@Nutrigrainbars: @ShaneHollander_Official check YOUR dm’s

@Snickers: Us too @ShaneHollander_Official (and you too @IlyaRozanov81)

@RussiaIsBetter: Does anyone know why Rozanov called Hollander a lawnmower?

Reply: @HollanovTruther32: THAT’S what that means???

Reply: @GoodOlCanadian: Inside joke maybe?

Reply: @IlyaLovesShane: Can this be read in a sexual way?

Reply: @IlyaRozanovsButt: It’s Ilya Rozanov. Everything can be read in a sexual way.

Reply: @Besties2481: Ok but guys this means that Shane is LEARNING RUSSIAN! Rozanov is TEACHING HIM Russian!!!

Reply: @Besties8124: Do you think Shane is helping Ilya with his English too?

@CeltOnTheProwl: Who the hell taught Rozanov zip zap zop?

Reply: @RussiaIsBetter: Lol now I’m picturing Russia’s Prospect team all pointing finger guns in a circle

Reply: @IceBaby: Hear me out; what if it was the Raiders?

Reply: @MetrosSuck: Cliff Marleau would never

Reply: @Player15: Connors absolutely would though

Reply: @HockeyPrintsessa: Ok now I’m picturing the whole team begging Rozanov to play icebreaker games at every practice until he caves #ZipZapZopRaiders

Reply: @FuckTheRaiders: Guys grown Bostonian men are not playing zip zap zop. He absolutely learned it from Hollander #ZipZapZopMetros

Reply: @Player15: I’ll have you know that REAL men love zip zap zop #ZipZapZopMetros

@RozanovFan01: What was that about Ilya calling himself lazy? And why did Shane take it so seriously? Someone help my bb’s self-esteem issues!

Reply: @RozysFavourite: Fr what is Russia doing to this guy? He’s always so sad whenever he comes back from there

Reply: @RussiaIsBetter: None of you even know what you’re talking about

Reply: @HollanovTruther745: #FuckRussia

Reply: @CeltOnTheProwl: Guys stop, we don’t want to get him in trouble

@HollanovTruther32: I would give my left tit to know what happened at All-Stars. Or Vegas.

Reply: @HollanovUpdates: @IlyaRozanov81 PLEASE don’t keep it in Vegas!

Reply: @IlyaRozanovsButt: I would give both tits. To @IlyaRozanov81 specifically.

@IlyaRozanovsEyes: Oh he absolutely looks hot in blue #RookieBet

[paparazzi photo of Ilya wearing Shane’s jersey as they walk around Vegas]

Reply: @RozysFavourite: STUNing!!!

Reply: @HockeyPrintsessa: Beauty!

Reply: @Player15: Best day of my fucking life #RookieBet

Reply: @MetrosForever: Fr how do we get him traded to Montreal? @MontrealMetros

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Petition started #RozanovTradeMetros

Reply: @MetrosSuck: No fucking way! You can’t have him #RozanovStaysInBoston

Reply: @RozanovFan01: Actually, if anyone’s moving it’s Hollander #HollanderRaiderTrade

@HollanovUpdates: What do we think this season’s bet is going to be? #HollanovBet

Reply: @GoodOlCanadian: He never said they made another one

Reply: @HockeyFan407: With those two there are ABSOLUTELY stakes on the table #HollanovBet

Reply: @HottestInTheLeague: Is it sacrilegious if I want to see Hollander in a Boston jersey? #HollanovBet

Reply: @FuckTheRaiders: Rozanov is definitely going down again #HollanovBet

Reply: @ILoveShane24: Shane always comes out on top #HollanovBet

Reply: @RozanovFan01: In your delusional dreams #HollanovBet

Chapter End Notes

Like I said in the beginning, feel free to comment in-universe reacting to the commercial shoot photos or interview :)

Chapter 7: Mangetout

Chapter Summary

Ilya invites Shane over to his new apartment after their second game of their sophomore season. He's nervous, wanting everything to be perfect, and not wanting to succumb to their usual routine of a casual hookup because his friendship with Shane means more to him than just sex, and he doesn't want to jeopardize it with all of his familial problems.
Shane is excited to visit Ilya in Boston and maybe have a wild night with his favourite Russian. He's ready to prove that he can be just as chill and casual as Ilya's other hookups and that it won't be risky to keep him around without feelings getting involved.

Chapter Notes

The tag line for this chapter is that Shane thinks Ilya wants sex instead of intimacy and is trying to be cool about that like he’s just another hookup, while Ilya wants intimacy instead of sex and is trying (and failing) to stick to that boundary. Just to be clear, they both WANT to have sex, it’s just that Ilya thinks he can’t have it, and Shane thinks he needs to.
This one is so all over the place emotionally. Keep in mind they’re like, 20 at this time. They’ve got big feelings and no idea how to express them.

Also, the next update isn’t going to take as long because I have most of it written already since it covers the same timeline as this chapter (which is why I had to write them at the same time). And the next one is more of a comedy so you have that to look forward to. But I hope you like this little continuation of this story and I’m excited to show everyone where it’s going!

Comments and kudos are appreciated. Enjoy!
-Oaks

January 9, 2012, 11:51 am

Asshole: Want to come while you’re in Boston?

Boring: Did you use Google translate?

Asshole: No.

Boring: What you wrote makes no sense.

Asshole: Oh yes it does. Read it again.

January 9, 2012, 9:27 pm

Asshole: 2886 Beacon

January 9, 2012, 10:02 pm

Boring: Here.

---

Ilya hit the buzzer for his apartment front door then went to check that there was enough ginger ale in the fridge. There was. It was the same number of cans that had been there when he’d arrived home thirty minutes ago, and the same number that he’d put in there that morning in preparation for tonight.

Next to it were two pre-packaged macrobiotic meals, specially ordered by Ilya two days ago. He debated if he should take them out and put them in the oven now or wait to see if Shane was hungry first. Of course he would be hungry – they’d just played a game an hour ago – but Ilya though it would be polite to ask. Normally, he went out to eat with his team after games or got takeout on the way home, but tonight he’d spent the thirty minutes since walking in his door prowling around the apartment to make sure everything was perfect.

He’d rushed out of the locker room a little, but no one faulted him for it since they’d lost. He mercifully hadn’t been pulled for press – the coaches knowing Connors’ friendlier tone was better received after a loss than the snark Ilya was prone too.

Shane would’ve definitely been pulled for press. He always was – the Metros’ go-to fix-it man. Not that there was anything to fix tonight. His team would’ve been riding the high of a 4-3 overtime win. Shane would’ve been riding the high of being responsible for the overtime goal.

Ilya himself had scored in the second period tonight, but that didn’t matter now.

A light knock sounded at his door. Ilya’s heartrate picked up. He quickly shut the fridge, checked his hair in the shiny surface of the microwave (perfect as always), and strutted over.

Shane smiled at him as soon as the door opened, bouncing on the balls of his feet in that half-nervous half-excited way Ilya loved. Liked. Whatever.

“Hi,” said Shane.

Ilya stepped back from the door so Shane could come in. “Hi.”

“Shoes off?” Shane asked, gesturing to his Reeboks.

“Up to you.” Ilya himself was wearing Gucci slides.

Shane, ever the good Canadian, slipped his shoes and jacket off before padding into Ilya’s apartment in socked feet.

“This place is nice,” Shane observed as he surveyed the apartment – the marble kitchen counter, the wood detailing, the glossy windows overlooking Boston’s nightlife. Ilya had bought it shortly after All-Stars last season and tried not to show how pleased he was by Shane’s approval. It wasn’t as nice as Shane’s newly renovated penthouse – Ilya didn’t have Shane’s sponsorships and he was also still sending money home to his brother – but he’d tried to find something that would still impress the Canadian.

“Did you get this commissioned?” asked Shane, pointing to a painting Svetlana had picked out (she’d claimed Ilya’s apartment was too ‘bachelor’ and needed a touch of culture, which apparently meant an abstract collection of shapes in bold colours. Ilya didn’t argue – he knew nothing about art).

Ilya paused. Shit. He should’ve hidden that. “Uh, no.”

Shane nodded absentmindedly, drifting to a side table, eyeing a bulk size fluorescent orange candy bag. He picked it up, turning to Ilya with a cheeky grin. “Did they send you this?”

“Was a perk. For sponsorship.”

Shane laughed. “I can’t believe they think you’ll eat all of this.”

Ilya definitely did not tell Shane that there was a box with five more bags of that size stashed in his closet. Or that he had already finished another two. Yuna wasn’t kidding about the lifetime supply of free fuzzy peaches.

