Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M, Gen, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, J. J. Boiziau & Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike, Shane Hollander & Jackie Pike, Wyatt Hayes & Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander/Original Male Character(s), Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble & Shane Hollander, Jackie Pike & Lisa Hayes

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, J. J. Boiziau, Wyatt Hayes, Gilbert Comeau, Patrice Drapeau, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Rose Landry, Original Characters, Miles (Game Changers), Lisa Hayes (Game Changers), Cliff Marlow, Victor St. Simon, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post Tampa All - Stars Game, Homophobic Language, Trade Deadline, Shane Hollander is Traded, Hollanov is doing their best, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Social Media, Shane Hollander is a Little Shit, Ilya Rozanov is a Little Shit, POV Alternating, BAMF Shane Hollander, Exploring A New City, Slow Burn, Found Family, shane hollander makes friends, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Player Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova Friendship, is it a booty call if it's been going on for almost a decade, friends are doing their best, hockey players are idiots, Group Chats, Plans for the Future

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of New Paths Forward

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-25 Updated: 2026-08-29 Words: 77,026 Chapters: 9/?

Recalculating the Ten Year Plan

Summary

What if after tuna melts, whispered names and the Rose of it all - in a post All Stars Game world - Shane thinks the world is finally starting to make sense again to him. Once the ground is firm under his feet - or so he thinks anyway - it's turns out to be less than stable? What if when Shane was getting his hook ups in Mexico and Hollywood - he wasn’t as unnoticed as he had originally thought?

When Montreal shows it’s true colors sooner, a No Trade Clause is waived and Boston gets an opportunity to build a dynasty that rivals the one of their largest rivals up North.

What if Shane and Ilya’s worlds are turned upside down and things with their over 8 year long situationship (now maybe relationship?) suddenly got more complicated and somehow simplified at the same time? Shane honestly thinks this is possibly the most ‘them’ resolution to a situation he has ever found. Ilya is just doing his best - he thinks. Maybe.

Also, the Power Play in Boston is about to be the thing of nightmares, if a certain Russian can stop blocking Shane's damn shot…

Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

I do have a chunk of this pre-written - but I am not committing to a posting schedule - but I do have it outlined. So, winning?

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

Also - my beta reader Jen gets so much credit for helping me sound far better than I would on my own.

Chapter 1: Shane Hollander is very bad at this...

Tiajuana, Mexico July 2014

It was supposed to be a post Olympics trip. A celebration of the Gold Medal game. A reason to celebrate those accomplishments - and Shane Hollander really wasn’t sure how the hell he had gotten himself into this situation. A dive bar with live music, booze and too many damn people. But here he was none the less.

One of these days he was going to figure out how to tell Hayden to fuck off.

Tonight was not that night however and that meant Shane was stuck in a social situation that his mildly extroverted side had gotten him into and his introverted self was trying to get him out of with minimal disruption to the general ‘mood’ of the night. A mood that from what he could tell was ‘get drunk and be dumb’.

For the first time in ages - Shane was ready for the ‘get drunk’ part. He had seen pictures of Rozanov in Moscow clubs and it pissed him off. Because why couldn’t the fucker take the off season seriously was beyond him. It had nothing to do with the fact that ‘Lily’ hadn’t texted him back since before the games started. It had nothing to do with being left on read for months. Nothing. At all. Rozanov could keep all the walk in clinics in Moscow in business for all he fucking cared. They were done. Over. Never had been anything.

From the Russian Asshole’s lips himself.

So why shouldn’t Shane get drunk in Mexico with his boys? Why shouldn’t he let fucking go for once? Everyone else did.

And if the owner of the brown eyes that kept meeting his had hard pecs and not soft curves? No one had to know. No one had to know that he wanted nothing to do with the objectively gorgeous women who were flirting with their tables for what Shane was sure was the same escapism that their tables were flirting back for. Something new. Something different. Something to make the night more interesting.

Shane didn’t think one of the women could give him what he was looking for - but the bartender sure as hell looked like he might be able to.

Hayden was drunk and texting Jackie. J.J. was tipsy and had two women laughing as he tried to speak Spanish with his Quebecois accent. Comeau and Drapeau were clearly planning on cheating on their partners back home if the way they were dancing was anything to go by. Which meant no one was watching Shane.

For fucking once he was just ‘random Canadian tourist number 5’ and not ‘Shane Hollander - savior of Montreal’. No one fucking cared who he was here. He could just fucking breathe a bit. And he was feeling more than a little reckless. He was feeling more than a little unmoored. By this time in years past he had been several weeks worth of texts deep with ‘Lily’ planning out the first game night of the season. Radio silence meant that outlet for him was closed and Shane was feeling itchy. If everyone else could do this ‘hook up’ thing - why the fuck couldn’t he? It wasn’t like he could post it like any of the others - he wasn’t that fucking stupid. But he was human enough to know that he needed a fucking release.

An empty beer bottle was all he needed as an excuse to go up and talk to the bartender that had warm brown eyes and a dimple that popped when he smiled. Shane knew that bartenders flirted for tips and he wasn’t one to normally try and flirt back. He had very little ‘game’ as J.J. called it. But…

He grinned back at the bartender, cheeks flushed from sun and a few beers and his own dark brown eyes sparkling, “Can I snag another from you…?”

“Si”, The beer slid across the bar to him and a brow arched on bronze skin, “How long are you in town for?”

“Guess we aren’t really passing for locals are we?” Shane responded, amusement in his town, “A few more days. Work calls.”

A few more days and then it was back to pre-season work outs. Skates. Commercial shoots. Dealing with everything that came with being ‘Shane Hollander’ and this time without the release valve that was his WhatsApp text exchange with ‘Lily’. It was going to suck.

He held out his hand, “Shane, by the way.”

A slow grin, that made a dimple pop on both cheeks, spead across the handsome face on the other side of the bar, “Leo. Nice to meet you.”

Three Hours Later…

Shane wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work when one of you wasn’t racing out of the room to make curfew like they were still teenagers afraid of being grounded or to catch a team plane to the next city to play a game. But he would say - he didn’t mind the view of the man pulling his pants up at the foot of his bed.

“When you said you could give me some tips on how to spend the rest of my trip…” He blushed a bit, “I think I like your trip guide better than Trip Advisor.”

Leo’s chuckle was warm and his English was accented but solid, “What? They didn’t have ‘show bartender what a talented mouth you have’ on their top ten?”

Shane covered his face with his hands and groaned, “No…should it have been?”

He had been with a few women. But until tonight, Ilya Rozanov had been his only man. And they had been doing this - thing - for so long that they knew each other. Maybe he wasn’t good and Roz -

“Oh, absolutely.” Leo said as he came back over to the bed and leaned over to kiss him firmly, “If you want another round before you head back over the border - I work tomorrow night too.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see won’t we…” Shane said as he pulled back from the kiss, trying for coy and hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. One night of back alley making out and blowjobs in a motel near the bar was one thing. A second night seemed like it was going to be inviting trouble and asking to be found out.

He couldn’t be found out. It would ruin everything. And he knew his boys would have his back. They were family. They were a team.

“You know where to find me.” Leo said with a wink and then the door opened and closed and Shane ran his fingers over his face again.

Opening up his phone - the Montreal Metro’s captain rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. His friends were idiots, but they had his back.

Gilbert Comeau leaned in the doorway of his friend’s hotel room and ran his hands over his face, “So Patrice…what if I told you that there is something going on with the Captain that I think we need to address…?”

The goalie looked up at the other man, his eyes narrowed, “Gilly, just tell me. This hesitant bullshit is not working with my hangover.”

“I think that this might be easier…” Comeau opened something up on his phone and then tossed it onto the open carry-on in the middle of the others’ bed. On the screen was a picture of Shane Hollander having his face devoured in an alley in Tijauna. By an extremely masculine person. And then his friend showed him another of a similar looking man by the elevator.

“The elevator shot was this morning.” There was a groan, “What the fuck do we do with this? Did you fucking know that he - “

“Was a cocksucker? No.” Patrice picked up the phone and shook his head, “Fucking hell, I know he was a quiet one. But I didn’t think that this would be something we would have to fucking deal with.”

There was a heavy silence, “Should we tell the room? Management? If he’s getting this comfortable picking up when he’s on a fucking trip with us…? What if he does it on a roadie? Fuck - what if he HAS?”

The goalie shuddered, “We sit on it. We need more than one set of pictures. He’s the golden goose - they aren’t going to do anything but make us sit through ‘acceptance’ videos if we do this because they will say it was a one time thing.”

The only response was a brief nod, “And once we have enough proof…”

“We get him out and Berkes or someone else in. You know - someone that respects the history of the team and understands what needs to be fucking done.” Drapeau snorted, “Generational talent my ass…”

The two looked down at the pictures on Comeau’s phone again - Shane kissing the bartender looking back up at them.

Hollywood, March 2016

 

It was always ‘Come out with us Cap’ and never ’Let’s rest up from a fucking back to back like normal fucking people’. Granted they had won the last few games - including said back to back - and they were winning their division. So if there was a time to go out and fucking celebrate making San Francisco hate them even more - now would be the night to do that. But that was before the rookie defensemen had decided to announce that not only had Boston won their game tonight - but that they were out celebrating themselves.

How that had turned into the Metros having to out-do them - Shane wasn’t sure. Just like he wasn’t sure why he gave a fuck that there were two women next to him. Why would he fucking care about that at all.

He ran his fingers through his hair and shot Hayden a look, “Seriously - you want me to go out tonight? Dude I am BEAT.”

“And we just beat the Missions in their barn. The guys want to go out and you as Captain - should be out for at least a round or two. Team bonding and all that?” Hayden leaned in the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, “Jackie will be very proud of you for being brave and going out with the team.”

There was nothing to but snort and sigh. Going out and buying a few rounds. Being social.wasn’t always high on his list of things to do. But it had been awhile and if he didn’t go out he was going to just get too much in his own head about shit he couldn’t change. Or shouldn’t want to change. Or a combination of the two. So really - what’s to say this wouldn’t be a good call anyway. Get his mind back where it needed to be.

His team. His boys. His season.

Fuck ‘Lily’. Fuck Boston. Fuck it all.

“Why the hell not. What’s the worst that could happen? I have a good time?”

Hayden rolled his eyes, “That’s the spirit! I’ll text J.J. and let him know he doesn't have to blackmail you with your headshot from the rookie season being leaked again.”

“I need new friends.”

Three hours later…

 

Four beers. Shane couldn’t remember the last time he had had four beers. But it had been awhile. Definitely been a while since it had happened during the season. But he felt loose - fuck he missed feeling this relaxed. He didn’t like it that it had happened through drinking - but it was nice to be in a booth with this team and not feel like he was crawling out of his own skin.

“Hey..” there was a brunette in front of him with a promising grin on her lips and way too much perfume. The floral smell was intense when she leaned over, clearly trying to get him to enjoy the view of her breasts in a low cut shirt. He wished he did enjoy the view. But either the beer wasn’t doing the job right or the perfume was too much…

‘Or you could just admit to everyone that you don’t like breasts…’ the persistent voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him.

Which was an option. But it wasn’t an option for him. If he wasn’t ‘Shane Hollander’ and the face of a franchise - maybe. Maybe he could come out and tell people and it would be an anecdote in a few seasons. But he wasn’t and he was and there wasn’t an option for him to not be ‘Shane Hollander’ tonight. There wasn’t time for ‘Shane’ here.

“Have you met my teammate Kelsey?” Shane expertly moved Miss Brunette McBreasty over to his second year defenseman who seemed mesmerized, which made him make a mental note to do the ‘Safe Sex is Good Sex’ spiel again soon.

He slid out of the booth and made his way over to the bar, one more round and he was going to call it. He signaled for the bartender and placed the request for another round of shots. Then, a feeling crawled up the back of his neck, and a quick glance to his left revealed a blonde with curls and a smirk on his lips.

‘Fucking hell…I guess I might kinda have a type…did he have to have fucking curls?’

He wasn’t a Russian menace, but he was here and interested and Shane was currently being ghosted by said menace. Granted - it was still the season and both of their teams were making play off pushes. So there was a reason to maybe not be glued to your phone.

‘And it’s not like that asshole isn’t fucking anything with a pulse.’

So, later Shane would blame the beer. He would blame the stress of the season and putting a fucking team on his fucking back. He would blame the fact that Blondie had curls. He was tired of feeling alone. He was tired of his hand on his cock. He was…tired.

And for that fifteen minutes in the alley between this bar and the martini bar next door - he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the one touching his cock and he wasn’t ‘Captain Shane Hollander’. He was ‘Handsome’.

He didn’t see Drapeau. He didn’t hear the click of a camera phone going off. Shane sure as fuck didn’t see the look of disgust on the other man’s face before he slipped back into the bar.

Later that night…

 

Patrice Drapeau looked at the pictures he had in his phone. The ones Gilbert had gotten in Mexico and now these. He could have waved off the incident he saw in Mexico as an experiment - hell there hadn’t been any other proof since then. And as Gilbert had pointed out - at least it wasn’t a puck bunny trying to trap Hollander. But the issue that Drapeau had was - he wasn’t a fan of Hollander’s leadership.

He wasn’t going to say no to the rings. Or the success. But he also wasn’t going to say that the quiet man was who he wanted to be leading his team. Berkes had been his choice from day one. Or Gagnon. Someone with fire. Someone who wasn’t afraid to drop the gloves. Someone with some grit. None of that was Shane fucking Hollander.

But now, seeing this, his fucking ‘Captain’ getting his cock sucked by a man in an alley? That wasn’t a man he was willing to follow into battle. That was something he wanted out of his fucking locker room. And he knew Coach would agree with him. So would Gilbert. So would Berkes and others.

Now…when to make his move…it had to be before playoffs. He wasn’t going to take the likes of Hollander to the Finals again. Never again if he could help it. And with the information he had on his phone? He wasn’t going to have to. He would give Hollander the start of the season - maybe. If it was a good, solid start? He might give him to the trade deadline. But if Patrice had his fucking way - he would have a real leader taking his team to the fucking cup final.

Maybe Hollander would find a team that wouldn’t mind someone like that on their team. But he wasn’t willing to bet on it. But that wasn’t his problem.
He wasn’t going to take the likes of Hollander to the Finals again. Never again if he could help it.

Chapter 2: Last Minute Changes Are In the Air

Chapter Summary

When trade deadlines loom and moves are made behind the scenes - things start to happen that no one could have ever seen coming.

Especially the Captain and face of the Montreal Metros.

What do you do when the people who are supposed to have your back and support you - don't? What happens when the solid ground and foundation you built over almost nine years suddenly isn't so solid?

You recalculate your game plan on the fly...

Chapter Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

I do have a chunk of this pre-written - but I am not committing to a posting schedule - but I do have it outlined. So, winning?

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

EDIT NOTES: So fun fact - Ao3 was SO excited I posted - it duplicated chapters. So this is ONLY chapter 2 and not chapter four. In my glee of fixing this - I accidently deleted comments. I am so sorry! ModernArt2012, Bluenikki17 and some1_around - you are all amazing and I love that you love this! Please forgive me for being ridiculous in my fixing of the issue and deleting things. I am sorry!!!

Also - my beta reader Jen gets so much credit for helping me sound far better than I would on my own.

March 15th, 2017 - Trade Deadline Day

Eight Hours Left till Trade Deadline Closes…

Ilya Rosanov was going to start killing people. Or at least Connors. Who the fucking charged the net like that and fucked up their knee this fucking close to the playoffs? It wasn’t even a close game - Tampa was in the middle of rebuild and it wasn’t that fucking serious. But now his second line Center was fucking broken. The next best thing was calling up a guy from the AHL so that they could give him Carmichael on the second line.

But Carmichael was his closer on the third line. He needed him there.

Even moderately decent vodka from the hotel bar wasn’t enough to make his eye stop twitching. He just wanted to get back to Boston before anyone else decided they wanted to be a fucking hero and end their season. And potentially next season.

Add to that fucking Hollander wasn’t answering his texts and he was in a mood. He supposed he shouldn’t expect less from Hollander really. He had ghosted the other man plenty of times. But it was inconvenient when the other man wasn’t around to at least distract him with snarky comments about the Trade Deadline.

There were rumors Montreal was in the mix for the first time in ages and Ilya had some fucking questions.

The stool next to him at the bar moved and Cliff Marleau collapsed into the seat next to him, “Roz, what the fuck man…”

”Connors is a fucking moron. Well meaning but moron.” Ilya said with a growl in his voice, “We were winning. What the fuck was he thinking?”

His left winger shot him a bemused look, “One more stop then we are heading towards home. Maybe your Montral Girl can distract you?”

‘Normally yes…but my pain in the ass hook up is currently pulling a disappearing act and I don’t know…’

“Maybe if you are lucky you will get the room to yoursel when we go back theref. But I don’t know Marly - maybe I will do team bonding instead.” Ilya said with a smirk on his lips.

Before he could keep tormenting his friend, Ilya’s phone lit up with a text that had him smirking.

‘Jane: How do I say ‘I don’t know what the Metro’s are doing in the trade deadline and I don’t care’’

Ilya rolled his eyes and let Marleau’s voice fade a bit into the background as he typed out his response to his ‘Montreal Girl’.

’Ilya: Can you not say ‘fuck off’ in a few languages?’

“I should have known - already setting up your night in Montreal? You should bring her to the club Roz. Let us meet the girl that has you on such a fucking leash.” Cliff said with a roll of his eyes and a snort of laughter, “Hell, have her bring some friends.”

Ilya raised a brow at his teammate as the idea of Shane Hollander in a club. Who the hell would his boring Canadian bring? Hayden Pike? That loud French Canadian d-man that hated him? Some random Metro’s players?

‘Jane: Yes but also no, because I am not an asshole. I just literally have no clue what they are doing. I do have a meeting with management today though.’

‘Ilya: Maybe they are going to trade you to Buffalo for hopes and dreams.’

‘Jane: Wouldn’t want to take your next job. Also - why the fuck did Houston trade Ralston? Are they trying to get worse?’

‘Ilya: Da. They want that new version of you that is in Swedish Juniors.’

‘Jane: Fuck you. Also, what was the name of that restaurant that you were papped with your hands all over Miss Sweden in Vancouver? I have to suggest a place for a sponsorship meeting.’

‘Ilya: Was sushi place. Downtown. Are you going to look pretty again for Rolex?’

‘Jane: Wouldn’t you like to know?’

Ilya looked up when he heard Cliff cough in a very distinctive way, “What?’

The other man pointed to the screen where it stated clearly ‘TRADE: Boston trades for Wyatt Hayes. Toronto gets two picks and retains no salary’. The Russian man raised his brows and shook his head.

They did need a new goalie. Pollard wasn’t going to get them very deep into the playoffs. He wasn’t a good fit and he wasn’t even really trying anymore. It was time to get him new scenery. Hayes was a … choice though.

”Well, who had that on their fucking Trade Bingo card assholes?” Cliff said over his shoulder to the rest of the team and then shot Ilya a look, “You have it Cap?”

With a sigh and a very deserved (if you asked Ilya anyway) eye roll, he closed WhatsApp and opened up his text message where he had his Bingo Card. Out of all the ideas his Alternate Captains had come up with for ‘team bonding’ this was one of the wilder ones.

It wasn’t any wilder than the fantasy American football league that Ilya had managed (and lost) during the football season. But it was a thing he was pretty sure that Reynaud’s wife had come up with.

”Nyet. But it’s early in the day.” Ilya dryly shot back, “Maybe I still win the Dunkin gift card.”

Cliff rolled his eyes and motioned the bartender to refill both of their drinks, “Well, maybe I want it…”

If someone had told Ilya when he was drafted to MLH in 2009 that he would feel this at ease in an American hotel bar surrounded by his team, playing a ridiculous game and just existing? He would have laughed - Ilya never just existed. But somehow if just fucking worked here. He wasn’t going to look at it too fucking closely.

‘Jane:just in case you were wondering - I don’t like the Dunkin coffee you left here last time. What did Tim Hortons ever do to you anyway?’

‘Ilya: I am from Boston - it means understanding the Dunkin superiority. Or that was what I was told in 2009.’

‘Jane: Yet another way Boston is just wrong. I will bring you Timmy’s beans next time we are in Boston so you can have better coffee.’

Ilya licked his lips and picked up his vodka and clicked his glass against Cliff’s and took a slow sip. It was decent vodka. For a hotel bar. But for some reason today he couldn’t find it in him to bitch about it.

Not too much anyway.

Five Hours until the Trade Deadline Closes

Montreal Metros Offices

Shane looked up from his phone as he entered the offices. A small grin on his lips seeing a familiar silhouette waiting for him in the reception area outside of the General Manager’s offices. With his mother (and agent) sitting there waiting for him, he figured this was to continue the conversation about his contract extension. His last few had been completed this early as well. It was weird that it was being done on the same day that the trade deadline was happening…but he wasn’t the GM.

Maybe it was just a quiet day for them. It happened.

”Hey mom…what are you doing here? It’s too early to be about contracts right?” Shane made a face, “Or is this about the social media presence bullshit again?” He took a seat next to her and shot her a grin, “Or did you just miss the blue and red aesthetic."

Yuna Hollander’s laugh was soft and warm, “I was asked to be here - but they didn’t tell me why? Maybe they are wanting to talk more about social media outreach again? Or some kind of new sponsorship request?”

Shane was a lot of things in Montreal. Being active on social media was not one of those things. He did the bare minimum and had to set reminders to do that. If this was a heavier handed ‘request’ from PR and management to get him to ‘engage’ more online? He would try, but fucking hell he really would rather not.

It wasn’t that he didn’t get the point of social media - he did. But when he had been drafted it had been fucking clear that they wanted a very specific version of Shane Hollander. Polite, head down, media training on full display. Which was fine - it’s what he was trained to do. But that didn’t always translate well into social media. So as PR started to embrace social media and ‘building relationships’ more - they wanted their version of Shane Hollander but also a social media phenom. He still hadn’t figured out how to do all of that and carry a team to the playoffs.

His mother shot him a very curious look, “They didn’t tell you why they wanted a meeting?”

He shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders, “Nope. But I just show up when asked. We don’t play till tomorrow and it was an off day. I am hitting the weight room after this meeting and then Jackie Pike somehow got me to agree to help build bookshelves from IKEA.”

Yuna Hollander smirked at her son, “IKEA bookshelves? You don’t even do that for your own home without bribery.”

”Evidently, if I insist on buying the tmy godchildren books and board games, I am responsible for building the storage.” Shane grinned unrepentantly at her, “And last time Hayd did it solo the swear jar got a healthy donation.”

Yuna’s delighted laugh came with a shake of her head and an eyeroll, “Well, tell them hello from your father and I.”

A throat was cleared softly before Shane could say anything else, and both Hollanders turned to see the receptionist that Shane recognized as Alma, an older woman that shared her pistachios with him when he was a scared 18 year old rookie, motioned for them to follow her towards a small conference room.

Inside the room was General Manager Peirce LaCroix, the PR Manager Marcel Marcel, and his Head Coach Joesf Theriault. Shane felt his brow furrow a bit at the odd cast of characters - also that there were two other people at the table that looked oddly uncomfortable in their suits. The awkward suits were men he hadn’t ever seen before - but they had Metros pins on their lapels - so it was clear they worked for the organization.

”Mr. LaCroix, it’s great to see you.” He held his hand out as he approached the table, “Marcel, Coach…”

Shane pulled out a chair for his mother when after shaking his hand, LaCroix waived to the chairs across from them. The room was oddly quiet and there was a feeling of discomfort that Shane wasn't used to in this building. Since signing his rookie contract in the bigger conference room down the hall almost nine years ago - this building had been a welcoming space.

It had to be they were going to be bringing up social media again. He would get JJ or maybe Ilya to help him figure the shit out if he had to. Maybe Commeau’s wife would help him at the next team dinner - she was pretty active…

His brain stopped and there was static in his ears when his GM’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

”…come to our attention that there is a situation that could prove to be an issue. Shane, can you look at the screen and tell me - is that you?”

Shane turned his head and expected to see one of his awful social media posts - Marcel should know he was the worst at those…

There. On the screen, was a picture of him kissing that bartender - Leo - in Mexico. Their hands were…not visible. The world stopped turning and he forgot how to breathe. It took his mother’s hand on his arm to get him to inhale.

His mother. HIS MOTHER WAS HERE SEEING HIM KISSING ANOTHER MAN ON A FUCKING SCREEN IN A FUCKING CONFERENCE ROOM… Shane forced air into his lungs and fisted his hand onto his pants under the table. He blinked and wondered if there was any other way that was more awkward to come out to your mother. Surely ‘photo on a massive screen in a work meeting from a random hook up from a boys trip’ was up there. His mind was skittering and his breathing was erratic. He had to calm down. He had to calm the FUCK down…

The Metros Captain closed his eyes and made himself inhale slowly and exhale even slower. He could get through this and implode from humiliation later. He had to. There wasn’t another option here. He had to CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

“Shane?” His mother’s voice was firm and professional, but he still couldn't make himself look her in the eye. Instead he turned his head from the screen and focused his heated glare on LaCroix.

”I think it’s very clear that it’s me.” Shane said, proud that his voice was steady, even if he was struggling to remember the mechanics of how to breathe still, his gaze hard and angry, “I don’t know how you came to be in possession of - “

”Someone brought it to our attention.” Theriault said with a cold sneer in his voice, “They were concerned that it could be an issue with team cohesion in the room.”

Someone…had brought it to the…organization…

Someone knew…if they had seen him with the bartender in Mexico….

What if they had seen him with Ilya?! They had been so fucking careful. They had -

“So I take it, “ LaCroix continued on, his voice interrupted Shane’s mental spiral as he changed the image on the screen to a video from the bar in LA a few weeks ago. With sound on.

Oh, of fucking COURSE there was fucking SOUND… Shane thought, the spiral in his head getting worse, ’Why the FUCK wouldn’t there be?!’

Without thinking he reached over and took the remote from the GM and paused the video, “I think we can all see that it is me sir. However, I was on personal time. There is nothing that linked me to the team in either case. I am not sure I am seeing the issue here.”

His mother spoke up, her voice cool and calm, “Can I ask what the point of this is? Have there been issues in the room? Have there been complaints? From my clients reaction, I am taking that to mean that none have been brought to him?”

Shane looked over at his mother finally. Her spine was stiff, her eyes were narrowed and her fingers drummed on the table top like there wasn’t a video of her son getting a blow job in an alley paused on a screen. How she was this calm and professional was beyond him, but fuck he was grateful one of them was. It sure as fuck wasn’t going to be him right now.

”If there hasn’t been, I am not sure what the point of outing Shane without warning or cause is.” Yuna continued, “Especially in a setting like the one here. This hardly seems appropriate for something that has nothing to do with his play on the ice or the standing of the team.”

”We have players that are concerned about having a leader with Hollander’s - interests - in the room.” LaCroix said, “And with Shane on a team friendly deal - frankly it’s easier to resolve these concerns with Shane.”

”I have a No Move Clause.” Shane said flatly, “A full one.”

Marcel spoke up this time, and Shane would give him credit that he looked remorseful, “Shane, you don’t have anything on your phone that could be - “

What was Shane supposed to say?

‘Why yes Marcel. I have a sealed folder with pictures of my 7 year situationship on my phone. Oh, and a WhatsApp chat that has dick pics. Would you like to see? And potentially a few saved voice memos because have you heard Ilya Rozanov dirty talk? I know right?’

He glared at the man, “I wasn’t aware that THESE existed. I don’t make a habit of keeping records of hook ups.”

Shane Hollander could feel the anger and hurt growing in his chest. At least he was feeling that so he was still upright and not cowering in the corner. They didn’t get to see that. They could have his anger. His frustration.

Everything else could damn well wait.

Marcel nodded, “Well, I will need to see your…”

Yuna snorted and shook her head, “Like hell you will. Now, as my son stated, he has a full No Movement Clause. You can’t just move him. What is it you are wanting from him? Other than Cup wins - which he has given you two, or maybe it’s play off runs? You have four and are about to start the fifth, yes?”

The GM finally sighed, “Shane, it would be in everyone’s best interest for you to waive the clause. We have interested parties. Play off teams. We can move you somewhere for everyone to have a fresh start….”

Interested parties. They had been fucking SHOPPING HIM?! Who shops their fucking captain without having a damn conversation. It hit him in the gut then - there wasn’t coming back from this. They had already decided. No matter what happened - no matter what he said or promised or denied - they had decided. He was fucking expendable to the team he had made his entire fucking life.

Clammy hands ran over his face and through his hair, “I have done nothing to get moved. I have given this team my blood, sweat, tears and Cups. Why do I have to move? Let the people that have an issue with me move. Clearly I am not making it an issue or public knowledge since you have two pieces of proof in the almost 8 years I have been here.”

‘Thank fuck none of them had Ilya. Thank you to every fucking deity that is listening to me. Keep him out of this….please fuck keep him out of this….’

He had to keep Ilya out of this. His dad was sick. Ilya still needed to be able to go back to Russia safely. He had to keep the Russian asshole’s name out of this mess. He would fucking move. He would do what he had to fucking do to do that. Ilya hadn’t been the one caught. Shane had. It was his mess to clean up.

”There is a large enough consensus in the room that while there hasn’t been an issue before now…” Theriault said, eyes cold and voice brittle, “It will be an issue. We can’t risk it heading into Play Offs.”

”So you are confident that you can win in the playoffs without my son.” Yuna said, derision dripping off every syllable, “I see…”

”While Shane is a large part of our team, we do need to do what is in the best for. - “ Theriault started, and stopped when LaCroix held up his hand.

The GM leaned forward, his voice firm and his expression closed, “Shane, this is about the team. If this was an individual sport, we could figure something else out. But we have enough concern in the room…and there is interest even with your contract…”

Shane was paid what he was worth - sort of. He had taken a team friendly deal with his last extension to help the room to stay relevant. It was another reason he hadn’t seen this coming. There were very few teams that could take on his cap hit - even with it being team friendly. He shook his head, “Those are my guys. My team. I don’t believe they would turn on me like this. I go into battle with them. I am godfather and Uncle Shane to their babies. I have stood up at their weddings. They aren’t going to turn on me like this…”

‘They wouldn’t turn on him like this. This was one his nightmares. Them seeing him - all of him - and turning on him. But he had given them Cups, victories, and support. He had carried them here and now….there was no way….’

A door opened and in walked Drapeau, Comeau, Schneider and Berkes. Two of them were his Alternates. All of them had been in his home. They were all now standing there in judgement of him - Shane could see it on their faces and in their body language. The disgust radiating off of a few of them. And his fucking heart broke. Again.

”No Hollander”, Drapeau said, voice condescending, “We are saying no. We do not want you in that room.” He motioned to the screen, “We don’t want THAT in our room…”

Shane felt ice start to form in his veins, but he remained silent, jaw set and eyes locked on the fucking assholes that were leading the coup against him. Who hadn’t fucking come to him. But had gone straight to the organization. He had been a groomsman in Commeau’s wedding. He had housed Berkes when he had been traded to Montreal and was house hunting…they were - HAD - they HAD been his boys…

”Really man, we need someone that we feel comfortable around and trust. You aren’t that. Not if that is who you are.” Commeau said, sounding at least almost remorseful, “You should have told us so we could have made an informed vote.”

Shane’s dark eyes scanned the room. The judgement from one side and his mother’s confused support from the other. He looked at her face for the first time and met her eyes. He saw confusion, love and support in them. She would fight them. But he wasn’t going to make her fight a battle that wasn’t winnable. He was going to protect her from that and Ilya from being discovered by not stopping this fucking nonesense. He could do that at least…

”Depends on the team, I am not saying yes. But I will hear you out.” Shane said, his voice cold and his face an emotionless mask.

‘Please fuck - don’t send me further from Ilya than I already am….’

Shane looked at his teammates - men who instead of having his back? Instead of proving he was someone they supported? They chose to hold open the door for him to be booted out. Because of something he had kept to himself. Something he couldn’t…he couldn’t fucking control…

He thought it said something that Drapeau was the only one to meet his gaze and the disgust he saw there, the smug victory…it turned his stomach. But he didn’t blink or shift his gaze from them - he glared at them down as they made their way back out of the room having said their piece.

