Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Original Characters, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe, Bodyguard, Fake/Pretend Relationship, it's a two in one!, ilya is still in the nhl, Bodyguard Shane Hollander, scott hunter is also not in the nhl, POV Alternating, other characters have also been reimagined

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-20 Completed: 2026-04-16 Words: 23,012 Chapters: 12/12

working overtime

Summary

Newly and accidentally outed hockey star Ilya Rozanov needs a bodyguard to keep the bigots away and a fake boyfriend to appear more “wholesome” to a shocked hockey world.

Shane Hollander of Metro Bodyguards just might be able to do both.

Notes

I know a lot about hockey but very little about how bodyguards work, so apologies in advance if you're an expert!

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

He was on top of the world. The Bruins had won their second Stanley Cup in three years. He’d contributed heavily to the team’s ostentatious bar tab, downed some energy drinks to make it through the parade without falling off a duck boat, and then went right back to partying. 

He was at his fourth, maybe fifth, consecutive party. He was in some club with pulsing music and colored lights that changed when the song did. He kept following the crowd, letting people shove more drinks in his hand, letting beautiful women press their bodies against his. 

And why not? He could do no wrong. He was the team MVP who’d performed at his best under the highest pressure moments. He’d worked hard for years to earn this moment. 

His drink had some kind of tequila in it. Not his usual, but he wanted more. He approached the crowded bar, where people immediately parted to make room when they saw who he was. He felt eyes on him, wanting to devour, wanting to talk, wanting to touch. Someone had unbuttoned his shirt while he was dancing earlier, and the fabric slid across his chest as he moved. 

He held onto the edge of the bar as he ordered another tequila drink, not wanting to waver. But would anyone care if he did? Would anyone care what he did? So far, he’d done whatever he wanted to nothing but a round of applause. 

That’s when he spotted a man off to his right, ordering what looked like a gin and tonic. Dark hair, dark eyes. An expression of want plastered across his face. A refusal to look away when Ilya held eye contact. 

As Ilya sipped his new drink, another wave of want moved through him. The guy was fucking hot. Ilya was drunk. And he was on top of the world. Why should he ignore what he wanted? 

He would consider it a reward, for all the times he’d seen men looking at him before and ignored it, in favor of his career, his status as a team leader, his image in Russia. His legacy was already etched into the Stanley Cup. Twice. 

He let his legs carry him over to the man, and let his hand caress the man’s hip. He pulled the man back to the dance floor and they drew closer and closer until they were kissing, heat crackling between them with sloppy, urgent movements. 

But Ilya had been too drunk to take the man home with him, and too unwilling to have sex in some dark corner that smelled like vomit, so he’d eventually let himself drift away from the man as he danced with whoever approached him. 

By the time Ilya was done partying, he barely remembered any of the people he’d kissed or even danced with, let alone that one man. He let himself fade into exhaustion, alternating between sleep and staring blankly at whatever bizarre reality television show he could add to his queue. 

It was only when the alcohol wore off and he finally checked his phone that he realized just how badly he’d fucked up. 

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

exposition! at the bodyguard agency

There was a new meeting on Shane’s calendar scheduled for first thing in the morning. In fact, his whole day after it had been cleared too. That meant one of two things. Either he’d done something horribly wrong and was about to get disciplined, or he had a new assignment. He really hoped it wouldn’t be another spoiled rich kid he had to follow around while they yelled at the adult staff who catered to their every whim. 

He finished off the spinach smoothie he’d made that morning and headed over to the Metro Bodyguards conference room, wondering whether he’d still have time to use the company gym later. 

The moment he walked in a woman in dark jeans, a black blazer, and a ponytail who’d been standing behind his boss Scott Hunter, clapped her hands excitedly before appraising Shane some more. 

“You weren’t kidding, Hunter,” she said, approaching Shane with her hand extended, “he’s perfect.” 

Shane stuck out his hand in reflex, trying to hide his confusion. 

“Hey, Hollander,” Scott pointed at the chair across the table from his as he attached his laptop to a cord and projected his screen to the front of the room. “Take a seat.” Shane saw a profile and some statistics scroll by as Scott pulled up window after window. 

So it was a new assignment. 

“This is Anne-Marie Blaise,” Scott nodded at the woman, “she works for the Boston Bruins.” 

Shane’s confusion only grew. Boston? What was she doing all the way out in Ottawa? 

“It’s so nice to meet you, Shane,” Anne-Marie handed Shane a stack of papers and manila folders. “I’m hoping that you’re exactly the man I’m looking for.” 

Shane flipped through the pages in his hand, noting the spoked B printed in the corner of every piece of paper. He’d have to spend some time properly reading everything later. “What exactly are you looking for?” And why are you looking for it here? 

Scott cleared his throat. “Shane, I’m sure you remember hearing about Ilya Rozanov a few weeks ago?” 

Shane shrugged. “Sure, yea.” Rozanov was the top scorer in the NHL. He’d just won a cup with the Bruins this past June, scoring the game winner in two different overtimes to push the Bruins past San Jose in the final series. He’d been the main character of hockey-focused media for years, as he continued to defy the lofty expectations analysts and fans set on him. 

Then, in the days following Boston’s win, Rozanov had been caught on video kissing a man at a club. Suddenly, talk of the goals he’d scored or what he’d do next season disappeared. 

Shane had mostly avoided the circus. Despite knowing that Rozanov had made Ottawa fans unhappy after years of hat tricks and game winners against their team, Shane couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. 

Now, he looked at the picture of Rozanov in one of the manila folders. It was one of those player profile photos, the ones that reminded Shane of picture day at school and tended to look just as awkward. Rozanov’s expression looked almost bored, as if he knew he could look more photogenic if he tried, but he didn’t want to bother.

“The Bruins hired me to clean up the mess,” Anne-Marie said, making Shane look up from the picture of Rozanov. “There’s nothing we can do about the video. Looks like he’s, well, out of the closet, as they say.” She pushed a nonexistent hair behind her ear. “But we might be able to use it to help someone else.” 

What? Shane looked over at Scott. 

“The Bruins need a bodyguard for Rozanov. He’s getting all kinds of attention. Good. Bad. Uh, weird? Everything.” Scott pulled up a picture of a house with a bunch of people outside. Shane assumed it was Rozanov’s house- there were entertainment journalists, people in Bruins jerseys, and others that seemed to be in the middle of yelling something. He wondered if Rozanov had been stuck inside since the videos broke. 

“We know he can protect himself, when he needs to,” Anne-Marie cut in, “but, uh-” 

“It would look bad if he was seen punching someone or pushing them away,” Shane finished, nodding. He’d had that type of client before, someone who couldn’t be the bad guy when it came to setting that type of boundary. 

“But you’ll be more than a bodyguard.” Scott switched tabs again, this time pulling up a still from the video of Rozanov and the man he’d kissed. “You’ll also be working as a- what was the word you used, Blaise? Case study?”

 Anne-Marie nodded. “Yes. Rozanov is the first, uh, queer-” she stumbled over the word, but soldiered on, “player in the NHL. That we know about,” she added when she saw Shane start to argue. “We think there’s an opportunity here. To see how the NHL and its fans handle it. To be a trailblazer.” 

Shane was starting to see where this was going. No one self-adopted the word trailblazer unless they cared about their larger image. And Rozanov had upended the image the Bruins had created all season, as well as his own. 

Anne-Marie continued. “Rozanov is great in many ways. But, well, he needs to be a little bit more, well, palatable for this to work.” 

“He needs to have a boyfriend,” Scott added, “a nice, steady guy who can be seen with him around Boston. A guy who can handle a crowd of fans or anyone trying to start something.” 

“A guy who can be protecting him at the same time?” Shane guessed. 

“Exactly.” Anne-Marie looked at Shane again. “I discreetly reached out to the best bodyguard agencies I could find. Scott told me about you.” 

Shane could see why Scott would’ve thought of him. Unlike typical bodyguards, his specialty was playing a role, whether he doubled as a driver, a secretary, or, on one occasion, a tennis coach. He was good at blending in when he needed to, and he was excellent at remaining focused on his job no matter what else he was doing. He’d never posed as someone’s boyfriend, though. 

“Rozanov has a, uh, big personality,” Scott explained. “They need someone calmer and level-headed to balance him out. I told Blaise you can keep your cool in any kind of situation.” 

Anne-Marie pointed to the still of the video. “You even kind of look like the other guy. It’ll look like Rozanov has a type.” 

A thought struck Shane. “Is Rozanov… in on this?” 

Anne-Marie nodded quickly. “Of course. He knows we’ve been interviewing. He’ll want to meet you once you get to Boston.” 

“The Bruins will get you a place to live in the city,” Scott jumped in as if anticipating Shane’s question. “But we expect you’ll spend most of your time with Rozanov, when he’s not traveling.” 

“And of course, you will be compensated for the extra lift of this job,” Anne-Marie added, sliding a paper over to Shane with a number written on it. Shane tried to hide his shock. He’d worked for some wealthy families before, but he’d never seen a payment that big. 

Scott’s mouth was turned up at the corners. “A lot to think about, right?”

Shane tried not to gape at him. 

“Well, it was so nice to meet you, Shane.” Anne-Marie was gathering her things and sliding her business card over to Shane’s stack of papers. “Let me know if you have any questions, okay? I’ll leave the two of you to talk it over.” She looked at Scott, and then turned to Shane again. “I really hope you’ll consider this. You’re the best option I’ve found so far. And, uh,” she hesitated, but kept going, “you might do something really great for hockey while you’re at it.” 

With that, she left the conference room. 

For a moment, Shane and Scott sat in silence. 

“So?” Scott looked at Shane expectantly. “Thoughts?”

Shane looked back at the picture of Rozanov, and then up at the video still, capturing the moment Rozanov had created all kinds of mess for himself. 

“Did she say how long?” 

“Month to month. I expect it’ll be a few. I doubt they’ll have to do it all season, but you never know.” 

It wasn’t as if Shane had all kinds of plans to rearrange, though his parents might be mad if he missed another Christmas. 

“And would the lodging-” 

“Look, Hollander, can you do it?” Scott held a hand out toward the image of Rozanov and the man he was kissing. 

Shane raised his eyebrows. “Of course I-”

“I know you can be his bodyguard. You’re the best there is. Blaise drove seven hours here just to meet you. But can you do all of it? Can you be his boyfriend?” Shane had worked for Scott for years, but had never seen this particular look in his eye before. It was almost a challenge, like he was daring Shane to back out. Like he expected Shane to say no. 

It was kind of insulting. “Yes.” Shane cleared his throat. “I can do anything-” 

“You’re not gonna have a problem? With him? With…that?” 

Ohhhhh. 

Shane shook his head. “No.” He didn’t offer more to Scott, looking him in the eye. He waited, as Scott considered him. 

“Okay.” 

The tension bled out of the room as the two exhaled. 

Scott closed his computer. “Take a look at what Blaise gave you, and give me your answer by-” 

“I want to do it.” Maybe Shane was feeling combative, or maybe he was just thinking about the number Anne-Marie had shown him. Either way, he knew he didn’t have to think about it. 

Scott just looked at Shane again, as if searching for any sign of hesitation. Shane knew he wouldn’t find any. “Okay, if you’re sure.” Shane nodded. Scott unplugged the laptop and stuck it under his arm. “Do your reading. I’ll call Blaise and send you more details.” 

They walked out of the conference room together as Shane surveyed everything he had to read, wondering if he’d be able to get any of it done while running on the treadmill. 

“Oh, and Hollander?” Scott called over his shoulder as Shane headed to his own office. “Start packing for Boston.” 

Chapter End Notes

San Jose? In the finals? Now we know it’s a fanfic! (I’m kidding, I just needed to think of a western conference team)

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

Ilya met his new bodyguard in the offices of TD Garden, likely the only offices in the NHL that were bustling at this point in the summer. There were new pictures up all over the front hall- the team celebrating at the final buzzer, the picture with the cup, several action shots of Ilya scoring, Ilya hoisting the cup over his head as his teammates cheered behind him- there were even some “Stanley Cup Champions” branded hats and shirts hanging on hooks or on the backs of chairs. 

It was a weird feeling, to see countless mementos of the triumphant moments Ilya had helped to create, only for the staff walking by to avoid eye contact and hurry past where Ilya stood, muttering out a quick “morning,” if they seemed especially bold. 

Ilya guessed that some of them had been forced to cancel their vacations in the past few weeks. 

Once the Bruins had hired Anne-Marie, she’d started calling Ilya almost daily with updates. She began with general reactions from fans and people around the league- good and bad. Then, once she’d thought of this fake boyfriend plan, she’d called with news on how the search was going. Apparently, she’d gone all the way to Ottawa to find the right guy for the job. 

“Please, just try and work with him,” she’d practically pleaded over the phone when Ilya tried to back out of the plan. “He was highly recommended. I know it’s, uh, strange, this whole thing-” 

That was a fucking understatement, Ilya thought.

“But you really do need some personal protection right now. And when it all blows over, we can release interviews and documentaries about how unfairly you were treated.” 

Anne-Marie was always talking like this to Ilya. She was full of buzzwords like “future leaders,” and “the state of hockey,” and “trailblazer,” remaining positive even as some of Ilya’s own teammates called into radio shows to talk about how uncomfortable they’d be in the locker room with him this coming season. She hadn’t even blinked when some analysts implied that Ilya had sucked off the referees to get more power play goals. 

It was all going to be in the past soon, she kept assuring him. His “new relationship” would take him from hockey’s latest pariah to someone who just wanted to go out on dates like everyone else. His sexuality was scandalous in the eyes of the NHL, but in all other aspects of his life he’d be just some boring, normal guy who wanted to have a boring, normal relationship. 

It was kind of funny when he thought about it- now that he couldn’t hide his sexuality, he was being asked to pretend more than he ever had before. 

A man in a white t-shirt and black pants was standing next to Anne-Marie by the time Ilya braved the awkward silences of the staff around him and found his way to the right office. “Ilya Rozanov?” the man asked, as if he wasn’t sure. “I’m Shane Hollander. It’s nice to meet you.” 

They shook hands as their eyes met. Ilya tried to remember if Shane really did look like the guy he’d kissed in the club, or if Anne-Marie had been reaching for anything that would help her plan work. He’d been too drunk to remember clearly, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch any of the videos. 