Shane set the bag back down and stepped farther into the room, eyes on a swivel. Ilya’s own were darting around, taking in everything that should’ve been perfect…shit. He forgot to put away his stack of New Yorker magazines.

He placed a hand on the small of Shane’s back, guiding him towards the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I have dinner.”

He left Shane at the island counter, immediately going for the fridge.

He could feel Shane’s eyes tracking him through the room. “Sure.”

Ilya pulled out both meals, turning on the oven to preheat. “Ginger ale?”

Shane nodded again, propping himself against the counter.

Ilya grabbed a green can for Shane and a coke for himself. He slid Shane’s across the counter, watching his long fingers catch it and pop the tab. His throat bobbed as he took a sip.

“Cold enough?” Ilya asked.

Shane hummed appreciatively.

Ilya set about preparing their meals to distract himself, moving them from the plastic containers onto a baking sheet. “They fit in your diet – I checked. Salmon and vegetables. Boring.” He’d thought about cooking for Shane like last season, but decided against it because the Canadian was being very serious about his diet this season.

Shane scoffed. “It’s good for you.”

“Does not mean is not boring.” Ilya slipped the tray in the oven and set a timer. “You can microwave, but they are better in oven. Takes longer but tastes better.”

Shane shrugged, eyes raking over Ilya suggestively. “I don’t mind waiting.”

Ilya stared at Shane’s hand around the can. “Got plans in the meantime?”

“I bet we could think of something.”

Shane set his ginger ale on the counter. He looked like he was going to come around the island, so Ilya took a step back. Fuck. This was already getting out of hand.

It wasn’t that Ilya didn’t want to have sex with Shane. Ilya really, really wanted to have sex with Shane. But he shouldn’t. He was supposed to be maintaining their friendship without letting things progress further than that. So far, he was O for three, because Ilya Rozanov had a problem and that problem was that he could not stop having sex with Shane Hollander.

It started over the phone while he was in Russia last summer. He never should’ve given into calling the other boy, but there had been one dinner where Alexei had hit a particularly sensitive nerve, and his father had been confused all day, and Ilya hadn’t slept all night so he opted to go for a run to clear his head, and he’d just been so lonely…It quickly set a precedent for the rest of the summer – one Ilya caved to every time he’d heard Shane’s breathy voice over the speaker.

Then there’d been the commercial shoot in Toronto. Seeing Shane after all those months…in the fucking showers no less. They were lucky they’d made it back to Shane’s hotel room.

That was, of course, followed by their first game of the season. It probably wasn’t good to turn over a new leaf with a loss on the ice and a loss of his resolve in the bedroom, but Ilya was finding that his willpower was nonexistent when it came to freckled Canadians. Especially when those Canadians were looking all soft and pleased as they showed Ilya around their new penthouse.

Currently his only point of stoicism had been Shane’s invitation to Christmas with his parents in Ottawa. Ilya almost regretted turning that down while eating take-out Chinese food in his apartment by himself, but then Shane called and well…So maybe he was O for four.

In hindsight, he should probably stop flirting with Shane over text. But whoever listened to hindsight?

Besides, tonight was going to be different. He’d come up with The Plan, which consisted of many different activities that could keep him distracted from wanting to have sex with Shane. Or at least from actually having sex with Shane (he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do about the wanting part anymore).

Tonight, he was going to stick to The Plan and not make any type of sexual move on his good friend, Shane Hollander. (Even if he had already caved on the texting front. But flirty banter was their usual and Ilya really couldn’t help himself with that (he could allow himself this one thing, couldn’t he? Just to help stave off the other…urges)). Anyway, he probably shouldn’t’ve made promises he had no intention of keeping because now that Shane was here, all Ilya had to do was keep his hands to himself. Maybe keep his mouth in check a little. Tonight they’d be friends, and they’d catch up, and there was no way Ilya was going to—

Shane dropped to his knees in front of him. His hands were already pulling at the drawstring of Ilya’s sweats.

Fuck. This was a bad idea. Ilya wasn’t supposed to—

Shane wrapped those long fingers around Ilya’s cock, pulling him out of his pants (fuck, when did he even get hard? He really needed to stop thinking about all the times he’d had sex with Shane). Ilya sucked in a breath at the contact, then another at the long stroke Shane gave him.

“You know, if you keep losing, we might have to change this ‘house rules’ thing.” Shane was looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

Ilya swallowed. “Why, are you already tired of sucking my dick?” So much for keeping his mouth in check too.

Shane ran a thumb over the head, collecting a bead of moisture there. Ilya shivered.

“Just don’t want you to lose motivation,” Shane snarked. “Wouldn’t want to keep winning because you’re too distracted by—"

The oven beeped. Thank fucking God.

Ilya stepped back before Shane could convince him to ignore it, tucking his dick into his waistband.

He grabbed an oven mitt (he probably should’ve washed his hands first, but he was too flustered right now. And hard. He was so fucking hard) and pulled the steaming tray from the oven.

Shane was still on his knees. He was looking at Ilya kind of funny. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“Nothing.” Ilya busied himself with plating their meals, trying not to look at Shane. He still saw the other boy get up with a huff and settle himself back on a barstool at the island.

Ilya slid Shane’s plate over, turning around to grab cutlery, just to give himself a second where the other boy couldn’t watch his face. He rooted around in the drawer, pulling out the particular fork Shane always gravitated to in his own home (Ilya totally didn’t reverse-image search what forks those were and purchase a whole set). He took a breath before turning back around, finding Shane hadn’t even touched the plate, eyes still firmly fixed on Ilya.

“Are you upset about losing?” Shane asked. “Cause I’m sorry if I took the teasing too far, I just thought—”

“No, no. You are fine. Is not about hockey.” Instead of going around the counter to sit next to Shane, Ilya opted to stay on the other side, standing while he ate.

“Ok.” Shane finally picked up his fork. Then his voice dropped into that overly casual thing he did when he knew he was about to push a button he shouldn’t. “How are things with your family?”

Ilya tensed more. “Fine.” In truth, he’d been fighting with Alexei about money because his fucking brother kept snorting it all up his fucking nose, but there was no chance in hell he was going to tell Shane about that. And Ilya definitely did not want to talk about everything going on with his father.

“You didn’t um…you didn’t say much about what you did there over the summer. Last time.”

Ilya let a sleazy smirk stretch across his lips, going for his usual (and ill-advised) tactic to redirect the conversation. “Was busy with other things last time.” He let his eyes rake over Shane to drive the point home.

The Canadian blushed, hastily shoving a bite of salmon into his mouth. His eyes widened.

Ilya’s smirk deepened into a laugh. “Hot?”

Shane struggled to chew, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. So polite. “Yes.”

“You literally watch me take from oven one minute ago, Hollander.”

Shane swallowed. “I know, asshole.” He took a sip of ginger ale.

“Poor Shane with burnt tongue,” Ilya teased.

This time Shane raked his eyes over him. “You gonna kiss it better?”

Ilya hastily took his own bite of salmon to avoid answering. Yep. Definitely too hot.

He gestured at Shane’s plate with his fork. “Eat your food, Hollander.”

And Shane obeyed, because he always did, though he took smaller bites this time, carefully blowing on each one to cool it off. Ilya followed suit, the two of them falling into comfortable silence as they ate.

That is, until Shane said, “So I was thinking we should try shibari.”

Ilya’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. What the fuck? “You want to try shibari?”

Shane shrugged. “Seems like something you’d be into.”

“I mean yes, but are you into it?”

Shane’s eyes dropped to his plate. “I don’t know. Haven’t tried it.”

“But you want to try?”

“Sure. Why not?” That didn’t really sound like an enthusiastic ‘yes’ to Ilya.

He put his fork down. “Hollander, where did you even hear about this?” Where the fuck had Shane Hollander learned about rope play, let alone the proper name for it?

Shane squirmed. “Like, the internet.”

That…that intrigued Ilya enough to catch him off guard. “Hollander, did you watch porn?”

Shane squirmed more. “I-I mean…”

Ilya let out a full-body laugh. “You did!”

“Fuck you, I can watch porn.”

“Yes, clearly.” Ilya knew he was smiling too much but he didn’t care. Oh, this boy was always so full of surprises…

Ilya turned serious again but tried to keep his tone casual to soothe the sting of rejection. “I don’t think we do this.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He really, enthusiastically, loved that idea, but this wasn’t something they could just jump into. There needed to be negotiations, and established trust, and probably some more research on Shane’s part. Ilya wasn’t going to just ‘try’ tying Shane up and taking him to such great heights of pleasure that he became nothing but putty in Ilya’s guiding hands, all soft, and pliant, and blissed out, and pretty…No. No, Ilya wasn’t going to do that. Plus, rope play was definitely against The Plan.