If they felt this way about just finding out about him liking men? What would have it been like if he had been caught with…

Shane ran his fingers through his hair and then turned to face the men sitting across the table from him. They hadn’t, Rozanov was safe and now he had to face this head on and with the same focus as a face off in the finals.

Because right now? Fuck this shit.

Three Hours until the Trade Deadline closes

Boston Raiders Team Plane

“Okay - who had St Louis moving half their defense core?” Called out Victor Owark, a defenseman that Ilya was personally hoping they could move soon. He was a pain in the fucking ass.

”No one Warky.” Cliff called back from where he was playing cards with Ilya and the rest of the first PowerPlay unit, then he paused, “How the fuck did they - ?”

”Traded them with Minnesota.” Johnson, a right winger who was on his last year and was another one that Ilya would not be sad to see go into retirement. He held up his phone, “This is a weird ass Trade Deadline y’all.”

Ilya picked up his phone to check his messages from Hollander. He’d had a meeting with management - they were probably going to get on him about social media again. But it should be over soon. The silence felt weird though.

Cliff leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Management shot you another look - what the fuck did you do Roz?”

The team captain scrolled through his memories of his recent antics. Other than a few creative chirps? Not really anything that would get him on the management shit list. He had been reveling in Hollander responding to his texts again. Svetlana was in Moscow for work and wouldn’t be back for another few weeks. He had been behaving himself.

”I don’t know what you mean Marly. I have been best boy.” He batted his lashes at his friend and winked, “I am turning new leaf, yes?”

His winger raised a brow at him and shook his head, “Something tells me not to trust that Rozanov.”

The grin on the Captain’s face was devious and promised chaos, “Awww, it’s like you know me Marly…”

Two Hours until the Trade Deadline Closes

Metros Offices - Montreal

Boston Raiders.

Florida Sharks.

Las Vegas Rush.

Vancouver Pirates.

Shane refused the Vancouver and Vegas offers. They wanted him to sign immediate extensions. He was fucking gunshy if the team that he had already gone all in was ready to throw him away like this. Fuck that shit.

He pushed away from the table, “I am going to go stretch my legs - “

Marcel looked at him, “Leave your phone.” He held his hand out expectantly, eyes locked on Shane.

Shane narrowed his eyes at the PR manager, “Not happening. I don’t do shit anyway. I thought I was being called in to deal with that actually. But you don’t get my phone.”

Before they could respond he was out of the conference room and headed for the restrooms. He let the door close behind him and after making sure it was empty he locked the door and then braced his hands on the counter and looked in the mirror.

Almost 9 years. 2 Cups. Awards. Increased crowds. He let his forehead rest against the cold mirror and made himself breathe slowly.

In. Out. In. Out.

Part of him wanted to reach out to Hayden. To Ilya. To Rose. To someone. Anyone to help figure out what was the best move for him. What he was supposed to do when the people he considered family disowned him.

‘Fuck…had Hayden disowned him? Was he one of the people that didn’t want him anymore? Was J.J. …?’

Shane felt his eyes fill with tears. Then they spilled down his cheeks. His team. His boys. His people. Just abandoning him. Turning on him. How was this his life? How did his time here in Montreal end like this? He was the face of a franchise - or had been. He had done everything they had asked of him. Never made a damn thing about his accomplishments. Always put the team first. Never was too loud, too opinionated, too flashy. He had done EVERY DAMN THING that had been asked of him. Put a team on his back and carried them into ‘dynasty’ talks…and this is how it was going to end? What the fuck…?

Fingers wiped at his cheeks and then he turned on the cool water. He washed his face and squared his shoulders. If they could throw him away this easily? If he was nothing to them? Then they could see him in the fucking play offs.

’You know someone in Boston. Someone that might make the transition easier. Someone that will piss everyone in that room off. One team that if they had a fucking solid second center could raise that cup again…

And it wasn’t fucking Florida…’

“Boston it is.” Shane whispered into the room, “Well fuck, I guess it’s Boston.”

One Hour until the Trade Deadline Closes

Vancouver Four Seasons, Room 1815

‘…and as the Trade Deadline nears its closure point there are still rumors swirling around Montreal. We can only think they are potentially looking for more goaltending as everything else seems well in hand as they are favorites for the Cup final again this year….’

Ilya rolled his eyes, “Fucking hell, we get it. You like Metros….”

There was a chuckle from the other bed, “Roz, your girl there hearing anything on the ground? Anyone with loose lips?”

Blue eyes pinned the dark haired winger, “No, she doesn’t share that even if she did know.”

He and Shane weren’t like that. The closest it had come was when Shane had shown him the Stadium Series jersey early two years ago. Because he had hated it. He didn’t know what it was about Canadian teams and having questionable jerseys. For the birth place of the sport they really could use some help.

He would mention it to Hollander if the fucker ever texted him back.

’Ilya:Fucker. Did you die?’

‘Ilya: Is your mother there or something?’

’Ilya: Forget how to text?’

He tossed his phone to the side of him on the bed, “When is new goalie joining us?”

“I knew that you weren’t listening in that meeting.” Cliff said with a snort, “He’s meeting us in Boston after the roadtrip. Something about transportation and gear.”

”Ahh…makes sense. Hope he’s ready to get to work.” He stretched, “I am fucking tired of Hollander having more cups.” then he smirked as his phone lit up.

About fucking time.

‘Jane: It’s a fucking day. I will let you know when it’s over.’

Ilya frowned at his screen. What the hell…?

’Ilya: You are STILL in a fucking meeting? Or are you still with your mother?’

’Jane: Both. I will text you later.’

Blue eyes met Cliff’s dark brown ones, “Want to go get early dinner? I am fucking starving.”

“Fuck yes…that seafood place?”

He grabbed his wallet and winked at Cliff, “Fuck yes…but you are buying me a drink too Marly.”

“You are a more expensive date than my ex-wife was Roz.”

Forty-Five Minutes until the Trade Deadline Closes

Metros Offices - Montreal

Boston. Shane Hollander was being traded to Boston. For the last three and a half years of his contract he would be a Boston Raider. What was he worth in the end? A rookie center and a second round pick in next years draft. Two cups, play off runs, sales, his blood, sweat and heart and that was what he was worth in the end.

He leaned back in the chair and looked across the table at the men he had respected before walking into this room. They had seen him for who he was - a man that liked men - and had decided that he wasn’t worth anything to them anymore. Part of him wanted to smirk at them and throw the fact that he not only liked men, but his bed was regularly filled with an asshole Russian. Just to really piss them off and send a middle finger to everyone. But he wasn’t going to do that to Rozanov. He wasn’t going to do that to anyone else - this sucked in a way that he couldn’t put into words.

LaCroix stopped speaking into a phone and approached the table, hus eyes never left Shane. Then the phone was slid his way and he picked it up, “Hello Coach Desjourneys…it’s a pleasure to talk to you.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, “Fucking hell Hollander, no offense I really thought your GM was fucking with me.”

Shane had to laugh at that, “No, not this time. I am looking forward to working together - “

There was another snort on the other end of the phone, “Hollander, cut the shit. Is what both of the front offices telling me true? You and guys?”

Shane stood up from the table and made his way out of the room to the hallway before he spoke, “It is. But I promise you - I know how to keep my head down and not make it an issue. I am not going to be an issue in your lockerroom.”

“My goddaughter and her girlfriend would kill me if I said I was worried. I will say this - keeping it quiet until you can’t might make both of our lives easier.” There was a heavy pause before he continued, “But if you want to tell the room - tell the room.”

“I-I am sorry sir?” Shane said, his voice strained, his hand gripped the phone tighter, almost having dropped it, “I think I blacked out for a moment there.”

There was another pause and then, “I am going to be honest with you Hollander. I want to win hockey games and cups. I think with this re-tool the office is wanting to do we can do that. That’s my concern. I don’t care what you do off the ice unless you make me need to care. From what I am hearing - you haven’t done a fucking thing to make anyone care. So, do you want to win hockey games and cups?”

Another heavy pause and then Shane,sounding like he was ready to cry, finally spoke, “I think that sounds like a really good time Coach Desjourneys.”

“Welcome to Boston then Hollander.”

“Thank you.” Shane said, feeling like the world was spinning out from under his feet again, “I really am looking forward to playing hockey again.”

Another snort and then, “I am going to have you meet us in Boston in four days. I think this road trip isn’t the best fit to get you in. We have a goalie meeting us there too. It will give you time to get the paperwork and gear shit sorted before we hit the ground running. Sophia from HR will walk you through everything.”

Shane let his head fall back against the wall and a small smirk tugged on his lips, “I don’t suppose there’s any way to get a picture of Rozanov’s face when he finds out is there?”

A booming laugh came through the speaker, “I will see what I can do.”

They called and Shane walked back into the room, “Where do I sign again?” He tossed the phone into the middle of the table as he approached, “It seems I have a flight to book.”

Coach Theriault glared at him, “You are still - “

“Once my client was called in here and attacked, he ceased being available in your line up. I am sure Boston won’t want their new Center to be injured in a game.” Yuna said firmly, “And according to the timeline in front of us he is supposed to be in Boston tomorrow afternoon. So we don’t have room in the schedule for another game here in Montreal.”

Shane gave his - well, now former he supposed - coach a tight smile, “What my agent said. Plus - I have a locker to clean and gear to get together. Busy, busy…” He looked at his - again now former - GM and raised a brow, “Where do I sign so we can all begin this process?”

LaCroix slid the offer sheet to him and actually looked regretful, “I am sorry to -”

Shane looked up at him mid-signature, “I gave this team everything. I brought cups, ticket sales and success to a team that hadn’t even been in playoff conversations for two years. The first issue that comes up and I am being traded. I don’t think ‘sorry’ is going to cover this Mr. LaCroix.”

He finished signing and slid the paperback across the table and slid his hands into his pockets, “Am I needed for anything else or can I start cleaning out lockers and getting flights booked?”

Finally the PR manager spoke, “We need you to not post until the official announcement is put out. And then not until after the team makes its announcement.”

Yuna beat her son to the eye roll this time, “We will be posting before he boards the plane tomorrow for Boston. I would suggest you and your team get to work.” Her smile was cold and her eyes were angry as she met Marcel’s eyes, “And you no longer have any say over when or how he posts. So, there’s also that.”

LaCroix held up his hands, “Your access cards will work until tomorrow at noon. We will pack up your gear and ship it.”

“Not my sticks. I will travel with my sticks.” Shane said firmly, “I am taking those with me - if you can tell Vince in equipment to tape them up for me - I will load them up with my locker supplies.”

The silence that fell over the room was heavy and there was a nod from Theriault, “I want you to do this when the team isn’t there. I don’t want this to be a bigger distraction in the room than it already will be.”

Shane shook his head, “Yeah, this is going to be such a low impact moment on the room. I get it.” He licked his lips and shook his head again, “I am going tonight. No one will be there. I will go in and out and I will leave my passes with security.”

Then Shane held out his hand, “Thank you for the opportunity to play hockey in Montreal. I wish things could have gone differently.” He shook each person’s hand and then looked his former coach Theriault in the eye, “See you in the play offs.”

He nodded at his mother, then walked out of the conference room without another word.

Five Minutes until the Trade Deadline Closes

Captain’s Room Seafood Restaurant, Vancouver

Ilya was a big fan of being ‘with’ his people when he was eating with them. Plus, Cliff talked fast and sometimes he needed to focus on what he was saying. So his phone was face down on the table next to him and so he missed the alerts filling his screen.

Twitter. Instagram. News outlets. Texts.

The hockey world is losing its collective mind - all due to one tweet.

Chapter End Notes

I do have a playlist for this: Spotify Playlist !

I am always open to song suggestions as well.

I am looking forward to this journey with you all!

Chapter 3: Heading into the Eye of the Storm

Chapter Summary

What do you do when the team that you thought you would retire with trades you?

What do you do when your best friend is traded with no warning?

Reactions are wide and varied - some from people who matter and some from the people on the fringes - but when Shane Hollander is no longer a Montreal Metro? There are opinions.

And a very confused Captain of the Boston Raiders who just wants Shane FUCKING Hollander to answer his damn phone.

Chapter Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

I do have a chunk of this pre-written - but I am not committing to a posting schedule - but I do have it outlined. So, winning?

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

This chapter is now beta'd. And updated. We still have the same faith in me self-editing this chapter as Shane Hollander has in the mute iPhone mute button. So everyone say ‘THANK YOU JEN’.

UPDATE: Social Media posts have been updated and corrected.

Shane’s (soon to be former) Apartment - Montreal

2 Hours Post Trade Deadline

Was it a surprise to Shane when he entered his apartment in Montreal and found his parents at his kitchen island? Not in the slightest. He just set the box of pictures, art from fans and the miscellaneous ‘stuff’ that you accumulated over the course of almost an entire season on the counter and held up a hand before they could say anything to him, “I am going to shower and then we can talk. Okay? I need to just - please…”

Before his mother - who was at the stovetop stirring something amazing - could say anything, his dad - who was pretending to do a crossword - nodded, “Absolutely Shane. We will get some food together and then we can talk. Go shower. Get comfortable.”

Shane didn’t miss the look shared between his parents and he didn’t have the energy to deal with that at the moment. He just nodded and headed up the stairs. Made sure his phone was plugged in screen down because he didn’t even want to be fucking tempted to check for alerts, and then headed into the shower. There was something soothing about the sound of the water, the heat from it, and then Shane stood in the middle of his two person shower and just let the steaming,hot water rain over his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thanked Ilya for suggesting the rainfall showerhead. While the water fell around him - soaking his hair and loosening his muscles - his brain started to work overtime. He was going to have to move. Shane loved this apartment. Not to mention the one next to it. He had been talking to a fucking contractor about merging them. There had been FUCKING plans. There had been a damn ten year plan.

None of this fuckery was in any of those plans and for the first time since LaCroix had put the pictures up on the monitor - Shane let his actual tears fall. For being outed to his mother. For losing his team. His rose colored glasses were shattered. His life had been completely upended and he was absolutely devastated. These weren’t the tears of frustration from earlier - but the sobs of someone whose world had just completely turned upside down. With no warning. By the people he had never suspected once of being capable of doing it.

Twenty minutes later he was in a pair of sweat pants, a hoodie that he was pretty sure was Ilya’s and his favorite comfy socks as he made his way back into the kitchen and quietly slid onto a stool at the counter. He played with the cuffs of the sweatshirt and avoided meeting his parents' eyes for the longest time - then Shane looked up and took a shaky breath as words just started to tumble out his mouth.

“I am so sorry. I never wanted you to…to find out - not like this anyway - “ Shane stopped when his dad put his hand over Shane’s. Strong, warm fingers wrapped around his own and just gently squeezed.

“Shane, why didn’t you tell us?” David Hollander’s voice was soft, warm and made Shane feel slightly calmer. Just slightly though.

Which - if he took into consideration that before he sat down Shane had felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skin? It didn’t say a lot. So he did what made sense at the moment - which was to fiddle with the mug of tea that appeared in front of him (and not the sleeves of the hoodie he was very sure was actually Ilya’s) and try to remember how to breathe. Not as easy as it had been to remember earlier this morning, but the effort was there anyway.

“So, I am gay.” Shane’s voice was softer and shakier than he wanted it to be, “I tried, I tried so hard you guys.” The coffee cup got blurry as the tears came back and were furiously blinked away, “I didn’t want to be different like this or be an issue. I really never wanted anyone to know. FUCK!” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as if he could push the tears back into their ducts, “This is NOT how I thought I would tell you if I ever got brave enough…”

Strong, slender arms wrapped around him and the subtle spicy, clean scent of his mother’s perfume filled his nose, “Oh Shane…you have nothing to be sorry about. Not one thing. This is you. Our Shane.” He felt her kiss his temple, “I love you so much. I am so proud of you for how you handled today and how you are handling all of this. It’s going to get better, baby.”

There was a pause and then his father spoke, “So…Boston? That’s the plan now?”

Shane let out a strangled laugh and a hiccup that really wanted to be a sob, “It was the option that should have the best shot at the cup this year of the teams that were interested. Not to mention - I thought it would piss off Montreal the most if I am honest. Same conference. Reasonable flight for you two for games…”

The fact that it would also get him closer to Ilya and make their lives slightly less complicated played into it too. But he was going to leave that tidbit for later. Let them adjust to the concept of him being gay. His mother to the idea of him in a Boston sweater. Then he would ease them into the idea of Ilya. if Ilya even wanted them to be closer. Maybe he was going to be pissed that Shane was moving into his city and joining his team. Maybe he liked Shane in a different compartment of his life…

Baby steps. He would deal with the chaotic Russian of it all when he could fucking breathe and not cry.

“So you and Rose…?” His mother asked, her arms still around him, grounding him in the moment, “Is that why? I did wonder - you both seemed so happy…” her voice trailed off, “this does make more sense though.”

Shane closed his eyes and nodded with another rough laugh, “Yeah, turns out she is the best human being to exist and helped me accept a few things about myself. Turns out she wants a boyfriend that is physically attracted to her. Who knew right?”

His father blinked at him and nodded slowly, a small rueful grin tugging on the corner of his mouth, “I can see how that would be beneficial in a relationship.”

“I agree.” Shane said, “But she is still in my life and I am a lucky asshole for that.”

Yuna moved to stir a pot on the stove, with one last kiss to the top of his head, “Are there more pictures and videos? Do we need to get out in front of things?”

“I didn’t know there were - “ A slow breath escaped his lungs, “I didn’t know THESE existed. I wasn’t trying to get outed by my GM here mom.”

Yuna turned to look at him, her ‘manager’ face on and a frown on her lips, “I want to get a statement ready - just so we have one on hand in case. I also am going to start putting out feelers to the big sponsors. We need to let them know you are changing teams anyway. Two birds, one conference call.”

Shane groaned, “I like this place. I hate house hunting. I hate moving and change. Fuck me.” His head fell forward onto his arms, “Can’t we just move this building to Boston?” His voice was muffed by his arms and when his parents laughed at his antics he sighed and shot them a LOOK over his arms.

David shook his head ,”We can’t, but we can find you a place there. We will figure this out Shane. I promise you.” His calm and steady father. Nothing ruffled his feathers often and his level headedness had kept Shane even keeled more than he would like to admit. Especially at times like this when nothing really wanted to make sense.

Something started to really sink in and Shane raised his head slowly, “You two are taking this alarmingly well…both the ‘I am gay’ bit and the ‘I am now a Boston Raider’ bit…what is going on?”

His parents shared a look and then looked at him. Daivd spoke, “We had suspicions Shane. We know you pretty well and there were signs. Not our place to say anything - you do everything in your own time. Besides, if we were wrong? Not a conversation to be had then is there?” There was a shrug of his shoulders, “It was either that or you are just a really bad boyfriend but an amazing friend, son and teammate. We found it hard to believe that you were that bad at an interpersonal relationship with someone you genuinely care about - but were so good at in other aspects. Without reason. This seemed like a logical reason.”

“As for the…Boston…of it all…” Yuna said, rolling her eyes at the city name, “That is a solid choice. Good structure, solid coaching, well placed to make a run. They wouldn’t annoy me so much if they weren’t good.” Her dark eyes pinned Shane and a brow raised, “And I support you over a team that fucked you over. If you thought I wouldn’t…?”

There was another period of heavy quiet where all Shane could hear was the breath leaving his body, the pot simmering on the stove top and the vibration from his mothers phone as the notifications kept coming in. He took a slow breath and let it out even slower. Then nodded - more to himself than to his parents.

“It wasn’t that. Not really. This just wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was part of the plan.” He took another deep breath and let it slowly, meeting Yuna’s eyes, “What happens now? I have no idea what I am supposed to do. That is fucking terrifying.”

A smile that was small but fierce came onto her face. He would take it as a win as she spoke, “I have us on a ten o’clock flight to Boston tomorrow morning. We have a meeting with the front office at one in the afternoon. They are very excited to meet you and get things moving…” Her voice trailed off, “They have given you 24 as your number if you want it.”

“I have been 24 since I was 9. I want to keep the number if I can.” Shane said with a biting edge to his voice, “Fuck Montreal - they don’t get that.”

His father took a moment and shared a look with his mother, “Do you want me to come with you and we can look at places? I don’t think you want to be in a hotel for long do you?”

At some point Shane was sure there would be a time that he wouldn’t depend on his parents like this. Where he could handle change and not have it completely destroy his ability to fucking function the way that this was. But it wasn’t just a job he had lost. If he had just been traded - but the room had been HIS still - this wouldn’t be hitting so hard. But he had lost his job, his city and the men he had thought of as FAMILY. He still hadn’t spoken to Hayden or J.J.

What if they weren’t the men he thought they were too? What if they had sided with Drapeau and his band of fucking assholes? What if he had been so fucking wrong about everyone?

“I - yeah - I don’t want to be in the hotel for long. I would appreciate it if you guys have the time.” His voice was quiet and didn’t quite sound like himself, even to his own ears, “I don’t know how to do this. Any of this.”

Shane genuinely was lost. When he had been drafted to Montreal he had months to get situated. To plan. To learn his new home. He had used all of it. Took his time finding the place to live that felt right. Finding his places. Acclimating himself to Montreal - which was so different from Ottawa.

Now he had four days. To start to find a place. To try and find some of his places. To try and figure out a city. All while finalizing the business side of things. It was overwhelming and he was going to need his parents to do some of the things while he was doing others. Divide, conquer and hopefully land on his feet. Maybe. Hopefully.

Yuna’s voice was soft, “We will figure it out sweetheart. We are going to figure it all out.”

Shane’s heart, that fragile organ in his chest stopped and then started to race, “I really don’t fucking deserve you…”

“No, I think it’s the other way around Shane…” her voice was warm as a bowl of soup came to rest in front of him, “Now eat, we have a lot of planning to get started with.”

Vancouver Four Seasons

2 Hours Post Trade Deadline

 

Shane was coming to Boston?!

Ilya couldn’t figure out how he had gotten to the hotel again after dinner. He had turned his phone over to order an Uber back to the hotel. Only to find out that his entire world was being flipped upside down. That instead of trading for a goalie or another defensemen - Montreal had traded away their FUCKING captain. To Boston of all fucking places.

Shane was coming to Boston - and wasn’t answering his FUCKING phone…

Off to the side he could hear Cliff Marleau and Victor St. Simon talking in an elevator - either that or the vodka had been better at dinner than he had thought and he was hallucinating that the floor was moving when it wasn’t. Ilya knew he should be listening to them, but he was scrolling through the alerts on his screen and then checking both his texts and WhatsApp. As he was being led to a meeting - about what he had no fucking clue. There were no fucking texts, calls or alerts from the one fucking person he wanted to hear from. Who was being a FUCKING asshole. Not that anyone would believe him if he were to tell them that their beloved SHANE HOLLANDER was a FUCKING asshole.

Shane was coming to Boston - and wasn’t answering his FUCKING phone…or WhatsApp messages…

“...Hayes and Hollander will be meeting us in Boston at the end of the road trip.” Desjourneys said calmly and that cut into the haze that Ilya had been in since dinner had ended and the world had tilted on it’s fucking axis.

“So Hollander is seriously coming?” Winston Sebbins, the second-year winger that had seemed to end up on the second line, asked, “Where…what line coach?”

’Maybe I should try messaging him on Instagram. But that would mean he is checking his social media. Is it that level of apocalypse that Shane Hollander is on social media?’ Ilya knew he should listen to the chatter around him, but he had no idea how to feel about this. This wasn’t even supposed to be a FUCKING option.

“We will see when we get to Boston.” Desjourneys said with a shrug of his shoulders, his voice cut through the static in Ilya’s head again, “We are going to keep our focus and we are going to win here in Vancouver and in Calgary - then we will go home and figure it all out.”

Ilya snorted, “And the press is going to let this happen?”

The head coach shook his head, “They won’t, but our standard line is ‘we are looking forward to working together for a great end of the season push.’ Everyone got it?”

Ilya could feel the room pinning him with eyes. So many eyes were all on him, “What did I do other than spend Marly’s money at dinner?” he asked, his own eyes glaring at his team, “I can do talking points. I have before and I will now. Easy.”

“Like you are happy that we got Hollander.” Owark said with a smirk from across the room, “You can admit it here Cap.”

Actually Owark - I am fucking thrilled he’s going to be here. Him being here means you are staying the fuck off the second line and we have a fighting chance. Him being here means no more weeks between a chance to kiss him. But it also fucking means seeing him every damn day. It means that my fuck buddy will be in the locker room with all of us and I can’t fucking do a damn fucking thing about it…but yes. I am totally happy. Maybe. Sort of…

“I am ready to win another cup. You think that Hollander is not going to help with that?” He looked around the room, “What else matters?”

There was a pause and then Victor St. Simon, who until this moment Ilya would have said was one of his oldest friends on the team because he was smart, snorted, “So you want us to believe that you are completely fine with Hollander showing up on our roster and you have no issues with it at all. You. Who makes a point of harassing Hollander every time we play Montreal? You are okay with this?”

’Why yes Vicky. I am usually very much in the mood to aggravate Hollander. The sex afterwards is always so good. Also, we usually have a deal and you don’t want to lose one of those to Shane Hollander. Not that you will ever get to know that. Ever. If you ever try I will kill you and that would be sad because I like you and you don’t completely suck at hockey.

“I am not dumb Vicky. I want to win cups. You think we will not win cups with Shane Hollander?” Ilya tried to make himself sound almost bored. He thought he pulled it off. Maybe. Possibly.

“I think - “ Victor started again only to be cut off by an amused Cliff. His friend, who might also be dead by the end of the night.

Cliff, who had the fucking balls to hold up a picture he had taken of a stunned Ilya over desert in the restaurant when he had seen the news. Like a fucking asshole. Iya really needed to find new friends. These two were the worst.

“Here’s our ‘calm and level headed’ captain BEFORE he had a chance to let the news sink in. Please note the open mouth and the lack of blinking.” Cliff, who was obviously aiming to be doing bag skates for the rest of the fucking season, said as he handed his phone over to the other winger.

“Oh, send me that would you.” Desjourneys said, who sounded amused, “Hollander did ask for a picture of Rozanov when he heard the news.”

The jeers and laughs that that comment spawned from his teammates. Ilya leaned back against the wall and flipped them all off with a smirk on his lips. Because they didn’t need to know that he was slowly losing his mind. Shane had spoken to Desjourneys - but not to Ilya. He was coming to Boston but wasn’t answering his FUCKING phone. He had to be out of the meeting because the world knew he was leaving Montreal and coming to Ilya. Well, the Raiders if you were being literal. But to ILYA. And to ask their - because he was THEIRS now - coach for a picture of Ilya learning of the trade when he wouldn’t even answer a call or text from HIM.

’Shane Hollander you are a fucking dead man skating…

Hayden Pike’s Living Room

4 Hours Post Trade Deadline

Hayden was frozen in shock and couldn’t stop staring at the announcement on his phone. Part of the game at this level was that teammates would come and go over the years. But this was fucking Shane Hollander. The man who was the heartbeat of this fucking team. He had come in during Hayden’s second full season in Montreal and just brought hope to the room. And then had backed it up with his play and his actions and now he was just….gone? With no warning. No communication. NOTHING. Just…

Fingers ran through already messy blonde hair and his eyes narrowed at his phone even more. It was bad enough that Shane was fucking traded to FUCKING BOSTON. But to learn about it from the fucking Metros official announcement?! To make it worse - his texts and calls to Shane were going unanswered. Which wasn’t completely unheard of. But Hayden didn’t know what to do about that either… so he flipped back to his texts and eyes going over the last texts just in case he had missed something. Anything at this point.

But there was nothing…

Jackie collapsed on the couch, her head landing in his lap, “Have you heard from him yet?” Her voice was so damn worried. Which annoyed Hayden even more if he was being honest with himself. It was one thing to worry him. But to worry JACKIE?

“No, and honestly the asshole is pissing me off.” Hayden growled, “What the hell is going on Jacks? How does he NOT tell me he’s being fucking traded to fucking BOSTON?!”

His favorite person on the fucking planet, looked up at Hayden and gave him a ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look, “Hayds, I love you. But could he possibly, maybe, be fucking losing his mind over this and - “ Her hand moved through the air, “Being Shane and hiding in his apartment trying to figure it out alone? Maybe he’s gone all ‘Captain Hollander’ and doens’t want to ‘bother’ people.”

He was so glad that Jackie knew his other person like this. That she understood why he was worried about Shane. The man could shoulder shit that wasn’t even his problem with the best of them. Maybe it was being told from draft day onwards that Montreal’s success was now his responsibility. Maybe it was being given the ‘C’ at 20. Maybe it was just a combination of all of that if Hayden was going to fucking honest with himself. But if this happened? If something this massive had gone down and Shane wasn’t talking, yelling or having a meltdown via voice memos?

Hayden was worried. Really fucking worried. Nothing good came from a silent Shane Hollander.

“Hey Jackie, love of my life and keeper of my soul, I think - “ Hayden started out, only to be cut off by his wife’s fingers on his lips.

“I need you to wait until the flapjacks and protein muffins he likes are out of the oven. Then take a 12 pack of the cranberry ginger ale over with you when you go.” Her brown eyes looked up at him knowingly, “I will stay here with the kids. If he needs to escape his parents - bring him back here with you. I will make breakfast and we will let him hold Arthur.”

“I don’t fucking deserve you Jackie Pike.” Hayden leaned down and kissed her forehead softly, “Are you sure?”

“Shane is my family, too idiot.” She said with a small, sad smile, “You aren’t the only one losing him to another city. You wonderful asshole.”

Hayden felt his phone vibrate with an incoming call and then answered it without looking, “Shane?”

There was a pause and then J.J.’s voice came across the line, “So you haven’t heard from him either?”

“Not only that but why the fuck is the team group chat silent. We are losing the fucking Captain - there should be SOMETHING there right?” Hayden replied, his jaw clenched, “What the hell is going on J.J.?”

Hayden was aware that there were side chats he wasn’t looped in on because he was Shane’s best friend. Sometimes you needed to plan things without the Captain’s knowledge or get up to mischief. It was whatever. But this was for the main chat and not the fucking side chats. He paused again when he realized J.J. hadn’t said anything yet, “J.J.?”

“There is a rumor going around that Shane had options and he picked Boston.” J.J. slowly said, “But no one I am talking to knows WHY he got fucking traded. And he’s not answering anyone. I was really fucking hoping you had heard from him. Or had a fucking clue. Because a silent Capitaine is never a good thing Pike.”

Hayden chewed on his lower lip and looked at Jackie who was scrolling on her phone, “Anything in the WAG’s chat babe?” At this point he would take any news at all. But considering that Jackie was Shane’s favorite ‘wife and girlfriend’ - if Jackie didn’t know it wasn’t likely any of the others did.

She shook her head, “Nothing. Which is insane. That guy was here for EVERYONE on the team. Hell, he’s picked up kids from school for some of these women. What the hell happened Hayd?”

“Jackie says there isn’t anything in the WAG’s chat either…” Hayden said slowly, his fingers running through Jackie’s hair to calm himself down, “It’s like we lose our captain and the fucking world stops? What the hell is happening?”

He could hear J.J. moving around on the other side of the call and then that stopped too, “You don’t think Shane WANTED this do you? Like he wasn’t looking for an out was he? We are headed for the fucking play offs again - why would he leave willingly?”

The idea that Shane would do this to them willingly made Hayden growl in frustration, “He wouldn’t abandon us like that. Hell, last week he was meeting with contractors about his condo and merging the units. You don’t do that if you are looking for a way out of a city J.J.”

There was a hum in his ear from his friend, “I am thinking of heading over…if nothing else Yuna should be there right? She would know?”

“I can meet you there in twenty.” Hayden said with a nod, “We gotta get to the bottom of this man. And if he’s spiraling - he shouldn’t be alone. We can spiral with him.”

