Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Additional Tags:

POV Shane Hollander, POV Ilya Rozanov, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Soft Hockey Boys, Mentioned Roger Crowell, Supportive Boston Bears | Boston Raiders (Game Changers), Shane Hollander's Boston Lily, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Shane Hollander Leaves the Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Good Parents David Hollander/Yuna Hollander, Yuna demands a wedding, Marly does too for reasons, Saint Vicky officiates because duh

Language:

English

Series:

Part 3 of Ilya's Intervention

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-27 Words: 11,361 Chapters: 1/1

The Coming Out Tour

Summary

What started as an intervention for Ilya ends like a hockey-adjacent fairytale.

Notes

If you're reading this (I love you) definitely read the other two parts first or you'll be like... girl, what? You might be like that anyway but hopefully it all makes sense.

The group chat was not Shane’s idea. In fact, he resisted it for weeks, nearly begging Ilya to tell the other guys thanks but no thanks on his behalf. But the Raiders were annoyingly persistent. All three texted him privately, assuring him they would keep everything “in the vault” and that actually it would help them keep their captain in good spirits if they were all in contact with each other so really Shane would be doing them a favor. Reluctantly (and ganged up on), Shane agreed though he told them not to expect too much from him.

Despite Shane's protests, Ilya knew his boyfriend found the chat to be helpful. For instance, Vic texted about how hard it was to be away from Celeste which was a comfort. Ilya had never been someone’s boyfriend before and certainly had never done long-distance. It was nice to hear that it sucked for everyone, not just two people in a mostly secret relationship. Privately Ilya had even texted Celeste to see how she managed to keep Vic updated with sexy pictures while they were apart. She sent him instructions for setting up a locked folder on his phone. He promptly shared the idea with Shane, leaving out the details about the tutorial and where it came from. Luckily Shane didn’t ask, though he did double and triple check that it was safe before he agreed to try it. Ilya was thrilled; it was extremely hot to have secret pictures of his boyfriend’s dick on his phone, even if Shane had to be prompted to send them. Mostly Ilya took screenshots of their FaceTime calls for the folder, arguing he needed a good collection.

So that was the group chat: Vic offering actually solid advice, memes from Marly, and random links from Connors, most recently a tweet about two PWHL players getting engaged to each other. Everyone ignored it at first. Connors sent a lot of links, sometimes about hockey but mostly celebrity gossip shit. Ilya didn’t follow other hockey teams unless he was playing against them but he thought Shane followed the women’s teams a little, being hockey-obsessed. Ilya planned to ignore the message altogether but then Connors sent a follow up.

Connors: You guys see this? I had no idea so many of them are dating each other

Marly: oh yeah, my sister played in high school, whole team was always hooking and breaking up lol

Connors: Roz and Holly, you ever think about being public like that?

This gave Ilya pause. It had been six months since Hunter and his boyfriend had come out. The regular season had started back up and Hunter was playing well, better even then the beginning of last season. Ilya wondered if it was because of the relief that came with not carrying a gigantic secret around all the time. Maybe he could spin it to Shane that way: coming out would be good for both their stats.

Because the thing was, Ilya was ready for them to be public. He was tired of pretending to be single, of dodging other teammate’s questions about Montreal Jane, of not being out to everyone he worked with and loved. He had a good feeling about the rest of his team accepting him the way he was. He didn’t think Shane had the same feeling about Montreal but Ilya had a plan for that too. Shane used to insist that he wanted to retire in Montreal but lately he had started wondering aloud about whether he would stay there. Their little group chat was partly to blame, Ilya was sure. It was an almost daily reminder that Ilya had the support from his teammates that Shane feared he would not get from the Metros.

Hollander: Uh, not really. I don’t know how the league would feel about it on the men’s side.

Ilya took a deep breath before he replied. He was not going to fight with his boyfriend in the group chat. He was not going to point out that the PWHL was not hugely different from the MLH. Certainly the men’s side made more money but that was about sexism, not about skill. What did the league care if players were married to each other or related in some other way? Maybe that was a better starting point.

Rozy: Brothers play on different teams.

Hollander: We aren’t brothers, Ilya

Marly, Connors, and St.Simon *laughed* at this message.

Rozy: I realize that Shane, thank you

Rozy: I am just saying players have friends on other teams or even family, what is difference?

Connors: That’s why I asked. Like if the women are doing it…

Ilya waited for a few minutes but Shane did not reply. He also didn’t text Ilya on the side, which he sometimes did when Connors or Marly was being particularly dumb.

St. Simon: Probably feels more complicated for you guys, right? Locker rooms being the way they are

Marly: not ours man!

Connors *emphasized* a message

St. Simon: yeah because Roz is a great captain. They aren’t all like that

Connors: what’s the room in Montreal like Hollzy?

Hollander: I thought we agreed not to talk about team stuff in this chat

Rozy: he means the room is not good

Hollander: what the hell Ilya

Ilya shrugged at his phone, wondering if Shane was really upset with him. Saint Vicky saved him, again.

St. Simon: sounds like a thing you guys should talk about amongst yourselves

St. Simon: beers at our place next time you’re in Boston, Hollzy? Celeste is dying to meet you.

Hollander: Sure, Vic. Thanks.

That was the end of the discussion then, Ilya thought. For now at least.

When Shane called him the next day, Ilya could hear him pacing his condo from end to end, the way he did when he was thinking something over. “I’ve been thinking,” he said when Ilya answered the phone.

“Hello, moy lyubov,” Ilya replied.

“Hi. Listen.” Ilya stifled a laugh. It was adorable when Shane was worked up about something. “I think I’m going to come out to my parents.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say?”

“Congratulations? What do you need from me, sweetheart? This will be fine, no?”

Shane sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know! I’m afraid they’ll be mad that I didn’t tell them until now. You know? Then I have to tell them about you–”

“You do not have to do that, Shane.”

“No, I want to. I mean, if it’s okay with you. I guess I should have asked that first, I’m sorry.”

“No, no sorry. I am okay with them knowing. I do not want to make things harder for you though. I want you to go at your own pace.”

Shane’s voice was resolute. “Scott Hunter is still playing. He didn’t get fired or pushed out or anything. I don’t want to like… I don’t want to put a pride flag on my helmet or whatever but I do want people to know about you and me.” Ilya no longer heard Shane’s footsteps stalking across the floor, which was a good sign. “I want to be able to have holidays together and hang out with you in public.”

Ilya’s chest swelled. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I want that too,” he managed to whisper.

“Your guys knowing about us… it’s been kind of cool, actually. Like that they know and they don’t care but also that they support us. It makes me feel normal, you know?”

Ilya found himself nodding even though Shane couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he rushed to answer, still nodding his head emphatically. “Normal is good.”