Either way, Shane still slumped a little. “Oh.”

Ilya hated seeing that look on his face, so he pulled out one of the cards he’d been saving for later. “I got new MLH game.”

“Oh yeah?” Shane immediately perked back up.

“Want to play?”

“Sure.” Shane shrugged casually, like he was trying to downplay how excited he was about this. Ilya could barely hold back his own smile. He knew Shane so well.

He shoved the last of his food in his mouth, grabbing Shane’s empty plate and taking them to the sink. “Is on table by tv,” he said over his shoulder. “Go load it up.”

Ilya heard the scrape of Shane’s stool as he left for the living room. Ilya took the moment of privacy to gather himself. He needed to keep it together. Things had already almost gone off the rails twice tonight. And Shane looked so fucking good. All flushed from the game and happy from the win…

Nope. Ilya needed to stay strong. He was Russian. He should have more fortitude than this.

He wandered into the living room, finding Shane on his couch with a controller in one hand, the game case in the other, reading the instructions on the back.

“You do not know how to play already?” Ilya teased as he sat down, picking up his own controller.

Shane rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to see what was new.”

He set the case back on the table. Matheson, the Captain of Colorado, was on the cover this year, face stern as he stared menacingly down the camera.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if that was one of us some day?” Shane asked with a nod at the picture.

“Probably you,” said Ilya. “You are better model.”

“Fuck off.”

“I saw Rolex commercial. Very fancy, Hollander.”

Shane just shook his head, navigating to the home screen and starting the game setup. Ilya focused on his own side, rifling through the teams until he found—

“You can’t pick Montreal!”

Ilya laughed. “Yes, I can. You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a Metro.”

“Sure, you have.”

“No really. David would be so proud.”

“Fuck off. I’m gonna be Boston.”

“Good choice.” Ilya grinned.

Shane glared. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Ilya looked at Shane. “I am you.”

“You’re not anything.”

Finished with their avatars, Shane hit play on the game and their virtual eyes met across the face-off circle.

“Having a good night?” Ilya asked in a parrot from their real-life face-off earlier.

Shane rolled his eyes, likely remembering how Ilya had won that face-off. “Gonna be better than yours. I’m gonna kick your ass. Again.”

Ilya won the face-off just to wipe the smirk from Shane’s lips, but it wasn’t long before he was chasing him down on the virtual ice and stealing the puck back. Ilya real-life body-checked Shane with his shoulder on the couch, making him fumble his controller.

“Hey, that’s cheating!”

“What, you can’t take a little hit, Hollander?”

“I’ll show you a fucking hit, Rozanov.” Shane got the puck back again and sent it at the net before Ilya could focus on his goalie. It went in and the goal banner flashed on the screen.

“Yeah! Take that!” Shane cheered.

Ilya body-checked him again as they set up for another faceoff (to set Shane off balance and not at all to make him laugh again so Ilya could admire the way Shane’s freckles scrunched up on his cheeks). Shane won it this time and before long they were trading goals and chirps back and forth.

“I will totally smoke you in scoring race this year,” said Ilya.

“In your fucking dreams, Rozanov.”

Ilya made his player deke around one of Shane’s, pushing hard to the net. “I’m coming for you this year.”

“Oh, is that what you’re gonna do for me?” Shane said it suggestively, dropping his voice low.

Ilya totally did not blush. And he totally did not flub his next goal either.

A buzzing interrupted their next face-off. Shane sat up straighter. He paused the game (much to Ilya’s indignation) and pulled his phone from his pocket, reading the screen before setting his controller down. “Oh fuck, it’s Hayden. He’s probably just wondering where I am.”

Ilya groaned.

“You’re such a baby.” Shane picked up the call. “Hey buddy, what’s up?”

Hayden, like usual, talked forever. Ilya sat his own controller down with a sigh, lying back against the couch dramatically. Shane rolled his eyes before turning his body away slightly to feign privacy.

“Yeah bud, I’m glad Jackie and the twins are good,” said Shane when Hayden finally took a breath.

Ilya sat up, wanting Shane to look at him again.

As if sensing that, Shane quickly glanced back. “Uh, no, I don’t know if I’m coming back tonight…?” He raised an eyebrow at Ilya.

Ilya quickly shook his head. Shane could stay here as long as he wanted. He didn’t need to go back to Hayden. He could stay right here, with Ilya, all night long. Forever even. Or like, until morning. Whatever.

“I think I’m gonna be out pretty late. Don’t wait up for me.”

Shane leaned back into the couch, knees spread wide and arms crossed over his chest as he held the phone to his ear. He mouthed ‘Sorry’ at Ilya who rolled his eyes again.

“No, no, I’m good…Yeah, I’m having fun…Yes, Hayd, I’m being safe.”

Jesus Christ would Hayden ever shut up?

Ilya wanted Shane to hang up the phone. They had so little time together and now he was spending it talking to Hayden stupid Pike. He should be spending it with Ilya. He should be focused on Ilya. How to get him to do that…?

Ilya’s eyes drifted to where Shane’s meaty thighs were splayed wide. Hmm…

“Oh really? That’s great buddy…” Shane trailed off with a side-eye as Ilya raised one hand in the air before oh so slowly setting it on Shane’s thigh.

Shane’s entire body went tense beneath his fingers. He pulled the phone away from his ear, covering the receiver. “What are you doing?”

Ilya shrugged innocently and began dragging that hand up Shane’s thigh, right towards his…

“Sorry, Hayd, just um, my mom’s on the other line, I’ll just get rid of her.”

Shane muted the phone and glared at Ilya. “What are you doing?”

Ilya smirked, body sinking to the floor, hand continuing on its path up Shane’s thigh. “I think you know.”

“Please stop.” Shane shifted on the couch, clearly trying to hide the growing bulge in his pants.

“I don’t think is what you want.” Ilya’s thoughts were already turning up dirty, dirty ideas.

“Later. Ok?”

Except Ilya didn’t want later. He wanted Shane to pay attention to him now. He lightly trailed a finger up the inseam of Shane’s pants watching the way his leg twitched in an effort to hold back his shiver. “Ok, I will make you a deal. I won’t touch you, but if you get hard—"

“I won’t get hard.”

“Ok so no problem then.”

“Ilya.”

“Shane.”

Shane’s jaw worked. He unmuted the call.

“Sorry bud, what were you saying?” He moved his body to sit on the back on the couch, putting some space between them but also putting his dick right at the perfect height for…

Shane lasted all of five seconds before his pants tented.

Ilya grinned and glanced up at Shane from his knees. He pointed to Shane’s dick, then gave him a thumbs up. Shane rolled his eyes again, but he didn’t stop Ilya as he pulled Shane’s cock out of his pants.

“No, we’re just like, hanging out…Yeah, it’s chill—” Shane’s breath caught in his throat on a gasp as Ilya sunk down on his cock, taking it straight to the root.

“Jesus—”

Ilya hummed. Shane muted the phone.

“Fuck you,” he said to Ilya this time.

Ilya let his tongue trail up the thick vein on the underside of Shane’s cock before flicking the tip in response. Shane groaned aloud, his phone and Hayden forgotten as he sunk a hand into Ilya’s curls, pulling hard.

Ilya could hear Hayden’s questioning voice faintly through the speaker. “Shane? You still there?”

Ilya worked his way back to the tip, laving his tongue over Shane’s slit to hear him whine above him.

“God, Rozanov…Fuck,” Shane huffed, glancing at his screen and then glaring frustratedly at Ilya. He unmuted the call. “Yeah Hayd, I’m still here. Sorry, what were you saying?”

Ilya didn’t know what was so important that Hayden had to discuss it with Shane right now, nor did he particularly care. He turned his focus to the task at hand, dragging his tongue under the head of Shane’s cock, relishing in the way his thighs twitched as his body shivered.

Ilya glanced up at Shane to find hazy eyes looking down at him, his mouth slack as he tried to hold in his pants so Hayden wouldn’t hear it over the phone.

Ilya winked and then sunk all the way down until he could feel Shane’s cock in his throat. Until he had nothing but Shane’s scent in his lungs. Shane’s entire body tensed and Ilya knew he had him. Then he fucking swallowed.

Shane made a choked-out sound before quickly muting the phone. Then he dropped the device to the couch and used both hands to grab Ilya by the hair and move him up and down on his cock. Ilya went with the movement gladly, putting in a little extra effort to make it sloppy and wet for Shane.

He relished in the attention, basking in the now open moans of the boy above him. He glanced up as he took Shane deep again, breathing through his nose, permeated with the smell of Shane and feeling his own head go a little hazy.