Jackie shook her head and poked his cheek, “45. You have baked goods to take with you dork.”

“Sorry - 45 minutes. Jackie is making emotional support baked goods.” Hayden said, amusement in his voice for the first time in hours, “She has been stress baking for hours. Want to meet up here so we can head over together? And have a cookie?”

“Fuck yes. Don’t eat all the chocolate chip like last time, asshole.” J.J said with a deep sigh, “This might even be a two cookie night.”

Hayden just snorted, “Fuck you asshole - I am not making any promises.”

Shane’s (soon to be former) Apartment - Montreal

5 Hours Post Trade Deadline

Yuna Hollander hadn’t ever thought there would be a time that she would be helping Shane organize to move out of Montreal before he had retired. But here she stood in his home office surrounded by boxes with the email from the Boston Raiders front office on the laptop in front of her outlining their ‘hopeful’ schedule for tomorrow. They would be working with Shane on a work visa and had some suggestions for international moving options. There was a hotel lined up - which she knew her son. That wasn’t going to be viable long term.

Did she know her son though? She hadn’t been safe enough for him to tell her he was gay. She had to find out in a fucking conference room from assholes that had never deserved her son’s loyalty if this is how they had treated him. Tossing him to the side over this? Fuck them. She was about to start working on packing his files when the security system sent off an alert that there was movement by the front door.

“I got it!” She called as she headed for the front door. If it was the fucking press - Yuna had opinions for them staking out her son’s home. If it was any of the assholes that had broken his heart today - she was going to kill them slowly. If they had actually ordered the cookie delivery and not just discussed them - well that would be the best option if she was honest with herself.

When the knocks came, Yuna walked past Shane and David ‘workshopping’ how to fly with three bundles of hockey sticks, and made her way down to open it. Her answer to fucking hire a private plane because fuck the cost at this point had been met with eye rolls and assurances that they ‘had this’.

They didn’t ‘have this’/i> unless the ‘this’/i> in question was tap dancing on her last bit of sanity. With jazz hands.

However, when she opened the door to see two members of the Metro’s on her son’s doorstep? It was enough to make her want to scream. It wasn’t enough that the room turned on Shane for something he had no control over - but now they had the fucking balls to show up at his fucking home to do what exactly? Why the hell wasn’t the damned cookie delivery person? Why did it always have to be the worst case scenario today?

“Gentlemen.” Yuna didn’t move to let them inside, to embrace them, all she did was cross her arms over her chest and raise a brow at the two men who were holding baked goods like peace offerings. In her estimation - baked goods didn’t replace a job and trust. Even if one of these men was Hayden and Yuna loved Jackie’s baking. Even if she didn’t want to think that these two - the two that Shane had let in the most - had anything to do with today.

’Please fucking Christ - please not these two. He might not get over this…’

Hayden bit his lower lip and then frowned at her human barricade impersonation, “Hey, Yuna, is Shane here?”

He sounded (and looked) if he was asking if her son could come outside to play. Yuna watched as they both shifted their weight from foot to foot. Her heart wanted to soften - but she had seen her son get destroyed earlier and she didn’t feel overly soft to anyone in a Montreal Metro’s shirt at the moment. (She was also still dealing with the idea of having to wear a Boston jersey, today had been a fucking shit show for everyone in the Hollander household.)

“He’s here.” Yuna still didn’t move and her eyes narrowed at the two men, “Can I help you two with something?”

J.J. and Hayden shared a look and then Hayden spoke, “Yuna, we have no fucking clue what is going on here. All I know is that yesterday Shane was telling me about a call with a contractor about expanding this place, how he was going to come to something for Ruby at school, and now he’s moving to Boston.”

J.J. nodded, worry on his face as he jumped into the conversation, “He won’t answer our messages, the team group chat is silent, the WAGs chat is silent…all we want to do is talk to him and figure out what the hell happened.”

Her brow furrowed and a frown deepened, “What do you mean - we were told the room was very aware…”

Yuna heard footsteps behind her and then jumped a bit at Shane’s voice, “Mom, who’s at the door?”

Dark eyes ran over the two men in front of her and Yuna came to a decision in a moment, “Hayden and J.J. are here with baked goods…” There was the sound of feet on the steps and then a hand on her shoulder. Shane’s presence behind her was warm and solid.

“Hey guys.” His voice was guarded but not cold, “Come on in.”

Her son once again showed he was a better person than she was. She still wondered how mad Shane would be if she throat punched his two best friends as they skirted around her and into the apartment. If they crossed a line - any line - she would risk it and find out. She would use her left hand with her rings on it - Yuna Hollander had decided that she was fucking over this entire day.

Fuck anyone who had hurt her son today. Every single one…even if they showed up with baked goods.

There wasn’t a manual for what to do when everyone you trusted for almost a decade turned on you - so Shane pulled out beers from his fridge without asking and slid one to each of the two men he prayed were still his friends and then opened his own. Fuck the diet tonight. He would get back on track once he was in Boston. Maybe. Being in control and locked on it hadn’t kept him from being traded or good enough here. Maybe in Boston he would fucking eat a carb more than once a month and see if the world was still turning. But that was a worry for another day. Shane took a slow sip and then looked at the two people he genuinely loved like family and waited.

“Hey man…” Hayden started after a sip of his own, “So…today has been weird…”

J.J. snorted, “That’s how you are starting this?” He pinned Shane with his worried brown eyes, “Captaine…what the fuck?”

“And that is so much better, asshole.” Hayden muttered before taking another drink, eyes still on Shane, worry etched on his face.

The now-former Metros Captain shook his head, “I was called in for a meeting today due to some issues in the room. I thought that you two might know what is happening.” Shane watched as his friends exchanged genuinely confused looks and then Shane continued, “And I was basically told to waive the No Move Clause or be benched indefinitely. So I waived. And here we are.”

“Wait”, Hayden looked confused and pissed, “What do you mean ‘issues in the room’”, Hayden used air quotes as his frown grew stronger, “Unless it’s Gagnon getting the aux too much I don’t know what the fuck they are talking about…”

A part of Shane’s heart healed and a bit of hope came back to him. Maybe these two were still his guys. For now. But if he was going to know for sure - he was going to have to be honest with them and open up. He was going to have to tell them. He was going to have to risk losing them too. Be he had to fucking know. There really wasn’t any other way to do that. To really know. So Shane ran his hands over his face and then took a long pull of his beer.

“There were photos of me sent to ownership and coaching that were deemed to be too ‘distracting and divisive’ to the room. The players came together - “ His voice trailed off when he saw the anger on J.J.’s face, “What?”

“What players? There haven’t been any fucking meetings that I am aware of to have a player consensus on anything.” His accent was getting thicker and his Quebecois was showing, “Shane…Capitaine…what the fuck are you saying? What pictures…?”

Shane took a slow breath in and out and then spoke quickly, trying to get it all out before he chickened out, “Pictures of me with men…because I am gay.”

There was a beat of silence and then J.J. snorted and shook his head, “Right - you were with Rose Landry. But you are gay. Sure.”

“Rose who helped me figure that out. By literally spelling it out for me. The woman basically drew me a ‘you are here’ map of my sexuality. But yeah, I was with Rose for a lot of reasons. I am no longer with Rose for two reasons.” Shane said quietly, fiddling with his beer bottle and as he tried very hard to keep his eyes on his friends and not looking away.

 

There was a thick blanket of silence over the kitchen. Shane was VERY aware of his parents up in his home office ‘packing’ for him. Which he was also pretty sure that involved listening in like nosy dorks - and he adored them for that. He looked at Hayden and J.J. - making them both meet his gaze and then finally Hayden spoke.

“So, Boston Lily….?” his best friend said slowly, his own bottle seemed to be forgotten in his hand half way to his mouth, “Not actually a Lily…?”

Now was not the time to tell Hayden that ‘Lily’ was actually a 6’3 Russian asshole that chirped like he was being paid a bonus to do it. He might never get to tell Hayden that - but he could tell him something. Fuck Shane really wanted to tell him SOMETHING. And if he wasn’t storming out or making this awful? Shane wanted to be as honest as he could be. With his side of things if nothing else.

“Yeah…not a ‘Lily’.” Shane said with a slow nod, “More like a Luke.”

Hayden nodded slowly and then glared at Shane, “For the fucking record you idiot - I still don’t fucking care.” Then he flipped Shane off as he took a long drink of his beer, “Fucking asshole - what kind of man do you think I am?”

“And for the record - I also don’t fucking care.” J.J. said, who sounded both hurt and annoyed, “I would have liked to fucking know about this ‘Lily’.” His air quotes were a bit more dramatic than Hayden’s, “Plus, then I would have set you up with people that had a fucking chance…”

It was like someone had cut the strings holding Shane upright because he collapsed onto his island with a sigh that bordered on a whimper, “Fucking hell I needed to hear that today…” he turned his head to look at his friends, “I really needed to fucking hear that.”

“Wait - you mean that someone had actually fucking PICTURES of you and instead of coming to you they went to Coaches and Management?!” J.J. said, sounding pissed as what Shane had said originally started to fully sink in, “Who the hell does that in a room? We talk that shit out in the house before we let upper levels in…”

“According to the players that showed up today - the room did talk - and I am no longer who they want in the room let alone leading it.” Shane said quietly,his fingers picked at the label of his beer, “There were options and I picked the one with the best shot at the playoffs this year.”

There was another round of silence - somehow heavier than before - and then Hayden moved around and wrapped his arm around Shane’s shoulders, “Well, fuck all of them. You are my Captain. YOU are my friend. This changes nothing but that I am pissed as fuck at our room.”

There was a beat of silence and then J.J. came around the island and hugged Shane from the other side, “Seriously, I have fucking words for the room. And they will hear me.” Then he shook his head and held out his phone to take a selfie with both of them. The caption that went up on his Instagram minutes later meant more to Shane that he could really admit aloud.

‘Always my Capitaine - even in that other city. Always family.’

“I don’t suppose you guys want to help me pack some shit?” Shane said softly after a few beats, his voice a bit shakier than he would have liked. But it had been that kind of a day, “I have to go sign things tomorrow and - “ All he could do was shrug his shoulders and then take another long sip of his beer, “I don’t fucking know how to do this shit anymore…”

Hayden squeezed him harder, “Dude, how many times have you helped us move? I have mad packing tape skills.”

“Let me get a muffin and I am all yours.” J.J. said with his own grin, even though his eyes were sad and his arm still hadn’t moved from around Shane’s shoulders.

Shane blinked and for the first time eyed the baked goods that the other two men had brought with them, “Wait - did Jackie - ?“

“Stress bake for your ass? Yes. Eat a flapjack, grab us more beer and let's get this shit done.” J.J. said, as he slid the container across to Shane, “This does mean that you have to find a place to take us to dinner when we are in town. And introduce us to this ‘Luke’.” He did air quotes again and waggled his brows at Shane, “And for the fucking record - no more fucking secrets Capitaine.”

Hayden smirked and pointed at Shane with his beer, “YES, I want to meet Luke.”

Shane looked between both men, who were thankfully still his friends, and shook his head, “That is never happening.”

He pulled away from them and headed towards the stairs hearing his friends heading behind him heckling him about why they should get to meet Luke and what his type was and Shane’s heart started to feel like it might be able to keep beating a bit longer. Not that they were ever going to meet ‘Luke’. He wasn’t sure he would ever know how to tell them about Ilya. But that sure as fuck wasn’t an issue he was going to face tonight.

“NEVER. HAPPENING.” He called back over his shoulder, “Help me pack my clothes assholes. Thanks to the stylist there are fucking too many of them.”

“BUT SHANE…!!!!” Hayden called as he moved out of the kitchen to follow him, “NOT FAIR! You have met EVERYONE we have dated.”

“CAPITAINE!!” J.J. said and then rolled his eyes at Hayden, “You met Jackie, u-hauled your ass into her apartment and got married before she could catch her breath. You don’t fucking count.”

“NO.” Shane said firmly and flipped them both off, “Now help me find the fucking packing tape - it’s somewhere in my bedroom - I think. Maybe. Fuck - can I get packing tape delivered?”

Maybe he would survive this after all. Maybe. Because right now he had his best friends arguing about if packing tape was able to be delivered and if they were getting tape should they just get more beer… Shane leaned in the doorway of his bedroom and shook his head at them as they came up the stairs.

What the hell was he going to do without these two idiots?

Shane’s (soon to be former) Bedroom - Montreal

9 Hours Post Trade Deadline

His parents went to a hotel room. His friends had gone home. Once Shane was done with this call he was headed to Hayden’s to see Jackie and not look at the boxes and suitcases all over his condo. For the moment he was alone in his partially packed bedroom, trying to relax on his bed while he tried to smirk at the man on the other side of the FaceTime call. As the annoyed Russian glared back at him from a stairwell in a hotel.

“I couldn’t tell you anything. You found out when everyone found out.” Shane’s voice was filled with exhaustion and exasperation,”I am sorry. Again. Still.”

He wondered briefly if stairwells were the new closets for him and Ilya. But this didn’t seem like the time to ask the other man. It just seemed like a valid question for the amount of times they had called each other from them. They weren’t small men, so maybe stairwells were more logical than closets…

“YOU ARE COMING TO BOSTON.” Ilya looked into the camera with a with shock on his face, “How the hell are you coming to fucking Boston?!”

“Currently, my plan involves a private plane - so flight. Which was invented in Kitty Hawk -” Shane started, with a very serious look on his face. Even as he tried to not smile at the rollercoaster of emotions that was playing over Ilya’s face.

FINALLY someone else is reacting like he thought they might. FINALLY.

“Shane.” Ilya interrupted him as he glared into his phone camera, “Do not make me find a way to - what do you always threaten me with? Throttle? Throttle you.”

“Well, my options were narrowed down to you guys or several other teams that are years from a cup. I want a fucking cup Ilya.” Shane said with amusement in each syllable. His eyes ran over the face of the man he was crazy about some more. Crazy about and couldn’t tell him that. Especially not now, now when he was heading to Boston to join the team that this idiot was the Captain of. So instead he shrugged a shoulder, “But…full truth? Wasn’t my choice…”

Ilya frowned, every inch of his face showing his confusion, “No shit Shane. What the hell happened?”

Shane looked at him with a raised a brow, “There were room issues - “

There was a snort from Vancouver, “Fuck the PR bullshit asshole - what the hell happened. There wasn’t a ‘room issue’. You and I both know that fucking shit is lie.”

There was a pause as Shane tried to figure out what to tell Ilya. DId he fucking come clean? Why did he worry about this bullshit now? Boston had won in Vancouver, they had Calgary in two days and then the Raiders were heading back to Boston…and the Metro’s had signed agreements stating that the photos would stay private. The players had too - his mother had worked it into the agreement. Thank fuck for NDA’s and a mother that weilded them like a war hammer.

Public facing statements stated that the two teams were starting a re-tool and people would buy into it because it made sense. Kind of. If you squinted and turned your head to the left a bit and hummed ‘What the Fuck’ to yourself. But still…it was a cover. It would work.

But this was Ilya Rozanov. He was part of this - even if Shane was the only one that knew that. Was the only one that COULD know that. At least for the foreseeable future. He rolled his shoulders and fingers went through his hair and tugged on it a bit harder than necessary, “There were pictures that made their way to management and the coaching staff.”

“Of what? Of you organizing your stick tape?” Ilya asked as he rolled his eyes, and then his brows went up when Shane stayed silent and his eyes went to the side instead of looking into Ilya’s, “Shane…what pictures?”

This was about to either get to be really fucking messy or it wasn’t - like with most things when Ilya was involved there was very little gray area, “I was out a few times and there were…moments of indiscretion with some men that were caught without my knowledge.”

Blue eyes blinked at him as the other man internalized the words and processed the meanings. Shane knew the moment that Ilya figured out what he had said. There was a sharp intake of breath and a flare of surprise with his eyes.

“Shane Hollander, did you have sex without me?” The smirk on Ilya’s lips was devious, but his eyes? Those were a mix of emotions - and for the first time in a long damn time - Shane wasn’t sure he could read all of those emotions right. So it was a mess - which made sense. There was very little with Ilya Rozanov at times that wasn’t a fucking mess.

“Yes and my teammates got the fucking proof and took it over my head. So now I am going to move to Boston and start over it seems.” Shane said dryly, “I am just tired Ilya. It’s been a fucking day from hell and I am so fucking tired.”

There was a moment of mutual silence, “Who were the guys Shane?” Ilya spoke in a low voice that had an edge to it that Shane wasn’t all that familiar with off the ice or work related bullshit. It was a frustrated tone that normally came out when there wasn’t a Russian translator when there should have been or a game wasn’t going his way. There was something else in there too and he couldn’t figure out what it was. But the dark haired man was tired and his brain was so done for the day. He would figure out Ilya's bullshit tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.

“Not you. Your name is so fucking out of it. I will say though - J.J. and Hayden weren’t part of the take over of the room. Thank fucking hell. They want to meet Lily - whom they now call Luke by the way - when they come to Boston.” Shane rolled his eyes, “I already told them to fuck off.”

“Why would I want to meet Montreal’s 18th best defenseman and 13th best forward?” Ilya said with a sniff of annoyance and then he sighed heavily, “Shane, who were the fucking team members turned on you? I knew it was not Hayden - he’s not that dumb.”

“That makes two of us Ilya. Also - where the fuck do I look for a condo in Boston that isn’t going to make my eye twitch? I can't go to the hotel long term.” Shane ran his fingers through his hair and groaned, “And grocery shopping and running paths and - “

“Who is your person in the office?” Ilya said calmly, clearly taking the diversion in conversation for what it was - an out for both of them, “Everything is fixable and is fine, Shane.”

“I don’t like change.” was the muttered response, it was all Shane had in him to give in the moment and he still felt like a petulant child saying that.

There was a snort of laughter as Ilya leaned back in the stairwell he was sitting in the hotel, "I am so surprised Shane. I thought you were madman filled with wild choices.”

“I am going to kill you in your sleep.” Shane growled and flipped him off, “Slowly and with glee.”

Ilya gave him an unimpressed look, “They will help you. The team will help you. It’s going to be okay…” Ilya said slowly, breathing in and out slowly, “Keep breathing with me.”

Shane just met his gaze and tried to match his breaths, “This just so fucking messy Ilya.”

“In other hand - easier to fuck now.” Ilya leered at him, still breathing slowly and watching as Shane did the same, “So that is nice.”

“Fuck you so damn hard.” Shane said, his eyes soft, “I wish you were here or I was there. This would suck less then I think.”

“I am out of town but once I am back since you are now conveniently in my town…” Ilya said with a small, genuine smile, “I will see about showing you all the good sucking and none of the bad.”

“Our town now.” Shane shot back as he blushed, “That’s not what I meant you menace.”

Ily froze and a slow grin spread across his face as something seemed to finally occur to him, “Hollander…the Power Play…fuck it could make people CRY…”

Shane glared at him, “I am so glad me being outed against my will to my team, learning they don’t want me and kicking me out of the room is good for sex and the Power Play.”

The Four Seasons Vancouver - 17th Floor Stairwell

10 Hours Post Trade Deadline

Ilya was going to kill people. So many people. Especially doing this shit when Shane only had time and space to fucking spiral. Was Shane coming to Boston a shock? Yes. Was the fact that Montreal was giving up their Captain unheard of? Hell yes. But this…it might be good. It might be everything. It might…

’There are pictures of him with guys. Guys that aren’t me. Pictures that were enough to get Shane Hollander traded from Montreal. A team that had decided an 18 year old didn’t really need support but should be able to put a team on his back and rebuild it alone. Shane had fucked guys that weren’t him.

Fuck he wanted to be in fucking Boston right now and not in Vancouver getting ready to play a game and then fly to fucking Calgary to play the Stockmen. But he couldn’t be frustrated right now. He had to be calm. He had to be flirty and teasing to get Shane out of his fucking head. He would deal with his shit later. When he had Hollander breathing again and not spiraling. Fuck being in Boston. He wanted to be in Montreal.

Ilya wanted to know more about the guys from the photos. He wanted to know who he was killing on the Metros. He never wanted to hear about the men in the pictures again. Which he knew was hypocritical - he KNEW it. But fuck - why did the idea of there being pictures of Shane with men who weren’t HIM hit the same way that knowledge there were pictures of Shane and Rose Landry out there had?

Now wasn’t the time to think about that though. He could do that later. Later, he would plan how to kill fucking Montreal. Kicking their CAPTAIN out for liking dick? It wasn’t something he had to say was shocking - but it was SHANE HOLLANDER. If he couldn’t hold his room?

“Go to Boston. Have Dunkin’s, sign papers, and get a better jersey. Once team is back - we work on everything else. One step at a time.” Ilya looked at Shane through the screen, again he felt the need to be in Montreal and not in this fucking stairwell, “I have to go get sleep so I can be great at morning skate tomorrow. Then Marly can drag me to ridiculous places before the game.”

Shane nodded slowly, and looked a little less rattled - which Ilya would take as a win, “Okay. One step at a time. I can do that. I think.”

“I will call after we land tomorrow. Then I will text when we are in town and I come to you.” Ilya shook his head when he saw Shane start to object, “I come to you. We work on this fucking mess.”

Shane, cheeks flushed, said, “Yeah…okay.”

Ilya nodded and winked at the man who was causing him to feel and think things he had no business feeling or thinking. Fucking Hollander, “See, it’s easier when you just agree.”

“Fuck yourself Rozanov.” was the tired response that was followed by a yawn, “Okay, go get some sleep. I am going to head to Hayden and Jackie’s to see her before I fly out tomorrow morning.”

“Mhmm…” Ilya winked just to make Shane laugh and it worked, “Say hello to Mrs. Pike from Luke.”

Sleep, win, plot demise of an original six MLH team and get Shane Hollander out of his head. At some point deal with the fact that there was proof Shane Hollander liked dick in photographic form. Photos that had him with men that weren’t Ilya Rozanov. An easy enough to-do list for him anyway, “Go to sleep Shane. Tomorrow we both have shit to conquer.”

Jackie Pike will never forget the first time she met Shane Hollander - like really met him. A game had been snowed out and Hayden had brought the awkward rookie home that he had been worried about. He had shown up with store bought brownies and a shy smile and she had just adopted him into the chaos of their lives. It was like he had always been part of the chaos. He had been there when her postpartum depression with the twins had come back and just taken over. He had been there when Arthur was born, with food and a maid service to keep the house clean so all she had to do was fucking deal with Arthur and all Hayden had to deal with was the twins.

Then Montreal had to go and fucking send one of her boys away. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew that there was always a chance of this. That it was a business and it was a possibility. But he was SHANE HOLLANDER and her husband was his favorite winger. There had been security in that. There had been peace of mind in that.

She hadn’t known that last Sunday had been the last time she would play Candyland with him and the twins while Hayden put Arthur down for a nap. How was she supposed to tell her kids that Uncle Shane wasn’t going to be a ten minute car ride away? Her quiet gaze watched as Hayden gently bullied Shane into eating some spicy tofu thing he had concocted and then she got up from her spot at the island and made her way over to get her own bowl.

Then she leaned into Shane’s side and felt his arm wrap around her, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Ah but the issue is the MLH gives no fucks Jacks.” Shane said with a sad laugh, “But in other news - we did find out that we can get packing tape delivered. So there’s that.”

She snorted, “Of course you all didn’t know that.” Jackie let the quiet settle other than the sounds of silverware against bowls and then she asked, “Why Shane?”

He set the bowl down and she felt him sigh, “Oh Jackie, I…” he ran a hand over his face, “Why the hell not. What’s one more person today right?”

Jackie Pike, who loved Shane Hollander like he was her family, turned and glared at him, “I have to know - did you kill someone? Was it Drapeau? Oooh - was it that fucking rookie that keeps stealing your stick tape?”

Shane laughed and shook his head, “Oh fuck Jacks, I did not kill anyone. If I had, I would have reached out to you first. You would be the best one to help me hide the body.”

“Damn fucking right. So…” She speared another bite of tofu into her mouth and raised a brow at him “What the fuck happened?”

“I got caught having some Illicit moments that some of the team weren't fans of. It was easier to move me.” Shane said and then froze, “Fuck that sounds worse than it was…” He took another deep breath, “I was getting a blow job from a relatively hot man in an alley, someone recorded it with sound and showed it to management.”

Jackie blinked at Shane. Then looked at her husband and then back at Shane, “So, you let me keep setting you up with my friends when they never had a chance? Seriously Hollander?”

Shane shook his head, “I didn’t mean - I didn’t know what else to…”

She set her food down and wrapped her arms around him and burrowed in closer, “You are a very stupid hockey playing idiot if you think I fucking care.” Her voice was muffled by his hoodie and then she pulled back, “What about Boston Lily?!”

Hayden piped up, “Turns out it’s Boston Luke and he says we can’t ever meet him.”

Jackie poked Shane in the chest, “Shane Hollander, so fucking help me - I am meeting this man.”

“I can’t tell you how that is never going to happen.” Shane said with an almost sad smile, “But I am sorry Jackie. I don’t want to have to leave you guys…and my god kids….and….I am so sorry.”

Jackie Pike, the woman who had been there for this man’s entire career. She had seen him furious in defeat and ecstatic in victory. He had held her babies. He had held her. He had built furniture and taken the twins out on jet skis and …

She just hugged him tighter, “There isn’t a fucking thing you have to be sorry for. We just have even more of a reason to come to away games now. You aren’t getting rid of us, you moron. We are fucking family.”

Shane was quiet, “Um, Jackie….I think you owe the swear jar…”

Hayden burst out laughing for the first time in hours, “She really fucking does…”

“One time Hayd…”

What the hell were they going to do with Shane in fucking Boston?

Chapter End Notes

I do have a playlist for this: Spotify Playlist !

I am always open to song suggestions as well.

I am looking forward to this journey with you all!

Chapter 4: Welcome to Boston, Mr. Hollander

Chapter Summary

So when you arrive in the city that is going to be your fresh start - but it's one that you never saw coming - what are you supposed to do now?

So the fresh start is starting - the one familiar face that he would normally be looking for is still not in his line of sight - and for the first time in years? Shane Hollander takes a breath.

Chapter Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

I do have a chunk of this pre-written - but I am not committing to a posting schedule - but I do have it outlined. So, winning?

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

Everyone say ‘THANK YOU JEN’ as this chapter is again Beta'd - including another round while she was getting her hair done.

UPDATED: The social media posts have been corrected/updated

Boston Raiders Offices

Boston, MA

Out of everything that Wyatt Hayes had been thinking the year would hold for him - being traded to Boston was not on the list. It had been a short list if he was honest with himself. Using his connections to the Toronto team to get passes to the new Galaxies Edge movie had been on the list. Taking Lisa on a trip in the off season. Trying to get more ice time (like that would have been a fucking option). But he had literally been building a LEGO pirate ship while listening to an audiobook when his agent had called.

‘Boston is wanting to move in the direction of an actual tandem and think you are a good fit. Guaranteed ice time and they aren’t on your ‘never in this lifetime’ list of teams. There is also the option of them signing an extension if they make the playoffs with you this season.’

Boston worked for him. It worked for Lisa - his ER doctor wife would have options here in a transfer - and in the end everything worked out. He was on a plane within 10 hours to Boston to meet with management and sign paperwork. He had used that time to get with his mask artist to order two new helmets. He was a goalie that needed a home and away helmet. It bothered him to use the same one unless he had to - and even then it irked him. All in all it seemed to be moving in the direction of being a very smooth transition to his life.

Having to explain to Lisa that he didn’t really know Shane Hollander - he knew of him. Wyatt had heard amazing things. That he was supportive. That he didn’t really drop the gloves, but he had heard him cut a man off at the knees with his words when one of his rookies was harassed on the ice. But the idea that he had been traded at the same time as Shane Hollander to the same team was WILD. That Shane Hollander had been TRADED was wild. There really wasn’t a medical staffing equivalent that he could think of to help her understand.

Along with his shock over being traded - he hadn’t anticipated was walking in to the offices and seeing Shane fucking Hollander sitting in one of the chairs flipping through paperwork. Wyatt took a seat across from him and wasn’t embarrassed to say that he was still a bit mind blown. He had played in Canada. He had played Montreal. The fact that the unholy terror on the ice that was Shane Hollander was sitting in the Boston Raider’s front office with him was breaking his brain a bit.

Dallas Kent would tell you he was nipping at Hollander’s heels - but that fucking asshat would never get there. You had to have a brain in order to be a player like the one across the coffee table from him. Shane looked up and shot him a tired grin.

“You must be Wyatt Hayes right?” He held out his hand, “Shane Hollander, pleasure to meet you.”

Wyatt grinned and laughed, “Dude, I don’t know how to tell you this? But people know who you are.” He shook the offered hand firmly, “Guess we get to be newbies together.”

“Good, I hate being the only guy that doesn't know where stuff is.” Shane said with a small grin, then he tilted his head, “Toronto traded you? Seriously? Their fucking loss man.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes, “I haven’t been a starter, you don’t have to - “

“I haven’t been able to get a shot past you in the five hole in my career - there aren’t a lot of goalies that can say that.” Shane interrupted him, “If they didn’t know what they had - well - fuck them.”

Wyatt felt his grin grow - and a faint flush to his cheeks, “Aw shucks there Mr. Hollander…”

“Oh fuck you.” Shane said with a slightly bigger grin, “Maybe we can do a joint revenge tour for the rest of the season and into the post.” Then he reached over and knocked on the wooden table separating them at the same time Wyatt did.

Wyatt hadn’t seen post season play in Toronto, they were finally really sniffing at it this season. But Hollander - and Boston - were used to it now. It was a given. And wouldn’t that be nice - to be on a team where there was more expectation. And where he was part of that expectation.

“I have to say man - I didn’t think I would be sitting across from you. I thought you would have to be pried out of Montreal’s cold, dead hands.” Wyatt said, curiosity in his voice. It was the million dollar question that every person that had a concept of hockey - and every person currently in the MLH - was asking themselves.

Shane’s smile went tight and he seemed to retreat into himself a bit and Wyatt wanted to kick himself, “Retool choices had to be made - the ten year plan is recalculating a bit and here I am.” He did jazz hands and almost dropped his pen and his passport, “Oh fuck…”

Wyatt had to laugh, “I get it - just surprised is all.” He paused, “It works out for me after all. Now I have someone to be new with. Explore the city and whatever the fuck. Glad you are here man.”

The other man nodded and shot him a small grin, “Glad to know I am entertaining someone other than Cynthia.” He jerked a thumb towards the amused receptionist, “I do love you and your access to the copier Cynthia.”

“I am here to help you Mr. Hollander.” the woman said with a shake of her head and amusement in her voice, and then her green eyes landed on Wyatt, “And I have let them know that you are here as well Mr. Hayes.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Wyatt said, blushing a bit again, “Sorry I forgot to check in.”

Before she could say anything else, a tiny woman with dark brown hair and amber eyes stepped into view - he hadn’t been aware that it was possible to be scared of a woman in a jeans and a hoodie, but this woman was slightly terrifying in how she looked them both over, and Wyatt was pretty sure she found them both lacking in something.

“Ah, good you are both here. Come with me.” Her hand reached for them as they made their way over to her, “Gloria Saxon. I am your team liaison while we get you both settled.”

Wyatt shook her hand and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

“I look forward to working with you.” Shane said with a very polite smile and what seemed like a firm handshake.

Gloria looked them both over again and nodded, “Good, now come with me and we can discuss hotels, housing and talk transportation. Then we can meet with Gemma who will be helping you with PR and Bert who is sourcing your gear.”

They followed her like ducklings and Wyatt couldn’t help but feel like maybe - for the first time in years he was finally getting things back on the right track. If nothing else - Gloria seemed to have a plan and a list. His gut was telling him that Gloria with a list and a plan was just what he needed. A look out of the corner of his eye at Hollander and thought maybe - just maybe - he was feeling the same way.