“Nice to meet you,” echoed Ilya, once he remembered to say something out loud to Shane. 

“How was it getting here?” Shane seemed to be searching for something in Ilya’s expression, and Ilya felt an urge to not let him find it. “You’re coming from Brookline, right?” 

“I told him about the little crowd in front of your house,” Anne-Marie added. 

“Oh. It was fine. The crowd is gone.” There had still been a few people milling around Ilya’s house when he left, but he’d tried to give them murderous stares when he caught them. 

Shane nodded thoughtfully. “Good.” 

“Ilya, did you set up a guest room?” Ilya tried to give Anne-Marie a look that said you’re not my mom, but she'd already looked away from him, possibly on purpose. Shane caught the look, however, if his quiet cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh was anything to go by. 

“Yes, five-star hotel,” he practically growled, and Shane coughed again. 

“I should be pretty easy,” Shane said, pausing to take a sip out of the water bottle that was on the table. “I didn’t bring much stuff. And most of it’s in my apartment.” 

Ilya wondered how long Shane expected to stay in Boston. “We will go shopping. On a date.” He exaggerated the word, making Anne-Marie roll her eyes. 

“Okay, listen, let’s sit down,” she said, reaching over to her briefcase and pulling out some stapled packets. “We have some things to go over. Now,” she paused as Shane and Ilya sat across from her, next to each other. Ilya noticed that Shane’s chair was angled toward him, putting both Ilya and the office door in his line of vision. Was Shane already on the clock, during their very first meeting? 

“You are both free to use your creative minds on this. You don’t have to follow what I wrote.” Anne-Marie flipped to a page of her own packet and pointed to a numbered list of what looked like the kind of date ideas one might find in a teen magazine. “But read through it for inspiration, if you want. And you need to get your stories straight.” 

Ilya suppressed a laugh. In his peripheral vision, he saw the corner of Shane’s mouth twitch. 

Anne-Marie just kept going. “How you met, how long you’ve known each other, basic facts, stuff like that. I can help with reservations and tickets, if you need those.” She paused again, looking between Shane and Ilya. “Just, please. Whatever you do. Look like you like each other.” 

Shane shrugged. “Sounds easy enough.” He looked at Ilya expectantly. 

Ilya didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Shane certainly seemed dedicated to the job. But he was still a stranger. “Okay.” 

Anne-Marie beamed. “Great. Ilya, you can take Shane home with you. I’ll have his bags dropped off at yours later today. Please call if you have any-” she pursed her lips for a moment, “problems.” 

Ilya leveled a stare at her. “I will.” 

Next to him, Shane cleared his throat. “Thank you, Anne-Marie.” He turned to Ilya. “Lead the way.” 

Ilya walked Shane out of the Garden, ignoring the staff’s whispers behind them. 

He beelined to the driver’s seat door of his car, worried that he’d have to tell Shane to go fuck himself if he insisted on driving. But Shane was too busy inspecting the car, even going so far as to crouch down and look underneath. 

“A Maserati, huh?” he said when he finally opened the passenger seat door. “Didn’t Anne-Marie want you to stay under the radar?” 

“You should see the other choices,” Ilya grumbled. He tried not to speed as he pulled out of the garage. 

“How do you drive in the snow with this thing?” 

Ilya shrugged. “Not a problem.” He had in fact slid through a stop sign last winter, but no one had been around to see it and it was none of Shane’s business. Shane scoffed as if he could read the lie on Ilya’s face. Maybe he could- maybe it was one of the skills that made him “the one perfect option,” as Anne-Marie had put it. 

Silence fell between them as Ilya eased around the never-ending construction and surprise one-way streets that always added to the Boston driving experience. Ilya found he didn’t know what to say. Should he thank Shane for taking the job? Ask how he liked being a bodyguard? Ask about his life? Something about the way Shane was taking in the sights of Boston out the car window stopped him from asking anything. 

Eventually, he turned on the FM radio and started pressing the “seek” button, hoping to find some mindless noise. Without realizing, he flipped past a Boston sports station, recognizing even in the two seconds before he changed it that they were talking about him. 

Jesus christ. Had they even spent this long talking about the Red Sox players who got caught doping? He turned the radio off, deciding that silence was actually fine. 

“Hey. Uh, I’m sorry.” Ilya didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he could see that Shane didn’t know what to do with his hands as he spoke, settling on clasping them in front of his stomach. 

“Sorry?” 

“That this happened to you.” Shane’s voice was stronger now. “It’s not fair.” 

Ilya shook his head. “Was my fault.” If only he hadn’t had so much fucking tequila. If only he hadn’t played so fucking well in the finals. 

“No.” Shane seemed to sit up a little. “It wasn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Ilya didn’t answer. Svetlana had said the same thing. Some people on the internet thought so too, according to Anne-Marie. But it wasn’t true. As much as he refused to apologize or feel ashamed, it was clear that his mistake had changed the trajectory of his career. And as much as it annoyed him to let this random Canadian in his house and pretend to go out on romantic dates together, he knew he deserved every bit of the inconvenience. 

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive.

Ilya started to pull into his driveway before Shane’s hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder. “Stop.” Ilya hit the brakes. 

“Does this house have another entrance?” There was an urgency in Shane’s voice that didn’t match what Ilya was seeing in front of him, which was nothing. His house looked completely undisturbed. 

“There is a door in the back, but this car has to go in the garage-” 

“We can do that later. Go around.” Shane’s voice was hushed and intense, looking at the steering wheel as if he wanted to grab it from Ilya. Ilya felt a twinge of annoyance, but he did what Shane asked. As soon as he was out of sight of the house, he pulled into a mercifully empty street parking spot next to the curb. 

“What did you-” 

“Someone is hiding in your trash can.” 

Ilya sighed. He’d never put his trash cans in his garage where he normally kept them. He hadn’t wanted to walk past all the people gathered outside to do it. He’d been throwing his trash out at the Garden when he needed to. His trash can was definitely a… creative spot to hide. But whoever was in there probably wasn’t trying to murder him. 

“Is a fan, I think,” he said, already starting to pull the car into a three point turn so he could go back to the driveway. “Maybe journalist.”

“What the hell are you doing?” The look of incredulity on Shane’s face made Ilya let out a quiet laugh. 

“Not a murderer. I think if we drive past we will not die.” He backed the car up. 

“You think I’m here to protect you from murderers?” 

“No. You are here to be my boyfriend.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

“And to protect you. Not from murderers- or, well, hopefully not. More, um, your privacy. Personal space.” 

“Cool.” Ilya over-enunciated the word. Didn’t Shane do this kind of thing all the time? He should know more than anyone that concepts like privacy or personal space were things of the past for Ilya, no matter who he hired. 

“Do you not… want those things?” 

Ilya shrugged. Fucking obviously I do. He turned the car back in the direction of his driveway. “They can take a picture of us for Anne-Marie. They see me with a beautiful man today… then they see us on a date. Perfect.” Did he just call Shane beautiful? Fuck. 

But Shane didn’t seem to notice. “That’s a violation of your-” he trailed off when he saw Ilya’s dead-eyed stare. “Okay, fine. Let’s give this trash can stalker a glimpse of your new relationship.” He paused, holding Ilya’s attention. “But then we’re gonna go in there and make a plan. The next time people take pictures of you or the two of us it’ll be because we want them to. Because we set it up. We don’t just let people creep around your house. Okay?” 

The intensity on Shane’s face was familiar to Ilya. It was how he’d looked during the playoffs as he skated out to take the first face-off of overtime. 

He nodded as he pulled the car back up to his driveway. “Okay.”

Chapter End Notes

the trash can hiding was inspired by the antics of "senior assassin." weird times.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

“You don’t have a security system?” Shane couldn’t help but ask, even though Ilya’s mouth pressed into a line at the question. 

“I have a code for my door,” he said, as if Shane hadn’t just seen him type it in. 

“I mean aside from that.” He didn’t want to ask how long it had been since Ilya had last changed the code. “What about a motion sensor, or-”

“That will not work,” Ilya declared as he toed off his shoes. “I will forget. I will set it off myself.” 

Shane had heard that one before. “You get used to it.” He made a mental note to email Scott about setting up a system. Scott had promised that despite being hours away, he would coordinate technical needs as he typically did for other assignments. Luckily for Shane, both Scott and Anne-Marie would certainly side with him on the state of Ilya’s home security. 

Ilya was quiet as he led Shane through the house with one or two-word descriptions of every room. His shoulders were slumped, as they’d been since the person Shane had spotted hiding in the trash can had snapped a picture of the two of them before running off. He barely even reacted when Shane complimented his fireplace, a feature so unique to the house that Shane wondered if it had been a deciding factor when Ilya moved in. 

Anne-Marie had told Shane that Ilya was part of this plan. But as he watched Ilya draw further into himself throughout the abbreviated house tour, he wondered whether Ilya had ever really thought this was a good idea. 

“This will be your room,” Ilya said as he opened up a set of double doors. It was much nicer than the guest room in the Hollander family home, with two dressers, a desk, and a closet. It even had its own ensuite bathroom. The blinds were drawn over the windows, muting what would’ve been lots of natural light. 

Next to the desk was a mini-fridge, which caught Shane’s attention. “People must love staying here, if they don’t even have to go all the way to the kitchen to get a drink.” 

Ilya made a noise in the back of his throat. “I guess.” 

Shane wanted nothing more than to take a nap on the very comfortable looking bed in front of him- he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, tossing and turning in his new Fenway apartment as he’d imagined what Ilya might be like in person. He’d wondered for the millionth time if he could really do what Anne-Marie was asking of him.

But there was still more work to do. 

“So.” He turned to Ilya. “We should figure out our story. Obviously people are gonna ask.” 

Ilya led Shane back to the kitchen. Maybe Shane only noticed it because he’d been thinking about sleep himself, but the bright lights above the kitchen counter illuminated the circles under Ilya’s eyes. 

Ilya slid a chair out for Shane and gestured for him to sit as he poured two glasses of water. “She wants us to say how we met. Easy. You know Grindr?” 

Shane sighed. “No.” 

Ilya’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t?”

“No, I know what Grindr is.” Ilya’s eyebrows went up even higher. “I just mean that shouldn’t be how we met.” 

“Okay then.” Ilya slid into his seat and turned to face Shane. “How did we meet, Hollander?”

“In Ottawa.” Shane tried to sound confident despite the look Ilya was giving him. 

“…In Ottawa.” 

“In a bar.” 

“How long did that idea take you? Days?” 

It was typically frowned upon to say fuck off to his clients, but this seemed like a special circumstance. Still, Shane bit his tongue. 

“Most people have a pretty simple story. They had a conversation somewhere, there were sparks. It only gets complicated after that.” Not that Shane was any kind of expert on love, but he he did pay attention. 

“Okay.” Ilya took a sip of his water. “So we met in Ottawa. Then what?” 

“We stayed in touch. Kind of. We met up when you had games there.” 

Ilya made what looked to Shane like a halfhearted smirk. “Sounds like something I would do.” 

“But we kept it quiet. From everyone. And we weren’t… exclusive.” 

Ilya waved his hand. “Obviously.” 

“But then I saw that you got outed like that, and I realized that I wanted to be with you for real. So I came here, and now we’re together.” 

Ilya leaned back in his chair. “That’s it?” 

Shane tried not to be offended. “What do you mean, that’s it? I think that’s pretty good.” 

Ilya sighed. “It’s not bad.” He crossed his arms. “But we need more.” 

“More? Why?” 

“I need to… how would you say it- ‘get in character?’” 

Shane narrowed his eyes at Ilya. He was really looking forward to that nap. But there was a lightness in Ilya’s demeanor that hadn’t been there before- a playful side coming out that Shane hadn’t seen. 

“Okay then. What would you add?” 

“The last time I went to Ottawa, you realized you were in love with me.” He drew out the word love, making it sound almost musical, like a schoolyard taunt. 

Shane shrugged. “Sure. I wouldn’t come all the way here if I wasn’t in love with you.” 

“Yes. But you had a- uh-” Ilya snapped his fingers- “a freak out. You made me leave, said we could not do this anymore.” 

“Nobody is going to ask for this much detail.” 

“But I need to know.” Ilya tapped his forehead with his pointer finger. “And I was so sad,” he traced an invisible tear down his own face, “but I won the cup anyway.” 

Shane laughed. “So you played your best hockey with your heart broken?”

“No, no.” Ilya shook his head. “My heart was already broken, I was in love with you for years and did not believe you loved me back. But I never told you, because I am Russian.”

“What? Is that-”

“But I played to impress you. Always. And now that you are here, I will play to impress you more.” 

Shane blinked in surprise. People who still supported Ilya would probably love the idea that every goal was for Shane, especially if he was scoring a lot of them. Who knew that Ilya Rozanov had such a strong taste for dramatic love stories? 

“You know, we’re going to have to break up eventually,” he said slowly, imagining how villainous the fictional, besotted-with-Ilya version of himself would feel once this “relationship” ended and he went back to Ottawa. 

“So?” Ilya grinned. Shane noticed that Ilya had a really nice smile, and he immediately ignored that thought. “Does not mean we can’t have a good story.” 

Their meeting came to a close when Shane’s bags arrived. Shane opened the door, scanning for anyone lurking around Ilya’s house in the meantime. When he shut the door behind him and turned around, he jumped at how close Ilya was standing.

“Jesus, Rozanov. Be careful.” 

Ilya took a step back, but still asked, “Careful?” 

“Sneak up on me and I might hit you by accident.” 

A smile played on Ilya’s face. “You think I cannot take you, Hollander?” 

There was a weird rushing noise in Shane’s ears. “I, uh. I do train to, you know, fight. Part of being a bodyguard.” 

Ilya was still just a little too close. “So do I. Part of being a hockey player.” 

The MVP of the NHL getting in a real fight? Shane laughed to himself. “When was the last time you dropped the gloves, Rozanov?”

“It does not matter.” Ilya mercifully took a step back as Shane willed his heart rate to slow down. “I still train.” He cleared his throat. “But maybe you can show me.” 

“Show you?”

