Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Hayden Pike, Other people probably

Additional Tags:

Fluff and Angst, Hockey Coach Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 7 of "second chances" universe

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-19 Updated: 2026-06-10 Words: 9,872 Chapters: 4/?

at the head of the line

Summary

Three years after Shane Hollander joined Boston as an assistant coach, they won the cup. Shane’s ability to get his players (especially Ilya Rozanov) scoring consistently has helped to take Boston all the way.

Now, other NHL organizations have noticed Shane’s skill, putting another dream within Shane’s reach.
The only problem? The love of his life plays for Boston.

Notes

this will be a sequel to "second chances" and takes place after all of the little one shots in this series.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

It was Shane’s first ever time on a duck boat, because Boston had just won the Stanley Cup. 

Call him superstitious, but he’d refused to get on one for a city tour, even when his parents had visited and were looking for something different to do. He’d wanted his first ever time to be during a parade, waving at the sea of black and gold in the streets. 

The coaching staff had their own boat, which admittedly garnered less excitement from the crowd as the ones with the players. But Shane still drew cheers when he waved from his spot in the back- he’d chosen to be nearly hanging off the end so he could wave to both sides- these people had all gotten up so early to be there to celebrate and he wanted to see them all. Shane even noticed a few Montreal jerseys, his heart lurching when he saw that they said number 24. 

He didn’t even think Montreal had those for sale anymore. 

It had been a tough road to the cup- they’d won a game seven overtime in the first round, and had some injured players as their run continued. But every player from the first liners to the rookies coming straight from their NCAA season had stepped up, with the training and support of the coaches dedicated to getting them to the finish line. 

Even though Shane still didn’t completely trust Coach Julien, he had learned to work well with him. Coach Julien, for his part, had clearly started taking Shane seriously after the first season, and had leaned on Shane harder than ever in this cup run. Shane had even stepped in as a temporary head coach for one game when Coach Julien got hit in the face with a stray puck. 

It must have been over ninety degrees, and the solid black t-shirt with the spoked B in the middle that Shane had stolen from a giveaway a year ago was collecting enough heat to power the damn duck boat itself. If Shane wasn’t committed to professionalism even in the midst of the celebrations, he might have considered just taking the shirt off. 

A roar went up from the crowd ahead of Shane’s boat. It seemed that Ilya, on his own duck boat with a few other forwards, had had the same thought and elected to rip his own shirt off and swing it over his head like a lasso. 

From the duck boat’s distance away, Shane watched the muscles of Ilya’s arms flex as he played to the crowd, the bruised ribs that had been bothering him for two rounds doing little to stop his energy. 

It had been Ilya’s first cup win too, and Shane had almost cried watching Ilya finally lift it over his head. They’d locked eyes after Ilya had handed the cup off to Marlow, everything they wanted to say in that moment apparent in their glance. 

They hadn’t gotten too many moments alone together since that final buzzer. It hadn’t stopped Ilya from lifting Shane up and spinning him around to the cheers of other teammates- these kinds of displays of affection were to be expected between anyone while celebrating a cup win, and Ilya was an affectionate celebrator. Only Marlow had given the two of them a pointed look when Ilya finally put Shane down. 

Luckily, now that the season was over and they’d won the cup, Shane would get Ilya to himself for weeks at a time. He loved his job, but the thought of simply relaxing with Ilya and enjoying the success of the victory they’d achieved together outdid any hockey game. Shane never would have thought he’d ever admit that to himself, but it was true. 

It made the offers he’d been getting all the more difficult to think about. 

 

Even before the playoffs started, Shane had been getting meeting requests from other NHL teams. Now that he’d proved that his first successful season wasn’t a fluke and that he really could deliver consistent quality coaching, teams across the league that had been struggling with scoring were eyeing him as a potential solution to their problems. 

Shane had staved off most of these requests by claiming he didn’t have the time to consider anything until after the playoffs were over, which meant that now, as his duck boat neared its final stretch of the parade, he would have to face them. 

On the bright side, he knew that he was quite possibly already the highest paid assistant coach in the league, thanks to the way Ilya had advocated for him after he’d tried to quit at the end of his first season. It would be entirely reasonable for him to turn down a less valuable offer, or ask Boston to match a better one. 

But, there wasn’t always an abundance of jobs in the NHL, and it was a bad idea to write any team off completely. It was good to make connections and look for ways to build a career, which Shane knew every coach who wasn’t in a secret relationship with their star player was already doing. 

He watched as Ilya staggered up the stage set up at the end of the parade, swaying in a way that suggested he really shouldn’t be trusted with a microphone. The crowd roared as he cupped a hand to his ears to get them to cheer louder before leading them in the chants he’d heard them doing throughout the playoff run. 

WE GOT THE CUP! 
WE GOT THE CUP! 

Ilya jumped up and down, getting the crowd to jump with him. The ground trembled as if they were all at a rock concert, and the other members of the coaching staff standing by Shane chuckled. 

Shane suddenly found himself fighting back tears once again as he remembered just how personally Ilya had taken every game, berating himself when he played poorly and setting the bar even higher when he did well. He’d held Ilya in the dark after their game seven overtime win in the first series, neither truly celebrating because they’d both set their standards higher than making it out of the first round.

They’d promised each other they would do whatever it took to bring the cup home. 

Shane turned away, hoping Ilya couldn’t properly see him in all the commotion. He was so incredibly happy for what Ilya had proved time and time again to both Boston and the NHL. He was proud to have climbed the mountain to the top at Ilya’s side, letting him reach a level of excellence neither had envisioned. And he was still so in love with Ilya that sometimes it physically hurt. 

Another thought wormed its way into his head, one that he’d been trying to ignore all season. But it only got louder with every game. Would I even be getting all these meetings if I wasn’t coaching Ilya? 

Sure, other Boston players had performed well under Shane’s guidance too. But it all started and ended with Ilya. Ilya was the one setting the bar and driving the biggest plays. He was any coach’s dream. 