Boston Raiders Locker Room - Day Two

Boston, MA

Shane Hollander hadn’t survived this long as Yuna Hollander’s son without a healthy respect for a brilliant woman who could and would kill him. Gloria was that woman and he had a healthy and fearful respect for her and the paperwork she had for them to complete. That didn’t even touch the PR campaign that Gemma and Gloria had planned for them to announce their new status as Raiders to the world. They were amazingly brilliant women with clipboards and a plan. Shane knew his job was to stand there and do what he was told. So far it was working for him.

Even though he was pretty sure the MLH announcement online had already broken parts of the internet when the world realized he would be on the same team as his ‘greatest rival’. Evidently, Montreal PR had also sent a passive aggressive nasty email to his mother about his ‘good bye’ post not being approved by them for language. The amount of fucks he didn’t give about Marcel’s thoughts on his language… Well, the field was scorched, barren and salted. Shane Hollander didn’t foresee any fucks coming for awhile.

Everyone was more focused on the fact that he and Ilya - his ‘greatest rival’ - were on the same team. Shane didn’t know how to tell them that this ’Greatest Rival’ of his was currently in a mood because Cliff Marleau had lost his stick tape and was blowing up their WhatsApp chat with his bitching. But that was the equipment manager's problem in Calgary. Shane was currently standing in front of a locker with his new sweater hanging there, a very stark sign that he wasn’t in Montreal anymore. Like he needed more reminders.

”Okay Shane, can we get you to put on the jersey for some shots?” The photographer said with a grin over his shoulder. Like this entire event wasn’t the easiest and hardest thing he had ever fucking done. Like it didn’t feel WRONG to put on colors that weren’t either Montreal or Canadian colors.

Over the years he had worn a lot of sweaters. But when he had been drafted to Montreal - the plan he had been sold on - he had thought that would be the last official team sweater he would wear. That had been the fucking plan. Now he was in Boston and about to put on a Raiders sweater with his name and number on it. Then get his picture taken in it. Because this was his life now. The life he fucking chose in a conference room in fucking Montreal. He could do this. People did this all the damn time. It would be fine. Absolutely fine.

“Sure.” He pulled the black, red and yellow jersey off of the hanger, “Hey Gloria…Gemma?? Do you care if I leave the hoodie on under the sweater?”

Gemma looked up at him and nodded, “It’s fine. We’ll get some of you in full pads during the media shots tomorrow.”

There was a snort of laughter behind him and Shane found himself turning to shoot a glare behind him at Wyatt Hayes, “Listen here asshole - some of us have feelings about this sweater.”

Wyatt, his curls messed up from his own sweater reveal, was grinning at him from another stall, “No, really? Are there feelings between Montreal and Boston? First I have heard of it. Maybe the teams should advertise it more.”

Gloria chuckled and shook her head, “I will work on that Mr. Hayes.”

”I am just here to help.” Wyatt said with a big grin and Shane flipped him off with a grin and without thinking. Which made the goalie grin even wider at him.

Shane, between shots from the camera, flipped Wyatt off again, “I am going to tell your wife that you liked an apartment without a dishwasher on Zillow.”

He had gotten to meet Lisa Hayes this morning - she had flown in to apartment hunt and look around the city a bit with Wyatt. Be supportive. All the things a partner was supposed to do. Shane thought it was nice - he would have liked to have that. But his - whatever the fuck Ilya was to him - was currently in Calgary getting ready to play a game. While bitching about stick tape theft. But Lisa was great - she kinda reminded him of Jackie Pike. She was snarky, funny and just seemed to accept the fact that her husband had adopted Shane. Which is weird enough to have happened once - but now it had happened twice.

”Listen here - that’s just mean. Why did no one tell me Shane Hollander is mean?” Wyatt muttered as he stuck his tongue out at Shane, “BUT speaking of Lisa, she has a ‘conversation’ today with someone from Boston General. So you and I are having lunch solo today.”

Shane looked around, his face the picture of innocence, “I don’t know about this mean thing - anyone else ever heard that? I hear Shane Hollander is a delightfully polite man who has never done anything mean in his life.”

”Oh I call fucking bullshit - you shot a fucking puck in the three hole on me in my one start two years ago and took a win from me like an asshole.” Wyatt said with a shake of his head, “I will say the nice thing about this gig is you and Rozanov won’t be shooting AT me anymore. I like that part.”

Gloria shook her head, “Alright you two - lets get some shots with you signing your contracts with management. Then I can introduce you to Sophia, who will get you your schedules until the team comes back in a few days and the real schedule kicks into place.”

There was a pause in the room as Shane and Wyatt locked eyes and then Shane turned to Gloria with a very charming - he hoped - smile, “What do you mean our ‘schedule’?”

”Just some interviews, some photo ops, some time with the media team so we can get the promo videos and shots taken.” Gloria said, her eyes scanning over her checklist, “Oh and a meeting with the social media team - “

The groan that escaped Shane was louder than he intended, “What if - and hear me out here - I just pretended social media didn’t exist here too…”

Gemma rolled her eyes, “Shane, I am saying this to you with my entire chest, we as a team interact with fans more than Montreal. We have active players and you are a very large name in a very large market…”

”I posted about my contractual things - “ Shane started and then glared at Wyatt, who was laughing, “And I suppose you think this is all hilarious? I am not that interesting on a day to day basis. I promise you the fans really aren’t all that interested.”

”Hollander, I am going to side with Gloria here. It’s not the end of life as you know it. I promise you.” He ran his fingers through his curls and Shane glared at him harder, “I will help you. It’ll be fun. I will host my own little social media clinic for you. I will make sure you have so much fun.”

”See? You have a friend who will help you. But it’s going to be okay, Shane.” Gemma patted him on the bicep on her way past him and he tried to ignore the amusement on Gloria’s face, “This way gentlemen.”

Wyatt slung an arm around Shane’s shoulders as they made their way after the PR liason, “We will start with baby steps, have you heard of his new app called Instagram? Or one called ‘Twitter’? It has a little blue bird as the icon…”

“I hate you so much.” Shane said with a sigh that felt like it came from the bottom of his soul. Maybe it genuinely had, “I know what social media is - but why the fuck does anyone care about-” He froze mid sentence and blinked at the confused looks on both Wyatt and Gloria’s faces, “What? I am just one dude on a team of dudes. I am not that special here guys. Or - like I keep telling everyone - all that interesting…”

Gloria, with her hands firmly on her hips and eyes narrowed once again reminded Shane that he was right to be slightly terrified of this woman, “Shane Hollander - what the hell are you talking about. You are one of the faces of the league - of course people care. It’s about connecting with people and letting them see more than just hockey. It’s helping to grow the game.”

Wyatt, for his part, was just confused. What the fucking hell had been in the water up in Montreal? ‘Just one of the dudes’?! He had been the second overall draft pick in one of the tightest and most contested drafts in decades. He was one the most well liked ‘dudes’ in the league and that was inspite of no one knowing a fucking thing really about him outside of the hockey. If they got to know him? Even the little bit that Wyatt had gotten to see over the last 48 hours? Fucking hell…

“Okay - that was a lot of nonsense that just came out of your mouth.” Wyatt said with a shake of his head, “But we can’t unpack all of that right now. But rest assured Gloria, between myself, my wife and I am sure some other team members? We will get him sorted.”

Shane wasn’t sure why he was suddenly very sure that he really wasn’t in Montreal anymore - but he really did. He really didn’t understand though - genuinely - what the fuck was going on. In Montreal it had been pounded into his head that it was all about MONTREAL. The TEAM. The UNIT. Even his accolades - Rookie of the Year, MVP, Scoring Leader - were all brought back to the TEAM. Never because he was just fucking good at hockey.

Where the hell was he that they wanted more of HIM? What did that even mean?

Four Seasons Hotel Boston

Penthouse 2

Boston, MA

Lisa Hayes had had a lot of opinions and thoughts about who Shane Hollander might be. But the card shark that was currently kicking her ass in Bullshit while her husband was placing an Uber Eats order in a hotel suite didn’t quite match up to what that mental image had been. She rested her chin on her palm as she studied the man across from her and raised a brow.

“So, Mr. Hollander, what are you looking for tomorrow when we hit the streets of Boston?” She had flown in to do some house hunting with Wyatt and he had let it slip that Shane was joining them. Evidently neither of them did well long term in hotels - which she understood. Traveling as much as they did - it was nice to come home from a road trip and just EXIST in your own space.

“Well, I would like there to be walls and a dishwasher.” Shane said, “And three sixes.” He put the cards down.

“Two sevens,” Wyatt said, tossing the cards onto the pile, “How much naan bread do we think we can shove into our faces before the team nutritionist yells at us?”

“I mean…” Shane looked up at him, “If I wasn’t on the meal plan I am on - “

Wyatt waved a hand in the air interrupting him, “We just got traded before the playoffs and pretty soon we are going to have to be on a team with Ilya Rozanov and not kill him. We are eating fucking naan bread.”

Lisa made a mental note of the battle that seemed to flash over Shane’s face several times before he forced out a slow breath, “Do they have a spicy garlic version? Because a lot then.”

“Fuck yes.” Wyatt said and went back to the app on his phone, “I got you man.”

Lisa just shook her head at her husband’s antics, “If you don’t order me samosas…”

“I married you - I know what you want, baby.” Wyatt said with an exaggerated wink in her direction.

“Suuure you do.” She shot back and grinned when Shane laughed at their antics. She met Wyatt’s eyes over the table and winked at him when he blew her a kiss. Then her eyes went back to Shane and Lisa picked up her drink and took a slow sip, “Okay, so now that my food is sorted, lets focus on you, Shane Hollander.”

“Or…we could not.” Shane said with a very innocent look on his face, “I am not that interesting. Promise.”

Wyatt had told her that Shane Hollander seemed to have no concept that he was Shane Hollander. Wyatt was unable to turn off the whole ‘I am Goalie, I see things’ part of him. So when he had texted her that Shane Hollander was going to need friends - she had thrown some card games into her carry on and reset her brain a bit.

She was used to Toronto - where if you weren’t a starter or made a certain contract term - you didn’t fucking matter to anyone. As the back up goalie’s wife - she hadn’t been wildly popular in the ‘WAG’ chats. So she had been ready for Wyatt to be reading more into Shane Hollander than was actually there. Not that she doubted him. But wanting a friend on a team could make you see things sometimes.

But Shane had been the one driving the rental car when they had picked her up from the airport. He had loaded her luggage while she had been hugged by Wyatt and just shook his head.

‘Hey, I’m Shane - i have heard a lot about you.’

Maybe she was just used to Toronto and assholes like Dallas Kent and Troy Barrett that made themselves massive in every room. But Shane seemed to actively make himself smaller. He seemed to stop himself from saying things and just quietly exist in whatever space there was. Which was fine if that is what genuinely brought him joy - but every time Wyatt reached out and brought him into the conversation…or teased him…or anything?

It was like a light went on in his eyes - ’Oh you see me…I can exist a bit more now…cool’.

They were going to need to work on this. Wyatt was right - Shane Hollander had no idea who he was - and Lisa Hayes was going to blame Montreal. Because really right now - FUCK Canadian hockey teams and their bullshit. New team. New start.

“Why would I do that when I can pester you? I know all about Wyatt. You - you are new…” Lisa said with a small shrug of her shoulders, “It’s going to be fun. You’ll see.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god save me…you really are another Jackie Pike.” He froze and then gave her a warm grin, “Trust me - it’s a compliment.”

Lisa batted her eyes at him, while she filed the name away in her mind, “Alrighty - then let’s do this…”

Calgary Stockmen Practice Facility

Calgary, Ontario

If there was something that Ilya would lay claim to - he was an asshole on the ice when it suited him. It suited him often - his reputation as a pest on the ice was one that was well deserved. But generally speaking, his own team was safe from his antics. At least to a certain degree. Today however was a slightly different kind of day. Shane was in fucking Boston, a fully signed member of the fucking Boston Raiders and Ilya was wrapping his head around that fact badly.

It had been nine fucking years of only seeing that asshole maybe three to four times a year - not counting post season - to now seeing him daily. Or it would be daily once he was back in Boston. Where Shane was. And Ilya was not. Where - if the new goalie’s social media was to be believed - exploring HIS city without him. Because that was really fucking fair.

The freckles, the way his nose scrunched when he was laughing, his LAUGH, and fifty million other things. So pardon his fucking finest pardon if his brain was misfiring a bit. Because he hadn’t had to think about Shane Hollander naked in his locker room until this fucking morning. It had been FUN in Tampa. There hadn’t been consequences in Tampa. People who played with him regularly and actually knew him weren’t in Tampa. It hadn’t hit him completely until this morning, getting ready for the morning skate, that the next time they did this that Shane would be one of the idiots in the room.

He was so screwed - and maybe not in a fun way.

“Come on Rozanov, let the rookie off the fucking boards…” Marleau said skating up to them with a chuckle, “Don’t be this much of a dick.”

Hiller glared at Cliff, “I could have gotten free!”

Cliff snorted and shook his head, “Sorry rook, but you really aren’t getting out any time soon.” He shot Ilya a look with a dark brow raised, “We were running Penalty Kill - not ‘squish the rooks’.”

Ilya pasted on an innocent face, “But he’s so squishable Marly….”

Hiller glared at his Captain, cheeks flushed, and then shifted his skates as he shoved Ilya hard enough he moved. Granted he hadn’t been paying attention but it was still a good play and Ilya watched the 19 year old skate off with the puck.

“See what you did Marly! Now Hillsy has the puck.” Ilya gave his winger a pouty look, trying to distract him from the fact that he was literally being a menace because his brain was in Boston and they had a game here in Calgary. Which, spoiler alert, was decidedly NOT Boston.

’But SHANE IS IN FUCKING BOSTON.’

There was a shrill whistle through the air and Desjourneys waved everyone into the center ice - which was odd since there was still time to work. But Ilya’s head wasn’t really in the Penalty Kill; he really didn’t give a fuck. He and Marly made their way to the circle of their teammates, shoving at each other a bit. Victor St. Simon, the asshole second line winger, came over and draped himself over Ilya’s shoulders. Once everyone was assembled Desjourneys moved to the middle of the circle and looked around at everyone with a small smirk.

“Other than our captain forgetting that he isn’t supposed to be checking his own left d-man during the Kill, that was good.” He raised a brow at Ilya, who just aimed the same innocent face that he had aimed at his friend moments before. It only earned him a deep sigh from his Head Coach - but he would take it.

“When the press is in the room today they are going to be asking about Hollander and Hayes. They both signed officially yesterday and the announcement hit the accounts this morning."He held up a hand when the chatter started to get too much, “Hey now - I know we are all excited. But when you are asked you are going to follow the media training and keep it simple. Otherwise, Gloria will be meeting us at the airport. None of us want Gloria meeting us at the airport.”

He pinned Ilya with a Look that frankly he didn’t feel like he had earned. Ilya was FINE with Shane Hollander showing up in Boston. He was fine with seeing him in his colors. In his locker room. Invading every fucking part of his life. It wasn’t like he had been trying to end things with the impossibly persistent asshole from Montreal by way of Ottawa. He was FINE with everything.

“Yes everyone - our team just got a bit more boring. Keep that in mind.” Ilya said with a very serious look on his face, “Keep that in mind, yes?”

“Thank you to our Captain for a demonstration of what NOT to say.” Desjourneys said with exasperation in his voice, “Hayes and Hollander will be joining us once we are back in Boston.”

Back in Boston. Less than 48 hours and he would be in the same city as the menace that was Shane Hollander.

Ilya wasn’t sure what the fuck he had done to deserve this and if it was a punishment or a reward.

45 minutes later he opened his phone after reassuring several reporters that he was very excited to get to the Post Season and with the way that the office was handling getting them set up for the playoffs - all without calling out Shane by name. He opened his phone to see a fucking Instagram post from Shane.

Captioned ‘Is this thing on?’ and a post that was clearly in fucking Boston, followed by a post that was in his practice facility. In his city. His respite from fucking Moscow and from having to deal with whatever the hell was going on with Shane. Now that was where Shane was. With Wyatt Hayes. Waiting for him. Waiting for the team.

He opened WhatsApp and shot ‘Jane’ a message - he was just welcoming a new team member. He was a good captain. He was - so fucking screwed…

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

He had spent the day with Wyatt and Lisa Hayes touring apartments and houses. He had spent time with the PR team for the Raiders. He had set foot on Boston ice for the first time as a Raider and not a visitor… Something had started to percolate in the back of Shane’s mind. At some point he was going to piss off Montreal to the point where the NDA’s didn’t matter. Where they were going to try and bring him down.

It had hit him when he had been laughing on the ice with one of the PR interns - and he realized he didn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that when he was at ‘work’. He had on the ice with Hayden and J.J. - but usually that was during warm ups before practice or when they were skating with the kids. He had with Ilya - for various shoots, promos and most recently All Stars in Tampa Bay.

He had done something stupid and just laughed at himself - because he was at times an idiot on skates. But if he wanted to keep moving forward - and now that people knew about him - he had to plan for that. He hadn’t been lying to Rose. He didn’t know any gay hockey players - he was sure they existed (outside of him and Ilya) - but he couldn’t call one up and ask how they did it.

But he did know someone that was gay and in the public eye. Someone that was gay, knew gay people that existed but were in the closet. Shane had a person that might be able to help him. Who had helped him a little bit…with his stylist. So he might be willing to help him again.

Shane sat on the couch, alone in his hotel suite and stared at his phone screen. It shouldn’t be this hard. He fucking knew Miles Kirkland. He had eaten and drank with him. He had gotten Shane in touch with Bella Watts, his new stylist. Miles was solid. Miles was an out man but - according to Rose - could keep a fucking secret. Miles knew closeted men. It would be easy to follow him back on Instagram and…

‘And what Shane? Tell him you are gay, think you are in too fucking deep with your fucking rival and see what he says?’

The account ‘Miles Kirkland’ with his smirking face as the icon looked up at him. The grid was pictures of his life. With Rose. With the other members of their friend group. And there were a few of Shane in that mix. Some brunch place in Montreal that Rose had talked him into after a back to back. The nights at Ciel…

Shane took a deep breath and clicked ‘Follow Back’ before he could talk himself out of it, then blinked when in the ‘Message’ part of the app there was a little green dot that signalled Miles was actively online. He tossed the phone onto the couch like it had burned him.

‘SHIT.’

He jumped when his phone started to ring next to him on the cushion with ‘Miles’ showing on the screen. He picked it up cautiously and stared at the screen, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his thumb hovered over the green ‘answer’ button. Before he could talk himself out of his actions - again - he answered the call.

“Hey Miles…” Shane said, thrilled that his voice almost sounded normal.

There was a chuckle over the line, “Hey yourself, Hockey Boy. I didn’t think you would ever follow me back. Just the pick me up I needed after a long night of crashing into trees and fighting for justice and the human race.”

Shane grinned despite himself, “Well, on behalf of the human race - thanks.”

“Anytime.” There was a pause and then, “So, what brings you to me on this day in particular? Not that I am complaining mind you.”

“Maybe I am just catching up on social media.” Shane said with a shrug that the other couldn’t see.

There was another pause before MIles, who sounded way too amused for Shane’s liking said, “Shane, I had to show you how to post a picture on Twitter less than a month ago. What’s up?”

This time it was Shane that paused and then he let out a breath of air, “I might need some help. And we’re friends right?”

“Sure…” Miles drew out the last syllable of that word, “I don’t share my stylist with just anyone Hockey Boy.” Then a deep sigh, “This isn’t you telling me that you have been secretly lusting after me this entire time and all you really want is to sweep me off my feet in a Montreal night club is it?”

“One - I got traded to Boston, keep up. Two - I'm not. So, sorry about that. And three - what I am about to tell you I need to stay between us. It’s fucking important Miles.” Shane bit his lip and ran his hand over his face. Rose had told him he was gay and he had agreed. But other than that - he had only told Ilya willingly. Every other moment had been forced. The opportunity to choose when and how he came out - had been his. Montreal - his former teammates had take it from him. His mother - his former front office - had taken it from him. Hayden and J.J. - circumstances had taken it from him.

Which, looking back, telling the man that had been in his bed for the better part of a decade seemed ridiculous. But who the fuck else was he supposed to tell? His inner circle was amazing but wouldn’t know what to do in this situation. Of trying to exist and survive while keeping a massive piece of himself hidden. Even as more and more people knew. Knowing and understanding were two very different things.

Miles though - Miles would know how to exist and not be seen. Miles was the one gay man he knew. Also, one of the only PEOPLE that might be able to help him right now. But it was a risk. What the hell had his life become that everything was a fucking risk these days? Shane ran his hand over his face with a deep sigh.

“See, you being mysterious is making me fucking curious Hockey Boy.” Miles said, amusement still in his voice, “What’s going on Shane?”

He sighed deeply, “Well, Rose and I broke up because we weren’t - compatible.”

Miles was quiet for a few beats and then spoke a bit softer, “I heard.”

“And…fucking hell…” Shane let his head fall back against the back of the couch in his hotel and let out a deep sigh, “Why is this so hard?”

He could hear Miles moving around then, “You don’t have to - “

“The reason we aren’t compatible is something I can’t fucking talk about publicly - even if I wanted to - it’s - “ Shane took a steadying inhale, “A big thing. And it’s something I need help with.”

Miles coughed, “Dude, you can’t say shit like that when I am drinking water.” Then he audibly swallowed, “Okay, so you two aren’t compatible for a reason that you need my help with that you can’t talk about.” There was a soft huff of laughter, “You are really bad at not saying what you are saying Shane.”

“I am really bad at a lot of things when I am not wearing skates Miles.” Shane said, his voice strained, “I- I literally don’t know how to do this. On any fucking level. There has to be a way to do this that makes fucking sense and isn’t going to implode my fucking life. More than it is already.”

X Squad Set, Montreal

Miles Kirkland’s Trailer

Rose Landry was a dead woman. A fucking dead woman walking. Not warning him that the adorable disaster that was Shane Hollander might be contacting him? About this? Miles ran his hand over his face and closed his eyes. If the chaotic way that Shane was talking in circles meant what Miles was pretty sure it meant? Then he was going to throttle someone.

Especially Rose. Fucking red headed menace that she was.

“Hockey Boy, I am going to say something and if I am correct I need you to tell me.” There was a hum in his ear and Miles just went for it, “Are you trying to ask me how to be gay in the public eye?”

There was a choking sound, and then a flustered Shane muttered, “I mean…fuck that hurt. I was drinking juice, asshole.”

Miles found himself smirking, “Payback’s a bitch Hockey Boy.” Then he waited a few beats before he spoke again, “But - “

“Yes.” Was all Shane said, and it broke Miles’ heart at the barely contained fear he could hear in Shane’s voice.

He didn’t understand hockey like Rose did. He really didn’t get sports culture - but he did understand media, press and how the fuck people reacted when the reality of a person didn’t match the fucking vision in their minds. He wanted to look Shane in the eye and tell him it was all going to be okay. That there were ways to make this work and it would be shitty but doable.

Dark eyes landed on his shooting schedule and he had the next weekend off. He grabbed his tablet and opened up the Delta app, “Are you in town next weekend?”

There was a slight hitch in the, “Um, yeah actually…why?”

“You don’t plan a covert operation over the phone Hockey Boy.” Miles said with teasing lilt to his voice, “I learned that in the last ‘Mischief’ move. Keep up.”

“Wait - you are going to - help? Really?” The thinly veiled fear and disbelief in Shane’s voice made Miles ponder setting something on fire.

Did he have a crush on this man? Yes. Did he think he had a chance in hell? Nope. But Shane Hollander had a way of fucking pulling you in almost against your will. He might not be able to keep the man. But he would be able to help him out. Because if Shane didn’t have some help this entire situation was going to turn into a fucking shit show. He had seen it before. And from what he knew about Shane - he didn’t handle unexpected shit shows well. Not to mention no one should sound that fucking terrified of his own truth.

“It is the duty of the veteran gay men to help the baby gays.” Miles said, making himself sound blase about the upcoming interaction, “Besides, something tells me that you are going to need some help. Being closeted and not entirely miserable is a talent that is learned and not instinctual.”

Another pause and then, a soft voice came through the speaker again, “I - I didn’t know who else to ask and I am sorry…I know you probably have better things - “

Miles interrupted him, “Listen, we are friends right?”

Shane hummed in agreement.

“Friends help out friends. I got you.” Miles said, ignoring the twinge in his chest, “I will book my flight - is there a time on Friday that I can get a ride from you?”

“On Friday…” he listened to fabric moving, “I have morning skate and I can come and pick you up between 1 and three. Otherwise - I can just meet you at the hotel. Since I am still stuck here.”

Miles clicked on a flight, “Pick me up at two at the airport?”

There was a sigh of relief from Shane, “Hell yes.”

Miles saw the airfare confirmation show up in his inbox and wrapped up the call with Shane. Then he shot an email to his management and his assistant that he would be out of town Friday to Sunday. He looked at his phone and his contacts that were pulled up on his screen.

With barely any thought, Miles texted Rose, ‘I am making questionable life choices again.’

Then he locked his screen, tossed his phone to the side and he calmly picked up a pillow and groaned into it.

‘It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be FUCKING fine. You got this.’

But Miles wasn’t really sure he had this at all. But if he knew anyone that needed a friend it was Shane Hollander and he could do that. He really could. Not to mention - the idea of him trying to do this alone broke Miles’ heart a bit more than it should.

Picco Pizza - Southside

Boston, MA

“So this isn’t the weirdest pizza I have ever seen.” Wyatt said, as he leaned back in a chair and picked up his ‘sad’ beer, “But light beer man? Come on…”

Shane just rolled his eyes, “The team is back tomorrow. We have to actually skate like actual hockey players. You want to do that on full flavor beer and pizza?”

Which was, as much as it killed him to admit, a very valid point. The Raiders were touching down in the late morning and then it was going to be all systems go to get integrated into the team dynamics. Which would be harder if he was recovering from a full on pizza night. Sometimes being a professional athlete sucked.

“So…” Wyatt met Shane’s gaze, “Nervous about tomorrow?”

He was. Wyatt Hayes was nervous as hell. He was confident in his skills - or as confident as he could be after being made a permanent back up in Toronto. But Shane was going into a situation where he wasn’t going to be a captain or leader on the team. He was going onto a team with his Greated Rival. Wyatt was nervous FOR Shane.

There was a thoughtful pause and then Shane spoke slowly, like he was weighing the words on his tongue before setting them free into the world, “I got my first ‘A’ when I was 10 and I was a captain at 11. I haven’t not had that since. Not really. I don’t count the four months in Montreal before I had the ‘A’ - still don’t get that move by them - but whatever.”

The forward picked up a piece of crust and dipped it in marinara before speaking again, “Is it weird I am kinda looking forward to being just another dude playing hockey?”

The goalie let the silence settle between them as Shane ate some more of the sourdough pizza crust and then he just let the words pour out of him, “Well, I can’t say I know what that’s like. But…” Wyatt shrugged and finished off his beer, “I can tell you that being on a team where there is an actual expectation of ice time? I am ready for that. Toronto was very much of the mindset that if you weren’t the starting line up - “

Shane rolled his eyes, “You mean the starting line up that hasn’t changed or improved for what - three seasons now?”

“That would be the one, then you need to keep your head down. So far - Boston is more welcoming. But I won’t lie and say I am not nervous about the team coming back to town. It’s going to be a fucking change man.’

Another pause and then Shane met Wyatt’s eyes, “I have a question for you.”

“Yes, at some point I am making you eat carbs.” Wyatt said with a smirk on his lips, “But seriously - what’s up?”

Shane took a slow inhale and then exhale, “What does the shit with Rozanov look like to a team that isn’t Montreal? Like - what does the it look like outside of the bubble? I am trying to figure out how this is all supposed to work - and if we can get past the fucking bullshit - “

“How is the league going to react the your Greatest Rival being on your team? I mean the bookies in Vegas are probably pissed…” Wyatt stopped at the worried furrow that appeared between Shane’s brows, “Dude what’s - “

There was a a squeal and then there were two teenagers next to their table, “OH. MY. GOD. Are you really Shane Hollander?”

Wyatt watched in real time as his friend Shane melted away in the blink of an eye and Shane Hollander took over. The media ready smile, the eye contact with the two eager fans and how he focused in on them as they were talking as he signed their to-go box. He waited until they were gone and then he kicked Shane gently under the table.

“Hey dork…” Wyatt said, “What were you going to ask me about?”

“I just - “ Shane groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, then leaned forward, seemed to rethink things and shook his head, “Nevermind - it’s all going to work out fine.”

Wyatt Hayes couldn’t help but think that if those kids hadn’t shown up he would have been asked an actual question. Something was sitting on the other man - but he would just have to wait him out. So instead of pushing - because his gut was telling him that was not how to do this right now - he held up his beer bottle, “One last round and then we can call it a night?”

Shane gave him the flash of a real smile and then signalled for the waiter, “Why the hell not…”

“See…and the world kept spinning…” Wyatt said with a smirk and a wink. All the got in return was an eye roll and a middle finger, “I mean I didn’t dress up and I didn’t know it was that kind of an evening Hollander.”

“Oh fuck off…” Shane said with a laugh, and Wyatt noticed how his cheeks went a little pink

’Interesting - I am going to need to have a call with Lisa later.’

“Is Lisa going to be here on Friday? Would she want to sit with my parents and a friend that is coming? Safety in numbers for the newbies and the hockey rookie?” Shane asked as he leaned back and arched his back popping it and groaning with pleasure.

“Wait - you have people in your life that don’t know hockey?” Wyatt was genuinely shocked, “I mean…how does that happen?”

“Well, Miles is…new. He’s coming in on Friday after morning skate and staying for the back to back this weekend.” Shane said, cheeks staying pink

’Even more interesting - is Shane blushing about this Miles? Why the hell is Lisa not here...’

Four Seasons Hotel Boston

Penthouse 2

Shane raised a brow at the man who was barely awake on his screen and shook his head, “You are literally going to be home tomorrow. Why not just call me then?”

Ilya flipped him off on the screen, “Listen, some of us won a hockey game and deserve a reward.”

“The reward is the joy of teamwork.” Shane said with a straight face, “The knowledge that you were an amazing team and pulled out a victory through the power of friendship and teamwork.”

“How the fuck did Montreal win two cups in a row with a captain who doesn’t understand a fucking reward system?” Ilya said with a groan as he flopped back onto the hotel bed, “But hurry with the reward - Marly will be back soon.”

“The last time I won - I didn’t get a reward. So no. No rewards.” Shane said with a roll of his eyes, “Fuck you Rozanov.”

“That was the fucking plan Shane.” Blue eyes narrowed at him on the screen, “And I offered reward but you said no.”

“Lies and slander.” Shane said with a laugh, “I tell you what. If you are a very good captain, get a good nights sleep and play nice with the rest of the team- you can have the reward of not being a fucking asshole.”

There was another groan through the speaker of his phone, “Shane…I don’t get this. How are you worse at phone sex than you are at sexting?”

’This fucking son of a -’

“Oh so hearing about how I want to get on my knees and tease your cock until you make that growl - you don’t like when I say that?” Shane asked, his tone like he was discussing the stock market, “Or how I am laying here in Boston Raiders merch that doesn’t have your name on it?”

There was a laugh and then, his voice sounding somehow both shocked and amused, “You are a fucking Raider….”

“I am.” Shane said, still making sure his voice was conversational and didn’t give away how interested he was in the concept of phone sex, because fucking hell could Ilya Rozanov’s filthy mind and mouth get him going, but…”Should I throw in the no touching rule?”

“Oh fuck you Hollander - I wasn’t in the fucking penalty box that much this game and it wasn’t any of your precious little ducklings that got checked when I was.” Ilya’s voice was more exasperated than anything, “And how am I to touch when I am in fucking Calgary? Would be a fucking stupid rule.”

“You shouldn’t check my rookies like that and then you wouldn’t have made me make the rule. Really is sounding like a you issue here Ilya…” Shane said, biting his bottom lip, imagining the frustrated grin on the other man’s face, “But now I will need to make a new condition for that rule won’t I...dammit. Add that to my to do list I guess.”

“I think we don’t need the rule any more.”’ Ilya said, “I think we can get rid of it. Is pointless now yes?”