“What do you. Could be different. Maybe I will drop the gloves this season.” At that, Ilya’s face fell out of his playful expression. Shane felt a pang in his chest, guessing why Ilya expected to have to be ready to fight in October. 

“Sure,” Shane said, realizing he really meant it, “I can do that.” The thought of sparring with Ilya was doing weird things to his heart rate again. He pretended it wasn’t, and threw one of his bags over his shoulder. “I’m going to unpack. Maybe nap. I have a few emails to answer too.” 

Ilya grabbed another one of the bags on the floor. “I will order dinner.” He led Shane to the guest room again before turning to face him. “Get some rest. I cannot bring a tired boyfriend out on a date.” He started to leave before pausing, his face thoughtful. “Maybe a tired boyfriend is okay. People will think we were up all night-”

“Oh fuck off, Rozanov.” Well, there went Shane’s professional conduct. He dumped a bag on his bed. “I’ll see you later.” 

As Shane unpacked and went through the to-do list he’d have to do by the end of the day, he tried to stay calm. He’d been on plenty of dates before. Sure, he usually wasn’t one of the people on the date, and was instead a few paces behind a couple who wished he didn’t have to be there. The dates he’d actually been a participant in hadn’t gone all that well. 

But these dates wouldn’t be like either of those. This time, he’d be doing his job- a job he knew he was good at. And unlike other dates, he didn’t actually have to think about whether Ilya would fall for him. He didn’t even have to impress Ilya at all- Ilya was going to pretend to have a great time no matter what. 

So he ignored the minuscule corner of his brain that wanted to impress Ilya regardless. He had a job to do and a plan to make. He would make sure this hockey star would be able to have a boyfriend out in the open with nothing to fear. 

So what if he couldn’t help imagining how much better the day would be if he could make Ilya smile again? 

Chapter End Notes

i'm having so much fun writing this, RIP to the other tasks i'm ignoring in favor of this fic.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

Ilya was really, really bad at this. 

It didn’t make any sense. He’d been successfully picking up women in bars for years. He’d been typically at ease meeting fans on the street, teasing them if their favorite player was someone other than him, or pretending he didn’t know how to take a selfie. It was part of what had made him such a beloved player in Boston (that, and all the goal scoring). 

But now, out on a “date” with Shane, he had no idea how to act. He suddenly found that he had no clue what to do with his arms. When he saw his reflection in the glass, all he saw was his own stern expression. It was especially concerning because he was looking at an extremely silly fish with weird fins and colors he didn’t think existed in nature. 

He was used to scrutiny, but not like this. 

They’d decided that their first date would be at the New England Aquarium, a wholesome option fully endorsed by Anne-Marie. They’d act like Ilya was showing Shane around Boston, giving him the highlights of the city before the season started. Never mind that Ilya hadn’t even been to most of these places.

He was letting himself fall into a state of hypnosis at the jellyfish exhibits, wishing he could be one of the pulsing, brainless bodies floating through the water without a care in the world, when Shane’s hand on his lower back made him startle so hard that he almost bit his own tongue. 

“Sorry,” Shane whispered by his ear, “I just saw some people looking over so I thought-” 

“Not a problem,” Ilya gritted out, “my fault.” 

Shane dropped his hand, and Ilya led him to another exhibit. 

He just couldn’t pull himself together. When Shane leaned into him while they were watching the penguins, Ilya jerked away. When Shane tried to fix a stray hair of Ilya’s as they tried to find seahorses hidden in a tank of seaweed, Ilya reached up first and fixed it himself. 

“Can you at least try?” muttered Shane as they approached the touch tank.

 Ilya put his hand in the freezing water and kept it there, only a little offended that the baby stingrays seemed to avoid him. “I am trying.” To prove it, he put his other hand around Shane’s waist. “Put your hand in the water and pet a stingray.” 

Shane wrinkled his nose. “No. And can you please try without looking like you’d rather get thrown in the tank?” 

Ilya pulled Shane closer. “I am not good at this.” 

“What, PDA?” 

“Acting.” 

“This isn’t acting. It’s- oh fuck you, Rozanov, holy fuck.” Ilya had snuck the hand that had been in the water under Shane’s shirt, letting his cold fingers press against Shane’s bare skin. Shane tried to jump away, but Ilya held onto him. No matter that based on the muscles Ilya could both see and feel on Shane that he likely could’ve broken Ilya’s grip easily if he really wanted to. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at Shane’s face, delighting in how underneath the scandalized expression there was a faint tint of pink on Shane’s cheeks. 

“Is that Ilya Rozanov?” A voice nearby made him pause. He turned, thinking it was likely a fan about to ask for a picture. 

But Shane stood in his way and pushed him in the other direction. “Let’s go. This way.” His voice was hushed and intense, a stark contrast to how he’d just been a moment earlier. 

Ilya let Shane lead him, all urges to laugh dwindling away faster than they’d appeared. He’d let himself forget, just for a second, that not everyone would be happy to see him out with Shane. And that it was Shane’s job to know when it was better to just leave. 

Shane leaned against a window of the aquarium’s main attraction- a massive cylindrical tank, wrapped in a spiral walkway so guests could walk all the way up to the top, taking in the multitude of fish swimming in circles around a reef teeming with eels and smaller fish. But he didn’t even turn to look, even when the people at the next window gasped at the shark swimming by. 

Instead, he was looking at Ilya with a crease between his eyes. “I’m really sorry. They just seemed-”

“Sorry?” Ilya was confused. “It is your job, no?” 

“Yea, it is, but you were just-”

“Then I should thank you.” There were more gasps from another window- Ilya could only assume it was another really big fish. But he kept his eyes on Shane, who rubbed the spot above his eyebrow in thought. 

Then, Shane straightened up. “They have this movie thing they do every hour. Why don’t we do that?” His eyes found a drop of water on Ilya’s wrist that hadn’t dried, but he didn’t reach out to wipe it away. “It’ll be a nice break.” 

It was a nice break. For Shane. 

Ilya, on the other hand, was irate. 

“What the fuck was that, Hollander?”

Shane hadn’t stopped laughing since the moment Ilya had found out the movie was a 4-D experience. The first hint had been when the screen zoomed into a massive school of minnows jetting through shallow water, accompanied by short bursts of air piped through to the audience’s ankles to mimic the feeling of standing in the water with the fish swimming by. Ilya had instantly pulled his feet up and glared at Shane, who had told Ilya to look back at the screen and pay attention. 

It had only gotten worse from there. Water spraying at their faces when a wave crashed on screen, the seats vibrating when a whale flipped its tail, and worst of all, something in the back of the chair poking every audience member with a sudden prod when a group of snakes on the screen swam through the ocean.

That was the final straw for Ilya, who had practically leapt out of his chair. He’d turned to Shane, who at that point had tears streaming down his cheeks.

“You,” Shane dabbed the corner of his eye with his shirt, “are more fun to watch than the movie.” 

The sound of Shane’s laughter echoed in Ilya’s skull even as he urged his own brain to forget it. 

“You are an asshole,” Ilya informed Shane. “You researched this. You and the traitor Anne-Marie.” 

“You could’ve researched too, Rozanov.” 

On the bright side, Ilya was too busy being annoyed at Shane for the rest of the date to worry about the people watching him, or to flinch when Shane threaded their fingers together during the turtle feeding demonstration. He was even too distracted looking at plushies of the (horrifying) snakes in the gift shop to react to Shane kissing him on the cheek and telling him he’d buy Ilya a lobster plushie instead. 

People definitely stared and pointed, but no one approached, probably because Shane kept shuffling Ilya to different parts of the aquarium when the attention got to be too much, and shot murderous looks at people when that didn’t work. 

Sure, Ilya wasn’t great at acting like a boyfriend to Shane- not in the way he’d wanted to, at least. He’d thought beforehand that he could do things like sneak up behind Shane and lean his head on his shoulder, or massage his neck as if he knew Shane would have to release tension there. He would really try to make this plan work, and try to fix a little bit of what he’d broken. But ultimately, he’d been too stiff and self conscious to make it happen himself. 

At least he’d gotten through it with the help of Shane’s horrible movie break. 

It was only when the two of them returned to Ilya’s house and Shane immediately retreated to his room, muttering something about sending some emails and setting up the stupid security system, that Ilya realized he’d been slyly manipulated, and Shane was even better at his job than he’d thought.

Shane didn’t emerge for the rest of the night, and Ilya spent the evening wishing he’d actually been paying attention when Shane had kissed his cheek earlier before reminding himself that Shane was simply doing his job and was getting paid for everything he was doing. 

Maybe someone else in the NHL would do something worse once the season started. Maybe everyone would get their head out of their ass and stop caring about what Ilya did. 

Maybe this would all be over soon. 

Chapter End Notes

okay but the New England aquarium is actually a really fun date location, and if you are local some libraries let you take out free passes to go!
And that movie thing is real. I experienced the chair poking your back while snakes swam past on screen and people actually screamed and leapt out of their chairs.

And it’s my opinion that ilya “afraid of a loon” rozanov would not appreciate that.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

“Hey, Rozanov?” 

They were in Ilya’s kitchen cutting up vegetables to put in their scrambled eggs. 

“Yes?” Ilya didn’t look up from the stick of celery in his hand.

“We didn’t talk about this with Anne-Marie, but I was thinking.” Shane had spent a lot of the previous night thinking, actually. Mostly about how this wasn’t going to work if he couldn’t get Ilya to loosen up when they were out together in public. 

“You were thinking?” Ilya prompted.

“Do you have any friends you think are good at keeping secrets? That might be okay being in on this plan?” He’d concluded that Ilya had cared less about what was happening around him when he’d been distracted, and it had given him an idea. 

Ilya thought for a moment. 

“Just- no one on the Bruins. Obviously,” Shane added. 

“I have a friend. Her name is Svetlana. She is a childhood friend from Russia. She would not tell.” 

Shane smiled to himself. “You should see when she’s available for lunch.” 

Shane had left the explaining of the plan up to Ilya. He suspected Svetlana had already heard some, if not all, of it anyhow- he’d long decided not to probe into Ilya’s friendships unless they started to present any kind of problem. As he’d hoped, Svetlana had agreed to meet with them in a public setting. She’d even offered to bring another friend of her own, one she promised would also keep quiet. 

Scott had been skeptical at first when Shane relayed the plan to him. “You sure, Hollander? This gets messier the more people we involve.” 

“I think it’s the only way I can get Rozanov to act like himself. You should have seen him on our date. He couldn’t tune out all those eyes on him like he does on the ice. If he’s around friends, maybe he’ll remember he can be himself in public.” 

“Just with a boyfriend this time.” Shane could hear the approval in Scott’s voice. 

“Exactly.” 

“Well, let me know how it goes. I just sent you the fake employment records in case you need them.” Scott had decided that Shane would claim to be a former personal trainer if anyone asked. Shane figured he spent enough time in the gym to be able to fake that well enough. “Oh, and someone should be there to set up the new security system in the next day or two.”

Ilya had finally agreed to try the security system as long as it was easy to use, but Shane guessed that he’d still be annoyed at first. Given the amount of people Shane had caught lurking around Ilya’s property, it would be worth it. 

“Great. Bye, Scott.” 

“Bye, Hollander.”

Svetlana arrived at the Sail Loft, a small yet bustling seafood restaurant overlooking the harbor, with her friend in tow. Shane and Ilya had just sat down at an outdoor table, where Shane had chosen the seat facing away from the view. Ilya waved them over, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he pointed at their empty chairs.

 Shane mentally patted himself on the back as he watched Ilya brighten up at the sight of Svetlana. Maybe now he’d be able to relax a little.

“Ilya, Shane,” Svetlana slid into a chair and dropped her purse by her feet. “This is Leo. He works in Boston too.” 

“Hello.” Leo’s Russian accent was even heavier than Ilya’s. “Thank you for letting me join.” 

“No problem,” said Ilya, looking Leo up and down. He was tall, and almost as slim as Svetlana. He’d worn a shirt with a deep v-neck that Ilya’s eyes lingered on. Shane ordered a ginger ale as soon as he could, partly because he wanted to and partly to stave off the nausea starting to build in his stomach. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. 

“So, Svetlana,” he said after they’d ordered drinks and a round of clam chowders, “Ilya told me you sell cars?” 

Svetlana shook her head in mock disapproval at the way Ilya had summed up her career. “Luxury cars. My clients come from all over the state to buy from me. Sometimes from even farther.” 

“Wow.” Ilya’s extravagant car collection was making more sense. He had a friend in the know about it all.  He turned to Leo, whose eyes were still on Ilya. “And Leo? What do you do?” 

Leo took a sip of his cocktail. “I’m a professional drag queen.” 

Ilya frowned. “What is that?” 

Svetlana sighed loudly and explained to Ilya in Russian as Shane tried not to look surprised. It was hard to remember, given the assignment he was on and the feedback Anne-Marie was sending him night after night, that there were queer people out there who not only celebrated who they were, but turned that celebration into a performance for others to enjoy. 

He wondered what Leo must think of this whole charade. 

He wondered what Ilya thought of Leo. 

“You dance in eight inch heels?” asked Ilya, once Svetlana had finished summing up what Shane could only assume had been her knowledge of the history of drag and the drag scene in Boston. 

Leo winked. “Every other night. And I do more than that. You should see my tits.” 

Svetlana giggled, holding her hand over her mouth. “They are good tits.” 

“You guys should come to my show.” Leo was talking to both of them, but he was mainly looking at Ilya. “I will show you a good time.” 

“Maybe I will.” Ilya slid his drink to the side as their clam chowders arrived. Shane pushed his spoon around in the branded mug, unable to fathom taking a single bite at the moment. At least say that WE will, idiot. 

“You’re going to have to schedule some shows around his games, Leo. When does training camp start? Soon, right?” Svetlana waved her hand in the direction of the Garden. “Will not be much time to go to shows after that.” Shane had never been more grateful for Svetlana. 

“Yes. Soon.” At that, the light in Ilya’s eyes seemed to dim. Svetlana drew her brows together and muttered something to Ilya in Russian that made him roll his eyes. Despite also speaking Russian, Leo looked as equally lost as Shane felt. 