The crowd let out another roar as Ilya jumped of the stage and high-fived as many people as he could reach. Shane tried to shake himself out of it. Only he would be able to find a negative side of Ilya’s immense skill. And today was a day to celebrate that skill. 

Ilya finally staggered back to where the rest of his team was as another player stepped up to thank the fans. Shane watched as he looked around for a stray water bottle before making his way over to a cooler near Shane. 

Even as drunk as he was, Ilya betrayed nothing as he looked at Shane- they’d both developed an excellent mask of neutrality over the course of their relationship. But Shane let himself drink in Ilya’s passive expression anyways, knowing that later he’d make Ilya’s face screw up in pleasure, in a way that no one got to see but him. 

I love you, he thought as hard as he could at Ilya, I love you so much. I can’t believe we got to win the cup together. 

Maybe Shane was imagining it, but Ilya seemed to nod at him as if he’d heard it. 

 

After the celebrations, it took Shane and Ilya several days before they were ready to be humans in the world again. At first they lazed around Ilya’s apartment nursing cups of coffee and swallowing Tylenol, although that was mostly Ilya. Shane savored the quiet, happy to have been a part of the wild few days following the cup win but even happier to get some time to recharge before anyone needed anything from him. 

When Shane woke up the next morning feeling a little more normal, he tried to let Ilya rest for a few more hours before he got impatient and kissed him awake, whispering, “Hey. We won a fucking cup together.” 

Ilya had woken right up. 

They didn’t leave the bed until Shane feared they’d both pass out from hunger, and even then they didn’t let go of each other, hard as it was to crack eggs and hold a spatula with Ilya attached to his back and mouthing at his neck. 

Shane imagined that this is what their honeymoon would be like, if they ever took that step. Just the two of them, somewhere quiet, enjoying what they’d been able to achieve together. It was something Shane dreamed about whenever he got overwhelmed with hiding their relationship. 

But Shane hadn’t been able to ignore his emails completely. A new one had come in, shortly after the parade. And this one was a much bigger deal than the meeting requests from teams looking to shake up their assistant coaching staff. 

Ilya kissed the underside of his jaw, making Shane tilt his head back onto the couch cushion where they’d migrated. “Something is wrong. We won the cup, but-” he straddled Shane and kissed the space between his eyebrows. “You are worried.” 

For a moment, Shane considered lying. Maybe he could put off the conversation, at least by a few days. What was the rush? Why couldn’t he focus on being with Ilya now? 

Then he remembered that lying to Ilya rarely worked, and on the few times it did he’d suspected that Ilya had in fact noticed, and had just decided not to push the issue. He certainly wasn’t going to get away with lying about this. 

“The expansion team.” He tried not to let his voice shake. “Have you been following it?” 

Ilya shrugged, looking unconcerned. “A little. Not really.” He leaned his forehead against Shane’s. “You know I will not be drafted. I am on the protection list.” 

It was true. If Boston could only protect a single player in the expansion draft, they’d choose to protect Ilya. 

Shane closed his eyes as he felt Ilya’s hand come up to stroke the side of his head. 

“You are still tense.” Ilya hummed to himself for a moment before straightening up a little. “Do they want to hire you?” He laughed and kissed Shane lightly on the lips, not seeming to register that Shane had tensed up even more. “I will ask the Bruins to give you more money and they will. They will not let you go to Utah. I will not let you go to Utah. I would miss you too much.” 

Ilya’s voice sounded far away, as if a wind current was already carrying him out of Shane’s reach. Shane only vaguely noticed the way Ilya suddenly froze in what could only be realization, sliding off his lap but not going far, letting his arm drape around Shane’s shoulders. 

“Hey, hey. Shane. Breathe. It’s okay.” 

Shane hadn’t noticed his breathing had picked up. Ilya sounded so reassuring, so grounding. So loving. He shook his head. “No,” he choked out, “it’s not.” 

“Shhhh.” Ilya kissed his cheek, below his ear. “We will figure it out.” He paused, rubbing Shane’s shoulder. “Does Utah want you to be their head coach?” His voice broke at the end, betraying that despite his assurances, he knew that this would change everything. 

Shane nodded, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. Next to him, Ilya was silent. 

Neither had to say it. It was the kind of opportunity Shane had dreamed of. It was what he worked towards as he analyzed every aspect of every game in order to provide the insight that would lead to the best chance for success. 

If Utah offered him the job he could never, ever say no. 

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

It was amazing how quickly one of the best weeks of Ilya’s life had taken a turn. Not entirely for the worse, but definitely a turn out of the celebratory haze he’d been letting himself float in. He’d achieved a lifelong dream, and he’d done it alongside the person he loved most in the world.  

In those final moments of the toughest games, he’d realized that in order to come out on top he needed to fight for more than just himself or his team- he needed to fight for Shane. Those overtime goals he’d scored while crashing the net despite running on fumes had been almost exclusively because he could hear Shane’s voice in his head, shouting that if he didn’t have the energy to crash the net he should get off the fucking ice. 

He remembered the way Shane’s face had changed the moment he realized they really could win the cup this year. That it wasn’t just a lofty goal like it was for most teams. It was in reach. And if everyone played to the best of their ability, the cup would be theirs. Shane’s face had sharpened in a level of determination Ilya had never seen before- and that was truly a feat. It was when Ilya knew he’d make sure to play the best hockey of his entire fucking life until that cup was in his hands. 

 

Ilya knew better than anyone just how talented Shane was. He saw it not only in how Shane ran offensive zone and power play drills, but in how he picked up on little details faster than any coach or player. He often knew when a player’s stick was going to break before they took a shot, or what line combinations would pull a player out of a point slump. 

To Ilya, Shane would be an easy pick for a head coach on any team. But he’d foolishly thought they’d have a few more years before they’d have to think about what it meant for the two of them. He should’ve known Shane would be ahead of schedule. 