Ilya forgot all about what got them into this situation. Shane’s attention was so addicting. Shane was finally looking at him and he’d forgotten all about Hayden fucking Pike (ha!) because Ilya had his dick all the way down his throat. He hummed around said dick to keep Shane’s focus on him. To keep those hands tugging at his hair as Ilya somehow managed to take him deeper (he really was an overachiever when it came to Shane Hollander).

“Fuck, Rozanov, don’t stop.” Shane’s hips gave a little thrust and Ilya brought up an arm to drape it over Shane’s hips, keeping him pinned to the couch. He bobbed his head faster, relishing in the sting against the nape of his neck as Shane continued to tug at his hair, little whines escaping his throat.

“Fuck, Rozanov, I’m gonna—”

Ilya sunk all the way down one more time before dragging his tongue slowly up Shane’s cock on the upstroke. He pressed his tongue into Shane’s slit, flicking it once and—

“Oh fuck!” Shane’s legs shook as he came, Ilya keeping him pinned. He swallowed Shane’s spend dutifully and pulled off with a pop. He licked his lips, satisfied smile stretching over his face as he pulled away and flopped back on the couch.

Shane’s whole body sagged as he glared down at Ilya.

“Shane? Shane? Buddy, you having connection issues or something?” Hayden’s tiny, needy voice came from the speaker somewhere in the cushions.

“Shit.” Shane recovered quickly, fumbling around the couch until his hand landed on the phone. He shot Ilya one more very stern look before unmuting the call. “Sorry Hayd, I’ve gotta go…No, no, we’re just uh, heading out…”

Ilya laughed and Shane set a socked foot on his chest, pressing him down into the cushions.

Ilya’s breath caught in his throat. He suddenly became very aware of his own dick tenting his pants. Shit.

So much for The Plan.

Shane hung up the phone and his head rolled to the side to look down at Ilya through hazy eyes. He had that bashful little look on his face – the one with the blush that highlighted his freckles and made his eyelashes look all long and his lips all plump and kissable and…Ilya was so fucked.

He stood abruptly, Shane’s foot sliding off him and upsetting his balance from his perch on the back of the couch. “Hey, what—?"

“You need another drink?”

Shane looked at him, confused. “What? Uh, no, I’m ok—”

“I get you more ginger ale.”

Ilya stalked back to the kitchen and stuck his head in the fridge. He took a deep breath as the cool air washed over him.

Fuck. He needed to get it together. Stick to The Plan.

He heard the tentative pad of socked feet come up behind him. Ilya stayed in the fridge, pretending to look very seriously for the red and green cans that were right in front of his fucking face.

“You ok?” Shane asked tentatively. He’d stopped right behind Ilya but a few feet away – the kind of distance you keep between someone who’s reaction you aren’t sure about.

Ilya straightened. Grabbed two cans. Took one more breath before turning around to Shane with a put-on smile. “Fine. Do you want to watch movie?”

Shane was a little taken aback by the change in mood. He eyed Ilya warily. “Sure…What movie?”

Ilya (because he prepared for this more than he was willing to admit), made a beeline back to the living room. He set their drinks on the coffee table (on coasters – he did not need a lecture from Shane) and grabbed the DVD case sitting by the TV. He pretended to rifle through the titles even though the particular movie he’d selected (had purchased specifically) for tonight was right at the front. He slipped it from the sleeve and held it up for Shane.

“How about this?”

Shane took a step forward, eyeing the DVD. “Is that…?”

“Yes. You said was good.” Ilya shrugged like it was no big deal that he’d gone out and bought his own copy of one of Shane’s favourite childhood movies. He’d seen it in the drawer at the cottage amongst Shane’s slew of dog-related cinema, but they hadn’t had a chance to watch it in Ilya’s short time there. But tonight might be a good time for that. And a good distraction.

Shane was looking at Ilya with that face again. The one that he got when he was very, very pleased and also a little surprised by Ilya. It reminded him of how he’d looked as Cottage Shane.

Fuck. He could not be thinking about that right now.

Stay strong, Ilya.

He nodded at the couch. “Sit. I get it started.”

Shane sat and Ilya fiddled around with the DVD player. He heard the pop of the tab as Shane opened his next ginger ale. He tried not to picture the way the other boy’s throat was undoubtedly moving as he swallowed.

Ilya hit play to get the previews started, then grabbed the remote and some blankets on his way back to the couch. He tossed one at Shane, hitting him square in the face. Ilya laughed as Shane let his body take the hit to avoid spilling his drink. The blanket messed up his hair a little, making him look even more adorable as he glared up at Ilya.

Ilya’s laugh was cut off by Shane’s perfect aim of a throw pillow to his head. Ilya’s own eyes narrowed as it fell to the floor.

Shane’s eyes widened. He set his drink on the coffee table.

Ilya was on him a second later, climbing over top of the boy and pushing him into the couch.

Shane tried to fight back, legs hooking around Ilya and thrusting his hips up to try to unseat them. Ilya bared down harder, getting Shane’s hands pinned as he practically climbed into his lap. They were both laughing through grunts of effort.

Finally, Shane settled once Ilya had him fully pinned, his head resting along the back of the couch, staring up at Ilya, hands over his head, wrists clasped between Ilya’s long fingers. The position had Ilya’s face hovering over Shane’s, practically panting into each other’s mouths as they caught their breath.

Shane’s eyes darted down to Ilya’s lips. Looked back up at him half-lidded.

Ilya swallowed. Totally did not look at Shane’s lips at all.

Fuck.

This was so…He just really fucking wanted…

Barking on the tv drew his attention.

“Shit, movie is starting.” It was a poor excuse, but Ilya still used it to put some space between them, climbing off Shane and sliding to the other side of the couch, pulling a blanket over his lap to hide his boner. Shane sat right where Ilya left him on the other end of the couch, staring.

Ilya resolutely focused on the tv, trying not to feel Shane’s body heat radiating next to him.

It was fine. This totally did not remind Ilya of nights spent on Shane’s parents’ couch, cuddled up under the same blanket in well-worn pajamas with homemade hot cocoa and Shane’s hand petting through his hair and…

“You sure you’re ok?” Shane’s voice was almost a whisper.

Ilya tilted his head to the side, catching a glimpse of the other boy’s wide eyes and open concern. His worry.

Shit. Ilya hated that look.

He turned fully to Shane. “I am fine, Hollander.” And because Shane didn’t look like he was about to take his word for it, Ilya held out an arm along the back of the couch, beckoning Shane closer.

He came easily, slotting himself against Ilya until their body heat melded together. Ilya pulled the blanket tighter around them both and turned back to the tv.

As the movie switched from live action to animation, Shane said, “You know, if you ever want to talk about—”

Ilya shot him a look so scathing that Shane immediately stopped. Well, that was one way to go about it. Probably not a good one.

Ilya softened his face and shook his head before Shane could press more, pulling him closer into his body and lying back against the couch.

“Shut up and watch movie, Hollander.”

---

It was still dark out when Shane woke up. It took him a moment to place where he was, slumped in the cushions of the couch, blanket half thrown off his feet as his body overheated. He blinked blearily into the light of the tv screen, the hum of music accompanying the dvd menu the only sound in the room. When had the movie ended? What fucking time was it?

His neck had a crick in it, and his back ached, and his left foot had fallen asleep. He saw why a moment later, his entire left leg trapped under Ilya’s body where it was draped over Shane, his head of golden curls in Shane’s lap.

Shit. They’d fallen asleep on the couch. Shane had no idea when they’d stopped actively watching the movie, Ilya frequently interrupting to comment on Shane’s taste in cinema (“What is this Goose accent, Hollander? Is supposed to be Russian? Terrible”). It had sparked a couple arguments that led to them shoving each other around again, both laughing loud enough to barely hear the film. They’d gotten closer each time, until they were chest to chest and Shane’s eyes kept darting down to Ilya’s lips wondering which one of them was going to break first and just go for it.

Except every time Ilya rapidly jumped away, darting off to the kitchen for more popcorn or drinks or to use the bathroom. Shane had no idea why he was so on edge tonight. He’d been wondering if something had happened over the summer in Russia. Ilya was never very forthcoming with personal information and he’d been even less so since his trip home.

Ilya had been closed off the first time they’d seen each other when he got back. Shane hadn’t expected to find the other boy in the makeup chair when he’d walked into the makeshift dressing room at the ice rink in Toronto. He’d been prepared for another boring day of commerical shoots and been pleasantly surprised to see his best friend (his mom had been quite pleased at her little secret arrangement). But no amount of makeup could disguise the dark circles and haunted look in Ilya’s eyes.