Shane snorted, “Oh fuck you - like you don’t need consequences for your choices. You would lead the league in PIMs without some kind of fucking consequence. Fuck knows you aren’t leading it in points. Or goals for that matter.”

“I am only four points behind you and now only two goals behind you.” Ilya said, “And where is this ‘teammate support’ you were babbling about earlier? Are we not on the same team now? Should you not want me to succeed? To flourish and win?”

Shane’s laugh was real, warm and again - he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that - it had been awhile for fucking sure. He ran his fingers through his hair, “You can keep being the second highest scorer and the second fastest…I can be generous, see?”

“Fuck. You. I beat you at skills - “ Ilya said with an annoyance that was clearly fake in his voice, “And you know this. Why do you keep - “

“Fuck you. Per the official results - “Shane started, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of his voice until Ilya’s laugh. That fucking deep rumble that made Shane grin every damn time. The fucking Russian dipshit that was on the other end of the call knew it too.

The god damned asshole that he was.

“Shane, you are a fucking asshole and yet somehow I seem to be the only one that knows this. How is everyone still so convinced of your innocence.” He could hear the fond exasperation in the other man’s voices over the phone. Even though Ilya couldn’t see him, he still bit his lips to keep his grin in check. More out of habit than anything else.

“Because I am a fucking delightful ray of sunshine.” Shane shot back, hearing a door open on the other side of the call and then Cliff Marleau’s voice come through - and for once Ilya didn’t end the call, “Rozanov…” He lowered his volume like that wasn’t going to give away that Ilya was on a call.

”Hey Roz…you need me to leave? Are you on the phone with Jane again?”

Ilya groaned, “You have the worst fucking timing Marly. Maybe I will trade you for Hollander when we go on next road trip.”

”HI JANE!!! YOUR BOY IS POUTING LIKE A TODDLER RIGHT NOW!!”

Shane couldn’t keep the laugh in, “Oh my god…I love this.”

“Fuck both of you.” Ilya said with a growl in his voice - but again - it didn’t have anger in it. Amused frustration? Yes. Anger? Not in the slightest. So Shane took a chance.

“So I shouldn’t tell you that I am in a king-sized bed all alone with room service?” Shane said teasingly, “Shirtless?”

“Fucking hell Jane…” Ilya growled, “Marly is going to think I like him more than I do…”

”Hey Jane, whatever it is, keep it up…the blush is real.”

“Okay - I am ending call. You two are the worst people I know.” Ilya said, a pout clear in his voice, “Good night Jane. Try to not have too much fun without me.”

“I mean…I make no promises...” Shane said with a yawn, “So I promise nothing…Ilya.”

If he growled the man’s name just to get a curse in Russian before the line went dead? That was between him and Ilya.

Cliff Marleau considered himself an Ilya Rozanov expert. He had roomed with the guy since his rookie season. He had been the first one that Ilya had accepted a dinner invite from. When he had gotten a divorce - he had crashed on the man’s couch. They had a shared love of trash television, food choices that made the team nutritionist sigh at them and antics that made PR ponder all their career choices. They had been partners in crime for the majority of the man’s career.

So the fact he had never been allowed to meet Jane - who had been around since at least his sophomore season - stung. That there were calls that ended when he came back into the room. That there were nights in Montreal that Ilya just vanished. He could understand some of the team - but Cliff wanted to meet the girl that had Ilya Rozanov on a fucking leash and made him blush like Cliff’s niece when the cute boy from choir walked by.

“You know…you could bring Jane out with us in Montreal. We could pick a club that she would like.” Cliff offered again, “I get she’s embarrassed by her taste with you but - we won’t judge her. Too much.”

“First of all - I am proof that she has amazing taste. And secondly - work has been complicated for her lately. I don’t think she wants to deal with you assholes.” Ilya said, as he moved off his bed to get his sweats to sleep in, “And third - I wouldn’t want her to be disappointed in my team and then not let me make her forget about work shit.”

Cliff watched as Ilya fiddled with his phone a moment, shook his head and then headed into the bathroom, “Showering then crashing. We have breakfast then flight.”

Cliff nodded, waited until the shower started and then pulled out his phone, “Vic, he was talking to her again.”

There was a snort before Victor St. Simon respended, voice tired but curious, “Are we any closer to figuring out who this mystery woman with super powers is? Because what the fuck Marls.”

“I know man…but fuck he blushed and was laughing when I got here. Like actual laughing.” Cliff shot back, “Not to mention - he hasn’t even said a thing about Hollander since the team meeting. I think if we could let Jane know he’s going to need some - “

“Man, I love you. I go to war with you every night on the ice. I am not trying to steal Ilya Rozanov’s phone so we can harass a woman that he is so fucking gone on that he blushes and rearranges team bonding events to go see. Not happening. I like my balls attached to my body.” Victor said, and Cliff swore he could hear him roll his eyes.

“Fine. But has he said anything to you about this trade?” Cliff asked, as he started to get ready for bed himself, “Are we heading home only to get hit in the face with a fucking shit show?”

There was a pause and then a groan, “I wish I knew man. I called my cousin who works in Montreal; according to them , no one is saying what prompted the trade besides a re-tool and Montreal doing that now seems fucking dumb. And if you were re-tooling, why trade the one dude that actually plays consistently lights out? And to us? I mean I am not complaining - “

“But it makes no sense.’ Cliff said, listening to the water in the bathroom to turn off, “We need to keep an eye on them Vic. The last thing we need is an even rougher transition than this is already going to be.”

“Roger that. Also - for the record - if you wanted my opinion…” Victor paused and then sighed deeply, “You know that if we can recreate that shit they found in fucking Florida…?”

“All Stars is fun and fucking around. They weren’t being the most serious they could be. It’s about to be playoff hockey…” Cliff said, and groaned as he fell into bed, “But fuck if we could get a portion of that shit…” He heard the water shut off, “See you tomorrow at the plane?”

“Thank fuck we fly at a normal time. I will bring the coffee - you bring the Captain.”

“Done.” Cliff said and ended the call so he was under the covers and already falling asleep by the time Ilya came back out to fall asleep himself. He listened as Ilya sent a text, huffed a laugh and then turn out his light.

’Yeah…we need to figure out a way to get the miracle worker to fucking Boston. ASAP.

Chapter End Notes

I do have a playlist for this: Spotify Playlist !

For those of you that struggle with the images in the chapters - I have a Pinterest board where I have uploaded them. (I think I got them all!) So if you struggle - please check out I do have a playlist for this: the Fic Media Board! !

I am always open to song suggestions as well.

I am looking forward to this journey with you all!

Chapter 5: First Day - Version 2.0

Chapter Summary

The boys are back in town - which means that putting off dealing with the Ilya of it all can't be avoided any more.

When one of the reasons Shane took the Boston trade has to be dealt with, life keeps moving forward, and he has to adapt and start facing things he still isn't sure he's ready to face...

This really wasn't part of the ten year plan - but it's not as terrifying as he thought it would be. It might even be a little bit fun...

Chapter Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

I do have a chunk of this pre-written - but I am not committing to a posting schedule - but I do have it outlined. So, winning?

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

Additional heads- up: All Russian and French translations will be in the end notes.

Also - my beta reader Jen gets so much credit for helping me sound far better than I would on my own.

Warrior Ice Arena - 5th day in Boston

Boston, MA

It was like the first day of school all over again - but worse and better at the same time. Shane leaned against his Land Rover and ran his fingers through his hair. His new Boston Raiders bag was hanging from his shoulder. He could do this. He could go into this building and start getting ready for practice. He eyed the ‘Team Entrance’.

“Fucking hell…” He shifted his weight from foot to foot and readjusted the strap of his duffle again, eyes still locked on the door and bit his lower lip.

’You can do this Hollander. You have done this before when you were eighteen and just drafted. You didn’t have the background you have now. You didn’t have the hardware you have now showing that you do fucking belong. You can DO this.’

The issue was that the anxiety-ridden side of his brain was trying to convince the other side of his brain that was filled with logic was that at eighteen he had been drafted by the Metros. They had wanted him. He was expected and hoped for. Here he was a trade acquisition with mystery shrouding the trade and making everything messy. At least as far as the public was concerned. As far as his new team was concerned.

’You could tell the room. Desjourneys said you could. The Organization knows you are gay and still wanted you. The Metros have made it so fucking clear that if they had known - you wouldn’t have been in those colors. You wouldn’t have had that ‘C’. So maybe trust the team that has seen more of you and still offered a contract.’

The logical side of his brain was really starting to piss him off. Shane was so lost in thought as he had a glaring contest with a door that he didn’t hear someone approach and jumped a bit as a voice broke through his reverie.

“You know Hollander - in Boston we have this idea that being on the ice is good for morning skate.” An amused voice spoke to his left, the sound of feet on asphalt and a body leaning against his car followed the voice.

“Fuck you Rozanov.” Shane shot back out of habit, “Some of us are new. I am taking in the moment, I am embracing the feelings of this point in time.”

’I am trying like hell to not run back to the hotel because I don’t have a fucking place to live, call my agent - who is my mother - and hide. This is me being brave, asshole. Suck a dick. Preferably mine. It might distract me from all of the fucking ’new’ going on right now.’

“By staring at a door.” Ilya said, still leaning to his left against Shane’s car and shooting looks at him and then the door and back again, “Hollander….”

“Shut the fuck up, I just want to take a fucking minute here, Asshole.” Shane growled, finally turning his head to shoot a glare at the asshole next to him. Before he could say anything else to him he heard someone else approaching.

“Oooh….Spicy Hollzy is out.” came another familiar voice, and Shane smirked at Wyatt Hayes as he came in closer to them, “Do I need to call Lisa or message Hayden?”

He had to hide his grin as Wyatt slid in next to him and slid his arm around his shoulders and held out a hand to Ilya, “Hey man, Wyatt. Nice to meet you.”

Shane watched as Ilya put on his press smile, not looking thrilled with life if the tension around his eyes was anything to go by and shook Wyatt’s hand, “Ilya, I am happy to meet you, Wade was it?”

“Wyatt.” The goalie said easily, his grin never waivered - if anything it got bigger, “No worries man. Let’s head in buddy, shall we?” he met Shane’s gaze and winked at him.

He could laugh. He wasn’t going to. It would be wrong. It would start shit. It would rile up a certain someone… So instead, Shane put on his most innocent face and turned to Ilya with raised brows, “Coming with Rozanov? I hear that it’s easier to practice when you are on the ice after all.”

The Russian man looked like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill people or laugh. His eyes never really left the arm around Shane’s shoulders or the way that Wyatt was being allowed in his personal space. Shane hadn’t had a chance to explain Wyatt Hayes to Ilya yet. That he was a force like Hayden Pike and that his wife was amazing. That they had made the last few days easier.

“Why the hell not. Wouldn’t want you two to get lost trying to find the rink.” Ilya said with a roll of his eyes and a chuckle that if you didn’t know him sounded amused.

Shane did know him. It did sound amused - but there was an edge that both confused and amused him. He glanced at Ilya out of the corner of his eye as they made their way into the rink.

’What is going on in that head of your you fucking gorgeous pain in the ass?

Ilya hadn’t found himself torn like this in a long time. He couldn’t kill the new goalie. That would be wrong. It would be exhausting to find a new one. But if Hayes called out encouragement to Shane again Ilya was going to fire a slapshot at his fucking face. Seriously, number 24 was adapting well. He was skating like a man possessed and his linemates looked over the moon. He didn’t need the support of the fucking goalie to know that he was ‘killing it’.

“There you go Hollzy!”

Ilya gritted his teeth. He couldn’t call Shane by his fucking name. They were still ‘adjusting’to being in the same space. At least according to how awkward it felt and the meeting they had had with Coaching and Management before practice. They were still ‘learning how to accept each other’ - so it was back to Hollander and Rozanov. But this fucking asshole could call him fucking Hollzy. He had spoken to fucking Hayden to the point that he was friends with him on social media.

Meanwhile, Ilya had seen Shane naked for almost a decade and was on a last name only basis right now with him - at least in public. He hadn’t even had time to go and see him between getting in to Boston, business meetings and the morning skate today. So all he had to work with right was was ’public’.

’You could be friends with Pike on social media. If you wanted to. If you could be sure that it wouldn’t send up a signal. But you have to play it safe. You have to think smart. You can’t just let everyone in on this thing with Shane. You can NOT kill the goalie either. Shane seems to like him and killing him might make him angry.’

In his head he knew that he had to get over this thing with Shane. They could be co-workers, friends even - but he had to stop with everything else. He did. It wasn’t supposed to have gotten to where it was. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than fucking. He could walk it back. It would be fine. No matter what they had said in Tampa. Wanting more. Being a ’thing’. The smart thing would be to walk away while he still could. Ilya knew that logically.

‘Did that fucking goalie just smack Shane’s ass with his stick?! That fucking…’

“Man, I think Hollzy is fitting in pretty well don’t you?” Marly asked as he stopped next to Ilya to snag some water, “I was a bit worried man…”

“He is professional - this makes sense.” Ilya said, his eyes locked on where Shane was talking with the FUCKING goalie and his linemates, “But only time will tell yes? We play different than Montreal. He has been there a long time.”

There was a nod and Ilya watched Shane take another face off and skate off with the puck. He was adjusting pretty well. That was true. But Ilya KNEW this man. He saw the tension in his body language. The wariness in his eyes. But the skill was there - of fucking course it was. It was Shane fucking Hollander.

“Good work Hollzy!” Cliff called out and Ilya turned to face him slowly, a brow going up in confusion.

’Even you fucking Marly? Even fucking YOU?’

“Since when the hell do you call him Hollzy?” Ilya was very proud of his voice for being casual. Even keel. So fucking normal. He could be very normal about everyone in the FUCKING rink calling Shane by a name that Ilya couldn’t use yet. Because of FUCKING optics and secrets almost a decade in the making and Russia and…

“Well, when we were working on the Penalty Kill - Hayes used it so I figured why not? It might make him feel more welcome…” Cliff paused and raised a brow at his captain, curious why Ilya gave a fuck when he never had before with new guys, “Why?”

“No reason.” Ilya said with what he hoped was an uncaring shrug as he made himself look anywhere except at Shane Hollander and his little gathering of fanboys, “Just curious is all.”

‘I can’t kill Cliff Marleau…that would be wrong. It would eventually make me sad. It’s hard to break in a new winger.’

Wyatt Hayes had no idea what he had done to piss off Ilya Rozanov, but he had a few ideas. Four days with Shane Hollander, learning a new city together, navigating a new team and changes together - you noticed things. Not to mention that he was a great goalie (fuck you Toronto) and that meant he saw things. He noticed things.

Things like how Shane would tense and then relax when Rozanov spoke to him. The way - after a good drill - the captain would sneak a look towards Shane like ‘Did you see that?!’

He never put a lot of faith in MLH talking points. He had seen too much Dallas Kent propaganda and Troy Barrett sonnets to believe them at face value. He was about to chalk this ‘rivalry’ up to being that - another talking point. Because honestly? They were playing like two old friends that liked to one up each other. Which made more sense if he was honest.

“....fucking hell Hollander, you do know the point of Power Play yes?” Rozanov’s voice carried across the ice. The Raiders captain stood on one side of the ice and Shane was on the other looking every bit as annoyed as Rozanov.

“Is it whiffing on a one timer? Because that’s what you’ve done with the last three passes I sent your way.” was the sharp response from the newest Raider. Shane glared at his new captain and Wyatt wondered if now would be a good time to intervene, “Or is there another way you would like me to get you the puck?”

’I might just stay back over here…I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever the fuck that is.’

Now…they were arguing about passing styles. Okay, maybe there was a bit of a rivalry. He glanced over as Cliff Marleau came to a stop next to him and leaned against his pipes, “Sorry Hayes, it seems safer down here right now.”

Hayes snorted as he watched two stubborn, opinionated, generational talents face off over the difference in four inches of ice. Complete with hand gestures and stick movements.

“I have never been so happy that I am not part of the Power Play.” Wyatt said as he leaned back against his net, “Remind me again who thought that putting these two together like this was a good idea?”

Marleau laughed, “To be fair - if we can get them to compromise - it’s gonna be amazing.” Cliff looked down the ice as a biting Russian phrase rang out - one that Wyatt was going to assume wouldn’t be allowed in a family friendly setting.

“Oh, so they train MLH forwards in hostile negotiation skills now? Good to know.” The goalie asked in amusement as he reached for his water bottle, “You could break those skills out the next time I can’t get a fucking defenseman out of my paint.”

“Rozanov! Not every shot needs to be a one timer I swear to fuck…!” Shane’s voice carried down the ice, “Can you please for what is left of my sanity - try something else. Any other shot. Hell, do a damn MICHIGAN for all I care.”

There was a shrill whistle, “Okay, let’s bring this in. We have a few days to get this sorted.”

Hayes looked over at Marleau as the two centers skated in lazy circles on either side of the ice. Well, deliberately designed to ‘look’ lazy - but there was a frustration to Shane’s strides and Rozanov’s edges that gave them away. Yeah…maybe this wasn’t just another MLH talking point… Not that it explained away the rest of it. Marleau left him and skated back to the group at center ice and the Goalie coach came back over to him to talk about some additional ice time and he lost track of his train of thought.

Raider’s Locker Room

Warrior Ice Arena, Boston

Ilya Rozanov was not going to kill Shane Hollander. He wasn’t. He was going to focus on the fact that Shane was in Boston. That he was a Raider. That they were now fucking DEEP at center and that he could breathe. He was not going to focus on the fact that for some reason Shane seemed to have fucking opinions about Power Play systems that hadn’t been an issue in Boston for ages.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he might be right. Not a damn thing.

He turned his head at a ‘Hey Hollzy…’ from Wyatt Hayes. The new goalie that seemed to think he was the new Hayden Pike. Ilya already had to deal with the idea of ONE Hayden Pike. He sure as hell didn’t want another asshole taking up space in Shane’s life.

“Hey man - you want company meeting with the realtor today?” Hayes, in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt that read ‘Tendies are what GOAL-den dreams are made of’.

Then Ilya’s brain short circuited slightly because out walked Shane Hollander in nothing but low riding sweat pants, no shirt and slides, a towel around his neck. Fucking hell he had seen Shane like this - in less than this - numerous times. But for some reason it was hitting harder today. More than likely because there wasn’t a bed or flat surface to toss him on to to make him messy again. Also company. A lot of fucking company. It had been one thing in Tampa - they hadn’t been back to the status quo. They had been dancing around each other. It had been easier to distract himself in Tampa. Here it was the new normal. In theory anyway.

’Friends. Co-workers. Teammates. New normal. Friends who fuck. Shane Hollander being HERE is my new normal. What god did I piss off?’

“My parents are in town - my dad drove down with some of my things - so I should be good.” Shane said with a roll of his shoulders, “But maybe dinner tomorrow? They fly back - “

There was a laugh and then Cliff ‘I got your back Roz’ Marleau, jumped in, “Hey why don’t we all get food tomorrow night then. Team bonding or something, yeah?”

It wasn’t Ilya asking. So that was okay - it would give them an excuse to see each other - and then he could maybe -

“That could be good. I am still trying to learn this city.” Shane said with a nod, “Sebbin, St. Simon and I are getting in some ice time tomorrow to try and work on reads…but other than that and the weight room - I have nothing planned.”

Marleau came over and draped himself over Ilya’s back, “Whatcha say Cap? Take the newbies out for a meal and bond or some shit?”

Ilya was already thinking of places that would work with Shane’s insane diet but wouldn’t call attention to it. He shrugged and shot said newbies a smirk, “If newbies don’t mind going out with new team - could be fun.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “I am always down for team bonding.” Then he paused, a small frown on his lips, “Do you guys need my number or…did hockey ops share it…?” he shook his head, “I forgot to ask if they were going to do that…”

Watching Shane put on clothes was a double edged sword. Part of him loved watching Shane move. But the other parts of him didn’t like covering up his skin. Shane stopped in front of him - dressed and pulling a hoodie over his head and a small grin on his face, “Give me your phone Captain - so you can let me know when the fun is going to start and where.” Shane held his hand out expectantly.

Part of Ilya went back to a hotel room in Nashville and an awkward Shane Hollander. Where Ilya had been the one with his hand out for the phone. Now the rolls were reversed and Ilya had to fight back a grin. ’Oh, is this how we were doing things Shane?’

He must have zoned out for a moment because when Shane cleared his throat gently - his hand was still held out and Hayes and Marly were having a conversation as they traded numbers. So he just handed his phone to Shane with a brow arched, “Go to town Hollander. Why not? Wouldn’t want you to miss the fun now would we.”

What he got for his troubles was a middle finger and Hollander in his contacts ‘adding’ his number. Which seemed to mean that he changed his name in his main contacts from ‘Jane’ to ‘Shane Hollander’, like they hadn’t seen each other naked, hadn’t come all over the other in Tampa and for the last several years. Then he handed Ilya’s phone back to him with an innocent look on his face like he wasn’t plotting something. But there was a look in those eyes that told him that the bratty asshole in front of him most definitely was plotting something. Which was proven when he saw a key card being slid into the card case on the back of his phone as he handed the phone back.

Who knew years of sneaking each other's room keys would pay off in the locker room?

“Speaking of house hunting - is there a way to explain to a realtor with really good intentions that I don’t need a fucking butlers pantry? Because I don’t have either a butler or enough shit to put into the pantry?” Shane asked heading back over to his stall - again like this was completely normal. Like he hadn’t just given Ilya access to his hotel room. Like he wasn’t a wickedly tempting mastermind of the death of Ilya Rozanov’s sanity.

“Lisa suggested making it into a smoothie making haven.” Wyatt said heading back over to his spot and very far away from Shane. Which Ilya did appreciate. Very much. Maybe Wyatt Hayes could live after all.

“Even I don’t make enough smoothies to justify a ‘smoothie haven’”, was the response along with a middle finger in the goalies general direction, “I had more time in Montreal - I don’t want to have to buy something that is going to need renovations just for it to make sense while we are in playoffs.”

Marleau snorted, “You might be better to rent and hunt later man. Get a feel for the city. I moved three times before I found a place I liked enough to buy. Hell Roz moved twice before his compound became available.”

Ilya opened his WhatsApp and dropped the contact for his realtor into the ‘Jane’ chat thread.

‘Ilya: Just in case you are tired of beating your head against the wall.’

Shane’s lips quirked up into a little grin as the message popped up.

‘Take that fucking Hayes…’

Not that Ilya cared. Because he was going to end this. There was the Russia of it all. There was the league of it all. There were fifty million reasons that he and Hollander being more than friends that fuck was a horrible idea. So he was helping as a friend. He was doing what he would do for anyone else. Being a good captain.

And only that…and he would tell him. He would end things. Like an adult. He watched Shane finish getting ready, then lean back against a wall while he talked to Sebbins about what game tape he watched and what games he would suggest the younger player focus on moving forward to the end of the season.

Ilya could feel his resolve to end this. To do what was smart and logical. To keep Shane Hollander as a friend and for his continued ability to go back to Russia to deal with his father. To visit his mother’s grave. To check on his niece and sister in law…end the one thing he wanted for himself. But he had the MLH. He had the Raiders.

But why can’t I have him too…just for a while longer. It would be easier now. He was in Boston. He was in Raider’s colors, in his locker room and looking like he just fit. Like it was supposed to be like this. Maybe if they were really careful…maybe just a little longer. He could be a selfish asshole just a little longer.

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

Practice had been over for five hours. There had been a meeting with the realtor that Ilya had suggested and conversations over property and location and timelines. There was something exciting about a new space. The one issue was that Shane Hollander knew he was a picky asshole about his space and he didn’t have time to be that. He couldn’t be in a hotel for the rest of the regular season and the Post Season. He wasn’t going to ask Ilya to share his space. They weren’t there yet.

Hell Shane didn’t even know what they were. Besides, if he couldn’t even tell his parents that the new and improved realtor was from Ilya - he didn’t think he was at the point of this timeline where he should be living with the asshole. Not to mention - if they lived together right now he was going to kill him over the special teams situation on the Raiders.

Shane looked up from his spot on the couch, his hands full of real estate listings, as the door to his room opened and he called out, “If you are here to kill me, I won’t even fight back.”

Ilya’s laugh was low and rumbling, “Shane, I promise you death is not what I have planned for you…”

If this is what he got for being local and not constantly in ‘work’ clothes? Sign him all the way up. Ilya Rozanov in sweat pants, hoodie and looking at him like that? Shane could get fucking used to this. He grinned as all six foot three inches of Russian hockey player laid on top of him, “Hey you…”

“You are wearing glasses…” Ilya said with a grin and an unholy amount of glee in his voice, “Hollander - you wear glasses…”

He fiddled with them self consciously and shrugged, “For reading - which I was doing.” He stuck real estate listings in front of Ilya’s face, blocking his view of Shane, “Because I have to make choices and I fucking hate it…”

What he wouldn’t give to be someone that could just exist in a hotel room. Someone who could rent. But he knew himself. He knew major hockey markets. He wanted to start as he meant to go on. Which meant transplanting his roots from Montreal into Boston. It meant figuring this all out on the fly. Which he sucked at. He had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized that he was being rearranged into a lounging back support for a pushy Russian.

“Can I help you there Ilya?” He wished his voice didn’t give away his amusement with his current situation.

“Hush Hollander, I am trying to find you a not shitty place to live.” Ilya said as he waved his hand back at him, “None of these places have back entrance.”

“Oh I am sorry - are you allergic to doormen? I wasn’t aware…” Shane teased, as his fingers went into Ilya’s curls and tugged gently, “But all of these places have secured parking. So there’s that. And it’s not so strange here that you would be visiting, right?”

Fuck, a place where it wouldn’t be so strange for them to be seen together. To have a damn reason for it even. Shane wasn’t sure how to feel about that. How he wanted to feel about it. Hell, how Ilya wanted him to feel about it. But if he had to answer right in this fucking moment?

It felt so fucking GOOD.

“Someone is getting brave. Letting me use the front door?” Ilya teased while he looked over the listing Shane had been looking at, “If you tell Marly I am saying this next bit I will deny it.” He tilted his head back to meet Shane’s eyes, “Rent till summer. Find neighborhood. You will be happier that way I think.”

Shane nodded, “That’s what your realtor advised too. These are all rentals. Plus then I can make any changes I want in the off season when I am in Ottawa and not having to live in a construction zone. They just don’t have what I had in Montreal here. And I can’t move the building.” He paused, a harder tug on Ilya’s hair in a pre-emptive warning, “No I didn’t ask but I am just guessing.”

There was a snort of amusement and a swat at his thigh in retaliation, “Then I suggest Beacon Street - it’s where I started and is close to work. Also, on shitty weather days is easier to get a ride in.”

“I survived the Canadian winter - yours will be fine.” Shane said with a snort of laughter, “Hey have you eaten dinner yet? My parents and I had a late lunch and then they went to their room early because they are flying home early tomorrow. My mom says she needs time to adjust to the idea of wearing a Boston jersey. And she isn’t sure how she feels about the team store not having my name plates yet.”

“I haven’t - I was going to make you order food for me.” Ilya said as he snuggled back against Shane with a groan, “Feed me Hollander. Make up for being mean to me at practice.”

“You should be making it up to me.” Shane shot back with a poke at the ribs of the player on top of him, “You were too stubborn about the - “

“We are not fighting about the fucking PowerPlay again today.” Ilya said on a groan, “Shush you. You can be wrong again tomorrow.”

Shane shook his head, as he rested his chin on the top of the idiot’s head, “I can’t. I have this pain in the fucking ass pinning me to the couch. I can’t get to the room service menu. I guess we are both going hungry tonight.”

“Oh no, if only there was a way to look that up without fucking moving…” Ilya said, pulling the menu up on his phone, “Oh look Shane - it exists. WOW.”

He flicked the other man’s ear, “Still need the phone to place the order, dick.”

There was a series of dramatic sighs and then Ilya leaned forward enough for Shane to slide out from under him and head over to the foyer table where the phone was located, “I am grabbing a drink - want anything? I have…” He opened the minifridge, “OJ, water, a sub par ginger ale imposter, Coke and Sprite.”

“Some places aren’t aware of your ginger ale rating system.” Ilya said as he peered over the back of the sofa at him, amusement on his face, “Grab me a Coke. Also, if I promise to give you a very intense cardio workout, how much bitching are you going to do if I add an appetizer to dinner?”

Shane paused, shoving the phone into a hoodie pocket before grabbing their two drinks, “An intense cardio workout and a run tomorrow afternoon and I will only mildly side eye you.”

“Shane, how about we meet in the middle. Cauliflower buffalo wing style. There is a vegetable.” Blue eyes followed him as he headed back to the sofa, “Or artichoke dip - it is also vegetable.”

“I will try the buffalo cauliflower option.” Shane said with a smirk as he held out the Coke, “You missed me eating my weight in naan earlier this week.”

Ilya looked genuinely shocked, and then he pouted at him, “Shane, you did this without me? How did I miss this?”

“You were kicking Calgary’s ass and Lisa Hayes is very convincing.” He took a slow breath and met Ilya’s eyes, “I know you think my diet is - “

“If it works for you and you keep playing like this - I don’t judge.” Ilya cut in, a hand up in the air to keep Shane from speaking, “But also - I think you miss out on good things for no real reason.”

“I have been beating you at speed since we were drafted, so…” Shane smirked, “I think it’s working for me.”

“ONE YEAR you beat me….” Ilya started and was cut off when Shane gave in to the urge and flopped on top of him, “Nice of you to ask here Shane…”

By the way the Russian wrapped his arms around him, Shane was pretty sure that Ilya didn’t care, “Alright asshole, what is it you want for dinner?”

After he was settled, Shane placed their order for a chicken and pasta dish for Ilya and his own salmon, quinoa and veggie bowl, with a bottle of wine and the appetizer with the very nice voice on the phone. Then he hung up, tossed the phone onto the coffee table and picked up the real estate options, “Okay, while we wait, where do I live Mr. Boston Guru?”

Ilya reached around and picked a sheet for a penthouse in the North End, “If you are going to say no to Beacon Street? This will be closest to what you had in Montreal that is moving in ready. It is smaller but in theory you won’t be there as long. We will find you other place once we win the Cup.”

“You are going to help hmm…” Shane didn’t look at Ilya, but his grin was pleased as he looked at the page he had been handed.

Shane felt the chuckle against his back before Ilya spoke, “I can’t have someone on my team living in shitty places Shane. We have a reputation here in Boston.”

“Ahh…” Shane nodded solemnly, “Well, we can’t have me not meeting standards now can we…”

The voice in his ear made him shiver, “Now you are learning Shane…”

‘I am so fucking screwed’ was his last thought as he turned his head and kissed Ilya slowly. Felt the other’s tongue slide against his. Strong arms pulled him back against a hard chest and for the first time since he had walked into that damn conference room in Montreal - he felt like the ground was getting solid under his feet again.

’Yeah….I am so SCREWED.’

If someone had told him six months ago that he would be spending a Monday night in the last push of the regular season in a Penthouse at the Four Seasons in Boston, making out with Shane Hollander like they were fucking teenagers again while they waited for room service? Ilya Rozanov would have told whomever the idiot was coming up with that idea that they were morons. Because that was never going to happen. Ever. He and his freckled Canadian menace were not like that. They didn’t make out for the purpose of making out.

Yet somehow he was pressed up against the corner of a couch, Shane in his lap and their mouths fused together because it had been too fucking long since he had kissed Shane Hollander. It didn’t matter they had gone months and even a year at one point without kissing. Or touching. Or doing more than text. But something had changed on that day in his house - and then in Tampa. Something had shifted and now the idea of going back to that?

Ilya moaned into Shane’s mouth, letting Shane’s tongue steal the sound. Take it and in return he stole a growl from Shane. He had come over there to talk about ending this. To bring up the fact that now that they were in the same city, on the same team - it would be smart to end things. To try and be friends. Maybe friends who fuck. But nothing more. It was smart. It was logical.