“How about you, Shane?” Shane snapped his eyes back to Svetlana- he’d been watching some people in the distance who were clearly taking a picture of Ilya. He slid his chair so that his and Ilya’s shoulders were almost touching. Svetlana smiled when she saw him refocus his attention. “Will you be going to his games? What about on the road?”

“I’ll probably go to a bunch of home games. I’ll have to talk to Anne-Marie about it more. But I won’t go to all the away ones- maybe just a few if it makes sense. I’ve been told the Bruins personnel can keep this guy out of trouble on the road.” He nudged Ilya softly in the side at an attempt of outward joviality that fell flat. 

Leo hummed and raised his drink. “Keep him out of trouble? I doubt that.” He winked at Ilya again, and Shane found himself wishing for Leo to fall in the harbor. He was sure people did that all the time. 

Svetlana narrowed her eyes. “Ilya only seems like trouble. He really is a nice boy. Right, Shane?” She was looking at him like she could physically see the pit in Shane’s stomach forming as he watched Leo and Ilya continue to make eye contact over their drinks. 

Shane moved his chair even closer to Ilya’s. “Not too much trouble, no.” He didn’t like how Svetlana looked almost disappointed at his answer. 

As the lunch went on, Svetlana carried most of the conversation by asking Ilya about how he thought the season was going to go. When he made a face, she clarified, “the actual hockey part. I’m sure your teammates will remember to stop being pieces of garbage when they are reminded who won them that cup.” 

Then, she’d gone through and pointed out the flaws in every NHL team’s summer trades and draft picks, arguing loudly with every point Ilya made in rebuttal. Leo seemed to enjoy arguing just as much, debating which of the drag show classic songs would also work at a hockey game and telling the rest of the table how uncultured they were when they disagreed. 

Shane knew that this time, he was the problem. He was tense, even as everyone else laughed and drank. At least he kept up with his job, getting Ilya's attention when he saw people looking over, and snuggling into Ilya’s shoulder when Ilya responded by putting an arm around him. Svetlana and Leo just kept talking, as if they were used to Shane and Ilya being cozy with each other. 

But Shane knew he could do better. He’d wondered for way too long why Ilya was coming at him with a napkin before he realized Ilya was trying to be attentive and wipe something off the corner of his mouth. He bit a fry at the last minute when Ilya brought it to his lips, but had looked at Ilya weirdly the whole time. All in all, it wasn’t his best work. 

At least Ilya was having fun. Shane was seeing a side of Ilya that he’d only seen in fleeting moments, when Ilya forgot about all the controversy and just let himself rib, tease, and laugh. He was all the more attractive when he wasn’t holding worry in the corner of his eyes and just let himself be. 

And as the lunch drew to a close, Shane could tell that Leo thought so too. 

“What are you doing next?” asked Svetlana as she kissed Shane and Ilya on the cheek and slung her purse over her shoulder. 

“I think Boston Common, right?” Shane turned to Ilya, half hoping he would say he just wanted to go back home. 

But Ilya looked excited. “Yes. Romantic walk through the flowers and trees. It is just what Hollander needs. Does Ottawa have flowers?” 

Shane tried to look aggravated, but it was all he could do to stay composed as Ilya’s hand found his. “Ottawa has flowers, Rozanov.” 

“You two have fun.” Svetlana took Leo’s hand and started to lead him away. “We are going to buy expensive clothes.” 

“But-“ Leo started to argue before Svetlana stepped on his foot and pulled him away. 

“Bye!” Ilya massaged the back of Shane’s neck, making Shane’s shoulders fall an inch. “Okay, Hollander,” he said, his mouth right by Shane’s ear, “let’s go on another date.” 

It was a beautiful day to be in Boston Common. People were out picnicking, napping on towels, and out running. Some people had found space to toss a football back and forth without hitting anyone. Shane and Ilya mostly just ambled along, enjoying how everyone seemed in too good of a mood to scrutinize Ilya as he walked by. Shane still watched for any trouble, although he was more focused on distracting himself from Ilya’s hand in his, thumb stroking the back of Shane’s hand in a steady rhythm. 

In the adjacent Public Garden, they waved at the swan boats going by, noting when the tourists on them had clearly forgotten to pack enough sunscreen. They found the Make Way for Ducklings sculptures, although neither had ever read the book as a child. Ilya grumbled at the miniature Red Sox jerseys adorning each of the ducks, peeved that they weren’t still in Bruins garb. 

“We win the cup, but no,” he said, tugging Shane closer, “everyone wants to talk about baseball.” 

Shane would’ve laughed if he wasn’t trying not to have a heart attack over how easily Ilya leaned into his side in public, ignoring anyone who looked his way. This carefree, happy version of Ilya was more than happy to take control of the date, letting Shane follow along and scan their surroundings as they went. It was a dramatic about-face from how he’d been the other day at the aquarium. 

“You know,” Shane started, looking past Ilya’s face at the scenery beyond, “I almost played hockey too.” 

“Oh?” Ilya traced his fingers over the muscles in Shane’s arm. “You would have been good.” He paused. “Not as good as me, though. Why didn’t you?”

“I remember the exact moment I decided not to do it.” Shane tried not to think about the way Ilya was still running his finger’s along Shane’s wrist. “My mom has always been a huge Canadiens fan. She always loved watching them more than the Senators.” People had always made fun of his mom for it, but the Canadiens were almost always better every season. “So this one time, she took me on a trip to Montreal for a game. It was amazing. There was this sea of red, and everyone was high-fiving me for coming to my first game at the Bell Centre. Actually, they were even playing Boston.” 

“Boston was not good yet,” Ilya interrupted, “not until me.” He regarded Shane with a serious look until his face cracked and he laughed to himself. 

“Okay, asshole.” Shane elbowed Ilya in the ribs. “Anyway, the game was going great, until a player got hit into the worst area of the boards, the part-” 

“Where the bench meets the glass,” Ilya finished. “I remember.” 

“You saw it too?” 

“Yes. Our coaches showed it to us. They used it to remind us to be careful. That one thing could-” he paused to clear his throat, “mess it up. Everything.” 

“Geez.” 

“To see it live must have been-”

Shane shuddered just remembering it. “It was so quiet. People were crying. My mom made us leave early. It kind of killed the hockey dream for me.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It all worked out though, right?” Shane gestured to the beautiful park around them, until he noticed Ilya was looking down. Shit. “I mean- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I know things could be working out better for you right now. I just, um-” 

“It’s okay, Hollander.” Ilya stopped walking and turned to face Shane. He brought his hand up to Shane’s face and let the outside of his thumb brush against Shane’s cheek. 

Shane just about stopped breathing. “What-"

“One moment can ruin anything, they told me. I never learned the lesson,” Ilya murmured. He was impossibly closer, stepping forward and cradling Shane’s jaw. 

Shane found himself leaning in, even though while they’d talked about holding hands and acting like a couple, they hadn’t talked about… this. Even though he was sure Ilya could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ilya’s mouth, finally allowing himself to look for possibly the first time since he’d met Ilya face to face. He tried to think of something to say, but his mind had gone blank. 

He didn’t have to, as Ilya brushed his lips across Shane’s for a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity, before bringing their lips together. 

Shane’s hands found Ilya’s waist, fingers itching to slide up Ilya’s shirt before he remembered he shouldn’t do that in public, right in front of the duckling statues. As Ilya pressed harder into his lips and licked into his mouth, he realized that the only things he could do to Ilya at all had to happen in public. There was no promise of later, no scenario where Shane could let Ilya press him into the bed and let him do anything he wanted. 

Anything that could ever happen had to happen right there in the park where people could see, and that was the excuse Shane gave himself when he dug his fingers into Ilya’s back and moaned, letting Ilya bite at his lower lip in response. 

The sound of screaming children running by finally made him pull away, despite every one of his traitorous instincts telling him to keep going. He left a kiss on Ilya’s cheek as he drew back, and mustered what he hoped was a casual smile. “I’m telling Svetlana and Leo they have to hang out with us again. Who knew all it took was a lunch with friends to turn you into a natural at this fake dating thing?” 

A look of confusion crossed Ilya’s face for just a moment before he smiled at Shane. “No, Hollander, I was always a natural.” 

Shane started to argue, but Ilya cut him off. 

“You taste like clam chowder.” 

Shane tried to laugh as they resumed their walk. He continued to do his job making sure no one bothered Ilya, but his mind was racing. Ilya had linked their fingers back together, squeezing Shane’s hand whenever he wanted to turn down a different street. 

He hadn’t considered that this job might make him want anything more than the enormous paycheck Anne-Marie was putting into his bank account. 

He hadn’t considered that he’d have to keep doing this again and again while continuing to be nothing more than a professional with Ilya in private. 

He suddenly found himself hoping that it would all be over soon. 

Chapter End Notes

all my love to the duckling statues.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

What on earth had Ilya been thinking? 

The answer: he hadn’t been. He’d let himself get caught up in the moment of the perfect day and how Shane had blushed when he’d forgotten that Ilya’s life had gone to shit. He’d been thinking of how Shane’s hand fit perfectly in his. 

He’d simply kissed Shane because he felt like it. 

For a moment, it had seemed like Shane had wanted even more than a kiss. Ilya could still feel the way Shane’s hands had clutched onto his back, drawing him closer. 

But he’d tensed up and pulled away, and Ilya had realized that Shane was just going along with it because he thought Ilya was putting on a show. Shane hadn’t even been annoyed about the surprise kiss- he’d just been pleased that Ilya was finally “acting to an acceptable standard,” or whatever fancy wording he was going to put in his report. 

Leave it to Shane to assume that a passionate kiss in the park was the work of a true professional. 

But if that’s what he thought, Ilya wouldn’t correct him.

They’d established a decent routine in the time Shane had been living at Ilya’s house. They’d have a meeting in the morning over coffee, going over what the plans for the day were and when Shane needed to be by Ilya’s side. If Ilya needed to be at the Garden, they’d plan to do a check in over the phone, and Shane would drop by with some kind of romantic excuse if there were people aside from team members around. 

In the evenings, Shane would retreat to his room to talk with Scott and Anne-Marie. His meetings tended to take way longer than Ilya would ever tolerate, which was why Ilya never insisted that he be a part of them. Shane hardly ever came back to the living room when his meetings were done unless he was refilling his water bottle. 

Ilya had reminded him that he could put bottled water in his mini fridge and Shane had ignored him. 

Most nights, Ilya lounged on the couch as if he was alone in his home again. In a way, it was nice to have some time to himself after a long day of other people watching him. In another way, it required mental gymnastics to forget that Shane was in the guest room. 

But on the night after their date, Shane returned to the living room and joined Ilya on the couch. He looked paler than usual, despite their day in the sun. He was breathing a little faster too, as if he hadn’t just been sitting while on the phone. 

“Hey,” he greeted Ilya as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Fear started to build in Ilya’s chest. Was Shane going to tell him that he’d crossed the line? Was Shane going to leave and tell him to find another body guard? The thought made Ilya’s hands shake. 

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot less of each other soon,” Shane said, and Ilya froze. 

Shane must have seen a reaction on his face. “Just because of the season. There’ll be lots of security when you’re playing or with the team- Anne-Marie just let me know.” 

Ilya tried not to sigh audibly. “Oh.” 

“I’ll still be here,” Shane continued, “or in Fenway when you’re on the road, for a while longer.” He gave Ilya a tight smile. “Sorry. I wish you didn’t still have to deal with this.” 

Ilya wondered if there was a way to slow your own heart down on command. It’d sped up for no reason, why couldn’t it slow back down? 

“I was thinking, um, you mentioned-” Shane looked at his hands, “sparring a little? I have some time tonight, if you wanted to-” 

“Yes,” Ilya answered way too quickly before catching himself and adding, “if you can handle me.” 

Shane seemed to survey Ilya slowly, a smile playing on his mouth. “Shouldn’t be a problem, Rozanov.” 

Ilya had some space in his basement dedicated to workouts- he had some weights, a treadmill, a punching bag- he wouldn’t call it a full “home gym” like some other guys in the league boasted, but it wasn’t nothing. 

If he’d ordered focus pads after Shane had mentioned sparring when he first moved in, that wasn’t anyone’s business. 

“Okay,” Shane still looked distracted, his eyes darting around as if he expected attackers to burst out from behind the closet door. “Show me what you got.” He slid the pads on his hands and squared up to Ilya, who put on the boxing gloves. 

Ilya was more nervous than he’d ever been on the ice. For all the bravado he’d pretended to have when Shane had asked him about fighting, he rarely, if ever, actually dropped the gloves in a real five minute major-worthy fight. His specialty tended to be post-whistle scrums in front of the net, where people were often trying to get him away from the net after he’d gone through everyone. He’d drawn dozens of penalties by refusing to back down.

However, it had happened a few times. Boston had long since been known for an aggressive, hard-hitting style of hockey, and there’d been no better way to win over the team and the city than by taking down an opposing team’s best player. Ilya had reasoned that if he took the other team’s best player to the box with him, it was worth the penalty minutes. 

He wondered if more people would want to fight him this year, or if they’d be too scared that they’d lose.

 He started to hit the pads in Shane’s hands- softly at first, to get a sense of where he should be aiming, and then harder. Shane caught every punch, grinning as he refused to yield even an inch to the force Ilya was putting into his hits. 

The only sounds in the room were their loud pants and the thud of boxing gloves meeting pads, with Ilya grunting occasionally when he really wanted to throw a heavy punch. He wished he’d put on music or something, trying not to think of any better ways he and Shane could be sweating together.

Shane seemed to be moving closer, unafraid of getting in Ilya’s way. Ilya was almost back on his heels- he hesitated so he wouldn’t trip over his own feet. 

Shane noticed. “Getting tired already, Rozanov?” His eyes looked a little wild, as if he’d been waiting for this very moment. 

The feeling in Ilya’s body was anything but tired. “In your dreams, Hollander.” He sprang forward again, making his arms move faster, punch harder. 

Eventually, he tweaked a muscle in his shoulder- just what he deserved for going way too hard during a spur-of-the-moment boxing workout. He would’ve kept going too, if Shane hadn’t seen it immediately. 

“I have some cream you can put on that,” he said, using his knees to slide the focus pads off. “It’ll feel back to normal by tomorrow.”