Shane had done his best to cheer him up – laughing at the face-off circle when they were supposed to be serious (he’d gotten an earful from his mother about professionalism after, but it was worth it to see Ilya finally crack a smile. Even more so when he started cracking jokes in their interview). Ilya shed his shell by the time they’d gone to shower off – enough that he’d accepted Shane’s invitation to room service in his hotel room (which led to other things in his hotel room).

And then there’d been their first game of the season. Ilya was back to himself as soon as he stepped on the ice – in Shane’s face at the circle with quick quips and his signature snark. Shane had had to go out with his team after the game to celebrate their win, even though he wished he could’ve driven Ilya straight back to his penthouse (he’d been really excited to show Ilya his first real estate acquisition). Ilya had gone out with his team too – on the other side of town – but Shane had sent a text as soon as he’d gotten home and Ilya had shown up at his door twenty minutes later.

That had been nice – Shane’s place was more private than a hotel room or sneaking around a bar. They’d gotten rather…loud that night.

They were quiet now. Ilya hadn’t said a word since the bear attack in the movie. Shane might have fallen asleep first. He didn’t remember Ilya lying down with him.

Shane rolled his neck, trying to get the kink out of it. Playing a hockey game and then falling asleep sitting up was not a great combo. Probably not for Ilya either. They should really move to the bed.

“Hey?” Shane said quietly, running his fingers gently through Ilya’s hair until his breathing slowly changed.

The Russian blinked up at him sleepily. “Hmm?”

“Should we go to bed?”

Shane was expecting Ilya to jump at the idea, maybe pull him into a lazy kiss that would get more heated as they made their way to the bedroom. Ilya did jump, but instead of leaning into Shane, his whole body tensed as he rapidly vacated Shane’s lap and moved to the other end of the couch.

“Uh, yes. Sure. Um…” Ilya got up quickly and started collecting their empty cans, the popcorn bowls, folding the blankets and setting them on the arm of the couch.

Shane watched him, confused, feeling the cold of the room rush in where Ilya’s warmth had disappeared in his apparent flight to get away from Shane. What the fuck?

“Are you ok?” Shane asked for the umpteenth time tonight.

Like the other times, Ilya waved him off and skirted around the question. “Yes, yes. Just tired. You woke me up, Hollander.”

Shane tried to shake off the accusation in Ilya’s tone. “I just thought you might be more comfortable in bed.”

“Yes, of course.” Ilya didn’t look at him as he grabbed the last of their dishes and made a beeline for the kitchen, leaving Shane sitting on the couch, staring after him. Shane was starting to feel like this whole night was one cycle of déjà vu after another.

He heard the clang of dishes and a running tap, then Ilya’s voice calling back, “Bedroom is down hall. Go, I will join you in a minute.”

Shane rose slowly from the couch, still trying to get his barrings and shake off the haze of sleep. This whole night had been kind of weird.

A cozy movie night hadn’t been what Shane was expecting when Ilya invited him over. He’d thought they’d go out, maybe get a little wild. Definitely get drunk (Ilya was always down to get drunk. Especially if it meant getting Shane drunk). Shane had even planned for that; made space in his diet for whatever Ilya wanted to cook for him (he’d hoped Ilya would share another family recipe). He wasn’t sure if he was more touched or disappointed by the offer to eat the regular food he had all the time. It had kind of thrown him off.

But that wasn’t the only thing.

Shane thought staying in might have meant a night full of sex, but their earlier activities were an odd choice for Ilya who was always trying to push Shane out of his comfort zone (Shane thought the Russian found some weird amusement in how awkward Shane was in public). Instead, they’d spent the night doing the kind of things Shane liked to do. And even weirder, Ilya seemed excited to do them.

Shane felt a little flutter in his stomach at the gesture. He chalked it up to the unfamiliarity of it all, and totally not other feelings.

He made his way to Ilya’s bedroom, pausing in the doorway to survey the space. Blue duvet, minimal art on the walls, surprisingly tasteful. More than Shane had been expecting especially considering Ilya’s comments on his own interior design when he’d shown him his penthouse (“Wow, Mr. Real Estate has fancy custom couch…Oh, he has art from Japan? So cultured, Hollander...Jesus, Hollander what is the thread count on your bedding?”)

Shane could still hear Ilya clanging around in the kitchen. He debated about what he should do, standing awkwardly in Ilya’s bedroom. Should he sit on the bed? Or stay standing? Should he get ready to sleep? Were they going to sleep? Shane kind of wanted to do…other things. Had been looking forward to said other things. Had been psyching himself up about those other things because Shane needed to prove to Ilya (and maybe himself) that he could do the whole ‘casual sex’ thing without getting all attached and shit. But how should he get that started…?

He should probably do something sexy, right? That’s probably something Ilya would like. Shane had spent the last few weeks trying to think of things Ilya might like to do with him. He’d gone down quite a few internet rabbit holes in his efforts. He’d been surprised (and a little put-out) when Ilya shot his ideas down tonight.

Whatever. Shane just needed to step up his game.

Ok. Sexy…

Shane took his shirt off, carefully folding it as he looked for somewhere to set it down. There was an empty space on top of Ilya’s dresser. That could work.

He ditched his pants next, adding them on top of his shirt. He eyed his boxers. Then he eyed the bed. There was a surprisingly extensive selection of pillows against the headboard.

Actually…maybe…?

Shane added his boxers to his pile of clothes. Laid himself on top of the duvet. It was soft. Fluffy. Actually, Shane kind of wondered where Ilya had gotten it from. He should probably ask him (or would Ilya make fun of him for that? Another thing that was (annoyingly) (boringly) quintessentially Shane).

Shane picked up one of the pillows. They were pretty nice too. Were those silk pillowcases? Did Ilya Rozanov have silk pillowcases? Since fucking when?

Shane pulled the pillow in front of him, propping himself up on one arm, draping his legs languidly over the covers. That’s probably how Ilya would pose. Probably.

Was this pillow too big? Shane should switch it out for one of the smaller, more decorative ones.

He did.

He shifted his weight again, trying to find the right position. He wanted to look enticing, all naked in Ilya’s sheets with just a pillow covering his…

Shane paused. Looked down at his body.

God, this was so stupid. What was he thinking—

Footsteps approached and then Ilya was in the room. He froze in the doorway, eyes on Shane.

Shane froze too. Or flexed his muscles or something. He tried to project more confidence than he felt.

“You know, I was worried you’d only have one pillow.”

Ilya still stood in the doorway, completely still. His eyes raked over Shane once. Twice. He rolled his shoulders back, seemed to shake something off. Shrugged casually. “Yes, well, is nice for guests.”

Shane’s stomach turned at the mention of guests. Right.

He’d seen the papers. The pictures. Heard the rumors around the locker rooms. Ilya had garnered quite the name for himself with the ladies (had seemed to ramp it up this season). He’d more than upset a few players on other teams by getting with their ‘regular girls’.

Shane wondered how many of those girls had been in this bed. Probably lots. Probably way more than Shane had in his own bed (the number of which was a catastrophic one after a night out with Hayden last season where he’d very regrettably taken a girl home and probably given her the worst sexual experience of her life).

But Ilya very clearly didn’t have that problem. From what Shane heard, Ilya not only had options, but also tended to give girls the best sexual experience of their lives. And Shane would know. From his own experiences.

But he also knew that Ilya tended more towards…variety. Sure, there were lots of girls, but that was the thing, there were lots of them. Ilya wasn’t really the type for repeat performances. Those were reserved for a select few people.

Like Shane.

So you know what? It didn’t matter if there’d been other girls in this bed. Shane was here now, and he was going to remind Ilya why he liked spending so much time with him.

Shane ran a hand over the sheets, trying to look inviting while not jostling the pillow covering his junk. “You going to join me?”

Ilya shifted his feet. “Um…” He still hesitated.

Shane tried not to feel the sting of that. He’d been really looking forward to this – having Ilya so close again. Might have even been a little desperate for it (not that he’d ever admit to that). Shane just wanted to feel. To remind Ilya how good things are when they’re together. That Shane could still be one of his favourite hookups without anything getting complicated. Shane could be chill like that. If Ilya kept him around.

They’d gone back and forth all summer, waves of texting, then phone calls, then silence. They’d done more of that through the season; good communication around when they were playing each other, then long stretches nothing, always right when Shane felt like things were getting good again. Like how they were when they were rookies.

But there was something up with them this season. With Ilya.

Maybe Ilya was getting tired of him. Maybe Shane wasn’t interesting enough anymore. Ilya was always talking about how boring he was – maybe he’d found something (or someone) more interesting to occupy his time and now he was just hanging out with Shane as a courtesy to their shared history.