Shane shifted against him and Ilya knew whatever the hell he had planned on happening wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He slid his hands under Shane’s hoodie to find soft, warm skin. Skin that reacted to the callouses on his hands. The way he gripped the waist and pulled him closer. The roll of his hips so that the menace on his lap could feel how he affected him. The way that he wanted him. The force of it.

‘The way I don’t want to let you go….even if it’s what needs to happen. Fuck I just want this for me…’

Ilya had never been so glad that Shane couldn’t read minds. His was a mess of ‘more’ and ‘please’ and ‘fucking hell…’

There had to be a god that Shane Hollander had angered in a past life. He had eaten dinner. He had emailed a realtor to narrow down his rental options. He had brushed his teeth. Prepacked his bag for working with his new linemates tomorrow. He had not punched Ilya on the ice earlier when he had been a fucking idiot about the Power Play. He had been a very solid human today. And for some time if he was going to be fucking honest with himself.

So why in the seven levels of fucking hell was there someone knocking on his door right now? And why the hell weren’t they going away when he didn’t answer the damn -

“Hey Hollzy? You didn’t forget that we were going to watch Dancing with the Stars did you?” came through the door.

Which made Ilya - shirtless and almost pantsless Ilya - pull back and glare at the door, “Why is there a goalie at your door Shane?”

’Why was there a goalie at his door that wasn’t going away? That was a great fucking -’

Then his phone lit up on the table and it was Hayes. With two other missed calls. Shane closed his eyes and reached for his phone. His forehead fell forward against Ilya’s, “Hey Hazy…sorry fell asleep. What’s up?”

There was a laugh that he could hear through the phone and the door, “Hey no worries man. Lisa made us promise to watch Dancing with the Stars tonight since she couldn’t because of a shift, remember? I was coming up to watch it with you…want to let me in or are you too tired?”

This would be a great time to tell Wyatt Hayes that he was too tired. That he was actually going to go back to ‘sleep’, wait for him to leave and then go back to fucking Ilya. Or rather letting Ilya fuck him. But he was trying to be a good friend here. Trying to make friends. To not be the isolated person he had let himself become in Montreal - at least in the beginning. He was never going to be a JJ or an Ilya or a Rose. He wasn’t that outgoing and now - thanks to Montreal - that trusting. But he had a chance here to make a friend.

So he pulled back from Ilya and sent him the world's most apologetic face, “No man, it’s fine! I will come and let you in.”

The look on Ilya Rozanov’s face told Shane that he might have bag skates in his future. So many bag skates…

Wyatt Hayes was going to have to die. That’s all there was to it. Because otherwise - why was Ilya sitting here, NOT touching Shane, watching what appeared to be a ballroom dancing competition show and not getting laid?

Oh that’s right - Wyatt FUCKING Hayes.

“So let me see if I get this,” Shane, who was also potentially going to die, said, “These are all people who are reasonably famous and are learning ballroom dancing on television because they can?”

Ilya KNEW Shane Hollander. He KNEW him, If this menace to his fucking sanity thought that this in any way important to Wyatt - he was going to try and be invested in this show. He was. It was how Ilya had spent the better part of a pre-season and start of a season two years ago having to read small rants about the Bachelor because Jackie had roped Shane into watching with her while he recovered from a training injury and she recovered from having a baby.

Yet another way that Ilya was certain the Pikes (and now Wyatt fucking Hayes) were actively trying to ruin his life. There was trash tv and then there was whatever this was.

Wyatt looked over at Ilya with a genuine smile and held out a bag of pretzels, “Sure you don’t want some Cap?”

So maybe Wyatt Hayes didn’t need to die, but he did need to get at least maimed. After the season. Ilya watched as Shane munched on some pretzels and downgraded Hayes to an annoying papercut on his stick hand.

“Okay, so tell me this Hayes,” Ilya said, as he stretched out his legs and took some pretzels, “Tell me how to pick a better couple to win this than Hollander.”

“FUCK YOU ROZANOV. Obviously, I can pick a better pair than you.” Shane’s eyes flashed fire at him, “And it’s all about gut instinct.”

Ilya rolled his eyes - if he couldn’t FUCK Shane at the moment he was sure as hell going to fuck WITH Shane, “Like you have instinct for this. You don't get the idea of the show!”

“Bullshit Rozanov. I am absolutely going to pick the winning pair easier than you do. I am telling you it’s all instinct.” Shane said, as he flipped him off and settled more into the couch, his hand reaching for more pretzels without him realizing it.

’And maybe Wyatt Hayes doesn’t need to die.’

Wyatt wasn’t sure what the hell he had walked in on. But Hollzy looked like he had been doing ANYTHING but sleeping and Rozanov had been on the couch also looking rumpled when he had come in. But there were remnants of food and housing listings. So maybe things had gotten tense when they were talking about where Shane should get a place. Maybe they were still fighting over the Power Play. Maybe…

Maybe he was overthinking things, because these two were literally arguing about how they were OBVIOUSLY going to be picking the better pairing to win the season of Dancing with the Stars - a show neither of them had ever seen… The goalie just shook his head and grinned to himself. At least the arguing seemed harmless enough. He didn’t think he was going to need to do a dive to separate them at least.

But he also had Shane watching something that wasn’t Sports Center or hockey. So he would take it as a win. Wyatt wasn’t sure what the deal in Montreal had been with the other Raiders newbie, but Shane just looked - different here already. He had seen the pressure Toronto put on some of their ‘franchise pieces’ and it wasn’t a joke.

Did it excuse their behavior and life choices? Fuck no. But if it had been like that in Toronto - where there had been pieces in place - he couldn’t imagine what it had been like in Montreal where they had seemingly drafted Shane Hollander and assumed that was the job done. He had talked about it with Lisa - and she had agreed with him - his mission was to get Shane to just fucking BREATHE more.

And here he was grinning, mocking Rozanov and eating a handful of pretzels like it was nothing. In the short time Wyatt had been around Shane - he knew that wasn’t nothing. But right now - it seemed like it was. He shot a look at his new Captain and saw him grinning wickedly at Shane like this was the most fun he had had in a while.

Oh he had to call Lisa again once he was back in his room. He was going to have to see what she thought about all of this. He was a goalie and he saw lots of things. But sometimes he missed the forest for the trees and he knew that. She would be back in town for their first home game in the Garden and he was going to have to make sure she spent time with these two in the same space.

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

Shane leaned in the doorway of the hotel bathroom and looked at the king sized bed with a large man lounging under the covers in it. He tossed the towel he had been using to dry his hands back towards the counter and then padded barefoot over to the bed and flopped onto it, his head landing on Ilya’s stomach. He faintly heard the music from one of the dances from earlier coming from his phone.

“Ilya, you are not seriously re-watching - “Shane started and then blinked when a phone was shoved into his face, “Okay…what is happening?”

“I think the judges are blind. Like the refs from the last time I played in Dallas.” Ilya said, annoyance in his voice, “How is this not better than the stupid slow dance that - “

A roll of his eyes and Shane pushed his hand out of the way, “I don’t know how to say this, asshole, but your team didn’t score as highly as mine. I think it’s time that you accepted that.”

“I think that Wyatt is helping you.” Ilya said with a sniff, “He should be giving me - the Captain - better advice.”

The laugh that came out of him was so fucking real that it made him grin up at Ilya bit brighter, “Want to make a side deal?”

“What? You mean you want to buy me more dinners than the one I am already getting from you with our deal with your new best friend?” Ilya said, his fingers in Shane’s hair in a way that made his stomach swoop in amazing ways.

“I am giving you the option to buy me dinner twice.” Shane said, settling into Ilya’s abdomen more, “But if you want to admit that I will kick your ass at this - I understand.”

The fingers in his hair tugged gently, “How does no one else know that you are asshole? Even today at practice. Everyone is so very sure that you are such a good boy and yet with me you are asshole.”

Shane tilted his head to look at Ilya and reached up to pull him closer into a soft kiss, “You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I didn’t call you on your shit Ilya.” He kissed him again - taking his time. Slow pressure of his lips to Ilya’s chapped ones. Hot breath against his own. A wickedly talented tongue sliding over his. Shane growled into Ilya’s mouth and pulled him in closer to deepen the kiss.

Only for it to be ended when Ilya pulled back way too soon only to be urged to straddle his lap.

“Not all of us do yoga for fun, Shane.” Hands that were talented on and off the ice gripped his hips as Shane moved, swinging a leg over his legs and settled on top of the other man, and then pulled him in closer, “There….better.”

A shake of his head and Shane cupped Ilya’s jawline as he leaned in for another kiss, “Now before we were so rudely interrupted…where were we?”

“I don’t know - is anyone else going to be coming over? Vicky? Sebbs? Is Hayden coming down from Montreal?” Ilya said with narrowed eyes and an arched brow, “Or can we actually fuck now?”

“I mean if you want - I am sure I can make some - “ Shane’s snark was cut off when Ilya kissed him again, harder this time and Shane kissed him back, his hands tightening around Ilya’s jaw and in his curls.

How the hell had he gone this long without kissing this fucking this fucking asshole.

Even now with Shane in his arms. Kissing him back. Making those demanding sounds as his mouth attacked his, his hands gripping him and keeping Ilya right where he wanted him - it hit Ilya again that he should be walking away. Far away. Keep the shit from Russia and his family away from this man on his lap. Find a girl that made him feel like this. Make his entire existence so much simpler.

But then Shane rolled his hips and Ilya felt his eyes roll back in his head.

If I choose this…this feeling - this MAN…I can’t go home. Right now I need to be able to go back to Moscow. Maybe one day…Maybe we can figure it out…

They hadn’t ever just existed before with each other - let alone someone else in the room. Tonight with Hayes - who he still might want to kill - had been good. It would have been better if he had been closer to Shane. If he could have kissed him to stop the shit talking during the scoring. But it had been good.

If he could just find a way to have that, this and still go to Russia to deal with his family fucking bullshit?

But that was a worry for another day. So, on this day - this night, Ilya leaned back against the pillows and padded headboard of the hotel room bed and smirked at Shane Hollander. Who was looking all kiss flushed and hungry on his lap.

“Now what Shane?” He asked, his tone flirty and then his mouth went a little dry as Shane took off his shirt and then reached for his, “Oh, am I too appropriately dressed for the golden boy of the MLH?”

“You know what, jackass…” Shane took his hands and pinned them to the mattress, “I could always say - “

Ilya growled, “Not a fucking chance Shane Hollander.” He pulled his hands free and then pulled Shane closer, “I am fucking touching tonight. You can get bossy that way another damn night.”

Shane’s eyes went from the color of walnut to the dark of mahogany in what felt like the blink of an eye and then his mouth was back on Ilya’s and his hands were on the waist of his pants. A growl and then they were flipped with a grinning Shane looking up at him. Cheeks flushed, lips shiny and well kissed and melting back into the bed.

“Condoms, Shane…” They weren’t exclusive. They hadn’t ever fucked without a condom. At least not in the way Ilya needed to fuck him tonight. The idea of taking Shane bare was something of his fucking dreams - if he felt this good in a condom - the way he would feel against his bare skin?

Ilya whined in the back of his throat and moved so that his menace could fumble the side drawer open and motion to it, “In there…everything is in there…”

His voice cracked and went low on a whine, “Fuck Ilya…” Shane bucked his hips, “Too many clothes.”

If this asshole didn’t help him get naked soon - Shane was going to take matters into his own fucking hands. Actually…fuck it. He bucked his hips again and this time used the momentum to work his pants down his legs and finally kicked them off towards the end of the bed and then flopped back against the pillows.

“I had plans for those, Shane…” a heavily accented growl hit his ear and Shane bit his bottom lips and fucking whimpered. The way this man’s fucking accent made him hard and fucking hard was entirely unfair. The thicker his accent got? The harder Shane got. If Ilya started speaking in full Russian? Shane was fucked. Which is why the other man could never know.

Shane was in deep like with a fucking asshole that would use and abuse that knowledge. But maybe…just maybe… Shane licked his lips and as Ilya’s forehead hit his shoulder as he focused on working his fingers into Shane’s ass, growled in his ear, “Baise-moi maintenant, espèce de connard…”

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare…” Ilya said with another curl of his finger as they worked inside of him slowly, “You don’t get to break out the fucking French right now asshole.”

“I am trying to encourage you…” Shane said breathlessly as he pressed his hips down trying to get more of Ilya inside of him, “Since you seem to not be getting the point of the evening.”

“Which is…?” Ilya said, his voice bordering on conversational, “I thought we were working out some tension…since you know…you are a cheating cheater who cheats.”

“At what?” Shane growled, his ass clenching around Ilya’s fingers as he glared up at the curly haired menace, “I have done NOTHING to get called that!”

Ilya snorted and added more lube as he started working on a third finger, “I am hearing you are in no hurry…”

“I am going to kill you in your sleep…” Shane bit out with very little thought to his words, then they hit him a bit harder.

’ - in your sleep’. Ilya is going to sleep here and he would get to do that. Be there while Ilya slept. Get time. Because they finally had some. And he was here, under him and they were going to get to -

He was about to have another thought but then Ilya found the spot on his throat with his teeth that made his brain go on the fritz. Then the weight on top of him shifted and Shane felt the familiar stretch and burn of Ilya working his way into his body and his brain turned the rest of the way off.

He didn’t remember his nails leaving marks on Ilya’s back. Or how his teeth sank into his shoulder. The arch of his back that made Ilya curse in Russian as he buried his face in the crook of Shane’s throat. The ache as his fingers gripped his hips and pinned him to the mattress and drove into him harder. The taste of salt on his tongue from the sweat as they kissed and met each other thrust for thrust. The burn in his thighs as he kept them up and spread to give both of them room…

He slowly made his way back to the surface of reality as the weighted blanket that was Ilya Rozanov pressed biting kisses along his jawline, “Ah…there you are…”

“You are too damn good at that….fucker.” Shane said, his voice rough and breathless, “I swear to fucking hell…”

There was a rumbling laugh against his throat that earned Ilya a half-hearted slap to his bicep, “No more fucks for you - you cocky asshole.”

“What if I carry you to the shower?” Ilya said against his ear, pressing another kiss to his temple, “Will that earn me some…what do you call them? Bonus points? And I did promise you a heavy cardio workout. I think you agreed to this already - so I am not sure why I am in trouble for keeping my word.”

Shane groaned as his arms tightened around his lover’s shoulders, “I will have a very logical explanation once my brain works again. For now…take me to the shower.”

“You know for someone who gets huffy when I carry you to bed, you ask for rides a lot.” Ilya said, still not moving off of him or to the shower.

“Again….I will have a very logical explanation later. You turned my brain off.” Shane said, his eyes drifting shut, “But shower, so we can sleep and make it to the ice in time tomorrow.”

“Yes, mой маленький язвительный засранец.”

All Shane could think as he felt Ilya pull out of him slowly and then as he wrapped himself around the other man like a koala and kissed him thoroughly on their way into the shower was -

‘I am so completely fucking screwed…and I can’t ever let this go.’

Chapter End Notes

I do have a playlist for this: Spotify Playlist !

For those of you that struggle with the images in the chapters - I have a Pinterest board where I have uploaded them. (I think I got them all!) So if you struggle - please check out I do have a playlist for this: the Fic Media Board! !

Translations:

Baise-moi maintenant, espèce de connard- fuck me now you asshole

Мой маленький язвительный засранец - my little snarky asshole

 

I am always open to song suggestions as well.

I am looking forward to this journey with you all!

Chapter 6: Starting Over is A Lot

Chapter Summary

Starting over comes in waves sometimes - new workmates, new friends, new place to get coffee in the morning. When you are a creature of habit that avoids change like the plague - starting over seems like the worst thing that could ever happen to you.

But then you put one foot in front of the other and slowly but surely - you find those new work friends, you go out to dinner somewhere new and it's amazing with people that you are still getting to know and spend hours over food talking and you get a new morning routine that works. You find a place that even for a little while - can be a version of HOME.

Shane Hollander is putting one foot in front of the other...slowly but surely.

Ilya Rozanov is doing his fucking best to let him.

Chapter Notes

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

Everyone has been so amazing and I can't thank you enough for all of the kind words and support - it's meant so much to me.

This chapter is currently new and improved with added BETA reading. Because had I just been more patient - it would have been this entire time. The fact that life has been being something other than what was in the 'Adult Life' brochures when we were nine. I

ALSO - ALL CHAPTERS WITH TEXT MESSAGES HAVE BEEN UPDATED/CORRECTED - thank you to everyone who pointed it out - the author is excessively blonde and missed that completely. But it should be corrected now.

Additional update - there has been a link added below to the Pintrest board for the images if they won't load for you. Check the end notes for that and the Playlist!

Shane’s Morning Commute

Jackie Pike Check In Call

”I am just saying Shane, renting isn’t the end of the world. I know you are spiraling over it but I promise - you will survive.” Jackie’s voice came through the speaker as Shane headed to the practice facility after dropping Ilya off at his house.

”I just…” Shane sighed and shook his head, “I don’t know. I think the place I am looking at will be fine. But a new teammate got me a viewing at a place that is newer construction and will take short term leases. Evidently he knows a guy and my realtor is very impressed.”

”Look at you - not even in Boston for two weeks and already you have a real estate guy.” Jackie said on a laugh, ”How are you really doing Shane? Like - it’s just you and me here. How are YOU doing?”

Shane took a slow breath and then sighed on his exhale, “It’s different. The team is back now so I am working with my new line and I don’t have a letter and I am just a dude playing hockey.” He went quiet for a moment, “Jacks, I can’t remember the last time I got to be a dude playing hockey.”

There was a long pause and then a soft laugh, ”Okay then Mr. Hockey Dude, how do you feel about that?”

That part of the conversation was one that Shane wasn’t sure he was entirely ready to have. At least not while he was driving into practice with a new team. With Jackie’s husband at practice with his old team. How do you tell someone that it’s a fucking relief to have no letter. To not be the one to shoulder every expectation. He had the thought in Tampa, but had put that down to having Ilya on the team so it wasn’t ’The Shane Hollander Show’ but with different jerseys. That it had been because it was All-Stars and probably the least serious game he played every year.

But even yesterday at practice it had felt different, He had offered opinions and thoughts - but other people had offered theirs. There had been conversation. There had been a brainstorming session where it wasn’t just his brain and other people getting stormy over it. It had been collaborative - like All-Stars but meaningful.

And he wasn’t sure that he could tell Jackie that. Not like this. Not over the phone,

”I dunno Jacks. Gimme a few more days. Maybe by Friday I will know more.” He said finally, and listened to her hum thoughtfully on the other end of the phone.

”Oh! Speaking of Friday - the kids are going to stay up to watch you play. They want to support Uncle Shane.” Jackie said, letting him get away with that for now, ”Did you know you can get rush shipments from the MLH official store?’

Shane turned into a Dunkin Donuts drive through, “Jackie Pike - what has your unhinged mind told you was a good idea to do? What have I said about intrusive thoughts…?” He sighed, “Also, I need your help in coming up with a strategy to get a fucking Tim Hortons in Boston. This Dunkin nonsense is ridiculous.”

”Firstly, don’t argue with a pregnant lady. We only ever have amazing ideas.” Jackie said with an exasperated tone to her voice, ”Also - baby - why didn’t you tell me they were so mean that they traded you somewhere without a Tim Hortons? What can I do?”

”Send me coffee beans and make sure if they have a good sugar free seasonal syrup, grab it for me.” Shane said with a sigh as he inched forward in line, “But what did you order from the MLH shop, since we both know you have enough Metros shit to start your own store.”

”I can do that.” Was the prompt response, ”As for the other - I didn’t. Your mother did.”

Shane closed his eyes and sighed, “What did my mother do, Jackie?”

”Not telling - just keep an eye on my Instagram on Friday.” Jackie shot back, ”But seriously - do I need to come down there and take some pregnant hormonal rage out on people?”

”Wyatt Hayes got traded about the same time I did. His wife kinda reminds me of you. She didn’t blink when her husband adopted the weird shy dude.” Shane said, “But I am trying to not interfere too much - it’s a lot for them too. It’s nice though - to not be the only new guy.”

On the other end of the call, Jackie Pike was already looking up ‘Wyatt Hayes’ on social media and jotted the name down on her list to look into more later. She wanted Shane to get a good support system in Boston. He needed it. Otherwise he tended to just retreat into hockey. She didn’t want him to retreat into hockey; that rarely ended well.

”Your mother - as always - is a delightful human being.” She said, “And I am betting it is good to not be the only new guy.” Jackie paused again, “And Rozanov is behaving himself? Being nice? I will come down there and give him hell if he’s not.”

She waited very patiently as she listened to Shane’s coffee order and then his laugh, which warmed her up a bit. Because it was his real laugh. Not the fake, forced bullshit she heard sometimes in his interviews or in social situations where he wasn’t comfortable.

”I don’t know Jacks, I am kinda tempted to tell you he’s being a dick just to get you to come down here and kick his ass for me.” Shane said without missing a beat, ”But so far so good. I mean - he’s a stubborn asshole, but I am not always the most easy-going guy on the ice. So I kinda get it.”

”I don’t know Shane, if I ask around all I hear is about how delghtful you are.” Jackie said, “But I can wait him out. He gets too asshole-ish and you need some back up? Call me. I got your back.”

”Ah yes…I will call my very pregnant friend to come drop the gloves with Ilya Rozanov.” Shane said, the fondness in his voice warm and soothing, ”How are my tiny terrors?

Jackie let him distract her with talk of her kids and doctors appointments and how Hayden still needed to build that bookshelf. It was like any other day when she needed to talk to someone that wasn’t her husband - even though she loved Hayden Pike - but still needed someone to just listen. Shane had never declined a call from her - not even when he probably should have.

She had already talked to Hayden - and it was still up in the air on how it would be in Montreal when Shane Hollander came back to town. Iffy enough that taking the kids to the game wouldn’t be a great idea. They wouldn’t understand the boo-birds and the twins were old enough to understand who they were booing.

While she babbled on about Ruby’s latest pre-school shenanigans, Jackie opened up her laptop and pulled up the AirCanada site. Maybe a weekend trip to visit Uncle Shane and meet some of these new people wouldn’t be a bad idea. And then she could make sure that Shane wasn’t being all Shane Hollander Takes on the World about everything and it was actually okay.

After the fuckery that Montreal had put him through - he fucking deserved that.

Warrior Ice Arena

Three Days Before First Home Game

Winston Sebbin wasn’t sure what the hell Montreal had been thinking in letting Shane Hollander go. He wasn’t also going to deny that they now had four rock solid lines. It was insane the way that Hollander saw the ice - he had only really seen a few guys do it - Cap being one of them. But fuck…this was going to be one hell of a last push.

“Hey Sebbs…is there any way you can crash the net a bit more aggressively?” Hollander’s grin was tired but he seemed more relaxed today than he had yesterday. Which he was sure was to be expected - it had to be weird as fuck to be traded like he was.

“Hey Hollzy - quit telling guys to crash my house.” Wyatt Hayes called from the bench, where he was leaning against the boards, “How would you like it if I sent people to crash the dot?”

“They do crash the dot! Have you fucking seen Jackson from the fucking Missions? He can’t stay on his damn feet in the face-off to save his life.” Shane called back with a shake of his head, “And we aren’t crashing your house - we are crashing the houses of our enemies.”

“Ahh…in that case…crash away.” Wyatt called back with a wave of his hand.

“So glad we have your permission to do our jobs Hazy.” the center said with a slightly overly dramatic roll of his eyes, before his attention returned to Winston, “So - do you think you can more aggressively crash the house of our enemies?”

Winston grinned, “I think so, Hollander.”

“Awesome. Either side. Victor is awesome in the corners. Between that and you crashing their house - using Hazy’s term because he looks sad - we can clean up easier. Plus, I fucking hate giving up second chances.”

Victor St. Simon, who had been drafted a year before Rozanov and who until this season had been a third line shut down winger, came to a stop next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders with a huffed chuckle, “I think that could work.”

Shane bit his lip and then looked at both of them, “And - I really can’t stress this enough - I am the new guy. I am going to fuck up with timing. Yell at me. It’s all good. Please know that.”

“Ah so I can tell you - “ Rozanov’s voice preceded the captain out of the tunnel.

Hollander turned to face the bench and the captain as he stepped onto the ice, “Are you one of my second line wingers? No? Then stand there and think of how wrong you are on the Power Play.” He turned back to them and gave them both a wink, “YOU TWO, my WINGERS, communicate when I fuck up. I am the new piece of the puzzle. Cool?”

Sebbins traded a look with St. Simon and they both gave a thumbs up to their new center. Who was currently ignoring their captain that had draped himself over Hollander’s right shoulder while he tried to convince him again that Shane had been wrong on the Power Play set up.

“I swear to fuck Rozanov, my almost two year old godson takes advice better than you do.” Shane shrugged him off and shook his head, “Are we going to try this again then, since you’re here?”

Hayes entered the zone, Toronto blue and white mask propped up on his head, “Alright you two. Let’s see if we can’t run a Power Play that doesn’t have one of you shooting a slap shot at the other’s face. I hear that’s bad for those of you that don’t have a fucking mask.”

Sebbins watched in amusement as Marleau and a few others filtered onto the ice and took some warm up laps, “I mean, I think Hollzy’s slapshot might be sneakier.”

The grin he got in return for that was mischievous, “Oh I am fucking keeping my wingers now.”

Winston straightened up a bit as Cliff Marleau gave him a wink on his way to the Captain’s side. He was only in his third full year in the MLH and the second half of his first full season. He had spent a lot of time going up and down between the AHL and here. He wanted to stay. He had been proving himself and he had been really sure when Connors had gone down and Hollander was brought in that his time was up. But if Hollander was willing to try and not just set the lines on fire?

Fuck - maybe he actually had a shot in hell of staying after all.

Victor St Simon spent more time on the Penalty Kill than he did on the Power Play. So, his role in this chaos party was to play the part of the ref and drop the puck. He had been a close out winger on the third line most of his career and had loved it. Then they had wanted someone with a bit more grit on the second line. Which was his fucking specialty at times. When he had really started to click with Sebbins - the newbie was fast and smart - it had felt like it was a great fit. Then they had both clicked with Connors. The older center - for some of his other weaknesses - was fast and a quick shot and good hockey IQ. It had been going damn good - then he had gotten hurt. Connors had been worried too when he heard about the Hollander trade. Not just for his place on the line up - but for the team heading into the last month of the regular season and then play-offs.

But…it was a few practices in but it seemed like things were going in a solid direction. Or at least a survivable one. Hollander had an eye for the ice- and a lot like their captain - gave praise when it was due. Maybe even a little easier than Rozanov gave it.

“For fuck’s sake - Hollander. Do you know what to do with the puck when it comes to you?” Roz’s voice boomed in the practice rink and St. Simon had a moment of relief that these were closed practices...the public didn’t need to see this.

“Oh I am sorry - was that for me? Because it went more towards Marleau.” Shane said as he stood up and looked genuinely confused, “I thought we were skating counter clockwise…Sorry about that.”

Marleau rolled his eyes and waved off his Center’s apology, “It’s all good Hollzy. Let's just reset huh - we almost have a rhythm.”

The captain sighed and rolled his eyes, “Fine - we can reset and try again. Maybe this time we score a goal.”

Victor watched as a thoroughly unamused Shane Hollander scooped the puck up onto his blade and flipped it. Right at Ilya Rozanov’s head. The other man did catch it and arched a brow at Shane, “Seriously Hollander?”

“Just making sure you know where to shoot the puck if you want me to get it.” Shane replied as he got back into position, “So…again?”

The unholy GLEE on Roz’s face as he did just that - VIctor wasn’t sure if it was because his captain was wanting to go again or because Hollander was ready to go again. He also knew that he sure as fuck was not going to be the one to ask. But he did see Marleau hide a grin in his glove and Hazy shake his head as he sank back into position.

’Oh this was going to be an interesting end to the season for sure…’

Warrior Ice Arena

Locker Room

There was an issue that Shane Hollander had not anticipated when he had gotten fucked stupid by Ilya Rozanov in his bed last night. It really was something he should have thought of - and at the same time he wanted to smirk. Ilya’s back looked like he had been mauled. Marked. Claimed. There was a mark on his shoulder that was NOT from a pad and he wanted to just enjoy the view a bit. He hadn’t ever had the opportunity to see the aftermath on Ilya’s skin. To see what he looked like after a night in Shane’s bed. Not really. It was usually a few rounds - if they were lucky - a shower and then one of them was trying to get back to their hotel before they were really noticed as missing.

’There had been the day of the sandwiches and the names…and him FUCKING it all up. They had had time on that day. But he had gone and freaked out and ruined it all and so he hadn’t had the chance to really look at Ilya after. Fuck he looked good with Shane’s marks on him…

“FUCK Roz…I haven’t seen you look that messed up since the last time…” Cliff’s eyes went wide, “Fuck, since the last game in Montreal…”

Shane turned his back to hide a smirk in his stall. That last game in Montreal had been a fucking high speed, high shooting, high velocity game. It had been an adrenaline rush from puck drop to the final horn. And that time Boston had lost. By a goal. Which meant - Ilya Rozanov in his bed - hands not on Shane for the first round - and it had been everything. Of course that had meant that the second round had been a bit - rough. He had had to hold on somehow. It wasn’t his fault. Not really.

He paused in grabbing his shower gear when he heard Ilya’s smug response.

“Late night visit from Jane. What can I say?” The accent was a bit heavier with each smug syllable.

“Oh did you leave Hollzy’s place not too long after me then?” Hayes asked innocently and Shane briefly pondered if anyone would notice if he killed a goalie and the captain of his new team.

“Yes.” Ilya said, like there was nothing strange about the fact that he had been at his hotel suite. Like it was a fucking thing that they did. He guessed they did that now. But stil….

“Wait - you all hung out last night and didn’t call us?” Victor said with an exaggerated look of dismay on his face, “How dare all of you…”

“It was all really last minute.” Shane said with a small shrug, “We ended up watching Dancing with the Stars and hanging out.”

Victor blinked at Shane and then at Rozanov and then Hayes, “Let me get this straight - you three randomly ended up at Hollzy’s hotel suite and no one thought ’Hey maybe Vicky would like to watch competitive ballroom dancing.?”

There was a snort of laughter from Ilya, “No Vicky - I did not think that. Are you sad that we watched badly judged dancing without you?”

Wyatt rolled his eyes, “Dude, just accept it, your couple didn’t do as well as the others. It’s okay. The world is still turning.”

“Wait - “ Cliff grinned, “Let me get this straight - you, Hollzy and Hazy bonded over a dancing show and weren’t going to tell us? You picked TEAMS and weren’t going to tell us? I call bullshit.”

“To be fair - Roz picked questionably for Week One - but yeah. Did you two want to come next time?” Wyatt offered and Shane wondered how the fucking hell this had become his life.

’You fucked people who weren’t Ilya and fate is a bigger bitch than Patrice Drapeau.’

Ilya Rozanov had a secret that he hoped Shane Hollander never really figured out fully. He was a selfish asshole. An opportunity to hang out with Shane again - with other people? Like - friends? And not have everyone watching them like there was some fucking freak show exhibit happening? He would take all the moments like that that he could.

“And we hung out all night and I didn’t have to separate them.” Wyatt said with a grin.

Ilya snorted when there was a smattering of applause for that statement, “Well, you did give Hollander better advice for picking his couple on show…so there is that.”

“Oh for the love of -” Shane rolled his eyes and tossed the towel he had been drying his hair with and it was Ilya’s turn to duck his head into his stall in theory to find his cologne and was not in any way to hide the smug smirk on his lips.

Because there - on ever so professional and collected Shane Fucking Hollander - were a series of hickeys and marks that couldn’t be explained away by practice and pads. Marks that sure as fuck hadn’t been there the other day - so they were still fresh and …

”DAMN Hollzy…” Vincent let out a whistle, “Did you join Roz and Jane or…?”

’If Vicky wanted to get technical - Shane had joined Roz and Jane was part of Shane so that was a very accurate assessment. Could you have a three way with only two people?’