He’d had the thought before, but he’d put it out of his mind. Who knew what the future held anyways? A meteor could hit Earth and kill all of humanity, for all Ilya knew. There had been no use worrying about it. Until, of course, he was hugging Shane on the couch while Shane struggled to even get the words out. 

Shane was one step closer to getting a job he’d dreamed about, yet he looked like he was about to have a panic attack trying to talk about it. 

It made guilt surge through Ilya. “Shane, sweetheart,” he said, once he knew he’d be able to speak with a steady voice, “this is a happy thing. You deserve this.” He cleared his throat as he took in the still-devastated look on Shane’s face. 

His mind raced as he tried to think of what another version of him would say, the Ilya Rozanov who really was just Shane’s best friend and star player. The version of him that didn’t want to cry despite being happy for Shane. “Maybe we order dinner? To celebrate?” The words sounded wrong as he said them out loud. 

But Shane was already shaking his head. “I don’t have the job yet.” His voice was shaky. “I still have to do an interview.” He patted at his pockets until he found his phone. “I should start prepping.” 

Ilya let his arm slide off Shane’s shoulder as Shane pushed himself off the couch. This was a familiar mode: when Shane got an idea about a player or strategy he always wanted to get right up and work on it, especially during the off season when he was spending more time away from hockey. 

Ilya had always laughed to himself when Shane did that, making sure he stayed quiet while Shane got his thoughts down on paper. 

Unless, of course, he decided to pull Shane out of his work with some of his favorite distractions, the kind that had Shane tossing his pencil aside so he could pin Ilya against the wall, both yelling at him for wanting attention at that moment and getting his pants down suspiciously fast for someone who was annoyed at being interrupted. 

This time, however, the air was intense as Shane disappeared into what was technically Ilya’s home office, though Ilya almost never thought to use it. Ilya stayed on the couch, wondering what he should do. Shane hadn’t gone back to his own apartment, which meant that he didn’t need to be completely alone right now. Ilya supposed that was a good sign.

Or maybe he was worried about stressing Ilya out by leaving immediately after sharing the news. 

Ilya raked a hand over his face, letting himself sit for a while longer. 

He wanted Shane to get the job more than anything, because Shane was brilliant and deserved it. He didn’t want Shane to get the job because it would take him away from Ilya. He wanted Shane to prove to everyone once and for all just how invaluable he was to the NHL by leading a brand new team to success. He wanted Shane to say no if he got an offer because he loved Ilya too much. He would never forgive himself if he let their relationship stop Shane from reaching his dreams. 

Where the fuck even was Utah? He searched it- two time zones away. Shane would be in the western conference. The Bruins would only play the new Utah team twice in the whole season. 

Ilya hadn’t been this nauseous since the time he’d seen a teammate dislocate his shoulder before popping it back in on the bench. 

He took some deep breaths, glancing at the hallway Shane had disappeared down. He was not going to let Shane see anything but positivity from him. This was the chance Shane had been working towards, and Ilya would be damned if he got in the way of it. As soon as Shane walked out of that office, Ilya would be nothing but supportive. 

There would be plenty of time to be sad on his own later. 

 

By the time Shane emerged from the office, Ilya had already ordered a pizza in fear of missing dinner entirely. It was celebratory enough, he figured. If Shane got the job for real he would do something much better. 

Shane looked… less distressed than he had earlier, but he wasn’t betraying much emotion. He sat at the table and gestured Ilya over to join him before hooking their ankles together. 

“I feel as ready as I can be right now, I guess.” 

As he had promised to himself earlier, Ilya pushed the pang in his chest away and rubbed at Shane’s leg with his free hand. “It is hard when you don’t know who will be on the team.” 

Shane might’ve frowned a little at Ilya’s casual response, but he might’ve also simply been appreciating how good the pizza was. “Yea, exactly.” 

“When will you go there to interview?” 

Shane looked down at his pizza. “Probably soon. I’ll have to keep prepping until then.” 

Ilya nodded, wondering whether he should offer to help. Or maybe he should offer to stay out of Shane’s way until the interview, although the thought threatened to crack the pleasant demeanor he was trying hard to keep up. 

“Do you-” Shane started, and then stopped. “Hey.” His eyes lingered on Ilya’s mouth, even as Ilya took a bite of pizza. “I almost forgot, we just won a cup.” 

Ilya made his eyes as wide as possible, throwing his hand up to his head in an exaggerated fashion. “You forgot already?” He shook his head, although he had kind of forgotten about their cup win himself. “You do not want your day with the cup? Maybe I will take two instead.” 

Shane swatted at his shoulder. “Fuck off. I just mean- it just keeps hitting me.” He put the half of a pizza he was holding down and swung a leg over Ilya, straddling him in the chair. 

Ilya put his own piece of pizza down in surprise. He was no stranger to Shane taking advantage of a free moment to get Ilya naked and pressed up against the nearest available surface, but it didn’t usually happen while they were eating dinner at the table (if they ate on the couch, on the other hand, it was almost expected). And it had been quite the emotionally charged day. 

But Ilya wasn’t about to do something insane like ask Shane to stop. Having Shane like this had suddenly become a finite concept, and he was going to appreciate every moment. He gripped Shane at the waist and pulled him in as close as he could, planting his own feet on the floor so they wouldn’t topple over. 

Shane didn’t hesitate for one moment as he caught Ilya’s mouth with his, deepening the kiss immediately as he threaded a hand through Ilya’s hair. He yanked his shirt off and draped it over the chair he’d been sitting in before turning back to Ilya, who kissed him back with an enthusiasm that built with every passing second. Ilya let his hands drift to Shane’s chest, missing his nipple on purpose as he let his nails scrape ever so slightly across the warm skin, where Shane’s heart was beating faster and faster. 