Shane exhaled sharply. “Okay. So I’ll start with my parents. And then I’m going to tell the team.” Ilya said nothing, afraid to scare Shane off or make him worry himself out of the plan. “I won’t mention your name if you don’t want, I know Russia–”

“Fuck Russia,” Ilya interrupted. “I am not worried about that. I do not need to go home again.”

“But what about your visa?”

“I will talk to lawyer, agent, I will figure that out, Shane.” Ilya stopped for a minute to catch his breath. It wasn’t often that Shane surprised him like this. He was usually so steadfast. He loved to plan ahead. He didn’t take chances. It was Ilya who was impulsive, Ilya who didn’t think things all the way through, like coming out to people before he had secured citizenship somewhere else. He was charmed by this version of Shane, who never did anything halfway, including loving Ilya. “I am worried about you.”

“What? Why?”

Ilya hesitated. “I know Pike will be good. Will the rest?”

“I don’t know,” Shane admitted. “But the sooner I do know, the better. I have a no-trade clause in my contract but I don’t think that means I’m stuck if it goes badly. Right?”

His boyfriend’s voice sounded so hopeful that Ilya could not bear to say anything except, “Yes, probably.”

Shane exhaled on the other line. “This is good, Ilya,” he promised. “This is what I want to do. And if…” Here he trailed off into silence for so long Ilya wondered if the call had dropped. “If you really want to give up your Russian passport, we could–I mean, you could become Canadian. If you wanted.”

Ilya snorted. “How would I do this? Just ask nicely and Canadian government says, okay sure?”

Shane hesitated. “I mean, there are ways. Like if you wanted to claim asylum because of the Russian propaganda thing. Or if you married a citizen.”

“Is this your marriage proposal?” Ilya joked, sure Shane was teasing him. Shane did not answer immediately and Ilya froze. Was he being proposed to over the phone? By someone who had just become his boyfriend like five minutes ago? Surely Ilya was reading too much into it. Shane was just telling him what the options were, he wasn’t actually asking to get married. They were getting ahead of themselves. Shane was good at that. Ilya was good at bringing him back down to earth. “Shane,” he said gently. “I think you are in spiral.”

Shane laughed shakily. “Probably,” he agreed. “Sorry. I’ll start with my parents and then I’ll tell my team. Maybe right before the Christmas break so they can have some time to like, process or whatever.”

Ilya said nothing about his fears regarding Montreal. He assumed it would go poorly and then they would figure out how to move forward together. He had his own ideas. Hammersmith was about to retire, meaning the Raiders were going to lose their depth at center. Shane was expensive but Boston had money. It was something to consider, an option maybe. He wondered how bad things would have to get in order for Shane to move to Boston. He guessed they would find out.

***

Shane usually didn’t cook during the season. His meals were prepared and stacked in the fridge and he barely thought about them. Today was special though, so he had found an easy recipe for pasta and concentrated on making it instead of thinking about what he was about to do.

He reminded himself that he and his parents had a great relationship. Sure, his mom drove him kind of nuts sometimes with the role model shit and the brand deals and all of that. But he also appreciated that he never had to worry about anything related to his career except playing hockey. He was lucky to have her. He was a lot like her, which is what caused most of their conflicts but his dad was a genius at balancing them out. They were a solid, functional family. They would accept him being gay. He was sure there was nothing to worry about. 

Still, he was on the verge of a panic attack the entire morning.

Skating helped–it always did–and a text from Ilya reminded him what he was doing all this for. Last spring he felt like he had willingly stepped onto a runaway train when he messaged Vic but now he was grateful he had three of the Raiders on their side. Rose knew, Ilya’s friend Svetlana knew. Shane thought it would be terrible, all these people being in on their secret, but instead it made him feel normal. For years he had thought a normal life would be out of his reach. Even when he was dating Rose he knew it wouldn’t last. He loved her but not the right way. He had resigned himself to having two separate lives until he retired: a season of hockey followed by an off-season of casual sex. It was sad but he sort of thought it was the only choice. Then the Raiders helped Ilya get him back–it still shocked him when he thought about the four of them coming up with plans for grand romantic gestures. He was unbearably grateful for them. And grateful for Scott Hunter kissing his boyfriend on national television. Hunter was still playing hockey–playing better, actually, than he had in years, probably because the weight of his secret wasn’t crushing his soul.

Shane stacked all this evidence up in his brain, ready to offer it to his parents. He had a whole speech prepared. It would be fine.

Yuna and David walked into Shane’s condo with smiles and open arms. They took off coats and shoes after hugging their only son the way they always did. Shane tried to smile normally at them, to convey that everything was fine. He must have succeeded because neither of them said anything except, “Smells great in here, son!” and “Did you cook, Shane, you never cook during the season, what a nice surprise!”

To which he replied, “I’m gay.”

To their credit, Yuna and David did not ask him to repeat himself. They froze but only briefly before they both smiled. “Okay,” David said simply. He was still smiling but Yuna’s eyes filled with tears, which made Shane want to run out of his own home and into the street. His mother rarely cried. She was warm and loving but not wildly emotive. Shane could count on one hand the number of times he had seen tears in her eyes. His own eyes filled looking at her and he immediately started apologizing, wondering if he could take it back somehow, make it gentler or easier on her. She held up her hand.

“I’m not crying because you’re gay, Shane,” she clarified. “I’m just… I’m glad you told us. And I’m sad because you look… were you afraid? Of me and Dad?”

Her voice cracked at the end of that last sentence. Shane felt a crack in his own chest in solidarity. “No,” he squeaked out. He cleared his throat. “I mean, maybe? I know you’re probably disappointed–”

Yuna grabbed Shane by the shoulders. “No,” she said firmly. “We have never, not once, been disappointed in you, Shane. We love you. There is nothing you could do or say that would make us stop loving you.”

Shane nodded before he let himself be enveloped in her arms. They were both crying now, from relief or sadness Shane couldn’t tell. He didn’t care. He felt his father’s arms encircle them both, holding them for as long as it took for them to steady. After some time (impossible to tell if it was moments or minutes) they released each other, laughing a little and wiping their eyes. When he realized they were still standing in the hall, Shane said thickly, “I made lunch.” Both his parents smiled.

“Thanks, buddy,” David said. “Come on, I’ll serve.” They walked into the kitchen, Shane and his mother sitting at the small table in there while David wordlessly plated the food and poured them all a glass of wine, although Shane seldom drank during the season. He did not decline the drink though; it was a special occasion after all. Also he would need it, knowing the conversation was not finished yet.

“Do you, um… have questions?” David and Yuna exchanged a look in silent marital communication. “Well,” Yuna said carefully. “Is there anything you think we should know? Besides the obvious.”