You wanna put it on me? Ilya thought, clamping his lips shut before he did something stupid like actually say that out loud. 

Instead, he gave a dramatic sigh. “You have such proper form, Hollander. Not like hockey players. It’s sad, really.” 

Shane coughed out a laugh, still breathing hard. “Well, you guys are all fighting on skates. It’s a little different.” 

Ilya nodded. “Yes. And we can’t punch a helmet or we break our hand.” 

“Geez.” Shane stared at his own hands as if they might break just thinking about it. “You shouldn’t punch the hard parts of the head either way, there’s always-” 

“Let me show you what we do.” Ilya took a step toward Shane and reached his hand out, placing it on the top of Shane’s chest. The tips of his fingers itched to trace the lines of Shane’s neck, and he swallowed hard. “We have to keep them close,” he made a fist, holding onto part of Shane’s shirt, “so they do not skate away. And we have to punch from below, if the other hand cannot reach.” 

He made a slow motion punch, sliding his knuckles across Shane’s jaw. “We punch like this.” 

Shane’s eyes were wide as he reached out to Ilya, grabbing his shirt in a similar fashion and bringing their faces even closer. “I see,” he nearly whispered, mimicking the slow punch of Ilya’s, letting his knuckles drift over the beads of sweat still running down Ilya’s face. “And then you try to get them with the other hand. When you can.” 

He slow-motion punched with his opposite hand, but when he reached Ilya’s face he merely wiped a stray hair off Ilya's forehead. 

Ilya hummed low in his throat. “Yea,” he said, soft enough that his voice wouldn’t crack, “like that.” 

He tried to meet Shane’s eyes, but Shane was- is he looking at my lips? Ilya couldn’t be sure. He leaned forward, releasing Shane’s shirt from his grasp so he could slide his hand up to Shane’s cheek and pull him in- 

Shane released Ilya’s shirt too, but he stepped back. Ilya let his hand fall, mentally kicking himself. He’d forgotten himself again. What the fuck was wrong with him? Did he just want to tempt fate, to see how much his body guard would tolerate before he quit out of sheer awkwardness? 

He cleared his throat. “I need some water.” 

“We can get some upstairs.” Now Shane really wasn’t looking at him. 

They climbed the stairs and poured their drinks in silence, until Ilya remembered he could at least put the tv on for background noise and dove for the remote as fast as he could. 

Shane didn’t sit back on the couch next to Ilya, instead choosing to hover at the threshold of the living room. “Hey, I meant to say.” 

Ilya pretended to focus on the tv.

“Rozanov.” 

Ugh. 

“You should be in the next meeting, with Anne-Marie and Scott.” 

Ilya’s heart sank. Shane was going to quit, all because Ilya couldn’t draw a clear line between the very not real relationship they were presenting to the public, and the very real unprofessional urge to pull Shane down on top of him right now. Maybe he was going to have Anne-Marie say it for him to spare Ilya the one-on-one conversation. Maybe he was coming up with another excuse to leave. 

“Okay. Tell me when, Hollander. I will be there.” 

Shane retreated to his room, and Ilya was left to turn the tv off, finish his water, and take a shower while thinking of absolutely no one. No wide eyes looking up at him, no hand at his chest, and certainly no lips on his. 

Chapter End Notes

I hope you are having fun, because *I* certainly am.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

The NHL season was starting, and Shane was stressed. 

Anne-Marie, who was monitoring social media, radio shows, and anything she heard from the Bruins, had reported that the overwhelming response to Shane and Ilya’s “relationship” had been positive, with people finding their public outings endearing. Many fans appreciated Ilya’s bravery for publicly dating after the video leak, and the story of how Shane and Ilya had gotten together (which Ilya had told to a couple fans on the street) circulated among their many supporters. 

However, it wasn’t all good news. Several loud voices- analysts, radio talk show hosts, and a few players- openly questioned Ilya’s ability to lead the Bruins when his relationship was such a “distraction,” and others wondered whether Ilya would be able to gain the trust of his more religious teammates. 

Ilya knew about those- he’d sat in on some meetings with Scott and Anne-Marie, where he’d taken everything in with a neutral expression. The only indication that he was upset at all came when Shane had noticed the TV in the living room wasn’t on after the meeting- Ilya had uncharacteristically gone straight to bed. 

Those kinds of opinions made Shane angry on Ilya’s behalf, but didn’t make him worry about Ilya’s safety. Anne-Marie had found a few much more serious sounding naysayers that, based on Anne-Marie’s report, wanted to see Ilya hurt or worse. Only a few sounded legitimately threatening, but Scott had told Shane over and over that it only took one- one moment of oversight, one angry and violent fan, one opportunity- to put a client in real danger. 

When Shane asked for more information on where the threats were coming from, all Scott and Anne-Marie could say was that they were doing their best. They reassured Shane that it was highly unlikely anyone could get to Ilya between Shane’s presence, Ilya’s home security, and the restricted access to any of the locker rooms or gyms at the TD Garden. 

Still, sometimes Shane woke up in a cold sweat, having to repeat to himself that Ilya was asleep in his own room, perfectly safe. There was no reason to check on Ilya and very likely freak him out. There was even less of a reason to wish that Ilya was sleeping in Shane’s bed, where Shane could keep an eye on him. And kiss him awake in the morning and make him come before the sun is up and tell him- no reason.

Shane had decided that Ilya didn’t need to know about the more serious threats. He’d planned to tell Ilya everything, but he realized that Ilya was stressed enough as it was. Ilya was training harder than ever, on top of meeting with players and coaches as the season got underway. He was spending extra time with the rookies, checking in with the goalies, and even making a point to connect with those teammates who had loudly declared their bigotry over the summer. 

He was the best captain in the NHL, and nothing that had happened in his personal life was going to change that. But Shane could tell that it was an uphill battle. He didn’t joke around as much anymore, and sometimes he would cut off mid sentence and just stare into the distance, his brow creased. He was managing so many moving parts, while doing his very best to earn back a trust he never deserved to lose in the first place. 

It broke Shane’s heart, and Shane couldn’t help Ilya with any of it. 

What’s more, Ilya seemed to have lumped his fake boyfriend routine in with the rest of his tasks, and was committing to the role far more than Shane could stand. They’d had a moment while sparring- it had really seemed like Ilya was going to kiss him if Shane hadn’t made himself back away.

But that wasn’t all. Ilya was doing little things every day, like making Shane coffee, or buying more cans of ginger ale after he saw Shane drinking it. He’d even offered to add a foam pad to the bed or switch the pillows in the guest room if it helped Shane sleep better. He was tactile in a way that Shane wasn’t used to, letting their shoulders bump gently in the kitchen or leaning into Shane on the couch. 

When Shane went to the Garden to pick up Ilya, he had positioned himself between his teammates and Shane, as if Shane was the one who needed protecting. 

It was all giving Shane a daily heart attack, and part of him wanted to tell Ilya to stop, that he didn’t need to act like a boyfriend all the time. But also, the more selfish part of him didn’t want Ilya to stop doing it. 

So, no. Ilya didn’t need anything more to worry about. Shane was more than capable of doing the job he’d been paid to do without adding to Ilya’s current burden. 

The alarm blared throughout the house, sending Shane shooting out of bed. He never needed a moment to shake the sleepiness off when he heard that noise- he was ready immediately. He crept towards the front door, willing Ilya to stay in his room and barricade his door like they’d talked about. 

Unless someone already got to Ilya’s room. He banished the thought from his mind, head on a swivel as he looked around the corner. He didn’t want to turn on the light and risk revealing himself to the intruder before he could spot where they were, opting instead to squint in the dark. 

He kept moving through the house until- there. A hooded figure was bent over one of the alarm code panels, clearly trying and failing to disable it. 

Was this one of the people who wanted to hurt Ilya? A surge of energy shot through Shane, one that despite his training and readiness to take on anyone surprised him with its intensity. It was an urge to do more than just protect. He wanted to attack this person, this idiot who had the gall to think they could have any say over Ilya’s life. He wanted to scream in this person’s face and tell them just what he thought. 

And he really wanted to hit them, more than he’d ever wanted to hit anyone. 

But he didn’t do that. He did what he’d been trained to do, pinning the person to the wall, twisting their arms behind their back so they couldn’t push off and try to hit Shane. 

The person was yelling something, and Shane pressed into them harder. He couldn’t hear over the noise of the alarm. But as he felt along the intruder’s arms, something seemed.. familiar. Something felt familiar about the intruder’s height, too. Shane eased off just a little and tried to listen to what the person was saying. 

“Hollander- fuck - it’s me. Turn it off! Please turn it off.”

Now Shane fully stepped back. It was Ilya.  

Shane disabled the alarm in two seconds, typing in the code that Ilya had evidently forgotten. The adrenaline drained out of his body, leaving only sheer fury as he took in Ilya’s appearance. Ilya was wearing a black zipped up hoodie, but the curls that peeked out were glittering, as if they had… yea, that was literal glitter. His pants hugged his legs in a way that could’ve only been an intentional fashion statement. 

Shane didn’t even want to think about what shirt Ilya had on under that hoodie. 

And Ilya reeked. There was booze, and smoke, and sweat, and a nauseating mixture of perfumes and colognes, all emanating from one person.

Shane just stared as Ilya rubbed his eyes, still dazed from the alarm. Then, to Shane’s shock, he started to walk towards the kitchen, as if no one was standing in front of him waiting for an explanation. 

Hell no. Shane was pissed off and tired, and a little annoyed at himself. He’d had no idea where Ilya had been. He hadn’t even realized Ilya wasn’t in the house. What if something had happened?

His hand shot out as Ilya tried to shuffle past, pushing Ilya into the wall again. This time, Ilya just looked confused. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Rozanov?” Ilya’s eyes widened. “Did you- what, sneak out to a club?” 

Ilya scoffed. “I live here. I can’t sneak out of my own house, Hollander.” There was a weariness to his words, and an undercurrent of something else that Shane couldn’t quite figure out. 

Shane eased up on where he’d been pressing Ilya’s shoulder into the wall. “That’s not what I- I mean, why didn’t you just tell me?” Ilya swallowed, and Shane kept going. “I could’ve gone with you. It would’ve been so much safer-”

“I was meeting Leo.” 

A dull pain bloomed in Shane’s chest. “Um, Svetlana’s friend?” 

Now Ilya was looking down. “Yes. He had a show tonight. He invited me.” 

Shane could think of at least a couple reasons why Ilya might not have wanted his body guard and fake boyfriend around at the club with Leo. 

He backed away from Ilya and veered towards the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. They paid me to care about his safety. His image. He risked them both, that’s why I’m upset. Ilya didn’t say anything else, but followed Shane to the kitchen and accepted the water. 

Shane took several small sips before collecting himself with a deep breath. “You do know this is all gonna be a million times worse if you get caught ‘cheating’ on me, right? That this whole thing Anne-Marie is trying to do for you and your career is going to burn to the ground?” He was speaking too quickly, raising his voice above the pounding in his ears. 

Ilya still wasn’t taking his eyes off the floor. “No one saw us.” 

“How the fuck do you know that?” 

Ilya just shrugged while Shane rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you even-”

“What the fuck do you expect me to do, Hollander?” Ilya slid his glass of water away from the edge of the counter as his hands clenched into fists. “I can’t have one fucking night where I don’t have to think about it?” 

Shane tried to keep his voice from shaking. “You can’t just go wild at some club and expect that just because you want to party with no consequences that everyone will keep their mouths shut.” 

“I don’t think that!” Shane had never seen Ilya this angry before, not even at a ref during a hockey game. “But my rules are different. Anyone else on my team can go out whenever they want, and get drunk, and take selfies, but I have to live like some priest or else everyone is mad at me and I ruined hockey, or whatever bullshit they say.” 

“Look.” Shane took a step closer to Ilya, fighting the urge to shake him by the shoulders. “I know it’s frustrating, okay? But it’s not for that long-”

“We don’t know how fucking long it’s going to be.” Ilya pushed his hood off in frustration, letting a faint trail of glitter fall out of his hair in the process. “I might have to deal with you for the whole season.” 

That one stung. Shane reeled back, willing the hurt not to show on his face. By the way Ilya’s face fell in response, he guessed he’d done a poor job of it. 

“No, fuck, Hollander, that’s not what I-” 

“No, it’s okay.” Shane wanted to turn his face away, but Ilya was coming closer and he found he couldn’t move. “I get it.” 

Ilya just looked up at the ceiling. “No, Shane. You don’t fucking get it.” And he crashed his lips into Shane’s, hands coming up to either side of Shane’s jaw. 

Shane would’ve loved to claim that the kiss had been all Ilya’s idea, that it hadn’t even occurred to him. But that would’ve been a lie. 

He kissed Ilya back with a fervor, letting his hands find the zipper to Ilya’s hoodie and yanking it down. He wasn’t disappointed. Ilya had been wearing a black mesh shirt that clung to every last one of those muscles he’d been working on all summer. He’d tucked the shirt into his pants, a barrier that Shane quickly remedied as he slid his hands up Ilya’s back, the way he’d really wanted to that day in the park. 

Ilya was pressing his fingers into the sensitive spots on Shane’s neck, making Shane gasp into his mouth. He threaded one hand into Shane’s hair, pulling back to softly ask, “okay?” before diving back in, pulling Shane’s hair just enough that it hurt a little. 

Shane pressed Ilya against the counter, feeling Ilya’s back arch under his hands. He stumbled a little, making Ilya whine as their hips pushed against each other. 

He could only break away for a moment to mutter “couch,” before Ilya’s mouth was back on his. They staggered to the couch without detaching from each other, breaking apart only so that Shane could collapse onto the cushions and pull Ilya down on top of him. 

Ilya ran his fingers along the elastic of Shane’s pajama pants, letting his hands drift lower and lower as he rested his forehead against Shane’s and raised an eyebrow. 

Shane caught his wrists. “This couch looks expensive.” Ilya stared at him in disbelief. Shane didn’t back down. There was a voice very far in the back of his mind warning him that getting stains on Ilya’s couch might not be the only thing he’d regret in the morning. For the most part, he wasn’t listening to that voice. Aside from its one good point about the couch.

Then, one corner of Ilya’s mouth turned up, and Shane suddenly felt a little nervous. 