Shane gasped, arching into Ilya. Jesus. He was fucking keyed up already. How had Ilya missed it before? He gripped Shane even harder and summoned as much strength as he possibly could to stand up without stumbling. He needn’t have worried- Shane was clutching onto him as if he might disappear at any moment. 

“Bedroom- is too far,” Shane panted as he mouthed at Ilya’s cheek. “Couch. Or floor.” 

Ilya wanted to roll his eyes. As if he’d fuck Shane on the fucking floor. (Okay. Maybe it had happened once or twice. Whatever.) 

He lowered himself onto the couch, keeping Shane on top of him. Whatever was about to happen, he wanted Shane in charge. Shane just grinned at him as he ripped Ilya’s shirt off, clearly pleased with Ilya’s choice. He bit at the muscle on Ilya’s shoulder and worked his way down, pausing every so often to press up and kiss Ilya again. 

For once, Ilya was at a loss for words. He normally wasn’t too quiet during sex, voicing every thought that crossed his mind. Shane was always really into it, lighting up whenever Ilya let him into the fantasies he normally kept quiet. He always told Ilya he wanted to hear everything. 

This time, Ilya was afraid to let anything come out of his mouth. If he did, it would probably be something like gonna think about this when you’re gone, or please don’t fucking go. It was the last thing Shane needed to hear. 

But for all that Ilya didn’t say anything, Shane still somehow managed to hear it. With one hand down Ilya’s pants and another closing his fist around a handful of Ilya’s hair just hard enough to hurt, he kissed Ilya one more time and whispered in his ear, “Can we just- can we have this? Right now?” 

Ilya gripped the back of Shane’s neck, his hand slipping a little on the beads of sweat starting to form. “Yes. I’m sorry, I’ll-” 

“Don’t apologize.” Shane shifted in a way that made Ilya see stars for a second. “Just stop thinking. Let’s just be here. Tonight, it’s just us.” 

Don’t let him see you fucking cry. “Okay. Shane,” his words were barely audible anymore, morphing into a moan, “kiss me again.” 

Shane kissed him again, and again, and again. 

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Shane thought his interviews went fairly well. He’d prepared more for these rounds of interviews more than he had for any game, and certainly more than he had when he originally got his job with Boston. 

He’d dedicated an impressive amount of time, considering how long he spent almost every day holed up in an office in either his or Ilya’s apartment, staring blankly at a screen while trying not to cry or break down at the thought of leaving Ilya. He would start any interview prep with a reminder to himself that Ilya knew how badly he wanted this job, and was making sure Shane had the time and space he needed to be as ready as possible. 

In fact, Ilya was being incredibly supportive, even reminding Shane to look at some houses while he was out in Salt Lake City.

“You have to like the city,” Ilya had said, “or you will be sad. Rich, but sad.” He’d even suggested asking the new team’s managers to connect Shane with a realtor. 

Shane didn’t know how to tell Ilya that he would live in the most run down building in the city if it meant he could be a head coach. He doubted Ilya thought like that. He was, however, surprised at how almost cheerful Ilya seemed every time he brought anything to do with the job up. After what must have been that first shock at hearing the news, Ilya seemed genuinely excited that Shane was getting this opportunity. 

On one hand, Shane was grateful that Ilya wasn’t complicating the process- that Shane could go to every interview knowing he had his boyfriend’s full support. On the other hand, a small voice in the back of Shane’s head wondered why Ilya seemed so excited that Shane might end up out in Utah. Was he not worried that it might damage their relationship beyond repair? Had he thought about what being in a long distance relationship indefinitely might mean for them? 

It wasn’t like they had properly talked about it. Ilya hadn’t brought it up, and Shane was too nervous to broach the subject. Part of him was worried that despite the incredible few years they’d had together, Ilya wouldn’t want to stay in a relationship that had such a dramatic distance between them. The thought made his hands shake- even if he did get the job, he couldn’t imagine his life without Ilya. 

 

When Shane had arrived back in Boston after his first two interview rounds, Ilya was waiting in his apartment with fresh containers of takeout from one of the restaurants they’d been to together on one of their “friendship outings,” as fans liked to call it. He always ushered Shane directly into the shower first, to wash off the travel grime and to just get a chance to be close to one another again after the few days apart. 

For those moments of reunion, Shane forgot to be stressed about the future. The only thoughts in his mind were of Ilya’s mouth and the release of a tension he didn’t even realize was there. 

This was what occupied Shane’s mind as he waited for his checked baggage in Logan Airport after his third and final interview round. He’d tried to put what he’d said in the interview behind him, knowing that obsessing over it now wouldn’t change whether or not he got the job. 

“I don’t want to do anything too fancy with the systems in the team’s first season,” he’d emphasized to the management and hiring staff, “I want to simplify the game as the players get used to each other. I want to attack with all five skaters and take advantage of every power play. My goal is to build a team that can work as a unit first before we start taking more complex approaches.” 

He’d gone through what he thought were the strengths and weaknesses of every team, and pointed out the players he thought would be most likely available in the expansion draft that he would want to have on his ideal team. 

The only weird moment had been when one of the managers had asked him about his concussion, and whether he thought any residual symptoms might affect his ability to coach. Shane had admitted that he’d missed some games due to concussion symptoms before, but had trained the players well enough that they had functioned well in that time without him. He’d even pulled up some game film to illustrate his point. 

He couldn’t let himself worry over whether his concussion would ruin yet another thing for him. All he could do was hope, and think about what he planned to do with Ilya that night in the meantime. 

At least, that’s what he would have continued thinking about had his phone not rang as he picked up his bag. It was so soon after his interview that he didn’t even have the presence of mind to be nervous, even as he recognized the Utah area code. If anything, he wondered for a moment if he’d forgotten something when he’d left Salt Lake City. 

But that all changed when he answered the phone. 