Shane smiled, in spite of himself. “Was it? Obvious, I mean.”

Again, they both hesitated. “Not… obvious,” David said. “Maybe we suspected, at times. But then there was Rose…”

“Hail Mary attempt,” Shane explained. His father snorted.

“Quite a Hail Mary,” he muttered and Yuna rolled her eyes. Shane laughed in spite of himself. “Anyway!” David continued. “We just always assumed you would tell us about your private life when you were ready.” 

Yuna nodded in agreement. “Has something changed? Are you… involved with someone?”

Shane blushed. Involved was one to say it. “This is actually the hard part,” he admitted. He watched his mother brace herself, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. His father sat extremely still, waiting to jump in and diffuse if needed. “I have a boyfriend, yeah.” Both parents smiled with relief and Shane’s heart clenched. Was it going to be this easy? Would they still be this accepting when he said the name out loud? He took a deep breath and imagined Ilya sitting next to him, holding his hand and whispering in his ear to be brave. “It’s complicated. Obviously. It was… casual for a long time but now it’s serious. It’s really serious, I need you to know that before I tell you who it is.”

His mother’s eyes widened. “You’re scaring me, honey.”

Shane shook his head, wishing he could stop feeling like he was walking to the gallows instead of having lunch with his parents. He looked down at the table, unable to watch whatever their expressions would do when the next words came out of his mouth. “It’s Ilya. Rozanov.”

His mother, normally so poised and careful, made a sound he had never heard her make before. It was something between a laugh and sharp inhalation; he worried for a minute that she was choking. In true Yuna Hollander fashion she composed herself immediately, setting her hands flat on the table. “Well! Okay! That is… a surprise. How long is a long time?”

Shane continued staring at her hands instead of looking at her face. “Long,” he whispered.

David cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize he was, uh…”

“Bi,” Shane supplied.

“Ah,” his father answered lightly, as if this was the least surprising part of his day. 

“It’s actually more dangerous for him,” Shane continued, feeling more brave as he went on. The hard part was over, for now at least. He needed his parents to know how committed he was to Ilya, how committed Ilya was to him. That Ilya was risking way more than Shane was for them to be together. “Russia has these laws about queer people–”

“Yes,” Yuna said, nodding. “I read that recently.” She sat back in her chair. Shane could see the wheels turning in her head. “So what is the plan?”

Shane shrugged helplessly. “He said he would figure it out. He’s more worried about me coming out to my team.”

Neither parent moved but Shane felt the tension radiate off of them. “Are you worried about that?” David asked.

“I don’t know,” Shane admitted. “Hayden will be good about it. Maybe JJ. The rest of them…” He shrugged again. “I don’t know how much I care. I’m not going to out Ilya. But I’m tired of being asked about Rose or Boston Lily–”

“Boston Lily?” Yuna interrupted.

Shane blushed again. “That’s what they call him.”

Yuna nodded slowly, taking this in and putting it aside for the moment. Shane knew she would come back to it at some point; she never let anything go and she clearly had follow-up questions. For now though she was focused on the Metros. “How do you want to do this? I think we should talk to Farrah first. Make sure your contract has some anti-discrimination language in it, though if I recall correctly it does.” She tapped her fingers on her chin. “Does Roz–Ilya’s, I wonder? Would a Russian agent–”

“Mom.”

“What!”

Shane shook his head. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am not. I am making sure my son’s serious boyfriend is protected.” Shane’s breath caught. “He’s important to you so he’s important to us. Does his team know?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, three of them do. They’ve been awesome, actually.”

“Three of them?”

Shane squirmed in his chair. “We’ve hung out together. They’re great guys. Really supportive.”

Yuna clearly had more questions but David placed a hand on her arm before she could open her mouth again. “This is serious,” he said, smiling. “Meeting the friends. Will we get to meet him soon?”

Shane smiled back with relief. “Maybe at Christmas? I would really love that. If it’s okay with you guys.”

“Of course it’s okay!” David beamed. “I’ll do some research, make some traditional Russian fare.”

“I can’t believe the Raiders knew about this before your own mother,” Yuna muttered. “Of all the men you could have been with, Shane–”

“Mom.”

She waved a hand at him. “Well, honestly! You couldn’t have picked someone less complicated?”

Shane shook his head. “I didn’t pick him. It just happened. We fell in love with each other.”

David and Yuna both melted a little at the words. Yuna’s eyes filled again. “Well,” she said quietly. “Okay.”

***

Shane held out hope at first about the Metros. He had won them two Cups and, though it was early in the season, they were at least playoff bound again this year. His mother and his agent reminded him that he was far more valuable to the Metros than any other player on the team, meaning they would hopefully have open minds. Shane wasn’t expecting a Pride parade but he did take their words to heart that the Metros would want to keep him. He repeated that sentence to himself like a mantra the whole morning before he and Farrah walked into the conference room to meet with the GM, human resources, PR, and Coach Theirault. Shane was not thrilled about the number of people in the room but he trusted Farrah. He let her do the talking and tried to act like he was making eye contact with everyone while he actually focused his gaze on each of their foreheads in turn.

He hadn’t had any dealings with HR (he didn’t actually know the organization had such a department) or really with PR beyond being asked to do press stuff. He had shaken hands with the GM a few times. He didn’t know any of the people in the room except for his coach. He had known Theirault for his entire career. He was not under any illusions that the man would be happy about this announcement given that he did not like surprises and he did not like to talk about anything that was not hockey. It was therefore not a shock when the first thing Coach said before HR could stop him was, “You’re not going to tell the team, are you?”

Farrah inhaled sharply. “Forgive me, Coach Theirault, but I would advise you not to make demands like that.”

Theirault glared at her. “I’m not making demands, I am asking a question about how my team is going to be affected by this… information.”

“Who Shane tells is his business,” Farrah continued. “This meeting is a courtesy. I want to remind everyone here that it is illegal in Canada for an employer to retaliate against an employee who discloses his sexual orientation–”

“No one is retaliating,” the HR lady said quickly. “I am sure Coach Theirault didn’t mean to imply anything like that, did you, Paul?”

Theirault turned his glare on the HR lady. “Of course not,” he said through clenched teeth. “Hollander knows that.”

Shane rolled his eyes internally but kept his expression neutral. He nodded at his coach. “I am going to tell the team,” he said calmly. “I’m not trying to… disrupt anything. I just want to be able to talk about my partner like everyone else does.” He found his voice growing more confident as he continued, remembering his mother and Farrah’s reminders of what he meant to this team. “I was gay when I was drafted, I was gay when I became captain, I was gay when I got us two Stanley Cups. Obviously it’s never made a difference before and I would hope it won’t make a difference now.” 