Fuck. Shane really needed to step up his game.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night.” Shane stretched out his legs a little more, flexed his arms. He let his eyes rake down Ilya’s still-clothed chest to his pants where the fabric was starting to tent. Bingo.

Shane dragged his eyes back up, giving Ilya that look that always made him cave. The one where Shane widened his eyes a little and fluttered his lashes. Bit his lip.

Ilya looked down at him hungrily. There was no denying it. Not in the way his eyes grew heated or how his tongue darted out to wet his lips. In how his breathing hitched.

Shane smirked. Got him.

He looked up at Ilya with wide innocent eyes. “I still owe you a blowjob.”

Ilya swallowed. His voice came out gravelly as he groaned, “Fuck, Hollander.”

Shane rolled onto his stomach, tossing the pillow aside at the last moment to not give Ilya a peak. To tease him a little more. It worked, from the way Ilya’s feet shifted against the rug.

Shane dragged his body over the sheets, arching his back, ass on display, as he positioned himself with his head at the edge of the bed, eyelevel with Ilya’s dick straining behind his sweats. Shane looked up again. Licked his lips.

Ilya moved like he was in a trance, eyes never leaving Shane as he took one step forward, then two, putting him right at the edge of the bed. Shane blew out a breath, letting it ghost over the strip of skin exposed under Ilya’s t-shirt. The Russian shivered. His breath caught. He sunk a hand into Shane’s hair.

Shane fully pressed his face against the outline of Ilya’s cock in his pants. It was hard. And hot. And it smelled so much like everything Shane remembered.

“Fuck,” Ilya whispered above him, canting his hips forward. Shane leaned into the movement, dropping his jaw open to mouth at the fabric, wetting it on his tongue. Ilya’s fingers carded through his hair, still gentle, guiding the movement.

Shane couldn’t help the roll of his own hips against the mattress. The expensive sheets dragged along his cock. He was going to leak all over them, but he couldn’t really give a shit right now. Ilya definitely wouldn’t care about that anyway. He always liked getting Shane’s bed dirty with the evidence of their coupling (he especially liked to make fun of Shane’s need to change the sheets after).

Ilya’s fingers slid out of Shane’s hair long enough to take off his shirt. Then he pulled the waistband of his pants down, letting the clothes drop at his feet and his cock spring up long and hard against his stomach. His hands immediately found purchase in Shane’s hair again as his breath ghosted over Ilya’s balls. Shane’s tongue darted out for a teasing lick.

“Shit, Hollander, get the fuck on with it,” Ilya groaned and tilted his hips forward again, pulling Shane by the hair – still gently, still not quite the level of desperate Shane wanted him at.

“Hmm?” Shane feigned indifference, tongue darting out to flick against the skin of Ilya’s balls again.

The Russian huffed, already catching onto Shane’s game. The fingers tightened in his hair. Pulled his head back to look up at Ilya’s heated gaze.

“You want it, yes?” Ilya’s voice was deep and gravelly. Demanding. A little condescending.

Shane rolled his hips again. He tried to duck his head to avoid Ilya’s eyes but the Russian kept a firm grip on his hair. A whine slipped from Shane’s throat.

“Hmm, I think yes,” Ilya’s voice mused. He fisted his cock with one hand, tapping the head against Shane’s lips. “Come on. Open up.”

Shane’s lips parted around the head, tongue darting out to taste the bead of precum that had welled at the tip. Like an addict, Shane sunk down deeper for more.

Ilya groaned. His thighs trembled as he resisted the urge to thrust in deep. His fingers spasmed against Shane’s scalp.

Shane hummed, hollowing his cheeks.

Fuck, this felt so good. Ilya was all around him; his smell, the heat from his skin, the taste of him in his mouth, his hands digging into Shane’s scalp. Shane was never going to get used to this feeling. He couldn’t get enough.

Shane sunk down farther, until his nose was pressed to the hair at the base of Ilya’s cock. His throat spasmed at the depth of the intrusion, but he didn’t care. Shane just wanted more.

“That’s it, take it all. So good for me, Hollander,” Ilya panted above him. He gave his hips a little thrust, the drag of Ilya’s tip against the inside of his throat making him gag, but Shane didn’t pull back, just pushed deeper.

“Fuck, when did you get so good at this?”

Shane would never, ever, in a million ears admit to Ilya that he had bought a dildo the size of his cock and practiced deep throating it. Because Shane would totally never, ever do that. It wasn’t like he was a perfectionist who couldn’t handle being subpar at something, let alone, having the one person who’s competition he valued most know that he was subpar at something. Nope, Shane didn’t have a problem about that at all.

At least, not anymore.

Shane slipped off Ilya’s cock when he needed to breathe. Chest heaving, he sucked in gasps of air, eyes trained on the swollen red cock in front of him, a trail of saliva going from the tip to Shane’s lips. Like and anchor. Fuck.

Shane rolled his hips against the bed as he took Ilya deep again. This time, the Russian’s hands were quick to sink into his hair as his hips set a pace. Shane just braced himself to take it, wanting to be good. Wanting to be the best. To be so good that Ilya thought about Shane’s mouth around his cock as much as Shane thought about Ilya’s cock burying its way into his ass.

That particular thought had been fodder for Shane’s masturbatory habits since the cottage. And not just the occasional fantasy – all of them. Shane could not stop thinking about having sex with Ilya. He’d briefly wondered if boys went through a second puberty in their twenties because just seeing a photo of Ilya made him feel like a horny teenager.

Maybe it was a good thing they didn’t see each other so often. If it were up to Shane, they’d never leave the bed.

He whined around Ilya’s cock as he pulled out of Shane’s throat.

“Shh, you can have it back in a second. Breathe.” Ilya ran a soothing hand through Shane’s hair, petting the sweaty strands back from his face. “Fuck, look at you. So pretty for me.”

Shane looked up through tear-filled lashes as he suckled on Ilya’s tip. His tongue laved over the slit and Ilya’s chest heaved, the gold of his cross glinted between sweat-slick pecs. Holy shit, Shane wanted to stay here forever.

He sunk down again, tongue tracing the vein on the underside before sweeping back up to the crown again. It was sloppy and wet. Absolutely fucking filthy.

Ilya switched to Russian above him, words Shane couldn’t translate through the haze that had settled over him. He felt so good. Little zings of pleasure shot up his spine every time his cock dragged against the sheets. Those were met with the pain of Ilya tugging on his hair, mixing in the middle to send butterflies through his stomach.

Ilya’s hips were moving faster, his breaths coming in pants through the mix of Russian expletives. Shane wasn’t doing any better, hips twitching against the mattress, sucking in Ilya’s scent through his nose as he opened his throat and let Ilya set the pace.

“Fuck, Hollander, you are going to make me cum,” Ilya groaned, his hips speeding up.

Shane didn’t even think about pulling away, doubling down and sucking hard, using his tongue. Ilya’s fingers pulled hard on his hair, shoving his head down. Shane whined through the feeling, the mix of pleasure-pain all too much—

Hot cum shot into his mouth, Shane’s throat automatically swallowing. Ilya groaned deeply, the sound rumbling all the way down his chest through Shane. His own legs were shaking, his body going lax as he rested his head in Ilya’s hands, letting bliss wash over him.

“Fuck, you’ve killed me, Hollander,” Ilya sighed as he pulled Shane off his cock. Shane himself was still in a daze, rolling over to lie on his back.

“Holy fuck,” Ilya moaned, eyeing Shane’s spent cock softening against his stomach and the wet patch sinking into his sheets. Shane didn’t feel guilty about that in the slightest. He might have felt embarrassed if Ilya wasn’t looking at him like a deity incarnate.

Ilya pet Shane’s hair back from his forehead, looking so fond. “You are amazing.”

Shane stared up at him, waiting for his brain to come back online so he could respond. Ilya had those soft eyes Shane loved – the ones he only got to see in times like this, when they were peaceful and happy. Ilya made him so happy. Shane hoped he did the same.

Ilya’s fingers traced over Shane’s cheeks, tracing his freckles, before running over his lips. Shane pressed a kiss to the pads of his fingertips. Ilya shivered. He pulled his hand back.

“Hang on, I will clean you up,” Ilya said before he was suddenly gone.

Shane could hear Ilya rooting around in the bathroom while he lay in bed. Cupboards closing, the tap running, Ilya pacing around. He took a surprisingly long time to find and bring back a wet washcloth considering they were in his own house.

“Sorry, um, here.” Ilya held out the cloth for Shane to take. He’d put a new pair of underwear on in the bathroom.

Shane tried not to mind his own nudity, staring up at Ilya from the sheets as he wiped the remaining cum from his stomach and softening cock. He tossed the cloth back at Ilya, hitting him square in the chest. The Russian let it fall to the floor, reflexes slow after their activities.