“Okay, Hollander,” he said, fitting one leg in between Shane’s, “pants stay on.” He pressed down, kissing under Shane’s ear before biting at the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. 

Shane couldn’t hold back his moan, trying to remember how to say words and coming up with “oh god, Roz- I can’t- you-” 

And Ilya was back on his mouth again, pressing even harder into him. “You can. Please.” His pupils were blown as his eyes found Shane's, letting his body still before tapping Shane’s hip. “Please.” 

And how could Shane refuse? He let his body move with Ilya’s, their rhythm uncoordinated yet somehow still fluid, as if despite the performance they’d given to the city of Boston on their dates, their bodies had never been faking. 

As Shane got closer, he dug his nails into Ilya’s back hard enough to draw blood, pulling back with an apology until Ilya muttered “don’t fucking stop,” kissing Shane hard as his body tensed. Shane followed, letting the rollercoaster of the night hit him all at once, wishing for all the world that he could always have Ilya like this, every inch of their bodies pressed together. 

He panted as Ilya shifted a little so he wasn’t entirely on top of Shane. 

Silence fell between them as Shane tried to get his thoughts together. 

Eventually, he spoke. “Hey, Rozanov?” 

“Mmm.” Ilya didn’t seem as interested in regaining coherence. 

“This might’ve been a bad idea.” 

Ilya lifted his head from where it was resting on Shane’s chest. “Yes.”

Shane’s heart started to pick up again. “Maybe we should-” 

“I’m going to shower.” Ilya was suddenly on his feet, picking up his hoodie from where it had been discarded on the floor. 

Shane blinked, missing Ilya’s weight on him. “Oh. Okay. Good idea. Same.” He swung his feet to the side of the couch and looked back at Ilya. “In my own shower, I mean.” 

Ilya only nodded. “Yes.” He paused. “Goodnight, Hollander.” And then he was gone. 

Shane let his head fall into his hands as the gravity of what just happened sank in. He wanted to tell himself it was a moment of weakness, that he just needed to get it out of his system. That he wouldn’t think about his own client like that anymore, and he certainly wouldn’t act on it. 

He wanted to tell himself all of those things. But, as he closed his eyes in the shower and let himself relive the feeling of Ilya’s body against his, he knew he couldn’t. 

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

Ilya had one of the worst headaches he’d ever had in his life, and he wasn’t even hungover. He’d barely had anything to drink at Leo’s show, opting to let the loud music and the energy of the performers inspire him instead. He loved to party, but he still wanted to play his best hockey now that the season had started. 

Plus, any alcohol left in his system when he got back to his house sure as fuck wasn’t there anymore by the time he’d gone to bed. 

No, his headache was almost entirely due to the fact that he’d hardly slept. 

He’d gone back to the couch in his living room after he showered, hoping that maybe Shane would come back too. That Shane might’ve been thinking of Ilya in the shower the same way Ilya was thinking of Shane. That they could… talk. 

But Shane never came back. Ilya eventually dozed off on the couch, as he’d done between the time the videos of him first started circulating and the first night Shane stayed over, when he’d wondered if he’d ever be able to fix the problem he’d created for himself. 

By the time he woke back up with his body hanging half off the couch, early rays of sunlight were starting to come through the windows. He shuffled off to bed, trying to quiet his mind and get any last few hours of sleep that he could. 

He woke up for real a horrifically short amount of time later, realizing he’d planned to be early to the Bruins’ morning practice. On the bright side, he hadn’t told Shane about the early start either, leaving him to drive himself to the Garden and hope that by the time practice was over he’d think of something to say aside from I really want to do that again. 

Shane was waiting for him when he walked back through the door after practice. He snapped the laptop he was working on shut with a quiet click and greeted Ilya with a dull “Hey.” He looked tired too, but god. Ilya just wanted to kiss him again. And again. 

As much as he’d tried, Ilya hadn’t thought of a way to broach the subject. He greeted Shane back and perused his fridge, wondering if any new food had materialized in there since he last checked. Maybe he could buy some more time by cooking something.

He leaned more of his weight than was necessary on the refrigerator door. “Want anything?” 

Shane shook his head. “No, thank you.” 

Ilya was still trying to think of something to make when Shane cleared his throat. 

“We should talk.” 

Well, there went any plan of stalling. 

Ilya stared at the fridge for a moment more before shutting the door and leaning back against it. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if that would shield the fact that his heart had started racing. He tried to relax his shoulders as he looked at Shane. “Okay.” 

Shane sighed and rubbed at a spot over his eyebrow. “Alright. I’m sorry. I was unfair to you last night.” 

Ilya squinted at him. “Unfair? How?” 

“You were right. I shouldn’t be asking you to stay, uh, celibate the whole time we’re doing this.” 

What? 

“I know it’s hard. To keep this up. And I was holding you to a ridiculous standard. You’ve been going through enough.” 

Ilya pushed himself away from the fridge so he was standing up straight. “So?” Where was Shane going with this? 

“So you should be able to, um,” he avoided Ilya’s gaze, “hook up with whoever you want.” 

It took real effort from Ilya to hide his incredulity. 

“As long as the person is… discreet,” Shane was looking at his closed laptop as if he could see through the lid. “I can make sure I’m outside. Or nearby. We can have a system-” 

“Is that what you want?” Ilya kept his voice low. 

Shane cleared his throat. “Sure. I mean, it can be Leo, or if there’s someone else that you’d rather…” he trailed off.

Yea, asshole, Ilya thought. You. He hadn’t even done anything with Leo. Sure, they’d danced, let off some steam, but only because Ilya was trying to keep himself sane, knowing he was going to have to go back home to Shane and his stupid fucking freckles.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you made a point- we don’t know how long we’re gonna have to do this. I just want to make sure you can keep it up for as long as Anne-Marie says.” Shane scrubbed a hand across his face. “This might make it more, uh, sustainable.” 

There was a sinking feeling in Ilya’s stomach. “Is this what you’re going to do? Find people?” 

“I’m not gonna find people for you, Rozanov, you are clearly capable of-” 

“No. For you.”

Shane blinked. “For me?” 

Ilya shrugged, trying and probably failing to seem nonchalant. “When I’m on road trips. You can bring people back to your place-” 

Shane was already shaking his head. “No. This is my job, I can make it without-” 

“Are you fucking sure about that?” Ilya couldn’t help but laugh and throw his hand out in the direction of his couch. Was Shane seriously going to pretend that nothing had happened? That Ilya still didn’t have bruises from the way Shane had pulled him in close? 

It was only a little bit satisfying that Shane’s cheeks were bright red. “That was… unprofessional of me. I know you were trying to just get some, uh, energy out. And I went along with it.”

Ilya rubbed his chest as what felt like an empty hole in the middle of it began to widen. Just because Shane was being nice about rejecting him didn’t stop it from stinging. 

But there was more. “I won’t let it happen again. I hope it won’t affect the, uh, plan.” 

Ilya just stared at one spot on the counter. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Shane. What had he been expecting? For Shane to drag Ilya off to the bedroom without another thought? For Shane to fall for Ilya, the way Ilya was starting to fall for Shane? Now that Shane was across from him, wringing his hands and telling Ilya to hook up with anyone he could smuggle into the house, the thought that Shane really had wanted Ilya just as badly seemed preposterous. 

“Maybe we can just, I don’t know. Put it behind us?” 

Was there another option? There didn’t seem to be. Not for Shane, at least. Ilya scratched at his cheek. “Okay.” He thought about how he and Shane were going to have to go out in public again. They would hold hands, and maybe even kiss. They’d steal sips of each other’s coffee. And then they’d go back to Ilya’s house and sit three feet away from each other, pretending that Ilya had done the sensible thing and walked away that night. 

It was going to be hell. 

Shane opened his laptop back up, looking more relaxed. “Good.” 

Ilya turned back to the fridge, even though he’d lost his appetite. 

“Oh, uh, Anne-Marie got me a ticket for your game tonight.” Shane was typing as he spoke. “Want to come up with a plan? Maybe I can meet you after, in front of-” 

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Ilya was tired, and his headache was coming back, and as much as he wanted it to not be true, his feelings were hurt. 

“What do you-” 

“Sure, some people are assholes. Nothing new. I can handle it.” 

“But you-” 

“We went on dates over the summer. I don’t have time for that anymore. We cannot do your stupid Boston tourist thing during the season.” 

Now Shane was the one who looked hurt. Ilya knew he’d spent time making sure those plans worked. At the moment, he didn’t care. 

“Was that not enough? Did Anne-Marie get what she wanted for her project about my fucking life?” 

Shane was slowly closing his laptop again. “I think maybe we should-” 

“No, we should talk about it. Because I have no problem telling any of these people to fuck off. I am trying to play hockey. I am trying to win another cup. I do not need a bodyguard. Or a boyfriend.” 

“Anne-Marie thinks-”

“I don’t fucking care what Anne-Marie thinks!” Ilya’s voice broke. “She just wants people to think I’m nice and normal, and you know what? I’m not. Better they all find out now.” He took a steadying breath. “They’ll get over it. This… protection shit, this lie… I don’t need it anymore.” 

His headache was back in full force. He knew Shane hadn’t come up with any of this in the first place, nor did he have much control over how long Anne-Marie wanted him to stay with Ilya. But Shane was the one who had been on those dates with Ilya. He had to have seen that Ilya could’ve walked around outside without him. It was Boston, for christ’s sakes.  

He looked at Shane, wondering if Shane did on some level agree with him. 

Instead, Shane just looked incredibly guilty. “Yes, Ilya, you do.” His voice was quiet. 

Ilya frowned. There was something off about Shane’s tone.

“I didn’t tell you.” Shane wouldn’t look Ilya in the eye. “I thought you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry. You still shouldn’t have to- it’s my job to worry about it, not yours.”

“What are you talking about?” Ilya’s voice somehow came out quiet too, as if he was trying to match Shane’s. 

“There are people, uh, threatening you. People who want to see you hurt.”

There was a rushing in Ilya’s ears. 

“Scott and Anne-Marie found some of them, and they turned out to be harmless. But not all. And I swear-” Shane pinched at piece of skin on his forehead. “I would’ve told you if I thought any situation was going to be really dangerous. But I just- I couldn’t.” 

Weirdly, Ilya wasn’t even mad. He just felt empty. Like every time he felt he had some sense of control back in his life it was ripped away immediately. Like if he let himself want anything- his job to go back to normal, for people to stop caring, for Shane to want him beyond what must have been a momentary lapse in judgement- he’d only find out how foolish he’d been. 

“Oh.” It was all he could bring himself to say. 

Shane looked like he was about to cry. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit. I just-” 

“It’s okay, Hollander.” That was probably a lie, but Ilya needed Shane to stop talking. “I’m going to nap now.” 

“You don’t want to eat something? Maybe I can make-”

“No.” Ilya stumbled off to his bed, chest feeling heavier than it had in weeks. At least he could be grateful for his sleepless night- it meant that this time, he could fall asleep quickly. 

After his game that night, Ilya made sure that Shane met him in as public a spot as he could manage. As journalists, fans, and a few other players watched, Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane’s waist and kissed him tenderly, letting himself smile into the kiss as if he’d been waiting for it all game. 

Shane surprised him by throwing his arms around Ilya’s neck and kissing him back, leaning his entire body weight on Ilya. Ilya let him, wondering if Shane was testing to see if Ilya would be able to hold him up while they kissed, if he’d be able grip Shane’s thighs while Shane locked his legs over Ilya’s back and- 

When Ilya pulled back, Shane’s eyes were dark. It made Ilya’s heart skip a beat, no matter that Shane didn’t seem to want this outside of the public eye, that he seemed to prefer Ilya hook up with other people instead. 

As if any other people interested Ilya at all. 

Ilya flashed a smile to all the people watching. He could only hope that it would be the final straw for the idiots Shane and Anne-Marie were dealing with. That they would post some kind of angry rant, or say something that would reveal where they were. That soon this whole issue could be over and done with. 

Okay, assholes, Ilya thought, letting himself hold Shane close for just a moment too long, show yourselves. 

Chapter End Notes

we're really in it now!

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Chapter Notes

Ilya had shut himself away in his room, and Shane felt like shit. He thought he’d been doing the right thing by telling Ilya about the threats, but now Ilya just seemed so… defeated. If he wasn’t at the Garden, he was in his room. He barely even emerged to eat. 

And Shane knew it wasn’t really the fact of the threats that was bothering Ilya- it was the fact that Shane hadn’t told him, had broken a level of trust they had clearly built in the past few months. It wasn’t often that Shane had clients that he might also consider friends, but Ilya was one of them- though now he wasn’t sure if Ilya thought so too. 

Although Shane was always looking out for Ilya’s safety when they were together, he also genuinely enjoyed being around Ilya. He admired how focused Ilya was on living up to his reputation as the best player in the NHL. He loved how Ilya could get mischievous when he stopped worrying about who was watching. 

And he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ilya had pulled his hair and bit his lip and pressed his body down on top of Shane’s and-

No. Ilya had kissed Shane because he’d just been with Leo, the same way Ilya had been inspired to kiss Shane that day in the park after lunch. Maybe now that Ilya knew he could call Leo whenever he wanted, he would go back to simply holding Shane’s hand. And only when they were in public, playing boyfriends. 

Otherwise Shane was just going to dig himself into a deeper hole of how far gone he was for Ilya. 

Ilya hadn’t seemed as into the idea of being able to hook up with whoever he wanted as Shane had thought. He’d only been confused, tired, and maybe a little frustrated with Shane, as if Shane was missing something obvious. 

Then it hit Shane- Ilya was overwhelmed. Between the season, the pressure on him, having to keep up this boyfriend act, maybe even some other lost friendships, it was all too much. 

The thought prompted Shane to call Anne-Marie. Maybe there was another way they could make this work. Or maybe Ilya really didn’t need a fake boyfriend. He could get some normal security detail and leave it at that. One less thing for him to worry about. 

But that would mean you don’t see him anymore, a knowing voice in the corner of Shane’s mind kept saying. It made him hesitate for just a moment, before he reminded himself he’d taken too much of Ilya’s attention already. Ilya deserved to decide who he wanted to spend his time with. 