The GM smiled tightly. “Of course we’ve always been pleased with your contributions to this team, Hollander.” Shane braced himself for a “but” that didn’t come. “I’m sure we’re all on the same page here. I think what Coach Theriault is indicating is that we just want to keep everyone’s focus on hockey.”

Farrah smiled back. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I’m sure Mr. Hollander is capable of being professional, given his conduct since he was drafted to this team. I’m just here to make sure that he continues to be respected in the same way as before.” She stood up and collected her briefcase, gently putting a hand on Shane’s shoulder to cue him to stand as well. “Thank you for your time today, everyone.” She led him out of the office and down the hallway before turning to him and smiling genuinely for the first time since they walked into the room together. “You okay?”

Shane sighed. “Kind of? I mean, it went better than I thought, I guess.”

Farrah nodded. “You really don’t have anything to worry about,” she assured him (again). Her smile softened. “This is brave of you, Shane. I’m proud to represent you.”

Shane blushed and ducked his head in a nod. They shook hands. He watched her walk out the door. He turned to face the locker room door. 

He couldn’t begin to count how many times he had walked in this door over the years. He remembered the first time vividly: just 19 years old, second overall draft pick, hands shaking with nerves as he pulled the door open and stepped over the threshold. That memory was burned into his brain for all time. All the other days he had spent walking in and out of here blurred together in his mind. After wins, after losses, listening to Hayden recount his first real date with Jackie. After weddings and baptisms and Cup celebrations. During every season, all types of weather, injuries, and illnesses. Shane had walked into this locker room more than any other space in his adult life. It was a second home.

Today it felt like he was entering one of the circles of hell. 

He wanted to give his teammates the benefit of the doubt. Sure they all used slurs, especially on the ice, but Shane thought he had done a decent job of curbing that (at least within his earshot). That was just hockey, he told himself. It wasn’t personal. Most of them didn’t even have an opinion about the Hunter kiss, except to say it was crazy, which it objectively was. Shane wondered if that was because nobody thought about Scott Hunter on a daily basis or if it was because his teammates didn’t care that much about who other people fucked. 

He was about to find out.

Again, he had prepared a speech, but when he walked into the room, all the words left his brain. It was their last practice before their last game before the holiday break. Maybe he should get through practice first. Maybe he should wait until after the game. Maybe maybe maybe…

The decision was made for him when the guys started talking about holiday plans. Shane listened with half an ear, the other part of his brain debating when the right time would be to say the words that were about to choke him if he didn’t get them out soon. Hayden was the one who pushed him over the edge, almost as if they had planned it. “Is Boston Lily coming into town? Maybe this is the year we finally get to meet her at the holiday party?”

The players around him chuckled. They had been hearing about the mysterious Boston Lily for years and loved to speculate about why Shane kept her a secret. Theories included: she’s married; she’s hideous; she doesn’t exist. None of the above, Shane thought to himself, almost smiling.

“That’s girlfriend shit!” JJ teased. “Did I miss something? Did you finally make her an honest woman, Hollander?”

“An honest man,” Shane heard himself say. He cleared his throat. “Lily is my boyfriend, actually.”

There were more chuckles at first, somebody going so far as to say, “Cap’s losing it.” Hayden and JJ both stared at him in silence, JJ’s eyebrows raised in surprise (not horror, Shane hoped). Slowly other members of the team stopped laughing until twenty-two pairs of eyes were trained on him like he was a rare zoo animal in their midst. 

He cleared his throat. “His name isn’t Lily. Obviously. That was…” He shook his head, trying to remember any part of his well-practiced speech. “I’m still the same person,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I just don’t want to keep hiding. I have a boyfriend, it’s serious, that’s it.” He shrugged as casually as he could manage and went back to putting on his gear. The silence roared in his ears until Hayden got himself together and clapped him on the back.

“Right,” Hayden said, looking at JJ and then around at their teammates. “Same old Shane. Our captain.”

JJ attempted a smile. “Oui! Of course.” He started chuckling. “No wonder you fumbled Rose Landry!”

Shane suppressed a groan. JJ is trying, he told himself. He continued lacing his skates, left first, then right. “Fumbled is a strong word. We’re still friends.”

“So you’re gay,” Comeau said. The tone of his voice was unreadable. When Shane looked up, his expression was too. 

“Yes, Comeau,” he said patiently. “I was gay when I was with Rose and I was gay when I stood up at your wedding.” He pulled his pads on and his practice jersey. “It’s really not that big a deal.” It sounded more like a plea than the offhanded comment he meant for it to be but he couldn’t help it. Be cool about this, he begged his team silently. Be like Saint Vicky and Marly and Connors. “I’ll see you on the ice. Try to be normal.” This last he said in his best captain voice before he stalked out of the room, trying his best to take his own advice and act normally.

Practice went on almost as usual. If there were some hesitations when he was checked, he decided not to think about it. If he got undressed as fast as he could and in and out of the shower before anyone else, that was just because he wanted to get home and call Ilya. If no one could look him in the eye except JJ and Hayden, he told himself that was temporary. They just needed a little time.

Lily: how was it?

You: Fine. I’m gonna take a nap before the game. I’ll call you later.

Lily: okay

Lily: you can call me whenever you want you know

You: I know. I love you.

Lily: I love you 😘

The game that night was not their best. Luckily Ilya was playing his own game in Buffalo that night so he wouldn’t be able to watch the Metros lose to Philly with only one depressing goal to their name. It had been Shane’s contribution at least, off an assist from Hayden, who seemed to be the only one still in sync with him. Ilya often complained that Shane carried his whole team on his back but it had never felt that dramatic before tonight. He didn’t bother with a post-game condolence speech or a shower. He packed up his shit and left the Bell Centre, wishing a general Merry Christmas over his shoulder on the way out. Tomorrow he would have almost three full days with his boyfriend. Maybe he would come back after that little vacation to a different atmosphere than the one he was leaving. 

***

Ilya caught a disgustingly early flight out of Buffalo on Christmas Eve morning. He would have slept on the plane but he was too excited to see his boyfriend and spend a holiday with him, as if they were a normal couple. He would miss St. Vicky’s crazy family this year and he was nervous about meeting the Hollanders but mostly he was happy. Shane had been amazing. In just over a year, he had gone from running out of Ilya’s house like his hair was on fire to willingly coming out to his parents and his team, all because he loved Ilya. Ilya planned to reward him handsomely for his courage.

He was worried too though: Shane had not said anything about how it went talking to his team. Ilya wanted to think that was a good sign, that it had been such a non-event it wasn’t worth discussing. He doubted that was the case but he could hope. He would personally ram every single Metro into the boards the next time they played if they had been anything but loving and accepting of his Shane.