He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Shane froze and then turned to Victor with a raised brow, “What, you weren’t ever asked?”

Ilya wanted to laugh because fucking hell - THIS was Shane. Not Captain Hollander. Not The Shane Hollander. Not the perfect golden boy of hockey and the MLH. This was the guy that left Ilya ranting voice memos and made ‘no touching’ rules for when Ilya was in the penalty box too often. The man that made him want things he wasn’t supposed to want.

And who had wrecked him last night. But that wasn’t a topic for this room and this moment.

”Seriously though - I have a…friend…that has business sometimes in Boston. They were in town for a few days. Once you all left me to my own devices - I might have met up for a chat.” Shane said with a calm demeanor, even if his shoulders went tight and his eyes were anywhere but at someone’s face.

’Is that what we did Hollander? Chat? I think I remember it being less chatty unless you consider taunting me in fucking French ‘chatting’.’

“Maybe I invite you next time, Hollander. You might get tips.” Ilya said, turning to face him as he applied the cologne and tugged a shirt on.

There was an amused snort, “I think I’m good Rozanov. But I will happily keep kicking your ass picking winners on Dancing with the Stars.”

Sebbins poked his head around the corner from where his stall was located, “Wait - Dancing with the Stars? My mom and aunt are obsessed with that show…”

”Attendez une minute! Vous avez fait une activist de cohesion d’equipe sans votre LINE? Oh la la…comment avez-vous pu?” Victor said, making a sad face at the newest Raider and clutching at his heart, “Next week…I want an invite.”

Sebbins looked around and smirked, “If Vicky comes I want to come too….”

Shane looked around the locker room in genuine confusion and then at Wyatt, who was smirking and looking back at Shane expectantly, “Wait…what is happening here…?”

Ilya rolled his eyes and made his way over to Shane and draped an arm around his shoulder like it was nothing, “Hollander, this is what is called ‘team bonding activity’. Where we all hang out and don’t wear skates.”

”I will even host this time.” Wyatt said with a grin, “I mean it will still be a hotel room, but there is room service…”

Ilya let the room sort out who was coming to the next week’s television show thing, and stood next to Shane with his arm around his shoulders, his voice low so only Shane could hear him, “So you don’t want to join Jane and I next time, Hollander?”

Shane drove his elbow into his side ’gently’, “You are such an asshole. I mean if you need some advice…”

Ilya rolled his eyes, “Oh fuck you Hollander.”

”Wouldn’t want ... Jane, right? To come for me.” Shane said as he pulled away, “Okay - I have to go and be an adult and find a place to live that isn’t the hotel with room service.”

Ilya watched him pull away and he wandered back to his own stall.

’See…we can be friends…and he was Shane for a bit there. In Boston.’

Ilya Rozanov’s Commute Home

Svetlana Vetrova Check In

Usually when he was on the phone with Svetlana the conversation flowed in Russian and Ilya loved it. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to mentally translate what he wanted to say. He just - spoke. Today was no different - he got to just breathe and catch up with his friend as she made her way through Paris.

”So when were you going to tell me that Shane Hollander had been traded to your team, you jackass ?!” Svetlana accused through the speakers in his car, ”I shouldn't have to find this out from some third rate hockey podcast.”

”Because I didn’t know right away and then I was winning games and now he’s in my fucking room.” Ilya said, as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he made his way towards his house, ”Besides he’s the second best - “

”Don’t even start with me Ilyusha.” her voice interrupted him, ”Everyone else may not understand you after all this time - which just proves how dumb hockey players are - but I know that you don’t get this aggravated by someone that isn’t good enough to piss you off.”

The one shitty thing about having someone in your life that had known you since the age of four - was that they fucking knew you. Svetlana Vetrova could call him on his shit better than anyone - Shane was a close second. Which reminded him that they could never meet or he would never know peace.

’Except you want them to meet. Peace is overrated. If she met him - if she knew how he made you feel - she would help you keep him. Find a way to make it possible.

Which was exactly why Sveta and the menace that he was addicted to could never fucking meet.

”Shush you.” Ilya said with a roll of his eyes that she couldn’t see, ”Maybe if you came back you could see how he’s decimating my beautiful PowerPlay. Live and in person.”

Maybe he also just wanted her back to talk to. To bounce ideas and thoughts off of. Just have her here as a calming presence. She hadn’t ever missed a post-season and it was getting close to it.

Like she could sense the question that was on the tip of his tongue, Svetalana laughed, ”I am heading back next week Ilyusha. I won ‘t miss the post-season.”

”Well, you know how I like to have things all the same for the post-season. Not that I'm superstitious.” Ilya said with a roll of his eyes that she couldn’t see, ”Just making sure is all.”

Svetlana was curious just when Ilya Rozanov had sustained some kind of head injury and not told her. Or anyone. If he thought for a moment that she was going to miss either the end of his regular season or post-season now that they had fucking HOLLANDER? Now this was a run from Boston that she wanted to see. Not to mention - she wanted to meet this Shane Hollander properly. Anyone who could keep Ilya’s attention on the ice as well as he did?

She was curious.

”But seriously - you are good with Hollander on the team? Do I need to be terrifyingly Russian when I meet him? Or…” She paused, picking up her glass and her brow raised at the silence on the other end of the call, ”Ilyusha?”

The silence held on for a few more beats, ”Sveta, if he can fire a puck at my head, I think he’s going to be fine.”

Her laugh was warm and bright as it spilled out of her, ”Tell me that this is on film. Please. I need to see this immediately.”

”You are never going to see it. Ever. You are never going to meet him. There is already too much chaos in the world with you two separate. I don’t need to cause the end of civilization as we know it by introducing the two of you.” Ilya said, sounding somehow frustrated and fond at the same time.

Svetlana snorted and shook her head, ”I am so glad that you aren’t dramatic about this. That you are being so normal. Such growth Ilyusha.”

”I have never been dramatic. I am a passionate man about things that matter. Not dramatic.” was the response and Svetlana could hear the pout on his face.

”Ahh…so that was what your reaction was to my suggestion that you be a winger for Hollander in Tampa? Are you his winger here in Boston? Is that what you aren’t telling me?”

Again there was a pause and then a sigh, ”I do have things I want to tell you - but I need to tell you in person. So the sooner you can stop breaking the hearts of everyone in France and come back to Boston the better.”

”Alright…I will see if I can move my ticket.” Svetlana was about to say something about leaving a car for her at the airport when Ilya spoke again.

”I need to talk to you about…” there was a series of curses that would have made both of their mothers glare and then a deep sigh, ”I just would like to bounce some things off of you. Sometimes you don’t have horrible ideas.”

”I am going to leave the vodka I got for you in St. Petersburg in Customs.” She said with a bit of extra exasperation in her tone, ”I don’t think you deserve good vodka. You can drink that cherry shit from the liquor store.”

She leaned back in her chair and pulled up her flight details to see if there was a way to get a flight sooner while Ilya growled in her ear about how she was being dramatic herself by withholding vodka - actual vodka and not whatever the hell Americans considered vodka. Something was bothering her friend - she didn’t know what it was - but her gut was telling her it was time to head to Boston. He hadn’t worried about her not showing up before and now with Hollander in town permanently…

It was time to head back indeed.

North Pointe Condominiums

Penthouse 4 - A

North End, Boston

“Okay honey - are you sure that you want to rent though?” Yuna’s voice came through the speaker of his phone as Shane did a slow turn in the empty space of what would be his home for the rest of the season, “Also there seem to be hockey players sitting on your kitchen island…was that part of the lease agreement?”

“Absolutely, they come with the HOA.” Shane said with a roll of his eyes, “Mom, that’s Wyatt Hayes and Cliff Marleau. Cliff is the one that got me a viewing here.” He couldn’t completely hold back a laugh when the two idiots on his island waved at the phone like the dorks that they were.

“Well, thank you Mr. Marleau.” Yuna said, amusement in her voice, “But Shane honey…”

“Mom. I knew Montreal. I knew where I wanted to live. I had time. I don’t know Boston and I have no time. If I rent this for the rest of the season I will have time to explore the city a bit and then in the off season - I will have a better idea of where I want to be. This lease is a six month lease. I am not joining a cult - just renting a condo.”

Cliff snorted, “I dunno man - an HOA might be a bit of a cult.”

Shane shot him a glare at his mother's triumphant noise on the phone, “Mom, I am going to hang up now. I am going to dinner with kitchen island invaders and tomorrow I will contact the very nice moving people to get my stuff out of storage.”

“Alright - I am happy if you are happy. Oh - which reminds me. You do need to get in touch with Oliver about the Montreal properties. He has interested parties.” Yuna said with a soft sigh, “I will also shoot you our flight information for Friday. I think we will just get an Uber from the airport though.”

“Sounds good mom. Have a great night.” Shane hung up the phone with a look at the two very innocent looking men sitting on what would be his kitchen island for the next six months, “Okay - new rule. You don’t get to talk to my mother. She is probably now googling if HOA’s are actually cults in the States.”

There was the sound of a text alert and Cliff rolled his eyes, “According to our illustrious captain ‘Please get here soon or I will hear even more about Hollander’s stats from Sebbin.’” He looked between Shane and Wyatt, “Are we ready to go? He’s just gonna keep blowing up my phone if we don’t.”

“Hey, you offered to drive since neither of us know which way to go in this town.” Wyatt said with a shrug, “I go where you go buddy.”

Shane grinned and shrugged his shoulders, “Hey - I am just along for the ride.” He spun the keys he had just signed for on his finger, “I will say, I never try to rush things just because of reasons. But damn this was nice to speed up this process.”

Cliff made a face as they headed towards the door, “I will warn you - you aren’t going to be able to rush the actual BUYING process. I had a realtor tell me that since I didn’t have ‘year round employment’ I might be considered a loan risk. I was paying cash.”

“What do they think we do in the off season?” Shane asked with a shake of his head, “I mean yeah we have down time but hell. It is a year round job. I intensely dislike people who can’t see things correctly and make it everyone else’s problem.”

‘Like my former team for the most part…and management…and coaching…’

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed as they headed for the door, “Where are we going again?”

“Leonardo’s Seafood. They have this spicy salmon thing that is fucking incredible. In the off season - I will take you back for their surf and turf. But less red meat in the season.” Cliff said with a roll of his eyes, “Fucking team dietician and their ‘healthy balance’ bullshit.”

Shane flushed a bit but smiled all the same, “Well, considering I have my own weird diet, this will work.”

Wyatt slung an arm around Shane’s shoulders, “Stick with us Hollzy. We will face ‘healthy balance’ together.”

The door clicked shut behind them and the lock engaged. Shane let himself be led back towards the elevator that would take them down to the secure parking area - which had frankly been a selling point. As had the fact he could lease two parking spots. One for him and one for company. Company that would benefit from off the street, away from public sight, parking.

Thank fuck for Cliff Marleau and his unintentional hook up assistance. Maybe one day he would send him an Edible Arrangement or something in thanks.

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

Waiting for Shane in a hotel room - something he was intimately familiar with - felt different tonight to Ilya Rozanov. Could they have met at his place? Absolutely. But what had started out as Shane not wanting to constantly having to hire a ride out to his place before his car had gotten to Boston had changed to ‘what if someone comes looking for me and I am not here’. Which did make sense to Ilya - hell they had been interrupted by Hayes already and if the team came looking at a bizarrely early time - which was entirely possible? It wasn’t something that he wanted to have to deal with the fall out with Shane over. So, hotel room waiting it was.

Still though, he didn’t know if it was the Raiders gear that was on the couch with ‘24’ on it and not his ‘81’. Or the fact that there was a fucking lease in BOSTON of all places with Shane’s signature on it. That Shane was coming back here after having a ‘team dinner’ with THEIR teammates and he was going to stay the fucking night because they had a late morning skate tomorrow and they had the fucking time. They had never had fucking time.

Not unless he thought about the day in his house with the food and the ginger ale and the names and …

Ilya ran his fingers through his curls and growled. He was past it. He was. Shane apologized. He had done similarly shitty things to Shane. They forgave each other and they moved forward. Until they couldn’t do that any more. And Ilya was just - his brain was telling him that this was too good. It was too much. He was too deep and he needed to fucking run. It was dangerous. To get this fucking attached.

He really needed to end things. Then the door opened and in walked the fucking freckled menace to whatever the fuck was left of his sanity.

“I KNOW mom.” Shane said tossing his keys to the table, “But if I am not there anymore - I am not making the charitable donation through the fucking Metros. They can find another player to write a check. YES - I am still donating but as me. Not me through them.” He walked right to Ilya and muted the call, kissed him firmly on the lips, “Give me three minutes.”

Then the phone was back to his ear and he was heading towards the bedroom area still going off about some charity situation in fucking Montreal and Ilya let a small grin come out. Then he was following him into the bedroom and flopping dramatically onto the bed with a pout on his lips.

“Mom, it’s literally 10 at night. I promise you - this isn’t that deep. We can sort it out when you are here on Friday. Did you get my package today that I sent you?” Shane rolled his eyes at him and then pointed to his jacket and mouthed ‘off’ and flipped him off with a very ‘I am Shane Hollander and you will do this because I said so’ look on his face, “Because Mom, I am not a Metro anymore, so you have to wear other colors.”

Ilya watched him with amusement as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Then wear all black and be in mourning. Everyone will think you are just the amazingly supportive mother that you have always been.” Shane paused, “Oh fuck, did I tell you that someone - maybe someones - are sitting with you and Dad?” There was a pause and then a snort of laughter, “No Mom, but it is Miles and maybe Rose. Miles is coming to town on Friday for a few days.”

That made Ilya sit up and raise both of his brows. Shane raised a brow at him, motioned to his jacket again and mouthed ‘Off Ilya…’ and Ilya took that moment to flip him off back. Because seriously - what the fucking hell?

Rose Fucking Landry. In his arena? Watching Shane? Oh he thought the FUCK not. And WHY the fucking hell was MILES going to be there? He leaned back against the headboard and raised a brow at Shane - deliberately NOT taking off his jacket just to be an asshole. At this point it was more to irritate the other man as much as he was irritating him. The asshole.

“Mom, I have a skate tomorrow. Just do what you can and if I need to sign things, bring them on Friday. Okay, I love you too.” Shane hung up the phone, plugged it in to charge and then looked at him, “Why the hell are you still in your jacket?”

“Care to share more about Miles?” Ilya shot back, “And why he’s coming on Friday?”

Ilya had PLANS for Friday. He was going to make Shane go out for a bit, then he was going to take him home and fuck him through his mattress. And the shower wall. And maybe the couch. None of that included a damned asshole named Miles who was evidently coming on Friday and staying for a ‘couple of days.’

A few emotions flashed across Shane’s face, before his ‘media day’ face settled over his features, “A friend that I met through Rose.”

Ilya snorted, “Oh? Then he should come with us to team dinner. Since is ‘friend’.” he put up his hands for a very pointed set of air quotes, eyes locked on Shane’s.

“I might…skip the team dinner after the game on Friday. My parents are also in town and I wanted to take them out while they are here…” Shane said with a small shrug, “Is that going to be a huge issue?”

Was it a huge issue as far as the team was concerned? Not at all. Was it an issue as far as ILYA was concerned? It was and he fucking hated that.

“And if I said it was?” Ilya said with a narrowed eyed glare as Shane remained where he was, leant against the dresser and with his arms crossed.

A small grin started to form on Shane’s lips, “I might have to get on my knees and ask for forgiveness - because I am pretty sure that I am going to have to miss dinner…”

Shane Hollander. On his damn knees. For him.

‘What god had he pissed off in another life to fucking have that mental image when he was trying to do what was the SMART move? Even if he wanted to send Shane Hollander to meet this Miles with ILYA’S marks on his fucking skin.’

If he ever felt like he consistently had the upper hand with Ilya Rozanov with his clothing on - Shane would have already told the other man just why Miles was coming when he was. But he didn’t and the fact that Ilya was acting like this? It was delicious. It was confidence building.

It was ensuring that as long as he didn’t take this too far he wouldn’t be feeling his legs for a while tonight - and fuck if he didn’t need that. Were there easier ways to get that from Ilya - absolutely. He could just ask for it. But they had spent too many years doing stupid ass shit to get reactions out of the other.

It wasn’t the healthiest habit - but it was one they had all the same.

Before Shane could say something else, Ilya was off the bed and intruding into his personal space. Fucking hell. This asshole with his leather jacket, expensive cologne and curls. Those messy, soft curls that were calling to Shane to play with them as he buried his nose against his throat.

But he wasn’t done having fun yet.

“Can I help you with something, Ilya?” He gave him an innocent ‘media day’ smile and blinked at him lazily, “Other than to take your jacket off before you get back into my bed?”

“Maybe I won’t be getting back in your bed.” Ilya said, his voice calm and even, “Maybe I need to know why the fuck Miles is coming first.”

“A friend. A friend I need some help from.” Shane said with a small shrug, his smile turning a bit wicked, “You know - how you talk to Svetlana.”

There was a fire in Ilya’s eyes that did something to Shane. Gave his grin a bit more of an edge and made him a bit more confident, “I mean - he can’t sell me a car but…”

‘Did Ilya need to know that the only thing that was the same with Ilya and Svetlana was that they were friends? Not right now. DId he need to know that Shane had never slept with Miles? Not right now. All Ilya needed to know was that Miles was coming to town.’

“Shane. Hollander.” Ilya emphasized his words, leaning so that his lips brushed against Shane’s ear, “Why Miles?”

Containing the shudder that wanted to run down his spine was hard, but Shane managed it barely. Maybe. Possibly.

“A friend I met through Rose.” He leaned forward just enough so that his lips brushed against Ilya’s as he spoke, “But it’s just for a few days. He wants to see where I am now.”

‘He’s going to help me figure out how to be a gay man in a public-facing career and not slowly die inside. Because if the assholes in Montreal know and the end of the season goes the way I think it’s going to go with me here and not there? I don’t trust an NDA to keep their fucking mouths shut. Because I need someone that knows what it’s like to not have the safety net of liking women. Because I can’t have this blow back on you. I need to protect myself. And you. And our careers and I don’t know if we are ready for this fucking conversation…’

Then there was a calloused hand against his throat and Shane gave in a bit and leaned into its firm grip, “Fuck Ilya….”

“I will get it out of you Hollander.” Ilya said with a smirk and a wink, “I can be very…persuasive.”

“You can try.” He said with a smirk that turned into a laugh when he was picked up and carried to the bed, “You know - I keep waiting for you to get sick of this trick…”

“’Oh I am Shane Hollander and I keep forgetting the times I have literally pouted until I was carried to bed’.” Ilya teased him in a very shitty accent that Shane was pretty sure was supposed to be Canadian.

“I was DRUNK. And you almost dropped me - twice.” Shane said with a laugh as he landed on the hotel mattress and put a foot on Ilya’s chest as the other man went to lean over him, “Jacket off.” There was possibly the most dramatic sigh that the Russian had done since arriving at his hotel room and then the jacket was removed and then dropped on the floor in some act of bullshit, “I am going to kick your fucking ass Rozanov.”

Ilya raised a brow at him, pulled his shirt off over his head and then tossed it on top of his jacket before lowering himself down on top of Shane. Then he sealed their mouths together and growled against them with his hands sliding under Shane’s shirt. Then Ilya just seemed to lose himself in the kiss. Which was fine. Because Shane was losing himself too. The faint taste of a cigarette, the bite of mint from the gum that Ilya thought he was pulling one over on him, the weight of him pressing Shane into the mattress, and the growl that he could fucking FEEL where their chests were pressed together. Fingers in his hair and a tongue working its way into his mouth and Shane wrapped himself around the other man and just went along for the ride.

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2, 4:00 AM

Shane leaned in the doorway of the bathroom, steam from their mutual shower still around him as Ilya watched him from the bed. He idly fussed with the towel at his waist. He sighed deeply, “I am going to get water - you want one?”

There was a nod and he felt blue eyes follow him out of the room. He grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and then stared out of the window at the city of Boston spread out in front of his window. Dark and mysterious. He didn’t know how long he stood there but at some point Ilya must have gotten tired of waiting for him because he appeared next to him and took one of the water bottles. They silently stared out the window.

Shane’s voice was soft when he spoke, “I don’t trust the instigators up in Montreal to stick to the NDA. Especially if we kick their asses or they feel backed into a corner or…” He took a slow sip of water, “Miles is coming to help me game plan. I need to feel like I have some kind of control over - “

“Miles. Very New Friend Miles?” Ilya cut in as he leaned against the window frame and eyed Shane, “What kind of game plan…”

“Well, winging it as a gay guy in the closet didn’t work so well for me last time. He knows how to - “ Shane waved his hand in the air, “Do the things.”

Ilya snorted a laugh, “Shane, you just spent a couple of hours showing me you get how to be gay.”

He aimed the the water bottle at the Russian and squirted cold water in his face, “Not what I meant fucker. I mean - how to be in the fucking closet and not getting fucking caught. In theory. Or least have it suck less. And I don’t know…”

He watched Ilya process what he was talking about, the more he thought about it the more Ilya frowned, “I don’t know…why? Why do you need this now?”

Shane let there be a few beats of silence and then he let out a slow breath, “Before Rose - I didn’t really see myself as gay. Or as someone that only wanted men. You like both - you are also someone I am trying to not get pulled into whatever the fuck happens with me and fucking Montreal.” He looked over at Ilya, “Your dad is sick. You still need to go back to Moscow - hell you might still WANT to - and if I get screwed over here because I am being unintentionally stupid and you get pulled into something and couldn't ... I can’t do that to you, asshole.”

There were times Ilya really wanted to throttle Shane Hollander. But in this case he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him ‘What the fuck does it matter Hollander?’ Or ‘Fuck it let’s beat them to the punch.’ Because his father was sick. As much as he hated Moscow - he still had to be able to go back. He had a Russian passport and he had a Russian agent and he had - it was so fucking messy and this if nothing else should be what pushed him into ending this. Getting dressed and leaving.

But then he remembered how Shane had looked under him not even an hour ago. The way he had kissed him. So, instead of leaving he shrugged his shoulders, “You are not wrong - but I still don’t understand what is the deal with Miles.”

“He’s been where I am - kind of. I need someone with some experience who isn't attracted to women as a part of my overall public strategy. Rose trusts him. Hell, he helped me find my stylist.” Shane made a face and shook his head, “And he can do that - I think - help me figure out this part of me and how to make it work. I hope so anyway. I don’t have anyone else.”

There was some truth to that - if anything leaked about Ilya - he had his very public history of fucking his way through the Eastern seaboard to back up his claims of bullshit. Shane was innately more private. He had assholes in Montreal that would be more than happy to set his world on fire if mood suited. So, Ilya moved closer and invaded Shane’s personal space and kissed him firmly.

“Fuck it for now - come back to bed.” Ilya whispered against Shane’s lips, hands went to his hip and gripped him firmly, so he stayed in his personal space.

There was time now. They had - for the first time in almost a fucking decade of dancing around each other - they had fucking time. They could figure out this, the team, the Power Play and fucking Miles later. Right now all he wanted was to pass out in a bed and then wake up next to Shane. See how it felt to do it for the first time. Granted it wasn’t either of their ACTUAL beds - but it was a fucking start.

There was a calloused hand on the back of his neck and fingers tangled in his curls and in the glow of the city lights outside of the window he saw a pair of lips tilt into a small smile and then he was getting a soft kiss.

“Yeah, we should go to bed. We have a lot to work on later.” Shane said as he brushed his lips over Ilya’s, “After all, I have to teach you what a functional Power Play looks like.”

“Oh, you are going to teach me what a functioning one looks like?” Ilya said, his brows arched and lips curling into an answering smirk, “We have one of those already.”

“Thanks to you - you have a great Penalty Kill. But since you spend so much time in the sin bin…” Shane teased as he pushed away from the window and headed back towards the bedroom, “It’s understandable that you might not understand the Power Play as much. It’s when someone does something dumb before you do.”

Ilya growled and Shane took off running towards the bed with him in hot pursuit. Their water bottles fell forgotten on the carpet as the blonde tackled the ‘golden boy of hockey’ to the bed. He pinned him to the mattress and then kissed him firmly, “Such disrespect to your Captain…”

There was a chuckle and an unholy grin on Shane’s face and it hit him in the chest all over again. ‘MINE.’ Shane was his - and fucking ‘Miles’ would just have to figure that out. Maybe he should tell Shane that first, but that seemed like a conversation for another time. Right now his mouth was busy kissing Ilya. Which - in Ilya’s very esteemed opinion - should never be interrupted for something as stupid as a conversation.

Then Shane tugged on his hair and rolled his hips against Ilya’s and his brain went offline.

Warrior Ice Arena

Two Days Before First Home Game

Victor St. Simon watched Shane Hollander talk strategy with Ilya Rozanov from his spot sitting on the wall by the bench and sipping his morning smoothie and wondering just what the hell the hockey gods had been thinking putting these two on the same team. He didn’t look over when Cliff hopped onto the wall next to him.

“So, just a question.” Cliff asked, his voice low and clearly just meant for the two of them, “Are you at all curious where this version of Shane Hollander came from?”

Victor shot him a look out of the corner of his eyes, “Fuck yes I am. But right now I am enjoying my new favorite show ‘Ilya Rozanov Meets His Match’ - it might win an Emmy.”

Was he curious? Fuck yes he was curious. You didn’t get rid of a franchise player - the Captain - without fucking reason and there was no reason for a Montreal ‘re-tool’. Boston was older in some key spots - so it made sense for them. Moving on from a goalie that wasn’t working. Filling in a second line center position that was desperately needed. He liked Connors. He was a good guy. But even Connors couldn’t believe they had gotten fucking Shane Hollander to fill his spot. Not to mention that Shane was snarky, sneakily funny and was fucking smart. So it couldn’t have been him losing the room - because - how the fuck was Hollzy losing a room? Unless it was a room of assholes - which was possible - but still…

“Not going to lie - it’s nice to have someone around who understands French unlike you assholes.” Victor said with a smirk and then his head turned as voices grew more intense on the ice, “Ooh, what’s happening?”

“Sebbs…come here!” Shane waved over the younger player and the players watched Ilya dramatically roll his eyes and skate back into position, “All I am saying is we can try - it’s called compromise, Rozanov.”

“Fine, Hollander. We will try this ‘compromise’”, Ilya said with his gloved hands making air quotes, “but I still think you are being stubborn.”

“How has no one else on this team not fired a puck at your head yet?” Shane asked, rolling his own eyes, “Just humor the new guy.”

“Fine, fine…we will humor the newbie.” Ilya said getting into position, and then looked over at them, “Hey Marly, come humor newbie with me.”

“I do Penalty Kill.” Cliff called back, “You humor him. I am keeping Vic company.”

Victor fist bumped with Cliff as they watched the group on the ice run through a few more patterns - and it actually started to flow better. Not to mention it got Sebbin more involved. Victor gave a low whistle, “Hey Marly….”

“Yeah - this is flowing better. Fucking hell…”

Victor’s grin turned wicked as he tucked his smoothie bottle into the wall and out of the way, “Okay show offs. Lets work on line shit - I didn’t come in on my off day for no reason. Let’s get this shit working huh.”

He met Shane’s gaze and raised a brow, “I promise - I play nicer than the Captain.”

The grin he got in return was bright and brown eyes twinkled at him, “You are going to save me from running this again? You might be my favorite winger other than Sebbs.”

“Hollander, I don’t know how to tell you this - “ Rozanov started, only to be cut off by a laughing Hollander, “What?”

“I mean - you were my winger in Tampa. I think I like these new ones more is all.” The second line center said with an extremely innocent look on his face.

Rozanov blinked at him, “Wait - you are saying that Vicky and Sebs are better wingers than me? ME?” He pointed at his chest, “You are liar - it’s okay. I know you are trying to build their confidence.”

The newest Raider just shook his head, “Whatever helps you sleep at night Rozanov. Whatever helps you sleep.”

The outraged look on the captain’s face was priceless and it got even more outraged when Victor draped himself over Shane’s shoulder, “Well, Hollzy, let’s do this shit. Let’s show the first line how this is done.”

“See, I knew I liked you.” Shane said, trying to relax a bit and fist bumping him. It was strange to him how Shane seemed to be unsure how to react when he was treated like a linemate. The way he would tense when he was pulled in to a group conference on the ice, or an arm round the shoulders. Like he wasn’t used to it.

Which made Victor St. Simon wonder again - ’Just what the FUCK had been happening in Montreal?

Victor watched as his captain skated towards the bench muttering under his breath and then spoke so only Hollander could hear him, “You know we HAVE to outscore that top line right?”

The slow grin and wink he got from his new center - not to mention the way that he relaxed under the arm around his shoulders - had the more veteran winger grinning, “Oh hell yes…let’s DO this shit…Sebbs get your ass over here man. We have shit to do.”

Chapter End Notes

I do have a playlist for this: Spotify Playlist !

And for those that are still having issues with the images - the Pintrest board has been updated - Fic Media Pintrest Board

I am always open to song suggestions as well.

I am looking forward to this journey with you all!

Translations:

Attendez une minute! Vous avez fait une activist de cohesion d’equipe sans votre LINE? Oh la la…comment avez-vous pu?- Wait a minute! You did a team-building activity without your LINE? Oh my... how could you?

Chapter 7: The Calm Before the Mayhem

Chapter Summary

First Game Eve. The last time that Shane had had this night - it was before his MLH debut and he had been a teenager.

Now he was - in theory - an adult heading into the mayhem of his first game in Boston. As a Raider. With so much up in the air and not nearly enough in his control - it's all going to be FINE.

Who needs clarity on his - whatever it is - with Ilya Rozanov? Or a plan on how to deal with the fact that this game tomorrow is one game closer to having to play Montreal again? Or having a complicated conversation with a new-ish friend? Or that he was so much closer to taking the ice with new linemates - and neither of them were Hayden Pike.

But it was going to be absolutely fine. Completely and utterly fine.

Yep.

Chapter Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

Yes, I do have chunks of this pre-written. Yes, I am maintaining I don't have a posting schedule. Yes, I know where this is all going. Yes, it's going to be a slow journey. Because these two guys are both going through it. But the journey I PROMISE will be worth it. At least to me. So there's that.

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

While I might have the same faith in me self-editing this chapter as Shane Hollander has in the mute iPhone mute button? The every amazing and glorious Jen has saved us all again. So everyone say ‘THANK YOU JEN’.

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

 

Shane was at the airport picking up his parents - and had to go back later because Rose and MIles were getting in early. (Which Ilya was not having any issues with at all. Absolutely none) But instead of going home to his own space - Ilya Rozanov was lounging on the couch in Shane’s hotel suite, doomscrolling on his phone and trying to not think about Rose and Miles coming down for the first game in Boston. What it could mean. What he wanted it to mean. What he absolutely did NOT FUCKING want it to mean.

It wasn’t like Ilya wanted to isolate Shane Hollander from the world. He wanted the fucking opposite. But he was a possessive asshole and he knew it. He had told Shane in Tampa they couldn’t be more. But then had fucked him like they were. They hadn’t spent too many nights apart in the short time he had been back in Boston since the trade had happened. They had been out for ‘team bonding’. They had fucked. They had practice together.

But Ilya’s head kept going back to that fucking hotel in Tampa. ’We can’t be more, Hollander’. Which was fucking accurate - if he was being logical. But the issue was - and despite his reputation for the opposite - when it came to his career and life? Ilya was rarely illogical. It was how he had survived to this fucking point. The issue he was currently having was - he fucking wanted Shane Hollander.

The way that fucking asshole had made him addicted was stupid and awful. It had been easier when Shane had his tempting Canadian self up in Montreal. A two hour flight or five hour drive? It was easier to pretend he was on the other side of the country and unreachable. Now he was a twenty minute drive when traffic was good and forty-five when it wasn’t. His new place would have him closer. It was like fate was being a bigger bitch than ever and showing him everything he wanted. Everything. All he had to do was fucking take it.

He heard the beep of the lock as it unlocked and then Shane’s voice preceded him into the space, “Yeah, mom….I literally just got you settled in the hotel - “ He stopped and leaned against the couch where Ilya was lying - and what was Ilya supposed to do? NOT touch him?