“That was quite the stunt you two pulled the other night.” Anne-Marie never answered the phone with a normal “hello.” Shane figured her life simply didn’t have the time for greetings. 

“You did say we should act like we like each other,” Shane responded, thinking about how despite himself he’d kept kissing Ilya until Ilya had stopped it. 

“I didn’t say you had to act like you were trying to get cast in a gay remake of Titanic.” 

“You should’ve seen Ilya on our first date. Just be grateful.” Anne-Marie laughed as Shane acknowledged to himself that he would never forget that first date and the battle to get Ilya to drop his guard… and how Shane knew he might be in trouble even then. 

“Any updates, by the way?” Anne-Marie was about ready to make a case to the NHL that its lack of outright support for Ilya had caused a ripple effect. She never forgot to remind Shane to tell her if anyone was giving Ilya issues. 

Shane drummed his fingers on his knees. “No. No one’s bothered Ilya that I’ve seen lately.” Not that he’s gone outside much, he didn’t add. 

“Well stay vigilant. The threat makers are pretty much under control but… you never know.” 

Shane grimaced. “About that.” He couldn’t get how Ilya’s face had looked lately out of his head, how there was always a slight wrinkle in his brow and his eyes were always down. “I think this is all weighing down on Ilya too much. We didn’t consider how busy he’d be now that the season started. Is there any way we can kind of, just, ease off? I don’t want him to-” he trailed off, refraining from saying I don’t want him to hate me forever, or I don’t want him to find out how I feel about him. He didn’t think Anne-Marie needed to know that. 

Anne-Marie was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed. “I was afraid this would happen.” Shane could hear her typing something. “But it’s a reasonable thought. I’ll think of something, okay?” Relief surged through Shane. Anne-Marie was on the case. 

He hung up with Anne-Marie and walked through the house. It was quiet- Ilya was still in his room with the door shut. The living room, typically lit by natural light during the day, was dark as night had fallen with no one there to turn the lights on. 

Shane was about to do just that when a movement out the window caught his eye. The flash of an arm, the bottom of a sneaker. Someone trying to not be seen. Someone trying to approach the house. 

Adrenaline shot through Shane, alongside a sense of dread. He knew by the pit forming in his stomach that this time, it wouldn’t just be Ilya in a hoodie. 

Shane had thought about this- what he would do if someone really did try to break into the house or ambush Ilya outside. He knew that to truly catch them he’d have to prove that they weren’t just some crazy fan or someone claiming to be lost. He would leave that person with no way to explain themselves out of it. 

A while ago, Shane had snuck into Ilya’s room while he was at practice and stolen as much Bruins branded clothing as he could find. Ilya had luckily never thrown anything out over his years on the team. Shane needed the obvious pieces: the ones with a big spoked B and a gold stripe. He’d grabbed a hat too. 

Now, he put them all on. He couldn’t do anything about their height difference or the fact they truly looked nothing alike aside from putting on some thick sneakers and pulling the Bruins hat far down over his head. It was dark out- all he needed was to fool someone for just a moment. Just long enough to catch them in the act (and then kick their ass). All without ever putting Ilya in any kind of danger.

He thought to stop by Ilya’s room, hoping he was awake. “Rozanov.” He knocked lightly on the door. For a moment, there was only silence. Shane knocked again. “Ilya, this is fucking serious.” 

He was about to go in when he heard a soft “what,” on the other side. 

“Someone’s outside. Barricade your door. Don’t move until I come and get you. Okay?” 

“Wait, Hollander-” 

“Do what I say.” 

Shane took a steadying breath and listened for Ilya’s quiet “okay” before pressing “record” on his phone, slipping it into his pocket, and going outside. 

This would be how he made it all up to Ilya, how he’d atone for hiding the threats, for letting his feelings get in the way of Ilya’s life as much as he’d tried not to let them. Maybe once he caught this person Anne-Marie would tell him that the danger was finally gone. 

He surveyed the yard, trying to hold himself with the confidence that Ilya always did. He walked along, scanning, scanning, until- there. 

There was a loud noise and something hit Shane in the shoulder, sending him staggering back. He could hear footsteps, and he tried to scream, tried to tell the person to stop, but nothing came out. He was numb as he sank to the ground, trying to figure out what had happened. As he tilted his head up to the sky, he noticed that despite being so close to the city, he could still see quite a few stars. 

The next thing he knew was someone slapping at his face. He tried to swat them but he couldn’t. 

“Shane, Shane, oh god, please wake up.” Was that Ilya? Why was he out here? 

“Go back inside,” his words were slurring as he forced them out, “could still be near-” 

“No, they’re gone, sweetheart, please, open your eyes.” 

He didn’t want Ilya to be sad. He would do anything for Ilya, even if seemed impossible. With a tremendous effort, he cracked his eyes open. Ilya was still kind of blurry. What was that all over him? Was he covered in blood? It was too hard to tell. 

“Good, okay, just talk to me, Shane. Help is coming. You just have to hang on.” 

Ohhhhhh. Oh, no. This was bad. Even with his mind working slowly, he could tell it was bad. He couldn’t really process it. But he knew there was something he had to tell Ilya, something Ilya had to know. Just in case. 

He tried to grab any part of Ilya he could reach. “Wasn’t… because… I didn’t… want you.” Every word was harder to get out than the last. “Was because… I like you… too much.” 

Darkness started to creep in around his eyes again, and a pressure on his shoulder increased. “Impossible. No such thing as too much.” Shane couldn’t make out what Ilya said next. He tried to pull Ilya closer, to make him lean down by his ear. He finally caught back on to Ilya’s words.“I will tell you later. How much I like you. I will tell you every day. You have to stay with me, so I can tell you, okay?” 

Now it was really getting dark, and much faster. 

“No, no no no no no, Shane, baby, stay with me,” Ilya’s voice sounded far away. “Please, please-” 

The darkness finally won out, and everything went quiet. 

Chapter End Notes

the death of patroclus, anyone? (shane is going to be fine, I'm not EVIL)

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

If there was any bright side to be found, it was that Anne-Marie got the outcome she wanted in record time. Suddenly, everything was in motion. 

Police detectives, who had evidently not been taking the threats Scott and Anne-Marie had been reporting as seriously as they’d said, were suddenly doing thorough investigations. They’d caught the shooter within a few hours. 

The NHL released a statement of support for Ilya, saying they would provide him and Shane with anything they needed in this shocking turn of events. They even went as far as showing solidarity with all LGBT players throughout the hockey world.

Fans immediately reacted, rushing to the Garden and putting pride decorations on every available surface. The statue of Bobby Orr flying through the air was adorned with a giant pride flag. Someone even went to the Public Garden and put tiny little rainbow hats on all the duckling statues. 

People who had criticized Ilya all summer and into the season made public apologies and wished for Shane’s recovery. 

Maybe it was happening a little late and required the act of a hateful crazy person to happen, but hey. 

Too bad Ilya didn’t care about any of it. 

He hadn’t realized Shane had been wearing his clothes until the medics were cutting them off him. Shane had been completely unconscious at that point, his face paler than Ilya had ever seen and his head lolled to the side. 

He’d seen the spoked B soaked in blood and allowed himself to realize what some part of him had known immediately- that the bullet was meant for him. 

What had been the tipping point? Their kiss at the Garden the other night? The one that had been Ilya’s idea, done in an effort to draw the worst of his haters out of the woodwork? 

He hadn’t even taken Shane’s warning that someone was outside seriously until he heard the gunshot. 

He didn’t let himself think about what Shane had said before he passed out. It wouldn’t matter anyhow, not until Shane got out of surgery and woke back up. And it wouldn’t matter at all if he-

“Hey.” There was a hand on his shoulder. 

“Anne-Marie?” 

She dropped a bag of clothes in his lap. “For you.” 

He was still covered in blood from when he’d found Shane lying in the driveway. He’d thrown himself on Shane and tried to slow the bleeding while calling for an ambulance. He could tell the wound was too high to be Shane’s heart, but there was so much blood. And it had just kept coming. 

He nodded, wondering if he could change right there in the waiting room. So he wouldn’t miss it if a doctor came in. 

Anne-Marie knelt in front of Ilya. “Your team is outside.” 

“What?” Ilya raised his head. 

“All of them.” 

All of them. Even the ones who’d gone on the radio and questioned whether they could trust Ilya as a captain anymore. The ones who wouldn’t talk to him in the locker room or stood as far away as possible from him in the showers. They’d all shown up. 

“You don’t have to go talk to them or anything. Just- whatever you need. I can send someone to pick up food or get Shane’s stuff. We have the reinforcements.” 

“Are his parents-” 

“On their way.” 

A surgeon finally emerged, pulling the mask down off her face as she looked over to Ilya and Anne-Marie. 

Nausea surged through Ilya. This was it. He held onto the moment, knowing that in the next one everything might change. He closed his eyes and thought of how Shane would survey every vegetable in the fridge before figuring out how to put it in a breakfast dish. He thought of Shane’s confidence as they sparred, and how Ilya had wanted to toss the gloves to the side and rip Shane’s clothes off instead.

Anne-Marie had gone to talk to the surgeon, probably realizing that Ilya couldn’t move. Now, she was back in front of Ilya with a smile on her face. “He’s gonna be okay, Ilya. He’s stable.” 

At that, Ilya finally let himself cry. 

Shane’s parents had finally arrived. They’d already gotten the call that he was going to recover, but they’d still looked frazzled when they’d stumbled in. 

Ilya was grateful yet again for Anne-Marie’s thought to bring him clothes. At least now the Hollanders wouldn’t be meeting him while he was covered in their son’s blood. 

They were already talking about how they were going to get Shane home, and how long they’d have to wait before it would be safe to drive him the seven hours back to Ottawa. 

Some sense of panic building in Ilya made him blurt out, “I will rent you a house,” from across the room. They hadn’t really spoken to him yet- just a quick greeting as they went to speak with the surgeon. Yet Ilya couldn’t wait for a better time to let them know they could all stay in Boston. 

“I will tell Anne-Marie to start looking now. I will pay. Do not worry.” 

Now they were looking at him with a sense of gratitude and confusion. 

Ilya just stared back at them. How much had Shane told them? 

Finally, they walked over to him. Shane’s mom put a soft hand on Ilya’s shoulder, as if she thought Ilya might shake her off. “I’m Yuna. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Ilya. Rozanov. Shane is my-” 

“We know.” Yuna leaned closer to Ilya and lowered her voice. “Ilya, Shane has always been, well, dedicated to what he does. He’s not exactly the most-”

“What Yuna is trying to say,” Shane’s dad was also keeping his voice low, “is that whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.” 

Yuna was nodding. “He would never, ever forgive himself if anything happened to you. He’s always been like this.” She gazed at the doors leading to the hospital rooms with a fond look in her eye. “I’m sure he’ll tell you that himself.” 

Ilya took a steadying breath. He was sure his eyes were still puffy, and another round of tears were threatening to spill. But he couldn’t lose it in front of Shane’s own parents- they had enough to worry about. “Let me do this. I can help.” 

Yuna gave Ilya’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re a good person, Ilya.” 

The hospital doors opened, and Yuna pointed. “Do you want to come with us?” 

Ilya shook his head. “You first.” 

Even though Ilya already knew that Shane was alive and would be okay, he still almost fell to his knees when he saw Shane awake and sitting up. He slowly reached for Shane’s hand, making it obvious so Shane could move it if he wanted to. 

Shane’s face was set in a frown. “Ilya.” 

“What’s wrong?” Ilya tried to release Shane’s hand but Shane held on. “Does it hurt? Should I call-” 

“No. Not yet.” Shane grimaced. “I can get loopy when the meds kick in all the way. I’ll call for it soon.” 

“Oh.” Ilya stroked Shane’s hand with his thumb. “You scared me.” 

“Sorry.” 

Good god, was Ilya going to cry again? 

Shane squeezed his hand. “I don’t remember anything from when it happened.” He winced as he tried to sit up more. “But I was, um, recording.” 

Ilya’s heart picked up. He’d told himself that it didn’t matter how Shane felt, even if he took it all back, as long as he just lived. But he wouldn’t lie to Shane about his own feelings. 

“I thought if I caught someone trying to get to you, having a recording would be better evidence than- I guess it doesn’t matter.” Shane wouldn’t meet Ilya’s eyes. “But, um, what I said. To you. I meant it. It was true.” 

Ilya kissed Shane’s hand in his. He held their joined hands to his forehead for a moment, and then kissed Shane’s hand again. “I meant what I said too.” 

There was silence for a moment as they looked at each other. And then, Shane cleared his throat. “Cool.” 

Ilya burst into laughter, the tension breaking. 

Shane started to laugh too, until he froze and gritted his teeth. “Urgh. I can't put off getting more of those pain meds. I just- I wanted to talk to you, without-” he winced in pain again.

Ilya ran his fingers along the side of Shane’s cheek. “I will call for a doctor. We can talk later.” 

“Wait.” Shane still hadn’t let go of Ilya’s hand. “Ilya? Could you-” 

Ilya leaned in. “What?” 

“Kiss me?” Shane’s voice came out in a whisper. “For real this time?” 

“Oh, Shane.” Ilya let his hand slide free so he could trace Shane’s freckles with his thumb. He cradled Shane’s head gently, relishing in the blush he saw spreading as he brushed their noses together. “They were all real.” He ever so carefully let their lips touch, leaving another kiss on the corner of Shane’s mouth as he pulled away. 

He started towards the door. “I’ll see if I can find a doctor or nurse out here.”

“Ilya.” 

Ilya turned back around. 

“In the recording, it sounded like- were you speaking Russian? At one point?” 

Ilya nodded slowly. “Yes.” 

Shane had an expectant look on his face, but Ilya didn’t elaborate. 

Finally, Shane asked, “Wanna tell me what you said?” 

Ilya smiled to himself and took in the sight of Shane, alive and happy, despite it all. “No. Not yet.” 

Chapter End Notes

and we're done! Oh wait, what was that? Did I forget something? Well, alright... one more chapter. :)

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter Notes

“Hey, it’s starting!” Shane yelled up the stairs of the rental house, hoping his parents heard him. They’d slowly come around to being Bruins fans. Well, fan was a strong word. They were passive Bruins supporters, as long as the Bruins weren’t playing Montreal. 