Ilya thought he should come out to the rest of his team as well but he was still unsure about the Russia of it all. Once his sexuality became public knowledge, he was cooked. He could never go home again. No great loss in terms of family: both parents dead, Alexei out of his life anyway. He worried about his niece but at least he had set her up financially. Maybe one day she would reach out to him. Maybe she would come to Boston or Ottawa to visit. 

Maybe he wanted too much.

He took an Uber from the airport to Ottawa, a toque pulled down over his curls and the collar of his coat popped up even in the warmth of the car. He had two bags with him, one filled with gifts that he was afraid to let out of his sight. Even though neither of them had ever spent a holiday with a significant other, Svetlana had many opinions about how to conduct himself during the visit. The two had spent a very long phone call a few weeks ago discussing what gifts he would bring to his boyfriend’s parents, Sveta insisting that he needed to get each Hollander a Christmas present as well as a host gift. That sounded right to him: better to have too much than too little. He wanted to make a good impression on the Hollanders, who only knew him as their son’s rival. This was foreign territory for Ilya, since he had never been introduced to someone’s parents as a boyfriend before. The thought filled him equally with dread and delight, like everything having to do with this relationship. The delight outweighed the dread, he reminded himself. Now that they had figured things out. Mostly.

The Hollander’s street was quiet this early in the morning. He had texted Shane his ETA but was still surprised to see his boyfriend standing on the porch of his parents' house, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, from nervousness or to keep warm, Ilya couldn’t tell. His heart swelled at the sight of Shane, who hadn’t wanted to talk on the phone yesterday, which had worried Ilya more than he wanted to admit. He was relieved to see Shane’s face break into a grin when Ilya came into view.

By the time he got to the porch the Uber had pulled away and Shane was reaching for him greedily. They stood hugging for a long time until Ilya pulled away to look at his boyfriend’s flushed face. “You are okay?” he asked, searching Shane’s eyes for a clue about his feelings.

Shane nodded. “I’m really glad you’re here. Come on,” he said, pulling Ilya inside. 

Immediately two other people appeared in front of them, smiling expectantly. Yuna held her hands together in front of her chest. David stood next to her and reached out his hand to shake Ilya’s. “Welcome,” he said warmly. Ilya smiled and thanked him before turning to Yuna and giving her a little wave hello. 

“Let him in the door, guys,” Shane said impatiently and Ilya chuckled. “Sorry,” Shane muttered in his direction but Ilya waved him off. 

“Is fine,” he assured his boyfriend. “Nice to be greeted.” He toed off his shoes and let Shane take his coat and hat. The Hollanders stepped back from him, making noises about getting coffee and breakfast going and retreating to the kitchen. Shane smiled shyly at him. Ilya glanced over his shoulder to check that they were alone for the moment before sliding his arms around the other man’s waist. “Hi,” he whispered.

Shane kissed him in reply and Ilya melted into him. “Hi.” They separated to smile dopily at each other. “Ready?”

Breakfast was awkward at first, despite Ilya doing his best impression of a perfect houseguest, complimenting both Hollanders on their lovely home and the beautiful breakfast spread they had prepared. Ilya suspected that Shane’s parents must have been instructed by their beloved son not to ask too many questions, based on the fact that Shane stiffened next to him any time Yuna looked in their general direction. Finally, Ilya remembered himself. He was charming, especially with other people's mothers. He could do this. He turned his attention to her and said, “Tell me about yourself, Mrs. Hollander. Shane tells me nothing.”

Shane glared at him. “I tell you stuff,” he muttered.

Ilya chuckled. “This is his angry kitten face,” he told the Hollanders. “I like it very much.”

“Oh my God, Ilya,” Shane said under his breath, putting his head in his hands.

Both Hollanders were chuckling too, which Ilya thought was a good sign. “Call us Yuna and David, please,” Yuna answered first. “An angry kitten,” she mused. “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before but I guess if the shoe fits.”

“Mom!” Shane protested. “This was a mistake,” he said to himself, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

Ilya took a chance and put his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, trying not to look at the Hollanders to gauge their reaction. “Be nice to me, your parents will wonder why I put up with you.”

“Asshole,” Shane whispered, smiling at Ilya helplessly.

Ilya wanted to kiss him again but thought that would maybe be overkill so he kept his mouth to himself. He dislodged his arm so he could keep eating, looking at Yuna across the table and gesturing for her to answer his question. She was smiling, looking between them. “I see it now,” she said finally.

“See what?” Shane asked.

She gestured to him and Ilya. “This. I see how it happened.”

“How he badgered me until I gave up, you mean,” Shane answered.

Ilya squawked. “Is that what you told them?” He faced his (possibly, one day, potential) in-laws with mock horror. “That is not what happened. I will tell real story.”

Shane threw a hand over Ilya’s mouth before he could continue. “Nope. Let my mom answer your question.”

After that, the tension evaporated. They sat at the table for a long time, the Hollanders asking Ilya easy questions about Moscow and what he usually did for Christmas. They were careful not to ask anything difficult, which Ilya assumed again was Shane’s influence. He thought he wouldn’t mind if they did though. He liked the Hollanders immediately. He could see how Yuna’s intensity and David’s steady kindness both manifested in Shane. He felt comfortable here with his boyfriend and his parents, like they were a regular couple.

The illusion of normalcy was broken when Yuna casually brought up the neighbor’s open house that evening. Ilya was confused at first; weren’t open houses about looking for potential buyers? Why would they do that on Christmas Eve? He looked to Shane for clarification but his boyfriend was looking in disbelief at his parents, who were explaining why it would be perfectly fine for Ilya to join them. Shane seemed to disagree.

“Are you insane?” he said.

“Really, Shane–”

“No, Mom, come on! I told you, he isn’t out. He can’t be. We can’t show up and act like this is normal!”

“No one has to know he’s your boyfriend!” Yuna countered. “We can just say you’re friends.”

“After all these years of being very public rivals, we’re suddenly friends? No, that’s too… No, Mom. Just tell the Thompsons I have a friend visiting and we had other plans.”

“On Christmas Eve? Shane–”

“Mom.”

The two stared at each other. Ilya felt terrible; he was an imposition, a disruption during a family holiday. They had traditions. He had no right to ruin them. He turned to Shane, his face carefully pleasant. “You can go.”

Shane looked at him like he had forgotten Ilya was sitting next to him. “What?”

Ilya shrugged, the picture of easy-going. “Go, see neighbors. I will look at your baby photos, think of good ways to chirp you next time we play each other, yes?”

Shane did not smile, much to Ilya’s chagrin. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s Christmas Eve, I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Shane–”

“Ilya. No.” His face softened as he took Ilya’s hand in his. “We don’t get enough time together for me to spend any of it away from you,” he said quietly. 