Shane stretched out on the mattress, holding an arm out for Ilya. He gave him that wide-eyed look again, since it had worked so well last time.

“Fuck, you are going to kill me,” Ilya muttered under his breath.

Shane tried not to show how pleased he felt about that as Ilya perched on the bed next to him. Shane reached out a hand, settling his own on top of Ilya’s until he twined their fingers together. He wanted to pull him closer. Wanted Ilya to lie down with Shane of his own volition, maybe pull him into his arms until they fell asleep together.

But the Russian was still surprisingly tense for someone who’d just had an orgasm.

“This season’s been intense,” Shane offered, as a way to make conversation. His thumb rubbed idly against the back of their hands.

Ilya hummed his agreement, eyes trailing to their hands.

“How’s being Assistant Captain?” Shane pressed.

Ilya didn’t even glance at him as he said shortly, “Is fine, Hollander.”

Shane deflated a little. “Oh. Yeah, uh, me too.”

In truth, it had been a lot of pressure. He’d come out on top last season and now everyone was expecting him to do it again. The league, his teammates, his coach…his mom. He’d been hoping Ilya might be feeling the same. Not that he wanted Ilya to feel like he was under too much pressure or anything. He didn’t want Ilya to feel bad. It was just that he was always the one to really get Shane. Get what he was going through. They got each other.

“Your team is doing good this year,” Shane tried again. Ilya was currently leading the scoring race. There was already a lot of speculation around this being his season. Speculation Shane had to hear about a lot in press conferences since they were so closely linked. And because Shane’s team kept beating Ilya’s, regardless of how good of a season he’d been having.

Ilya hummed again. “Yes, of course.”

His eyes were staring off into space around the room, not looking at Shane. He hadn’t really looked at Shane at all since he’d returned from the bathroom.

Like he was avoiding him.

Shit.

Maybe Ilya didn’t actually want him here and Shane had overstayed his welcome?

Even though he’d told Hayden not to wait up for him, Shane still had the key to their hotel room. It might be suspicious if he came back so late (or technically early) and he’d probably have to ward off a million questions from Hayden, but if Ilya really didn’t want him here…Shane hoped that wasn’t the case. He tried to curb the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Shane sat up a little, face heating. “I can go—”

Ilya immediately straightened. His head whipped around to finally look at Shane. “No! No, is fine. You can stay.”

Shane wasn’t too sure about that. “Really?”

“Yes, yes.” Ilya stood from the bed, dropping Shane’s hand as he did so. “Um…I will go clean up. Stay here.”

He picked up the wet cloth from the floor and made a beeline to the bathroom again. Shane rolled over in the bed, watching him disappear behind the half-cracked door.

Ok. He’d had enough of this.

Shane peeled himself away from the comfortable bed to follow after Ilya, slipping his briefs back on along the way. He found Ilya standing at the sink, the water running as he gripped the edge of the counter.

Shane paused in the doorway. “Are you ok?”

Ilya startled. He hadn’t noticed Shane come in. His eyes focused again, looking at himself in the mirror, Shane over his shoulder.

He shook his head, then said, “I am fine. Go back to bed, Hollander.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I said I am.” Ilya was getting frustrated now. But so was Shane.

“What is going on with you?” He demanded.

Ilya dropped his head, letting out a sigh. He turned off the tap. “Hollander—”

“No. No more bullshit, Ilya. You’ve been off all night—"

“Oh, all night? I remember scoring two goals.”

“Don’t do that. Stop fucking deflecting.”

“I am not—”

“You are! Don’t forget, I fucking know you, Ilya.”

The set of Ilya’s shoulders told Shane exactly how he felt about that. Still, Shane continued to press.

“Is it stuff with your family?”

Ilya shook his head. Shane could see the hint of a lie there, but that also clearly wasn’t everything.

Shane took a breath, voice a little unsure as he asked, “Is it me?”

Ilya’s head snapped around to look at him. Shane’s breath caught in his throat. There was…something behind Ilya’s eyes.

Shit. Shane had read this so wrong.

He ducked his head before Ilya could see the sting in his eyes. “I should go—"

“NO!”

Shane paused in the doorway. He hadn’t expected Ilya to react so strongly to that.

“No,” Ilya dropped his voice a little. “I don’t want you to leave. I…” Ilya took a breath, like he was going to regret what he said next. “I want you to stay.”

“You don’t really seem like it.”

“I do. I really do. Promise.”

Shane pursed his lips. Shifted his feet. Looked back at his friend. “Then will you tell me what’s going on with you?”

Ilya followed the same sequence of motions, followed by another big sigh. “Is just…you are right. Season is a lot of pressure.”

Shane immediately deflated in relief. “Of course it is,” he said gently.

Ilya’s eyes dropped to the floor. Shane took a hesitant step forward. “Hey, it’s me, remember? Your best friend. You can tell me about it.”

Ilya’s eyes trailed up from Shane’s feet where they pressed into the plush bath rug, until they met his eyes again. Shane tried to make his face look as open and receptive as he could. He was here for Ilya. He wanted to be here for Ilya.

Ilya’s eyes searched Shane’s before he admitted, “I really wanted to see you tonight.”

Shane’s heart fluttered. “Me too,” he said shyly, but then continued with, “Although, I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

“No but. Butt is here.” Ilya punctuated the statement by reaching around and squeezing Shane’s ass.

“Ilya!” Shane jumped, brushing his hand off with a laugh.

The Russian laughed – Shane loved that sound – but he was avoiding the question again.

Shane swatted him in the chest. “Be serious.”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, always so serious, Hollander.”

Shane rolled his back. “Yes, I know. I’m so boring.”

“Is really your strongest quality.”

“Ilya.”

“Shane.”

“You’re deflecting again.” Shane poked him in the stomach. “C’mon, I’m your best friend.” He raised a hand to cup the back of Ilya’s neck, fingers playing with the tufts of hair at his nape. Ilya closed his eyes and leaned into it.

“What happened over the summer?” Shane whispered.

Ilya kept his eyes closed as he said, “Was just…hard. I liked my time with you. Didn’t want it to end.”

“We can always hang out more,” Shane offered. “When we have room in the season. Or next summer.”

“Maybe,” Ilya sighed. He opened his eyes, already full of regret as he looked down at Shane. “But I don’t know about this summer. I think I have to go home longer.”

“Did something happen?” Shane asked, even more concerned now.

Ilya waved him off. “Is just family stuff. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Ok…But you know you can come to me about that stuff, right?”

“Yes, Shane. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for it. That’s what friends are for.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend like that.”

“Not back in Russia?”

Ilya thought about it for a moment. “Is different. This is different. My other friends aren’t like you.”

“In a good way?”

“In a different way.” Ilya brushed a hand through Shane’s hair. “Ty slishkom khorosh dlya menya (You’re too good for me).”

Shane had no idea what he said. He could make the word for ‘good’ and ‘me’ but the rest got jumbled in the low cadence of Ilya’s voice. Before he could ask what it meant, Ilya asked him, “You liked tonight? Had fun?”

“Yeah.” Shane smiled a little. “The movie was a nice touch.”

“Oh, you liked it?” Ilya said sarcastically, a smile now tugging at his own lips. “I could not tell, considering DVD case at cottage was practically falling apart. I thought you must hate movie because you beat it up—”

“Ok, ok,” Shane laughed, stepping right into Ilya’s space so their hips were aligned.

Their laughter died at the proximity. Shane’s eyes darted down to Ilya’s lips. Ilya’s eyes followed the movement. His hand came up to cup Shane’s jaw. Shane tilted his head into it, feeling all warm and fuzzy on the inside as they got closer…

Then his body betrayed him. He fucking yawned.

Ilya pulled back with a huff. Dropped his voice all soft. Ran his thumb along Shane’s jaw. “You must be tired. After game. Big win.”

Shane tried to go for the sexy eyes again, but he could feel his energy fading. “I might be convinced to stay up a little longer.”

“Is pretty late.”

“Hmm.” Shane checked his watch. Fuck, where had the night gone?

He cringed back at Ilya. “I um, have to be at the team plane in three hours.”

“Might want to get some sleep then.” Ilya nodded to the bed. Dropped his hand from Shane’s face.

Shane reached out to grab that hand in his own before Ilya could step away. “You’ll come with me?”

Ilya nodded, thumb tracing over Shane’s knuckles. “Yes, of course.”

Ilya let Shane tug him back to the bed. The sheets were rumpled from where Shane had rolled around in them and there was a wet spot on one side. Shane hesitated.

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Get in on other side, Hollander.” Then he swatted him on the ass.