However, luckily for Shane, they were definitely fans of Ilya. 

Whoever had been in charge of finding the rental house had managed to get one with the largest TV Shane had ever seen. It seemed to have been made for watching hockey- Shane never lost sight of the puck. 

The highlights of Ilya scoring looked pretty good on the larger screen too. 

Shane had finally convinced Ilya to go back to playing again. “They need you,” he’d said, as they both watched the Bruins lose yet another shootout. “You would’ve scored that overtime goal.” 

Ilya hadn’t looked that bothered. “I did not know you were a hockey expert.” 

“I’m Canadian.” Ilya had laughed and kissed Shane’s jaw. “And it’s the only thing my parents and I can all agree to watch.” 

But Ilya had eventually agreed to go back, and had received a standing ovation at the Garden when he stepped out on the ice. He hadn’t cried then, with thousands of eyes on him, but he’d sobbed into Shane’s arms later that night. 

This game was a big one. The Penguins were the best in the league at the moment, and had two of what were only a few players in the NHL that could keep up with Ilya. Shane knew Ilya wanted this one, bad. And his team was completely behind him again- he had no problems getting anyone to trust him or do what he said anymore. It made for a stronger team that could be a top playoff contender if they managed to stay consistent. 

His parents ambled in about a minute after puck drop. 

“How’s our boy?” Yuna had known about Shane and Ilya for all of five minutes before she decided Ilya was (unofficially) a member of the family. Shane had to keep reminding her to calm down. 

“Looking good so far.” Shane never let his eyes leave the TV screen. He couldn’t wait until he was healed enough to go to another game in person. 

As he watched Ilya somehow manage to pass the puck behind his own back to himself, get the inside angle on the defenseman as he drove to the net and go bar down, he remembered the “how we met” story Ilya had made up when they’d first met. 

I played to impress you. Always. 

On the screen, Ilya noticed there was a camera on him and winked. 

Shane assumed he wasn’t Ilya’s only motivation, but damn. He was definitely impressed. 

During the first intermission, the doorbell rang. It was Anne-Marie, there to talk about what she called next steps. Shane suspected she’d arranged to come during a game so she wouldn’t risk showing up and finding Ilya there too. 

It was an incredibly thoughtful gesture that hadn’t even occurred to Shane. But it made sense. Ilya, his job, and Shane’s relationship with him all hung in the room as known entities that complicated the fact that Shane’s life was technically in Ottawa. 

It all required some decision making. 

Shane had already talked to Scott about it- he’d realized that the shooting had gotten too much public attention for Shane to feasibly be a bodyguard anymore. Scott had grudgingly agreed, but told Shane he would still have a job at Metro Bodyguards if he wanted it- there was always the admin or training side of things that needed personnel. 

However, there was also the question of Ilya. The thought of leaving Boston now, now that Shane and Ilya had properly talked and realized they’d been reaching for complicated explanations when the simplest answer had been staring them both in the face, made Shane’s heart hurt. Even if they decided to stay together and try long distance, it would be extremely hard. 

But how could Shane stay in Boston? He didn’t know anyone here aside from Ilya and Ilya’s friends (who Shane actually quite liked, once he realized he didn’t have to be jealous of them). He had no job, and no family nearby. And to make such a big decision for a new relationship felt risky. Ilya wouldn’t even be in town for half of the hockey season, sometimes for weeks at a time. 

Shane would be left with the riveting job of waiting for Ilya to return. 

He’d mentioned to Anne-Marie that he was considering new opportunities. He hadn’t said anything about his relationship with Ilya, but from the way she talked about him when she visited Shane in the hospital it felt like she had at least an inkling. Regardless of what she knew, she’d understood that Shane felt it wouldn’t be right for him to be Ilya’s bodyguard anymore, and she’d promised to help him figure out what he was going to do next. Like Ilya, she clearly felt a little guilty that Shane was stuck waiting for his shoulder to get better. 

She walked in with a woman Shane had never met before in tow. “Shane, this is Rose. She runs a cyber and home security company in Cambridge.” 

“Don’t get up,” Rose said as she hurried over to Shane to shake his hand. 

Shane liked her already. “I’m a little more mobile these days. Can’t wait to be back to a hundred percent though.” 

Rose grinned. “I remember those days. Never an injury as bad as yours, obviously, but I used to spend a lot of time on the couch.”

“Rose actually used to play hockey with me in high school,” Anne-Marie added, “We played on the same line. She used to break bones all the time.” 

“I was really dedicated to trying my hardest. Some people didn’t appreciate it.” 

Anne-Marie just laughed and shook her head. There was something familiar about the fondness in her smile, but Shane couldn’t quite pinpoint why. 

“Anyway. I mentioned you to Rose- she’s hiring right now.” 

Shane froze. “Wait, this isn’t a job interview, is it?” He’d been ambushed by Anne-Marie before. “Right now?” 

Rose laughed as she pulled out her phone. “That would be so mean. No, I just figured I’d tell you about what we do. I can send you the job description, if you give me your email. No pressure, obviously. But from what Anne-Marie said, I think you’d be a great applicant.” 

Anne-Marie was smiling encouragingly at Shane. He remembered why the Bruins hired her in the first place- to fix things. She was certainly good at her job. 

Anne-Marie and Rose stayed to watch the rest of the game, chatting with Shane’s parents while Ilya deflected in another goal. He waited all the way until the last minute of the game to get the hat trick. It made Shane roll his eyes- he really did have a flair for the dramatic. 

The Bruins mobbed their goalie as the Hollanders flipped the channel to a game happening on the west coast. 

“What?” David waved off Shane’s annoyed look. “We don’t need to see his post game interview. He can tell us all about it when he stops by.” 

Rose shook Shane’s hand as she left. “Let me know about that job application, okay?” 

Shane nodded. He absolutely would.

It must’ve been past midnight by the time Ilya let himself in. He never stayed over, but he always visited after games. This time, he’d changed into sweats before stretching out on the couch and resting his head next to Shane’s leg. 

“Good game.” 

“Mmmm.” Ilya scratched the side of his face. 

“Did you come all the way here just to fall asleep?” 

Ilya yawned. “No.” He yawned again. “Maybe.” 

“I wouldn’t have been mad if you just went to bed.” Shane threaded a hand through Ilya’s hair. “It looked like you skated hard.”

“I always skate hard.” 

That was probably true, given how Ilya was always tired after games. 

Shane kept massaging Ilya’s scalp, wishing he could be doing anything more. But, no. He hadn’t been cleared. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Ilya lifted his head. “Yes?”

“If you’re too tired-” 

“No.” Ilya pulled himself up so he was sitting next to Shane. “If you wait until I am not tired we will never talk about anything. Tell me.” 

“Anne-Marie stopped by. She knows someone who might be able to hire me. Here, in Cambridge.” 

Ilya stilled. “Oh?” 

“I wanted to ask you.” Shane’s voice was coming out shaky. It was ridiculous- what was he so afraid of? Ilya had already seen Shane at his worst: those few hours that happened every day in the first couple weeks of recovery where the pain medication was starting to wear off but it wasn’t time to take the next pill yet. Ilya had been there when Shane couldn’t so much as lean forward to get a glass of water.

Ilya had kept the promise he’d made to Shane the night of the shooting- he told Shane he liked him every day. It was a fact that Shane knew. And yet… this was hard. 

He took a deep breath. “If I got the job. Or any job around here. Would you- would we-” he rubbed at his neck, “would you want to be together?” 

Now Ilya just looked confused. “Are we not together now?” 

“We are, but I mean-” 

“Oh.” A smile spread across Ilya’s face. “You want to be boyfriends?” 

“Yea.” Shane started to lean towards Ilya, but Ilya beat him to it, capturing his mouth in a kiss that intensified as much as either of them dared without risking Shane’s shoulder. It didn’t stop Ilya from kissing Shane’s nose, forehead, under his eye, until Shane pulled him back to his mouth. 

They broke away and Ilya smiled again, and Shane realized he knew why the look on Anne-Marie’s face earlier had been so familiar. 

“I think Anne-Marie has a girlfriend.” 

Ilya blinked at the sudden change in subject. “Good for her.” 

“They played hockey together in high school.” 

Ilya breathed out a laugh. “Hockey is a very romantic sport.” 

“Between all the hitting and fighting I’m sure it is.” 

Ilya leaned in and kissed him again. “Did you like the goal I scored for you?” 

Shane narrowed his eyes. “Only one of them was for me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Which one?” 

Ilya whispered right into Shane’s ear. “The one on the empty net.” 

“You are such an asshole.” 

“Mmmm.” Ilya softly kissed down Shane’s neck. “So.” 

“What?” 

“We are boyfriends?” 

Shane closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes.” 

-------------------------------

There was someone in Ilya’s bed. He’d evidently slept like a rock and hadn’t noticed- he’d certainly gone to bed alone. As he shifted and opened his eyes, the person started kissing up his arm. 

That undoubtedly narrowed it down. Besides, Shane was the only one who could figure out the security system Ilya still had. 

“So. Things went well at the doctor?” 

Shane kissed his way down to Ilya’s chest. “How’d you guess?” 

Ilya lifted Shane’s chin and guided him up to his mouth. “Luck.” 

“What time did you get in last night?” 

Ilya groaned. “Late.” 

“You were out like a light.” 

“I still would be.” Ilya yawned. “If maybe someone did not-” 

“Go back to sleep then, if you’re so-” 

“No.” 

Shane started kissing down Ilya’s chest again, this time with a destination in mind. He swung a leg across where Ilya was still half lying, bracing himself with his arms as he-

Ilya’s brain snapped fully awake. “Shane.” 

Shane was already at the waistband of Ilya’s boxers. He looked up with a mask of innocence. “I’m in the middle of something, if you don’t mind-” 

“You are better? The doctor said you can move like normal again?” 

“Yea. I mean, not all the way back to normal yet, but for the most part I-” 

Ilya was already hauling Shane up towards him for a searing kiss. 

“We can’t- go- crazy-” Shane was already out of breath, unwilling to break away from Ilya for even a second. 

“Okay.” Ilya flipped them over and straddled Shane’s waist. “I will be gentle.” 

Now, Shane smirked. “Not too gentle, though.” 

Ilya just leaned down and kissed him, before sitting back up so Shane could take his shirt off. His scar was still incredibly prominent, the skin around it gnarled and uneven. Ilya leaned his forehead just above it, resting on the bone of Shane’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe I almost lost you.” 

Shane rubbed the back of Ilya’s neck for a moment, while they just held each other. Ilya recognized the way Shane pressed into the spots that tensed up the most- it was what he’d done for Shane, so many times throughout those weeks of recovery. 

Eventually, Shane stroked Ilya’s cheek. “I’m not gonna be able to get hard if you start crying over my scar again.” 

At that, Ilya looked up and ground his hips down. “Hmm. This will not be a problem.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Yes. Take your pants off.” 

Shane gestured up to Ilya. “You’re on top of me. You do it.” 

Ilya sat up with a wicked smile. He’d been hoping Shane would say that. He gave Shane a soft bite on the stomach and slid down to the waistband of his flannel pajama pants. “Okay.” He pulled the pants down about an inch and licked at the more sensitive skin underneath. He slid his arms under Shane’s back to give him better leverage in leaving a sizable hickey, making Shane’s entire body tense underneath him. 

“Jesus christ, Rozanov-” 

Ilya slid Shane’s pants down another inch, and did it again. 

“Will you please just take them off, oh my-” 

Another inch. Shane’s fingers threaded through Ilya’s hair. They tightened as Ilya left an even darker hickey. 

Then, Ilya paused. He looked up, waiting for Shane to look at him. Shane glowered back. Without breaking eye contact, Ilya finally tugged Shane’s pants all the way down. He lowered his face slowly, and then-

“Ilya, stop.” 

Ilya lifted his head. Shane lifted his eyes to the ceiling, looking almost annoyed. Sweat was beading on the bridge of his nose. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this.” 

Ilya cocked his head, hands rubbing along the spots he’d just been kissing.

“If you put your mouth on me right now I’m gonna come in two seconds.”

Ilya blinked. “Okay.” He made to dive back down. 

“Ilya I’m fucking serious.” 

“What is the problem? So what if you come in two seconds? We will do it again.” 

“But-” Shane’s cheeks were a brighter shade of red. “I really want you to fuck me. Right now. Um. Please?” 

Ilya was licking into Shane’s mouth before he was even done asking. “Do you want to be-” 

“Like this. Just like this.” 

He watched for signs of pain on Shane’s face as he pushed into him, but Shane was utterly blissed out. 

“Fuck.” Shane clutched onto Ilya’s arm. “I knew it would be worth the wait.” 

Ilya brought their mouths together as they panted in sync. “Tell me if it hurts,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t. Fuck me. Harder.” 

Ilya smiled to himself and did as Shane asked. 

Neither made a move to get out of bed when they were done. If Ilya could have it his way, he wouldn’t let Shane out of his bed for the next three days, at least. 

“When is your first day?” Predictably, Rose had hired Shane. 

Shane tried to fight off a smile and failed. “Soon. In a few days.” 

“Maybe I have a pulled muscle this week. I can’t play. So sad, I have to stay home.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

Ilya just raised an eyebrow at Shane and pulled him back in for another kiss. He couldn’t believe his drunk and impulsive decision-making had brought him Shane. Maybe Shane had been right, and Ilya really hadn’t done anything wrong after all. 

Ilya whispered the words again, the ones he’d said in Russian to Shane as he’d begged Shane to stay with him. 

Shane recognized them immediately. “You should tell me now.” Their faces were still inches apart. “What you said.” 

Ilya tucked a piece of hair behind Shane’s ear, and whispered it in Russian again. 

Shane just huffed out a small laugh. “In English.” He pulled himself impossibly closer. “Or do you want me to guess? Because I think that I-” 

“I love you.” That one was English. 

Tears pooled in Shane’s eyes. He kissed Ilya lightly, staying pressed up against him. “I love you too.” 

Chapter End Notes

I’m so sad I’m done with this :( it was so fun to write. People who commented, I hope you have a good day every day. And if you have a bad day, at least we have ao3.