Yuna’s face fell. “Oh, you boys.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking… This must be so hard for you. Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

Shane looked at Ilya with searching eyes. “Not really,” he said carefully. “Maybe that’s something we can do while we’re here, right?”

Ilya nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He had not been met with this much kindness since the boys held their silly intervention last year. It was too much, to be loved like this by people he wasn’t even related to. 

“Well!” David said, standing. “I’m going to clean up, everyone outta here, I have my systems.” He shooed them off, even as Ilya tried to insist he would help. “Get Yuna to pull out the albums, that’ll keep her going for hours,” David answered, winking at him. The lump grew larger. Ilya nodded again.

Shane rolled his eyes and made embarrassed noises as Ilya and Yuna methodically looked through her numerous scrapbooks of Shane’s childhood. Somehow she got Ilya to talk a little about his own, asking casual and warm questions about when he started playing hockey and if he kept in touch with any of his teammates from Juniors. Ilya forgot to be anxious or overwhelmed and instead relaxed into the easy family banter, teasing his boyfriend about his braces and terrible haircuts until Shane demanded the trip down memory lane cease before he died of embarrassment.

Later, his parents down the street making merry, Shane and Ilya sat in front of the fire together. Shane cleared his throat. “My mom can be a lot,” he started.

“No, she is wonderful,” Ilya interrupted. 

Shane grinned, relieved and pleased. “She is.” He tilted his head to look at his boyfriend from his position in his lap. “She’s right too, about us figuring out what comes next.”

Ilya hummed. “I want to hear about how it went with your team first, moy lyubov.”

Shane turned his head back so he didn’t have to look at Ilya anymore. Not a good sign, Ilya thought. He waited, knowing that sometimes Shane needed silence until he was ready to talk. Finally in a small voice he said, “It was fine.” Ilya waited. Shane sighed. “I mean, it will be fine. They were surprised. They need time is all.”

Ilya stiffened. “Did they say anything…”

“No,” Shane said quickly. “Nothing bad. Nothing good either but…” Shane shrugged. “I didn’t tell them about you, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Shane sat up so they were face to face. “Ilya. You being safe is the most important thing to me right now. I don’t want you to lose your visa or–”

“No one is losing visa.”

Shane nodded. “I think you need a new agent, though. Farrah was really helpful for me, with talking to management and everything. If you want… you know.” He bit his lip, searching Ilya's eyes. “I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know either,” Ilya answered. “I would not be able to go home again.” They both let that lie for a minute, both of them afraid to say more about it. “Maybe that is okay. There is nothing there for me. But America is also not… I don't know if it can be home.”

“Canada would be good though. Right?”

Shane’s eyes were so hopeful and beautiful. Ilya nodded, smiling. “Yes. Very good.” His smile faded a little. “I am not ready to leave Boston yet though.”

If Shane was disappointed he didn’t show it. “Of course,” he said quickly. “I get that, I don’t want to leave Montreal either.” Ilya pursed his lips but said nothing. “What?” Shane asked, brows furrowed.

“Nothing.” Shane continued staring. Ilya was not the only one who knew how to wait out his boyfriend. Ilya sighed. “What if things do not change? Would you leave then?”

“They will,” Shane insisted.

“Okay, fine, they will.”

Shane frowned. “That was too easy.”

Ilya laughed. “You want to fight about it?”

“No, I just… where would I even go, Ilya?”

He had not planned to bring it up just yet. He wanted to give the Metros a chance. He wanted Shane to make his own decisions, just like he had about coming out and introducing Ilya to his parents. He had already changed their lives so much by getting Shane to commit to him, how could he ask for Shane to give more than he already had? He did not want to say what he was actually thinking but Shane was staring at him determinedly as if he could read Ilya’s mind. “Hammy is retiring,” Ilya said quietly. “We will lose depth at center.”

“Ilya.”

Ilya shrugged. “I am just saying. They are good with me–”

“Three of them are good, Ilya, you don’t know about the whole team.”

“They are my team, Shane. They trust me.” He did not say it to hurt Shane but he saw the pain that flashed across his boyfriend’s face. Ilya shook his head, wishing he could take the words back. “I don’t mean–”

“I know you don’t,” Shane said quietly. “I’m thinking.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Shane staring at the fire and Ilya trying not to stare at Shane. Ilya hoped the Hollanders would come barreling in the door, disrupting this conversation, but they had promised to be late, probably so Shane and Ilya could get some time alone together. Ilya decided their time could be put to better use than this. He let his hands begin to wander.

“Ilya,” Shane said even as he leaned into his touch and let Ilya press his lips against his neck.

“Mmm,” Ilya answered, slowly tasting his boyfriend’s skin. 

“We can’t talk about me leaving the Metros.” Ilya continued his trail of kisses, determined to focus on this task rather than the disappointment he felt building inside of him. “I would have to talk to Farrah about that.” Ilya stopped, pulling back to look at Shane. “There can’t be any hint that we were like, colluding or something.”

“Colluding.”

“Like, making plans to be on the same team. Players aren’t supposed to do that. It's tampering”

Ilya stared. “Is that what we are doing?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to see how the rest of the season goes. I don’t want to leave before I give it a chance.” Ilya nodded. Shane continued. “I really am worried about you right now. And I have an idea.” 

“Is it to get naked before your parents come home?”

Shane blushed and playfully shoved Ilya. “I mean, obviously. But before that. I think if you're going to come out to everyone the safest way is for you to apply to be a Canadian citizen. And the fastest way to do that would be to get married.”

Ilya laughed. He didn’t mean to. The idea of marrying Shane wasn’t funny exactly; but it was a fantasy, just like the idea of Shane joining the Raiders was. He was just daydreaming when he thought about those things. They didn’t seem actually possible. He already had more than he had ever thought he would have. It would be greedy to want more. “Shane–”

“I know this isn’t like, the most romantic way to do it. But it wouldn’t be just for citizenship or whatever. It could also be because we love each other. The other day when you asked if I was proposing…” Shane shifted, sitting up a little straighter. “I never thought about getting married before because I didn’t really want anyone like that. Except you. And until All Stars, I didn’t think it would be possible, us being together. But I always wanted you. I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, honestly.” Was Ilya crying? He couldn’t tell. He thought he was maybe hallucinating. “I know it’s kind of crazy to do everything at once but I love you, Ilya. The idea of you going back to Russia and not being able to come back to me–that terrifies me. The idea of you not having a passport, of being in some legal limbo for however long… I can’t do that. I need to know that no one can take you away from me. So I think we should get married.”

“Okay.”

Shane laughed, his eyes also filling. “Just okay?”

Ilya shook his head. “Okay, I love you and I want to marry you and yes it is crazy but I don’t care.”