 

How had it gotten so late? He’d sworn the plane had landed in the early evening. And Logan Airport was incredibly close to the North End. But it was suddenly the middle of the night. Maybe time had gotten away from him somewhere along the way. In the baggage claim, or out on the curb, or on the street outside his apartment where Ilya was waiting inside. 

Maybe he’d been stalling a little bit. 

What would be better? A call? A text? Telling Ilya in person? Did the way he said it even matter? 

Ultimately he’d stalled so much that he’d chickened out and hadn’t done anything. Maybe he’d just wait until tomorrow to tell Ilya. Maybe even the day after tomorrow. It wasn’t super urgent, was it? He was standing on the precipice of a momentous before and after in their relationship. Was it so horrible to want just a few more days in the before? 

He exhaled as he finally entered the building, trying to push his growing anxiety to the back of his mind. It could wait. 

At least, he thought it could. But when he opened the door of his apartment, his stomach dropped. 

Ilya had fallen asleep on the couch waiting up for him. He shifted at the noise from the door and blearily rubbed at his eyes, not fully awake just yet. Behind him was a bottle of sparkling cider, the kind he bought when he wanted to celebrate with Shane. He’d bought a bottle when Shane moved to the North End and every time they clinched the playoffs. 

Next to the bottle was a square piece of cake from Mike’s Pastry, aside a larger glass baking pan wrapped in tin foil. Shane lifted a corner of the foil before closing his eyes and turning away from where Ilya was waking up on the couch- Ilya had baked a cake of his own before evidently buying a backup in case Shane didn’t like it. 

It was amazing how Shane thought he couldn’t be fonder of Ilya back when they’d first gotten together, only to be proven wrong as Ilya outdid himself time and time again. 

But this time, the gesture was confusing. It was as if Ilya already-

“Shane?” Ilya was finally awake, rising from the couch to come over to where Shane was standing in the kitchen. 

But Shane couldn’t greet Ilya in the way he wanted. Not until- “did they announce it already?” 

Ilya cocked his head at a slight angle. “What?” 

“How did-” Shane held his hand out to the bottle and the wrapped cakes. “How did you already know?” 

Now, Ilya was frowning. “That you were done with your interviews? You said it was your last round. I wanted to celebrate that you’re finally do-” he broke off as his eyes widened in realization. “You got the job, didn’t you.” 

Shane nodded, feeling tears well up in his eyes. Some of them were happy tears- now that he was telling Ilya, it felt all the more real. But looking at Ilya now, other types of emotions were threatening to take over. 

Ilya looked at him in silence for a moment, his face frozen. Shane didn’t want to move, or breathe, or look away. 

Then, Ilya’s face broke into a smile. “Shane,” he breathed, stepping forward and pulling Shane into a long kiss, “I knew you would get it.” He broke the kiss but didn’t go far, squeezing Shane in a hug as Shane blinked back his tears. 

“Ilya, I-” Ilya hugged him tighter. “I still can’t believe it.”

“You should. You work so hard. Utah is the luckiest team in the league.” Ilya’s face was still set in a dazzling smile, and Shane tried to relax the muscles in his shoulders that had been tense since his flight to Boston. Ilya was happy for him. Isn’t this what he wanted? Hadn’t he been grateful that Ilya wasn’t trying to stop him from chasing his dream? 

Was Ilya willing to let Shane go so easily? 

Ilya started laughing, breaking Shane out of his mini spiral. “You thought this was to celebrate your new job?” 

Shane searched Ilya’s face, but Ilya just looked entertained. “Yes? It was really nice, I-” 

Ilya just laughed harder. “Shane. I will do something nicer for you.” He slid his fingers just beneath the waist line of Shane’s pants. “Much, much, nicer.” 

Shane felt his cheeks grow hot. “You really don’t have to-” 

“I want to.” The edge in Ilya’s voice was driving Shane’s turmoiled thoughts out of his head more and more each passing second. Ilya raised an eyebrow and tugged on the end of Shane’s shirt. “Shower?” 

Shane couldn’t hold himself back from stealing one more kiss from Ilya, even as he started to walk towards the bathroom. “Only if you come with me.” 

Ilya, of course, did. 

 

Ilya held his “day with the cup” at the damn Dunkin. He sent out an open invitation- any fan could show up. The Dunkin ended up blocking out part of the street as fans showed up in droves, all hoping to get a picture with Ilya and the Stanley Cup. Incredibly, almost every single one of them got what they came for, and maybe even left with some free merch. 

Ilya had loved the “Guns N’ Rozes” t-shirts some fans had been wearing to games so much that he had more made and handed them out to anyone who wanted one. Shane could only imagine how much of the TD Garden would be wearing that shirt on opening night in October. 

The Utah announcement hadn’t come out yet. For the moment, he was still welcome at Boston Bruins events, although he had quietly reached out to the rest of the coaching staff and management team so they wouldn’t find out from the press release. He suspected word was starting to spread anyhow- it was a small world. 

Not everyone was even at the party- most players and coaches were out of town for the summer. He did, however, notice Marlow giving him a weird look. Surely Ilya would have told his best friend on the team already, though he hadn’t said anything to Shane yet. 

But as Shane watched Ilya pose with fans and laugh with the handful of teammates that had shown up, he caught himself studying Ilya’s smile, watching to see whether Ilya was truly happy- and it seemed like he was. He only took a break from the festivities to run to the bathroom or get a drink of water, making the most of every moment. 

And every time he met Shane’s eyes he smiled even wider. 

Shane smiled back, even though something in his blood was simmering. 

It had been like this for a few weeks now. Ilya didn’t let a day go by without reiterating to Shane how proud and happy he was that Shane was finally going to coach his own team. He’d ask about the expansion draft every now and then, and had even suggested a few players he thought might benefit from a new coaching system.

 
Anyone would be lucky to have such a supportive boyfriend, but now it was only making Shane annoyed. Ilya often left Shane’s apartment carrying a small bag of clothes, not even bothering to mention that he was clearly starting the process of taking all his possessions out of Shane’s apartment so it wouldn’t be in the way when Shane finally moved. 