Shane huffed a laugh – thought about making a comment about chivalry not being dead – but Ilya was sliding under the covers and beckoning him forward and Shane’s sleepy brain forgot all about it.

They shuffled around until Shane’s back was to Ilya’s front, legs tangled together and his arm slung over Shane to pull them tight together. Ilya gave his pec a squeeze and kissed the back of his neck, sending a shiver down Shane’s spine.

Shane brought that hand to his lips and kissed it. “Goodnight, Ilya.”

“Goodnight, Shane,” Ilya said sleepily.

Shane drifted off almost immediately, feeling warm and worn out in the perfect way he always did when he and Ilya got together. But it wasn’t long before he could hear someone whispering, “Shane? Shane, wake up.”

Shane rolled over with a groan, finding Ilya sitting up in bed. When had he fallen asleep? When had Ilya woken up? Shane hadn’t even noticed him move. Shit, he must be more tired than he thought. He certainly felt like it.

Ilya flicked on the bedside lamp. Shane squinted, trying to adjust. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty,” said Ilya, running a palm down Shane’s chest, grounding and comforting.

Shane’s heart stuttered. “Oh shit, I’ve gotta get to the plane.”

He sucked in a breath, then sat up in bed. He needed his clothes. He didn’t want to be late.

“You want coffee?” asked Ilya.

“I don’t know if I have time,” Shane said as he peeled back the covers. Fuck, it was so much colder out in the world. He wished he could stay right here, right now.

“I put in to-go cup for you,” Ilya offered. He sounded much more awake than Shane. Like he’d been up for a while. “You can take to airport.”

“Ok.”

Ilya left to go make the coffee while Shane got dressed. He found his clothes right where he left them in their neatly folded pile except when he slipped his black t-shirt over his head, it didn’t quite fit the same. Or smell like his detergent. Actually, it smelled kind of like…

Shane looked around the room in shock. He had no idea where the little thief had stashed his real t-shirt. Or when. Whatever. He didn’t have time for this.

Shane looked around for his phone next. Where had he left it?

He surveyed Ilya’s dresser again, eyes drifting past a succulent (of course Ilya’s only plant would be the kind impossible to kill), some charging cables, a stack of books in Russian hiding a framed photograph of…

A woman.

Shane stopped.

The woman was blond and she was holding a little boy in the photo. A boy with curly blond hair. Neither of them seemed inclined to the photo, both staring down the camera with put-on half smiles, posed in a formal way. But the woman’s hand was on the boy’s shoulder and he looked so much like…she looked so much like…

This was Ilya’s mother. Irina.

Shane had never seen a picture of her. He didn’t even know that Ilya had any. Maybe he’d picked this up when he went home last summer. Or maybe he’d had it the whole time.

Ilya hadn’t shared much about his mother since their time at the cottage. Shane hadn’t pushed either. Talking about it seemed painful for him. Anything about his family seemed painful for him.

Maybe Shane should stop pressing so much? But he needed Ilya to know that he was here. That he could count on Shane for the messy stuff, just as much as the fun stuff. That Shane wanted to be here for all of it. Because that’s what best friends did.

He grabbed his phone from his back pocket. (Shit. He’d already put it in his pocket. He really needed to get it together.)

He snapped a quick picture of the photograph, wanting to look at it more later. Needing to.

“Shane?” Ilya called from the kitchen.

Shane almost dropped his phone with how high he jumped. He quickly slipped it back in his pocket, ignoring a few missed calls from Hayden. He was going to see the dude in like, twenty minutes anyway.

Shane made his way into the kitchen, finding Ilya standing ready with a steaming to-go cup.

“You ok?” Ilya asked as Shane made a beeline for his shoes and jacket.

“Yeah, just don’t want to be late.” Shane stalled long enough to school his features before he straightened, finding Ilya right behind him with the coffee.

“Here.”

“Thanks.” Shane took the cup, letting warmth sink into his fingers.

They stood there for a beat, just the two of them. Saying goodbye was always like this. Holding onto those last precious moments. Thinking about how good the whole night was.

And it had been. Despite the hiccups, Shane was all loose from the orgasms and happy from spending time with his favourite person. He wished he could stay here, that they could stay so close. That Ilya would always keep looking at him with those stunning blue eyes and kissable lips…

Shit. They hadn’t even kissed.

Something inside Shane broke at that.

He thought about asking but…that might be too far. Shane wasn’t some blushing virgin who needed to be coddled after sex. This was a hookup. They were hooking up. Who cared if they didn’t kiss? Right?

But Shane was still stuck in the doorway, not wanting to go, but knowing he needed to. He couldn’t stay. Couldn’t be all needy for Ilya’s attention and beg him to keep him longer. That wasn’t what this was.

Besides, he had to get back to his team anyway.

Ilya seemed to think about something. Then his eyes hardened. “Fuck it.”

He grabbed Shane by the jaw and crashed their mouths together.

Shane let out a gasp at the contact and Ilya’s tongue swept into his mouth, claiming. Shane recovered quickly to meet him, hands grasping at Ilya’s shoulders as he pulled them closer together.

He wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but Shane was absolutely breathless by the time they pulled away from each other.

“I’ll see you next game?” Ilya asked.

Shane nodded eagerly, kind of in a daze and still trying to catch his breath. “Yeah. Yep. I’ll uh, text you?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Cool.”

Ilya smirked. “Cool.” He placed a finger under Shane’s chin and drew him in for another kiss. One that sent butterflies down Shane’s spine and settled deep in his stomach. He knew that would be the thing that kept him warm all the way to the airport.

“Goodnight, Shane,” Ilya whispered, breath ghosting over Shane’s lips as he pulled back.

“G-Goodnight, Ilya,” Shane whispered back, shooting Ilya one last smile before he finally stepped over the threshold.

The Russian smirked at him from the other side, one hand resting on the door, eyes lazily trailing over Shane. Fuck, he needed to get out of here before he got hard again.

“Um, bye.” Shane (stupidly) gave a little wave as he turned to leave, taking quick steps to the elevator. He heard the door close behind him as he pressed the button. He waited for the doors to open, bouncing a little, feeling the warmth of the coffee cup sink into his hands.

It had been a good night. A great one. He’d won his game, got laid, and spent time with Ilya. He’d even left with a promise from the other boy to text him. An overall success in Shane’s book.

He couldn’t wait until they could do this again.

---

@TSN: “We’re coming for you Montreal.” Quote from @BostonRaiders Assistant Captain @IlyaRozanov81 before tonight’s game against the @MontrealMetros

[gif of Rozanov winking at the camera, shirtless, surrounded by press microphones outside the Raiders’ locker room]

@IceBaby: So excited for tonight!

@Hockey4Life: Gonna be a good one!

@HockeyPrintsessa: Let’s go Boston!!!

@HollanovUpdates: Tune in tonight for the next #Hollanov match-up

@RussiaIsBetter: Can’t wait to watch Rozanov trounce those fucking Canadians

Reply: @FuckTheRaiders: Can’t wait to watch Montreal trounce the Raiders on home ice

@MetrosForever: Puhlease, the Metros have this in the bag

@IlyaLovesShane: Real subtle @IlyaRozanov81. These two have got to stop flirting in the press

Reply: @HollanovTruther26: I hope they never stop flirting in the press

@TSN: “It was a hard-fought win, but a win nonetheless. I’m proud of the guys for giving their all out there and I look forward to facing the Raiders again and showing them more of what we’ve got. It’s always a treat to play in Boston.” Quote from @MontrealMetros Assistant Captain @ShaneHollander_Official after tonight’s 4-3 win against the @BostonRaiders

[gif of Hollander shooting the winning overtime goal]

@MetrosForever: I fucking told y’all! #MetrosStayWinning

@HottestInTheLeague: Hollander coming in clutch with the overtime goal! #HollanderForCaptain #BestInTheLeague

@Player15: Hell ya! Boston can suck my dick!! #MetrosStayWinning

@ShaneLovesIlya: They are totally gonna fuck about that later #Hollanov

@HollanovBesties: I really hope the competition doesn’t come between their friendship. Can’t they all just love each other?

Reply: @Hockey4Life: It’s hockey. No one’s getting a fucking participation trophy.

Reply: @IlyaLovesShane: Have you watched hockey? All they do is fucking love each other all over that ice #GayestSport

@CeltOnTheProwl: Nice shooting Hollander! Congrats on the win boys

@ShaneHollander_Official: Thanks for the night Boston ;)

Chapter End Notes

Shout out to @Witchaj for the movie rec :)

Also, we're getting towards the end of my long fic The Short Game where Shane moves to New York to play for the Admirals and Ilya stays in Boston. So go check that out if you like my writing and want more.