They kissed to seal the deal, which immediately turned into a filthier celebration. Later, lying sated and breathless next to one another, Shane started planning. In the morning they would tell his parents. After the holiday they would find an immigration attorney. Then they would get married at the courthouse or something, whatever was fastest. He turned to Ilya to get his feedback about this initial list of things to do but let the words die on his tongue when he saw how relaxed and happy his boyfriend (fiance!) looked.

“What?” Ilya asked, smiling sleepily at him.

Shane smiled back, a little sadly. “I’m sorry I don’t have a ring.” He picked up Ilya’s left hand, tracing a circle around his ring finger. “You deserve a ring.”

Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane. “I already have more than I deserve.”

Shane shook his head. “You deserve everything, Ilya.”

“I have it.”

***

Back in Montreal, Shane tried. He gave his pep talks before games and consolation speeches after losing. He offered feedback when it was asked of him and agreed to Theirault’s demands about his play. He even went out for drinks sometimes after home games, determined to act like everything was the same between him and his team.

It wasn’t.

No one said anything. He had never allowed slurs in his locker room, using his captain voice with rookies when they slipped (and ignoring the occasional cocksucker that came from some of the vets). He had always been notoriously private about his social life, leading to most of his teammates assuming he didn’t have one. Now that they knew and it was so different from what they expected, no one seemed to have the words to tease him about it. Hayden and JJ made a concerted effort to ask about Lily (namely, at least tell us his real name, Shane, come on, man) but everyone else acted like Shane hadn’t said a word about his boyfriend. Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Lily who?

In any case, things were clearly not normal but they also weren’t bad enough to make a fuss so Shane suffered in silence. He pretended not to notice that guys shied away from him now, giving him a wide berth, especially in the locker room. He kept his eyes down most of the time unless Hayden or JJ was talking to him. No one asked him any questions about his life. Comeau announced his wife was pregnant. One of the rookies got engaged just before playoffs. Everyone celebrated these milestones and Shane smiled tightly along with them, knowing no one would celebrate his engagement if he had been brave enough to announce it.

The wedding (if you could even call it that) was scheduled at City Hall in Ottawa on June 30th. Shane’s parents would act as witnesses. Maybe they would have lunch afterward. It was practical and expedient because they wanted Ilya to be able to file for citizenship as soon as possible. Shane’s only focus was keeping him here and keeping him safe.

Well, his main focus. His other focus was on whether he could stay in Montreal for another season pretending he wasn’t happily married to someone he loved.

He wanted to tell everyone on his team but that was clearly a bridge too far. He had been at countless weddings and baptisms and engagement parties for these guys but he knew that they wouldn’t return the favor. He could tell Hayden and JJ, he thought, but then he would have to ask them to keep it quiet and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. 

By the end of April he was a raw nerve ending. 

Ilya worried, via text and FaceTime dinner dates. He left it alone because Shane asked him to. He must have told the other guys though because soon the group chat was lighting up more often than not, specifically with forced casual check-ins on Shane. They tried to convince him he should come to Boston for his birthday but it was the beginning of playoffs and there wasn’t time. It should have made him happy, having his fiance’s friends wanting to celebrate with him, but instead it only highlighted what he didn’t have in Montreal. 

When the Metros were knocked out of the playoffs (Shane had been playing through a shoulder injury that was slowing him down considerably), Shane flew down to Boston to surprise Ilya again, even though Boston had made it to the next round. Ilya swore Shane being with him would make his play better. Maybe he was right. He bounced out the door every day grinning and smug and came home thrilled to see Shane sitting on his couch waiting for him. The Raiders were knocked out after a quite frankly poorly called game and a string of bad luck. Ilya didn’t seem to care. He was focused on other things.

“I want to talk about something but I do not want you to freak out.”

Shane set down the controller he had been using to virtually kick Ilya’s ass and turned to face him. “Okay…”

Ilya took Shane’s hand in his and smiled. “Nothing bad,” he promised. He took a breath. “I do not want to pretend I am not married. That is not… I am not ashamed of us, or of you–”

“I’m not either!” Shane insisted.

“I know, moy lyubov. Listen. I know this year has not been good for you. And I know this is a lot, to get married and then to live apart. But I want to be honest about it. I do not want to hide.”

Shane felt tears prick his eyes. He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hide either,” he whispered. “But what about the league?”

Ilya scoffed. “Fuck the league. What can they do? They need us, Shane. We are the two best players they have ever seen. They cannot tell us whether we can get married or who we can tell.” He searched Shane’s eyes. “No one is going to take hockey away from you.”

Shane nodded, looking down. He was ashamed that he cared so much. He loved Ilya, he couldn’t wait to be married to him, but also their situation was so complicated. It had been so hard to get here. What if this thing they had built together couldn’t withstand the outside noise?

“Farrah was really great with me coming out,” he said slowly. “Maybe she could help us navigate… everything.”

Ilya frowned. “With the league?”

“With the league and with… us. Playing together instead of against each other.”

Ilya stared at him for a minute, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Together? Like–I think I am not understanding.”

“I talked to her about leaving the Metros.” Ilya stayed very still, afraid to break the spell. “You were right. I can’t stay in Montreal. And if you really think your team would be cool with–” he gestured between them. “I’m willing to hear what they say once they know the whole story.”

Ilya pounced on him, kissing his face with reckless abandon while Shane giggled underneath him. “Stop, Ilya! It’s just an idea, it might not even work out, there’s only two weeks until the trade deadline–”

“Shut up, do not ruin this for me.”

Shane kept giggling, unable to catch his breath. Finally Ilya let him up so he could hear the details of Shane’s careful planning, though he was hardly able to focus on them. Shane, of course, had many thoughts and opinions about how they could approach the team and Boston’s management. He wanted to be clear from the beginning: he and Ilya were legally bound to each other (or would be by the end of the month). They had been playing against each other for years with no problems. Being on the same team would also not be a problem. Ilya nodded along, though he barely cared about the details. “They will be fine,” he assured Shane. “I will text the whole team now, they will be so happy to have Shane Hollander they will not care who he is married to.”

Shane grinned. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But if there’s any pushback, there are other options. New York, for instance–”

“The Admirals can’t afford you.”

“No but Buffalo could.”

Ilya stared at Shane as if he had transformed into an alien before his eyes. “You are not going to fucking Buffalo, Hollander. That is the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

Shane shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I mean, I would rather be in the same city but–”

“No buts. Farrah is good, she will do this for us.” He grinned. “The rest of the league will lose their shit when they have to face us together. Montreal will cry themselves to sleep every night.”

Shane smiled smugly. “That’s the plan.”

Ilya started texting.