Meanwhile, Shane would pause whenever he saw another thing missing, like one of Ilya’s shirts in his drawer or a bottle of Ilya’s cologne next to the sink. Soon, there would be no trace of Ilya at all. 

It hadn’t stopped Ilya from being attentive- no matter what he did throughout the day he always made sure that Shane was getting fucked to within an inch of his life every single night. And sometimes in the morning too. Shane would say they were having the best sex of their relationship if he didn’t spend the following hours mired in anxiety, scrubbing his hands over his face while Ilya finished cleaning up in the bathroom. 

With every passing day he knew they were overdue for a serious talk, and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when Ilya seemed so happy. Not when Shane was starting to hate himself for the resentment he was feeling at Ilya’s happiness.

The Dunkin’ day with the cup concluded with a group photo that Shane insisted on being in the very far end of. He figured someone could crop him out if they really wanted to later. But he did make sure that Marlow took a picture of him and Ilya- the two “best friends”- with the cup between them, trying not to laugh every time they made eye contact. It would be the first thing Shane framed and put on his wall in Utah.

As fans trickled out, some making plans to meet up in a bar nearby, Ilya caught Shane’s eye and winked, jerking his head towards the door. Marlow noticed and rolled his eyes dramatically before Ilya smacked him in the shoulder. 

Shane supposed Ilya didn’t really need to be that sad he was leaving. Ilya would still have his friends here in Boston. He’d have the city he knew and the fanbase that loved him. He’d have a talented hockey team, even without Shane’s coaching to guide them. 

But still, Shane thought, Ilya seemed awfully fucking casual about it. 

 

It was the air conditioner clicking off that got Shane’s attention first. He was still grasping at reality, letting the fuzzy edges of his vision fade away. It happened sometimes, after Ilya fucked him into the mattress so thoroughly he just about left his body. 

The low hum of the air conditioner had been so unobtrusive that Shane hadn’t even noticed until it went off, magnifying every little creak of the building or footstep out on the street. 

Or what sounded like a faint wheeze coming from the bathroom, where Ilya had retreated to after cleaning Shane off and kissing the center of his chest. It made Shane force the fogginess out of his head and pull himself into a sitting position before straining his ears and listening harder. 

There it was again. 

How long had Ilya been in the bathroom? Shane had lost all sense of time as soon as Ilya had started biting at his bottom lip and leading him to the bed. Was he hurt? Had Shane been too busy floating in his own pleasure to notice that Ilya might be in pain somehow?

 Shane pushed himself off the bed and approached the bathroom door. “Ilya?” His voice was soft, as if by approaching quietly he might be able to avert some kind of disaster. He heard the noise from behind the door again, this time a little fainter. 

The doorknob was locked, but gave in with just a little pressure. Shane had never noticed how bad the locks were before- why would he? They’d gone unchallenged in the entire time he’d lived in the North End. He pushed the door open slowly. 

Ilya was sitting on the floor with his knees tucked into his chest, furiously wiping at his face as he tried to stand up. Shane was next to him before he could make a single move, cradling his head as his eyes searched for any sign of pain or injury. 

“Jesus, Ilya, are you okay? I thought I heard-” he broke off as he started to take in what was really in front of him. Ilya wouldn’t meet his eyes, ducking his head down as if to hide the tear stained cheeks that Shane had already seen. He wasn’t contorted in some position as if he’d fallen- he was just sitting there, tucked away against the wall. 

Ilya had disappeared into the bathroom to cry. And from the guilty look on his face as he tried to avoid eye contact with Shane, it wasn’t the first time. Shane tried to think back to their other nights together, remembering when Ilya had rolled away from him and gotten out of bed. 

No, no, no. Had Ilya been doing this every single night since he got the job? 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Ilya’s voice broke. “I didn’t want you to see-” 

Shane was already shaking his head. “No. It’s okay. God, Ilya, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.” Had he really thought Ilya didn’t care that he was leaving? Had he really been so naive to doubt how much Ilya loved him for even a second? Fuck. 

Fresh tears trickled down Ilya’s cheeks as he looked up at Shane. “Please don’t think that I- I don’t want-” his chest heaved as he tried to get the words out. 

“Shhh.” Shane was leaning forward and pulling Ilya into a hug, ignoring how his knees and back complained as he manipulated his body in order to cradle Ilya’s head into his chest. “I don’t. I promise.” He wiped at his own eyes, and his fingers came away wet. “You can always cry, or be mad, or- whatever. In front of me.” He sniffed and squeezed his eyes shut. “You shouldn’t have to-” Now he was really crying. All he could do was hold Ilya tighter as Ilya held him back. 

They stayed on the floor of the bathroom until Shane’s knees protested one time too many. “Do you think we can go back to bed?” Ilya nodded against his chest. 

They broke apart to detangle their limbs and clamber to their feet, but Shane didn’t let Ilya stray too far. “None of that,” he murmured when Ilya tried to lie down with his back to Shane. “C’mere.” He pulled Ilya toward him until their arms were wrapped around each other again. 

“I didn’t want you to know I’m sad,” Ilya whispered, gently wiping away another tear at the corner of Shane’s eye, “I want you to be happy about your job. Not worrying about me.” 

“Hey.” Shane angled his face so that he was nearly speaking his words into Ilya’s lips. “I’m sad too.” Ilya’s brow creased in a faint line as Shane almost laughed in disbelief at his reaction. “How could I not be? The job is exciting, but to move so far away from you- I think you might be the love of my life, Ilya.” He’d never said that out loud before, but as soon as he did he knew it was the truth. 

Ilya blinked slowly. “I know you are mine.” 

What choice did Shane have but to give Ilya another deep kiss, wishing the moment would never end? 

He tasted salt as he pulled back- it could’ve been from either of them. “It’s unfair, isn’t it?” 