***

They still could have eloped. The threat of Ilya losing his passport hadn’t vanished just because Boston had welcomed the idea of hockey playing husbands. But once the guys heard the news they insisted on hosting an engagement party, which had quickly devolved into a wedding planning event when they foolishly introduced Yuna to Marlow, who charmed the hell out of her with his exuberance about Shane and Ilya’s relationship. Yuna, who had already not been thrilled about the idea of her only son eloping at the courthouse, was easily convinced to gang up on her son with his new teammates and demand a proper wedding. With an open bar. And speeches. And a wedding party.

They drew the line at most of it, especially the wedding party thing, but Marlow insisted on referring to himself as Ilya’s best man anywway. Svetlana looked him up and down the first time she heard him say it and he immediately grinned at her like an excited golden retriever. “I mean, we can share best man duties,” he offered. “You’ve known him longer.” The three were gathered in one of the guest rooms at the cottage, allegedly helping Ilya get dressed, which Marly insisted was an important wedding tradition. 

Svetlana smiled at Marly in a way that would have made a less confident man fold like a cheap suit. Cliff Marlow only kept grinning in return, happy to do or be whatever the beautiful woman in front of him wanted. Ilya smirked at him. To Sveta, he said, “You will kill him probably.”

She shrugged, picking up her glass of champagne. “He could choose worse ways to die, no?”

Ilya laughed. Marly continued to grin. “I’m going to have to learn some Russian if I want to keep up with you two, huh?”

Sveta appraised him. “Ilya has not taught you any in all these years?”

Cliff shrugged. “Only swear words.”

“Hmm,” Sveta purred. “I will think of some more useful phrases for you.”

Ilya cleared his throat. “I thought this was my party.”

Marly turned his attention to his best friend. “Sorry, Rozy.” He looked Ilya up and down and whistled. “He’s not gonna know what hit him, man. You look hot.”

Svetlana and Ilya laughed. Ilya resisted the urge to shove Cliff and hugged him instead, offering an I love you as they clapped each other on the back. He turned to Sveta next, whose eyes were uncharacteristically wet. He pulled her into his arms and they held each other for a long time. Cliff made himself scarce in the doorway. Finally, Sveta pulled back and grinned. “Time to get married, Ilyusha. Men and women all over North America mourn today.”

Ilya grinned back. “They never stood a chance.”

***

Shane let his mother fuss over him. He let Rose hand him a glass of champagne which he pretended to drink. He let Hayden babble some very hetero marriage advice at him. His mind blocked everything out except a sort of endless chant of Ilya, Ilya, Ilya. He was marrying Ilya today. He could not actually believe it.

He peaked his head out the door to see the guests arriving, finding seats that faced the late summer sun beginning to lower over the water. He watched his father come from around the back of the house and stroll up to Ilya, who was greeting people as they walked by, Svetlana hanging off one arm and Marlow standing next to her like a bodyguard. Shane watched as Ilya and David smiled at each other. David said something that sent Sveta and Marly to their seats so he and Ilya could be alone for a minute. Shane knew his almost husband(!) had worried that the Hollanders would resent him for taking their son away from them. Maybe Shane had worried too but not for long. When Shane told them about Ilya’s concerns (much to Ilya’s chagrin), both Hollanders had immediately reached for both their son and his fiance, pulling them into an awkward family hug. “We just want our boys to be happy,” Yuna told them. Ilya had left the room, unable to keep himself together. No one had called him a son in a long time, Shane knew. He was happy that Ilya had a new family now. He would even pretend he had never been jealous of Svetlana. She could come to Christmas in Ottawa, he told Ilya. Anything to make him happy.

Even better than officially being a family, they would be teammates too. Shane still found it hard to believe. Boston had been eager to accept him even after they disclosed their relationship. The social media team had lost their minds making content with “the first husbands of hockey” while Shane's signature was still wet on the paperwork. If there was any weirdness in the locker room, Ilya and the Original Three (as Connors insisted on calling them) promised Shane it would be quashed immediately. The league’s commissioner was not happy but Boston’s owners were old money who did not give a flying fuck what Roger Crowell thought about anything. The chance for Boston to have a generational run with these two star players was irresistible; they would not let it be stolen from them by some old dinosaur who had never even ice skated. They and the GM laid down the law way up at the top and it trickled down to the rest of the club. Shane still worried about how other teams would take the news but that was an October problem. Right now it was July and he was about to get married.

Shane turned his attention back to his mother, who had sent Rose and Hayden on their way to sit down. He smiled at her when her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Shane,” she said, her voice only shaking a little. “And I love Ilya.”

“I love you too, Mom.” He was surprised to find his own eyes wet now. He laughed, trying to shake his tears off. “I don’t know what I’m crying about. It’s just a piece of paper, right?”

His mother placed her hands on his shoulders. “It is not just a piece of paper and you know it. It is the beginning of the best part of your lives.” She brushed his shoulders off once more and stepped around him to take her place next to her own husband outside. He looked across the yard to find Ilya waiting for him, a hand held out. They met in the middle.

They hadn’t wanted an aisle or a trellis or anything that would have to be set up and taken down again but his mother had insisted on something so there were chairs at least. And if between the chairs there was something resembling an aisle Shane supposed that would be fine. It would be a quick ceremony anyway, just a few words and the vows and what Shane assumed would be a tastefully filthy kiss. The only thing they really insisted upon was that Saint Vicky be the one to perform the ceremony. Maybe they would have found their way back to each other eventually but Vic had certainly helped speed things up for them.

So it was Saint Vicky who stood at the mouth of the dock in front of a random collection of their friends and family (“misfit toys, Shane, see?”). It was Saint Vicky who smiled at them as they walked down the aisle hand in hand. It was Saint Vicky who made a short, heartfelt speech about how lucky he felt to have seen their love story up close. He probably said some other things but all Shane could hear was the rush of white noise in his head when Ilya looked at him. 

He repeated the traditional vows, his voice only trembling a little. Later he would tease Ilya for crying the entire time, tears streaming down his face even as he grinned like a little kid. No one but Shane knew every single part of Ilya Rozanov: Russian menace on the ice; shameless  flirt to anyone with legs and a pulse; soft and tender early in the morning; ravished and sex drunk in bed. Shane would get to have every part of Ilya for the rest of their lives. He almost couldn’t believe it.

They kissed to cheers and whoops and hollers. Marlow snaked an arm around Svetlana’s waist, which she allowed. Rose eyed up JJ, considering trying her luck with another bilingual hockey player (they couldn’t all be gay, right?). Yuna and David squeezed each other’s hands and smiled at each other, silently communicating the way long-married couples do. Shane and Ilya would have that, now. It had taken a long time to get here but they were here. They were married. No one could take them away from each other. 

And they were absolutely going to bring another Cup to Boston. Together.