Ilya gave a minute shrug. “I think to be the best there are other things that maybe-” his eyes grew sadder, “you cannot have.” 

“But we have it now.” 

“It was never going to be like this forever.” 

Shane’s heart lurched at how sure Ilya looked. He gripped Ilya’s shoulder in an almost panicked hold. “I’m not going to stop loving you. I don’t care- I don’t give a fuck what happens. Please say you feel that way too, because-”

“Of course I do.” Ilya ran his hand up and down Shane’s side, taking deep and measured breaths for Shane to follow. “I could never stop loving you.” He paused to take another breath. “It is hard to imagine when we might be like this again, after you go.” This time, his breath caught. “But that, I know. I love you.” 

“Let’s make the most of the rest of the time we have here, then.” Shane’s initial panic was turning into full body sobs. 

“Yes.” Ilya was right there with him. 

“And we can be sad together in front of each other. Please don’t cry alone anymore.” 

“I won’t.” Tears were streaming down Ilya’s face again. 

They held each other in the dark, letting their tears mix as they pulled each other impossibly closer. 

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

I am pretending that it is a proper expansion draft and not the actual way the Utah hockey club came to be- if you haven’t suspended disbelief yet now is the time to start.

Before he knew it, Shane was gone. 

The announcement was made, the apartment was put up for sale, and the moving truck was pulling away. It had all happened both too fast, yet slowly enough to feel every agonizing second of time with Shane slipping out of his grasp.

Shane flew out of Boston a day after the moving truck left, staying one more night in Ilya’s apartment. This time, he had a suitcase by the bed full of his clothes and a kit of toiletries he placed by the sink in the spot he used to keep his toothbrush. 

He’d asked Ilya beforehand if their final night together could be normal, as if they’d be spending the next morning the way they always had when the season was coming up- rewatching game film and hitting the gym, before more than likely reconvening in the shower later or collapsing into each other on the couch. 

Ilya had promised everything would be as normal as possible, “But I will still cry,” he’d warned Shane, who had managed to laugh as his face fell. 

It had been easier after Shane caught him crying in the bathroom. Shane had confessed that he’d been a little on edge seeing how happy Ilya seemed in the face of all this change, all while Shane was having anxiety attacks over all the uncertainties their future now held. The admission had made Ilya laugh through his tears and kiss Shane again. 

Since then, Ilya just let himself cry in front of Shane. It rarely happened after sex anymore- now, they’d be playing a video game together or chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and Ilya would look over at Shane and feel a gut punch, like he’d seen Shane’s image flicker out without warning. 

He’d let the tears come, and sometimes he’d go over to Shane and kiss his neck, and sometimes he wouldn’t. Sometimes he’d keep doing whatever he was doing, knowing that he couldn’t let his life grind to a halt every time. 

 

The real farewell had happened a week before Shane left. They’d agreed to reserve an entire day to do something special- something much more substantial than the homemade cake Ilya had made after Shane’s final interview. 

Ilya had put a grand plan together. First, the Duck Tour of Boston that Shane had refused to go on before out of a superstition that doing so would jeopardize Boston’s chances of winning the cup. Then, dinner at a fancy seafood restaurant- the kind where you could look at the ocean while you were eating the fish. They’d end with a stroll by their favorite pastry shops in the North End before retreating to Ilya’s apartment. 

It would’ve been a beautiful farewell to the city of Boston, but Ilya started to see flaws in his plan just five minutes into their Duck Tour. The tour guide started pointing out city landmarks in an exaggerated Boston accent, and all Shane did was fix his eyes on Ilya with a despondent expression as he clasped his hands together, as if restraining them from wandering off and doing what they really wanted. 

Ilya quickly realized that spending much of the day out in public where they couldn’t so much as hold hands was not the answer. He promptly changed the dinner reservation to a takeout order. As soon as they were behind Ilya’s closed door, they were wrapped up in one another, where they stayed for the rest of the night. 

After all, it wasn’t Boston that Shane was most sad to be leaving. 

“Which Western Conference team would you play for? If you could?” 

They had been sprawled on the floor, where they’d spread a blanket and some pillows. It was almost like being in bed, without having to admit that the night was almost over. Ilya lifted his head from where it was resting on Shane’s chest. “Is this a riddle? Do you want me to say Utah?” 

“Other than Utah.” Shane stroked a hand through his hair and trailed a finger along Ilya’s cheek. 

“Maybe Colorado. I can go skiing on days off.” 

“You can ski?”

“No.” 

Shane’s laugh was muted as Ilya stole another kiss. He lingered for a moment before settling his head back down. 

“I don’t think I could actually be your head coach.” 

That made Ilya pick his head right back up. “Why not?” 

“The conflict of interest, I guess. I wouldn’t feel right about it.” Ilya supposed that made sense- Shane had been nervous about the potential coach and player power dynamics at the start of their relationship too.

Ilya quirked a corner of his mouth up. “No one would know.” 

“We would know.” 

“Yes.” Ilya leaned down for another kiss, this time letting his body drape over Shane’s. “We would win again.” 

‘Would it be so bad? If people knew about us?” Shane traced a finger along Ilya’s neck. 

They’d talked about this before. How Ilya wanted to pursue citizenship in the U.S. or Canada rather than going back to Russia. How they wanted to leave a legacy that focused on their achievements on the rink, rather than any distractions outside of it. Which people in their lives they wanted to tell about their relationship. 

“Maybe not so bad.” It was kind of a lie. It might be pretty bad if a lot of people knew. But from his vantage point in Shane’s arms it was hard to imagine anything being worse than Shane leaving.  Any other scenario seemed manageable. Ilya shifted again so Shane could run his hand down more of his shoulder. 

“I don’t even know who any of the coaches in this league are married to,” Shane grumbled. 

Ilya wanted to make fun of Shane’s frown like he always did, by kissing the bridge of his nose and making Shane chase his lips, but he was stuck on one of the words Shane had used. “Married?” 

Shane froze beneath him instantly. “No. I mean, come on.” 

Ilya kept staring at him. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Are you proposing?”

“Stop it.” 

It was an ongoing bit that Ilya got into every now and again. Shane would bring up some nebulous time in the future or compare them to a married couple, and Ilya would joke about them getting married, and then they would both laugh about it while not admitting to the other that they were both coincidentally really turned on. 

Ilya caught Shane’s lips in another kiss, this time only pulling back to bite gently under Shane’s jaw before Shane gripped his hair and steered him back up. 

“Ruin me. Please?” Shane’s eyes were dark. 

They both sat up a little, enough to toss aside most of their clothes. Ilya drew Shane up to him with another bruising kiss before straddling him completely and tracing his hands down his chest, mapping out every inch yet again. Shane responded by threading his arms around Ilya’s neck and arching his back so their bodies were pressed even closer. 

Ilya broke the kiss for a moment to shift their position slightly, but not before he caught a glimpse of the wetness in Shane’s eyes. He squeezed his own eyes shut to will any traitorous tears away- he didn’t need them interrupting when he was kind of busy right now, thank you. 

“Sweetheart-” he started to say before Shane cut him off with another kiss. 

“Please just keep going,” Shane panted out, blinking rapidly as Ilya brought a hand up to cradle his face and collect the single escaping tear. 

“Okay.” 

They’d ended up spending most of the night on the floor, only stumbling off to the real bed when the sounds of the city started getting louder outside as people began to rise with the sun. 

Even then, Ilya had fought to the last second to keep his eyes open, smiling sheepishly at Shane when he made eye contact with him and realized they were both doing the same thing. 

Shane had shuffled even closer to Ilya as he finally drifted off. “It was perfect,” he murmured.

Ilya had fallen asleep with that familiar bittersweet thorn in his chest that he was just about getting used to. 

 

The first week after Shane left was almost easier than Ilya expected. He’d been counting down to it since Shane got the job, dreading the moment it finally happened, and then it did. And the world kept turning, and Ilya still had a gym routine to stick to and a few hours of ice every day and a training camp to be ready for. 

And most people didn’t treat Ilya any differently, because they didn’t know. Only Marlow sidled up to him after a workout and suggested they go out for a beer together soon. The tone of his voice insinuated that hanging out was not optional, and Ilya would’ve made fun of him for his concern had he not been genuinely touched. 

Svetlana texted him too, with a similarly demanding insistence that they hang out. Her questions to him were careful, treading lightly over subjects related to Shane, while still probing to get a sense of Ilya’s mental state. 

It made Ilya grateful that he wasn’t completely alone when it came to talking about his relationship, although it also made him realize with a jolt that right now, Shane was. 

 

Shane and Ilya talked on the phone every day as they’d planned. The two hour time difference could get tricky at night, with Ilya nearly falling asleep while waiting for Shane to finish whatever he was working on. Sometimes it was easier to talk in the morning, so Shane woke up earlier. 

The Utah Hockey Club -they didn’t have a name yet- was coming together. The expansion draft had yielded some strong players, including goaltender Wyatt Hayes and winger Troy Barrett, both annoying to play against. Hayden Pike, a winger Shane had played with for his half season as a rookie, was there too. 

But the biggest shock of the expansion draft was New York Rangers star Scott Hunter. Ilya couldn’t fathom why the Rangers hadn’t protected him. Was it because he could be unpredictable? Or had he for some reason wanted to leave New York? Either way, he was in Utah now. 

“It still doesn’t feel real,” confessed Shane late one night to Ilya, “Half the guys on my team are older than me.” 

“Does not mean they won’t listen to you,” Ilya pointed out. Boston had proved that well enough. 

“Still. It’s weird.”

But from the way Shane talked about his team, he wasn’t letting any type of imposter syndrome get in his way. He was already thinking about line combinations for the preseason games, and the most likely candidates to call up from the AHL when needed. 

A few weeks in, Shane paused mid sentence in the middle of a small rant on the varying skillsets of his rookies. “Should I be saying this to you?” 

Ilya frowned. “Why not?”

“Because it’s insider information. You can use it to beat us.” 

Ilya hummed. He couldn’t tell over the phone whether Shane was serious or not. “Maybe I could use it. If I thought like you.” 

Shane laughed in response, but eased off on sharing specific details with Ilya after that. 

 

It quickly became clear that there would be no time to sneak in a visit for either of them. They hadn’t promised anything of the sort to each other, but Ilya had been holding out hope that there’d be a stretch of even twenty-four hours when they might be able to meet somewhere. 

But there was nothing. Their schedules were taking them in different directions pretty much all the time, and free time was becoming more and more of a commodity. 

Ilya remembered how difficult he and Shane had both found it to make it through those early road trips, back when they’d both decided they wouldn’t try to spend extra time together outside of team activities. He wanted to hit his past self in the face now, thinking about how agonizing he’d found it to be around Shane all the time but unable to do anything other than look at him from afar. 

He’d give anything to have that back now. 

Now, all he had was Shane’s voice on the phone, sounding more and more distracted with every conversation as he tried to protect his time with Ilya while balancing his ever-increasing responsibilities. 

He had reports on ESPN and NHL network analyzing Shane’s performance every game, paying him more attention than any other coach in the league due to his age and history with the NHL. He heard less and less about the challenges Shane was dealing with from Shane himself, either because Shane really was trying not give away privileged information, or because he just didn’t want to talk about it. He no longer got to see Shane’s eyes light up at a key piece of analysis, or watch Shane run off to an office to write something down before he forgot. 

And night after night, his bed felt emptier, no matter how many times he squeezed his eyes shut and conjured up the memories he’d saved for specifically this purpose. 

But he still had his job, his friends, and, despite the distance, he still did have Shane. And until the Bruins traveled to Utah for their game against each other, that would have to be enough.