He was a decent human - not a saint. If Ilya was also supposed to not hear the slight hitch in Shane’s voice when his hand slid up the back of his shirt and stroked his warm skin? Was he not supposed to be an observant man? He was a professional athlete…he was paid to notice things. It was only natural.

”Mom, I love you. So much. But I promise you can go get lunch with Dad and not take me. I am going to hit the gym before I have to head back to the airport…” Shane’s fingers found his curls and Ilya melted. In a very stoic, masculine and Russian way. Puddles could be all of these things. It was a fact.

”You want me to bring -“ Shane glanced down at him and raised a brow, “I will see if I can find some of the Boston numbers and see if anyone wants to join us for dinner. Maybe I’ll bring Rozanov.”

Ilya’s eyes went wide and he pinched Shane’s side, and the other man smirked at him, “I am going to let you go Mom. Yes, you will meet Lisa and Wyatt.” He paused and rolled his eyes, “Mom, this is starting to feel like the time you ‘randomly’ invited my entire hockey team over to help me make friends when I was seven.” There was another pause and then he sighed, “I will call you when I am back from the airport and the facility. Enjoy Boston. It’s fun.”

Then the phone was hung up and Shane leaned over the couch and peered into his face, “I didn’t expect to see you here today.” And then he kissed him firmly, “Want to join us for dinner tonight?”

Ilya very much did, but if he was being logical, “I don’t know Shane…”

Shane rolled his eyes as he tapped out a message to someone on his phone, “Calm down - it’s my parents, Rose, Miles, and the Hayes’. Maybe Vicky, Sebs and Marly.” His warm brown eyes met Ilya’s, “Come to dinner and meet my people Ilya. Well, some of my people. The Pikes are in Montreal.”

”Why would I want to meet the 19th best Metro and the woman he conned into marrying him?” Ilya said with a roll of his eyes, then he bit his lower lip, “Are you sure…that you want me to…?”

”I know we can’t….right now. Or maybe ever. I know why - the Russia of it all. Hell, maybe a million other things. But right now - you are important - and I want you to meet my other people. Even if it is just as my annoying as fuck hockey captain who whiffs on the passes I send him.”

”I did that once.” Ilya said, and then he moved and pulled a laughing Shane over the back of the sofa, and he sighed into Shane’s neck, “Shane…”

The infuriating man rolled on top of him and then met his gaze, “Yes, Ilya?”

”Don’t date Miles. I know what I said in Tampa and it’s still true. But….” Ilya closed his eyes with a growl, “Just don’t, okay?”

Shane was silent, then very calmly reached behind Ilya’s head, yanked out one of the pillows there and hit him in the face with it repeatedly.

”Oh you fucking asshole…” Shane sat up and awkwardly straddled his waist while he glared at him, “Is that why you are being a fucking asshole about Miles? You think I’m what? Importing a boyfriend option or something?”

Ilya glared up at him, “Well, aren’t you?!”

Shane was going to kill Ilya Rozanov. In fact the only reason the man was still breathing is Shane didn’t want the fucking ‘C’ down here and he was afraid if he killed Ilya that they would give it to him. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“I need a friend who isn’t you and who has gone through this bullshit. You are bisexual. You have an interest in women that I don’t. You have a safety net. I don’t. I thought I did. I thought that being discreet and being quiet would keep me fucking safe. Keep whatever the fuck we have safe.” Shane stood up and started to pace in front of the couch.

“I have to be better at this than I was, Ilya. You said we can’t be more in Tampa, I know that we are currently trying to do a weird ‘kinda more, kinda not’ thing because of just fucking life. If I could get found out in fucking Montreal when we WEREN’T on the same team - then what if I get found out now? If you get roped into things because we aren’t fucking careful?” Shane met Ilya’s eyes, “You aren’t going to be in fucking danger because I like your cock and you a little more than is reasonable.”

“Is there a reasonable amount to like my cock?” Ilya asked, looking up at him with a falsely innocent look on his face, “What is that amount, Shane?”

“Oh FUCK you.” He threw a pillow at the asshole lying on his temporary sofa, “I need you to understand this - I am not looking to date Miles. I am looking to be his friend. To learn how to be okay with being gay. Until my now ex-girlfriend very nicely held my hand and walked me to the fucking point - I still wasn’t sure that I was gay. I wasn’t able to admit that to myself until recently and look at where winging it and doing this all on my own got me.”

Shane ran his fingers through his hair, “And now I am in a new city, a new team, the guy I like more than a reasonable amount is within touching distance all the time and we have to be fucking careful Ilya. I am not importing a fucking booty call. I am importing a fucking man who can help me. A friend.”

“I could - “ Ilya started and then Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh I can’t, hmm?”

Shane let the words he wanted to say roll around in his head and then he took a seat on the coffee table and groaned, “Ilya, we are still figuring ourselves out - what we are. Who we are. And that was complicated enough when I was in fucking Montreal. Now I am here. You are here.” He looked up from where he had been laser-focused on his hands, “But now there is this new facet of me that I don't know - and I thought I did. I really thought that I knew who I was, and hockey, and what the fuck else did I really need to know.”

He held a hand up when Ilya went to speak, “Let me finish.” His favorite asshole sat up and they let their knees touch, “And now I have to figure out who I am all over again. Which I need help with because I don’t know how to be this thing. I can’t figure this all out on my own. I just - can’t... And I have to figure out hockey again - because I am not in Montreal. I am not a member of leadership. I am just a dude playing hockey and I haven’t been that since I was ten.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I need to process and figure me out - on and off the ice. I - “ a loud exhale of air, “I want something with you. I want us to figure that out. But if me not knowing me fucks whatever we could be up before it even happens?”

Ilya shook his head and covered Shane’s mouth with his hand, “Shane Hollander. Shut up.” He waved his other hand, “And stop with the face. I listened, so you can now, yes?”

At Shane’s nod, Ilya continued with his hand still on his mouth, “I get what you are saying. I do. But I think you are overthinking and stressing. But if this helps - it helps.”

So Shane did the most logical thing he could think of in the moment, and licked Ilya’s palm. “SHANE HOLLANDER!”

Shane moved around him and pressed a kiss to Ilya’s lips, “Thank you for trying.”

“You licked me Hollander…” Ilya said with an eye roll, “How old are you again?”

Shane just shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Fuck you.”

“I would say yes - but we get interrupted a lot here.” Ilya said with a smirk, “So I will wait.”

Shane picked up another pillow and lobbed it at Ilya’s face, “Asshole.”

Warrior Ice Arena

One Day Before First Home Game

Drew Desjourneys had been a coach for a while. He had been in Boston since Rozanov’s rookie season when he replaced LeClaire as Head Coach. He knew what it took to win. He knew what it took to bring a team together and being in the MLH - and having played in it for 7 seasons - he knew that upheaval before a post season push was either what you needed to win the cup. Or it was going to destroy any chance you had.

The moves the front office had made this year - swapping out a goalie and getting Shane Hollander of all fucking players? Desjourneys still wasn’t entirely sure which direction they were going to be heading in. All he knew for sure was that there wasn’t going to be a clear sign tonight. There was always something of a bump when someone came to a new team - good or bad. It was Wyatt Hayes - who had been on his list of goalies to get for a while - and Shane Hollander, who if they could have traded up to get in that draft they would have.

He stood on the ice and watched as Hollander took control of his line as they ran some more face-offs. He wasn’t sold on Sebbins on the line, but he was learning from Hollander and St Simon was a solid replacement for what the center had had in Montreal. He wasn’t Pike but he adjusted well and was a solid supportive winger.

The Power Play was running better and the Penalty Kill was solid. They were going to hit the ice tomorrow looking like a solid team. He knew that Hollander had been brought in for a cup run. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was a realist and the chances of this big of a shift working out for them for the entire post season was - well it was achievable but he wouldn’t bet the house on it.

It would take the rest of this season, an off season and at least a training camp for Hollander and Rozanov to fully gel on the ice to make a solid run. They had the time. Hollander’s contract got them time and their Captain was two years out from being an unrestricted free agent. They had the time - and he firmly believed that there was more than one cup in their future if all of these pieces kept falling into place.

“Fucking hell Hollander - “

“Don’t even start with me - you were out of place!”

First - they had to get through tomorrow night.

He brought his whistle to his lips and blew out three sharp tweets, “Alright - hit the showers. Those of you flagged for media - behave yourselves. Morning skate tomorrow is optional.”

They absolutely just had to make it through tomorrow night.

Warrior Ice Arena

Locker Room

The Raider’s locker room was…different. Shane leaned back against his stall and watched his new team as the inevitable ebb and flow of humanity moved through the space. He wasn’t doing media until tomorrow - so he had been ushered straight to the showers while the media scrums had moved from stall to stall. Now he was just taking in the buzz of a pre-game space. The conversations. The rituals of setting up the gear.

“Hey Hollzy - how worried should I be that my wife is out shopping with your mother and Rose Landry? Also - what the fuck is my life that my wife is out shopping with Rose Landry?” Wyatt called from his own stall on the other side of the room, “I feel like I should be concerned.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Unless they hit the team store you should be fine. My mother hasn’t purchased any Boston gear yet. So….”

“Evidently, that is their next stop.” Wyatt said with a grin, “So I should be very afraid?”

“I apologize in advance.” Shane said with a genuinely apologetic look on his face, “I mean - maybe it won’t be too bad?”

Wyatt raised a brow at him, “Dude, you look like you don’t even believe what you are saying.”

“I want to believe it.” Shane said, finally pushing himself up to his feet, “And that’s half the battle right?”

He was in the middle of putting on a shirt when he felt eyes on him. So Shane did what any sane person would do and slowly emerged and to take stock of his surroundings. To find Sebbins standing there looking at him like he held the answer to the mysteries of the universe, “Everything okay, Sebbs?”

“I would be honored to join you and your family for dinner tonight.” He was so serious that even Shane was slightly concerned for him, “Thank you so much Hollzy.”

Shane gave him a soft grin, “Man, I need you to understand - it’s dinner with my folks and only one of them knows hockey. This is going to be slightly chaotic.”

Then St. Simon returned to his stall and shot Sebbins an amused look, “How about I pick you up - count me in Hollzy.”

The newest Raider’s forward just shook his head, “Guys, I can’t stress this enough. My mother will talk stats and hockey at you, my father will ask you about your hobbies and they both just want to meet my linemates for tomorrow night.”

“So it’s like a first date with the Hollanders.” Cliff said with a chuckle, “I will snag Roz and head over with him. Remind him to play nice so we can have a second playdate with you Hollzy.”

Shane raised a brow and peered around the small crowd of hockey-playing humanity that was gathering in front of his stall, “You’re coming then, Rozanov?”

There was a smirk on his lips, but Shane could see the way Ilya eyes were avoiding his nervously, “I guess I am. Seems Marly is making plans for me again’s

The thing was - Ilya wanted to get this out of the way. He needed to meet Shane’s parents - and he didn’t know why. He never cared about parents before. He still didn’t know how the hell to make things with Shane work out. But - as hypocritical as it was - the idea of Shane going to dinner with some teammates where Miles and Rose would also be just…it wasn’t going to happen without Ilya there. Not that he was going to tell Shane that. He wasn’t completely sure about the rules of the world’s most complicated fuck buddies (but more but not) that they had going on - but he was pretty sure telling Shane what he could and could not do was going to get him killed.

And not in the fun way.

“They aren’t going to be in town long and since they aren’t as close as they were to Montreal - I think they just want to meet some of the team. Once I have a place that will fit everyone - maybe I can do a bigger team thing then so everyone can meet but…” Shane shrugged, “I apologize in advance. My mom can be a bit - intense.”

Ilya was familiar with Yuna Hollander - in theory. She was not his biggest fan and he had no idea why he wanted to make a better impression with her. But he did. But he had no idea on how to do that. He ran his fingers through his hair and reached for his phone and started to text Svetlana and stopped. Then remembered how Shane’s friends had renamed ‘Lily’ into ‘Luke’. Svetlana knew of Jane and knew they had been texting forever… So his fingers moved over the keyboard before he could talk himself out of it.

Ilya: If Jane has talked me into meeting with people - best impression would be to….?

She must not be doing something because she responded quicker than he had originally hoped for.

Sveta: Tell Jane to invite me so I can watch you squirm while trying to be polite and in English.

Ilya snorted softly. He really needed to find better friends. Even if he would never find one better, and they both knew it. Which was an issue he would deal with later.

Ilya:There may be a chance of that later. But for now I am asking for help. See? The growth you always ask me for.

Sveta: If you would wear it out to a club with me? Don’t wear it whenever this mystery meeting is. Be nice to Jane - not everyone knows that teasing from you is also affection. Breathe. You are a great man, Ilya Grigiorivich Rozanov. Even if you are a dick for not inviting me. For this - I am raiding your vodka when I arrive.

Ilya:You aren’t even here yet. It was a last minute plan. You are always welcome to my vodka.

Sveta: WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. JANE IS IN MONTREAL. YOU ARE IN BOSTON. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ILYUSHA?!

Ilya:Oh no a tunnel…I can’t understand you…Call you later Sveta.

Sveta: Just for that? The next game I go to I am wearing Hollander’s jersey and not yours asshole.

Ilya had to hide his grin behind his hand - that wasn’t the threat that Svetlana thought it was. But at the same time…he ran a hand over his face and sighed softly. He was going to have to talk to Shane about Svetlana. And the team. And…everything. It was one thing when it was one night sporadically throughout the season. Or texting when they were apart. But him being in Boston - was going to get complicated fast. Especially when Svetlana - who had access to his home and his life that no one else had - was back in town.

This was about to get messier than Ilya thought they were ready for. But he hadn’t been ready for anything that Shane Hollander had thrown at him yet - and so far the world kept turning. It was going to be FINE.

Boston Raiders Team Store

One Day Until The First Home Game

Lisa had received an ’I am so sorry’ from Shane when he had left her with his mother and so far she had thought it was unwarranted. Yuna Hollander was a lovely woman. A joy really. Full of questions and she listened to the answers. She had a sharp mind and a dry but at times wicked sense of humor. She was a bit infamous in hockey circles - Shane had deals for days - but as Yuna had explained today ’Hockey isn’t forever and property taxes still come due.’ Which was a valid thought.

She was going to get Wyatt’s deals and run them past her at some point because Lisa was a doctor and not a business minded person. But his deals never felt - good enough - to her. Granted he was a goalie and she knew that wasn’t as lucrative as being a forward. But he was funny, charming, had a massive heart and deserved the fucking world to appreciate him. And his dorkiness.

All of those thoughts had been before they met up with whom Yuna had called ‘a few guests of Shane’s for tomorrow night’. Which was great. Part of her had been hoping it was the illusive Jackie Pike. Lisa hadn’t been brave enough yet to message her on Instagram, but she had questions for her. Nope it hadn’t been Jackie. No, it had been fucking Rose Landry and Miles Kirkland. Who were shopping for things to wear to the game since Rose only had Metros gear from Shane and Miles had never gone to a game for his own purpose before. When he had gone with Rose in Montreal it was more for support of Rose than it had been of Shane.

Lisa Hayes had no fucking clue what her life was at the moment. But - they were both sweet, funny and actual people. Who understood evidently that when she froze and blinked at them like a fucking lunatic - that it wasn’t anything bad. She was just surprised. She also was not ashamed to admit that she had secured promises from both of them that they would sign Wyatt’s VIP lanyard pass thingy from the first X Squad movie premiere in Toronto. She was winning the wife game today in her own humble opinion.

But nothing had prepared her - or Miles it seemed - for Yuna Hollander and Rose Landry being let loose in an MLH pro-shop. At the moment Yuna was standing in front of the (frankly impressive in Lisa’s opinion) Shane Hollander section with a thoughtful look on her face.

Miles leaned over and whispered to her, “I literally just needed a t-shirt or something to wear tomorrow night - do you think if I move to look she’s going to have opinions?”

Lisa laughed softly and nodded, her voice just as quiet as she whispered back, “I don’t think you are getting out of here without at least a jersey. Sorry about that…”

Rose must have heard because she turned around and raised a brow at Miles, “You are getting at least a jersey. I don’t know what it’s going to sound like here when he skates out tomorrow night so he’s going to see people in his number who are supporting him.”

Lisa held up a hand, “I am already wearing Wyatt’s number. For the same reason.”

Yuna sighed and nodded, “It’s a good mix of jersey styles and home and away. It’s just so strange to not see it with a letter. He’s had one in some way shape or form since he was ten. For the most part.”

Lisa wasn’t sure that that wasn’t part of the appeal for Shane. She had heard him talk a few times with Wyatt about just ‘being a dude on a team that plays hockey’. But she didn’t know Yuna Hollander well enough yet to say that to her. But the look that flashed over Rose’s face before the smile was back in place told her - that she might be a bit more on point than she thought she was.

Yuna clapped her hands together, “Alright - everyone get what you want. It’s on me.”

Miles coughed, “Mrs. Hollander, I promise I can - “ he stopped when Yuna shot him a look.

“Miles, you and Rose are here to support my son. You are his friends. This is my way of saying thank you for that.” She motioned to the store, “Help yourselves. Meanwhile I am going to finish coming to terms with purchasing a Boston jersey. Just do it like pulling off a band-aid.”

Lisa laughed again, “I keep forgetting - you were a Metros fan before Shane set foot in Montreal post Draft.”

“My father got us into the Metros.” Yuna said with a grin, “It helped us feel Canadian. But now we are going to be Raider’s fans.” She picked up a ‘Hollander’ jersey and nodded, “Alright then.”

Miles looked confused and Rose just shook her head, “It’s a sports thing. I feel weird in this and not Detroit colors, but it’s Shane.” She shrugged with a grin, “And it’ll distract him from the chaos of tomorrow night.”

Miles Kirkland was out of his depth in this store - which was unusual for him when it came to shopping with Rose. But as with everything that came along with a certain Hockey Boy - he seemed to be along for the ride. When Rose had told him about this charming man she had met at the restaurant thing - Miles had rolled his eyes. Rose found most people interesting and while charming was a new one - he wasn’t shocked. But he wasn’t expecting Shane Hollander with his grin, his humor and his general quiet ‘solid’ presence.

Did Miles have a crush? Yes. Was he going to act on it? Not a shot in hell. Rose had cornered him in his trailer after his call with Shane and his text message to her. Her message had been heard loud and clear - Shane needed friends, not fuck buddies. And with his filming schedule for the next year or so - Miles couldn’t offer much more than that. He knew it. So he was going to be Shane Hollander’s friend. He was going to help him. He was going to be supportive.

Evidently that meant buying a jersey and watching hockey. With women who were wildly more familiar with this sport than he was. So he took a deep breath and turned to Lisa Hayes and raised a brow, “Alright then - how to pick a jersey since I am evidently leaving with one?”

Her laugh was warm and bright, “I got you. I always recommend the home jersey - because only crazy people get a white hockey jersey.”

“AMEN to that.” Rose said, coming up at his left, “Food and booze will find their way to your jersey even if you don’t touch a drop.”

When Lisa wandered to find a ‘Hayes’ jersey, Miles turned to Rose with a raised brow, “A jersey, Rose?”

She nodded and bit her lip, “This game is huge. They have burned his jersey in this city, Miles. Now he’s in their colors. It’s going to be messy and he needs support - which you said you wanted to give him right? No strings support?”

Her gaze was locked on his and Miles rolled his eyes at her, “No strings support means wearing a jersey for a sport I don’t even understand?”

“Yes.” A black jersey with a cannon and ‘24’ on the sleeves was slapped against his chest, “They also have a stuffed puck that when you squeeze it plays the goal song. Do you want a singing puck Miles?” Rose asked him with a straight face.

“Will me skipping on the singing puck make me less of a friend?” Miles asked with a sigh, “Or is this a rite of hockey fan passage?”

“God no - I think it’s creepy as hell. But you might have wanted one.” Rose said with a grin, “You sure you don’t want one? It has a smile on his creepy little face.”

“I am going to kill you in your sleep, Landry.” He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, “What do I need other than this jersey for tomorrow.”

“Technically nothing, but I know you are a sucker for a hat and they have a whole wall of them…” Rose said with a grin in his voice and far too much innocence on her face, “Also - I think Yuna will side eye you for not indulging her need for retail therapy.”

Miles looked over at the older woman again, noticing she was speaking with several employees and motioning to the display of jerseys, “I think I will go look at hats and let her take out that need for retail therapy out in a healthy way.”

“Good choice”, Rose said with a pat on his shoulder as he escaped to the other side of the store.

Cliff Marleau’s Home

Post Dinner with the Hollander’s and Co.

Boston, MA

Cliff Marleau had seen Ilya Rozanov in a lot of situations over the years. Hell, he had had to find the spare handcuff keys for him one night after their cup win and that is just a thing that you can’t unsee. But he had never seen Ilya Rozanov nervous like he had been tonight. Which was just - weird. So as he laid on his couch after a great meal and some impromptu team bonding he was left with his thoughts. About how strange the night had been.

Then his phone screen lit up:

Vicky: Adding you to a FaceTime - pick up fucker.

’Well this was new…

When the call beeped in, Cliff did as ‘requested’ and accepted the call, and found himself on a call with Vicky and Hayes. Both of whom looked as confused as he felt. So he stretched out and grinned at them, “Gentlemen - didn’t we already say good night? I don’t sing lullabies when I am this sober. Sorry.”

“And when you aren’t this sober - your offkey fuckery wakes the dead.” Victor said, his accent showing in a way that meant he was tired or frustrated - maybe both.

“We just wanted to see if you had noticed anything…strange tonight at dinner.” Wyatt said, jumping in before he could fire back at his friend, “Because why did I feel like Rozanov was meeting the parents with as polite as he was. I felt like he was nervous and on edge all night - I know Yuna Hollander is a little intimidating, but he is Ilya Rozanov and her son’s new Captain. I would think that is enough of a buffer for him. Or is that just how he meets people's families?”

Vicky shook his head, “It’s NOT normal - and why did he seem to have an attitude whenever Rose Landry or that Miles guy were speaking? I just…something is weird right? He’s normally welcoming - snarky as fuck but welcoming if the person in question is important to a teammate.”

Cliff didn’t know what to say if he was honest. Ilya had been different for a while. Montreal Girl - Jane - had been calling more and more lately. He had been weird since before All Stars and weird in a different way since he got back. Still Roz but - not. It was hard to explain. He groaned and took a slow breath, “So, Montreal Girl has been calling more lately and not just texting. I think he might be getting serious.”

Wyatt blinked, “Ilya Rozanov? I mean this respectfully, but the MLH poster child for having the safe sex talk?”

Vicky snorted, “He’s not as bad all the time as people make him out to be - and there are definitely worse people - “

The goalie cut Vicky off, “Man, I am from Toronto - I know there are worse. I just…it would be like the end of an era if Roz was off the market?”

“Hazy isn’t wrong.” Cliff said, as he stretched out a bit more on his couch, “But I am wondering if doing something like tonight didn’t hit weird because he’s wondering about letting us finally meet her.”

There was silence and then Wyatt spoke again, “Wait - so there is a woman in Montreal named Jane and he’s been seeing her for how long?”

Vicky let out a low whistle, “Fuck…his sophomore season?”

Cliff shook his head, “Rookie season. The first time I remember it coming up was that cancelled game against Montreal. So…it’s been a while.” He licked his lips and eyed both of the other men through the screen, “What if we got her to come down and showed her that his team aren’t fucking assholes. Maybe…”

Wyatt hummed, “I like how you think. Should we loop Hollzy in? It might help him feel a bit more involved. You looped me in after all…”

Vicky looked thoughtful, “Would he be down do you think? It might be fun to see what plan he could come up with.”

“Maybe let’s let them both get through this weekend. Then we can launch the full out mission.” Cliff said with a nod, “And we will loop in Hollzy. Let him get a few games under his belt before we start pulling him into the fun stuff.”

The other two nodded and Cliff felt like he was finally figuring out the best way to help his friend. Roz was always more relaxed after talking to Jane. If they could get her down there for some of the late season push? It might help him out a lot. Especially with the added stress of Hollzy showing up.

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

Miles stretched out in a chair in the living room area of Shane’s suite and watched him try and get settled. The other man fiddled with a can of ginger ale and then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The actor took a sip of water and then ran a hand over his face with a groan, “I am going to need your help here, Shane.”

“I just…” Shane took a long pause, “Okay. I can do this. I can. It’s fine.” Dark eyes met MIles’ and he licked his lips, “I am gay, I can’t come out yet, and I need help because I really apparently suck at being gay and not out.” And then he inhaled again shakily, “Fuck that was hard.”

Miles gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “If it helps - it does get easier.”

“I sure as fuck hope so.” Shane ran his fingers through his hair and tugged on it sharply and then met Miles’ gaze, “I need to say this - and I know it’s going to sound insulting. But what I say in here - I have to know…it stays here.”

Miles ran his gaze - dark and steady - over Shane’s face, “It’s a little - but I get it. I wouldn’t be here and I would be on the talk show circuit if I wanted to be an asshole like that. But I am here because someone was there for me and someone was there for them…”

“Rose said that there are a lot of gay actors that aren’t out…” Shane said, looking nervous and on edge, “But if they aren’t out - how does she know and how - “

Miles grinned, “Oh Shane - there is being a secret that hides in plain sight and then there is being so deep in the closet that Seal Team 6 has to go on a recon mission to find the flashlight to even start to try and find you.” He looked Shane over slowly and tried to get a read on him, “Where do you want to be? Because I have to tell you - this shit always has a way of coming out - and hiding in plain sight can make that part suck less. Because people know. And you aren’t just dealing with having to come out to as many people and deal with the public opinion bullshit.”

There was a pause, “I haven’t…Rose held my hand and helped me figure some things out over dinner one night. Then I came out to one person by choice. I - “ There was a shaky breath, “There was some outing done because I wasn’t careful enough a few years ago. There are pictures….and a video…”

So Miles was going to kill people. Cool. He knew people who knew people. It would be fine. But that was for later…now he had to deal with Shane Hollander spiraling towards a panic attack. So Mies got up and sat on the coffee table facing the other man.

“Breathe Shane. It’s just you and me, Hockey Boy. No more or less.” He made sure his breathing was visible and audible, like he did for his niece when she was having a panic attack. But he didn’t touch him, just made sure that Shane could see and hear him.

”How did I not know?” Shane said, his voice shaky and thin, “How did I not know this MASSIVE thing about myself? Rose isn’t the first woman I have dated. I just thought I was broken - it was another way I was different and once I met the right woman…” His fingers went through his hair, “And it’s…I’m not broken like I thought I was but….”

”Nope.” Miles said firmly, “Not broken at all. Listen to me, Hockey Boy,” He waited for Shane to briefly make eye contact with him, “People go their entire lives and never know - they think it’s a them issue. Or they don’t or can’t accept that this is just who they are. But you are NOT broken.”

”Great. So I am Asian, my brain processes things differently and I am gay. Awesome. This is just what the MLH wants from me.” The words were muffled because of the hands over his face, and then there were eyes looking at him and Miles gave him a small grin.

”I mean…It could be worse. My roommate in college also had incredibly shitty taste in men.” Miles said with a shrug, “So you might miss out on that.”

Shane snorted out a laugh that was also a bit of a groan,”I mean - I wouldn’t say I am going to win any awards.”

Miles rolled his eyes, “We are very unfortunately attracted to men - we are all going to make questionable choices…”

If someone had told Shane - even a month ago - that he would be in Boston being reassured by Miles Kirkland that he wasn’t broken? He would have thought they had lost their minds. He hadn’t seen Boston in his future outside of fucking work trips or the occasional ‘meditation’ retreat during holiday breaks to take the edge off. But being here - as a Raider - hadn’t been part of the plan.

Being gay hadn’t been part of the plan.

He would really fucking like it if life could stick to the FUCKING plan.

”I am not trying to come out right now. It’s not - “ His inhale was shaky and Shane hated it, “I just want to fucking exist and figure out who I am because honestly? Rose kinda fucked me up a bit telling me something about myself I didn’t know. And circling back - HOW THE FUCK did I not know?!”

Miles spoke softly, “Did you not know - or did you deny it? There isn’t a wrong answer Shane -“

”There has been a wrong answer since I was ten Miles. When everything started getting intense and I had to start answering questions. When people started to notice that this scrawny kid from Ottawa that didn’t look like everyone else was good at hockey. There were wrong answers then. There were wrong ones when I got special acceptance into junior hockey and when I was drafted - there are always wrong answers and I am not allowed to give those.:” Shane said with an edge to his voice.

Miles nodded, “I get it. There are wrong answers if you ask PR or your agent. There are wrong answers if you ask the public - none of them are here Shane. There is you. There is me. And a very nice hotel suite of no one fucking else. So…did you NOT know or did you not WANT to know.”

”I am already Asian in a sport where conformity reigns. I was drafted to a team where they told me on draft night that they were thrilled I was Asian Canadian and how it ‘wasn’t an issue’. Like they weren’t a team in position to pick second in the damn draft. So no - I wasn’t looking to be any more different than I already am.” Shane said, anger filling in the spaces of what he wasn't saying. What he was feeling.

’Maybe if I told them sooner - they would have traded me sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed they liked me. Trusted me. Accepted me. Maybe if I had told them they would have shown who they were sooner and this wouldn’t hurt so much. If they hated me for liking men - if they had known which man?’

”I am a black man in acting. I went to college for Fine Arts and not on a basketball scholarship - I had a choir scholarship. I get there being wrong answers. But some times we have to say the right thing so that the wrong ones don’t fucking define us.” Miles said with a shrug, “If you want someone to tell you that staying in the closet and hiding are going to give you the best life - you invited the wrong gay asshole to your game.”

He stood up and gently put his hands on Shane’s shoulders, “Shane Hollander, you are a gay, Asian-Canadian hockey player. Who was outed in a shitty as fuck way - but it’s out there now. You have said it to people. It’s going to get easier. All you need to decide now is - how many people do you want to see and really know you?”

”I want to get through this weekend - because I need to tell the new team before we play my old team. I don’t - “ Shane took a slow breath in and let it out slower, “I don’t trust Montreal to follow the rules. I need to tell them - but I want to prove myself first.”

Miles nodded again, thoughtfully, “That makes sense.” He took a beat, “And if it goes badly?”

”Then I know now and I have an off season to make plans and work on things. But Montreal is not going to let me just move on to a new team - and if we beat them? It’s going to be a shitshow for me.” Shane looked at Miles and chewed on his bottom lip, “But going back to your original question - ideally - hiding in plain sight. I am awful at lying.”

Miles nodded, a small smirk on his lips, “Alright then - so - I am still up in Montreal doing re-shoots because this movie is bonkers. When you are back up there for a game - since you will have told people by then - we plan? With actual people who know so everyone gets the game plan.”

“I really - “ Shane took another breath, and knew he had to get Miles out and a different man in. Ilya would turn his brain off. Ilya would help him prepare for tomorrow, “I really appreciate everything. You didn’t have to come here and do all of this. I just - please know that I appreciate it.”

”Listen Shane, I like you. You’re funny, you’re sweet, and you aren’t impressed by the cameras and the crazy. You get it and there aren’t a lot of people that get it. So, just because you aren’t dating Rose doesn’t mean we aren’t still friends. Friends show up for friends.” Miles glanced at his smart watch when it lit up, “And it’s time for me to go crash. Rose has informed me that we are doing brunch while you ‘game prep’ tomorrow.”

”Brunch with Rose does require rest first.” Shane said with a small smile, “I will see you guys at some point before I head over for the pregame nonsense. Rose wants to see my first walk in suit.”

”OH - is that when you big, bad hockey players pretend you are at fashion week on the runway? I do like those pictures.” Miles said as he headed for the door, “I’ll join her - there is Rose’s opinion - and then there is mine. We will make sure you set the standard going in, Shane.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh goody - two of you playing dress up with me.” He opened the door and leaned against it as Miles made his way out of the room and then paused and looked at Shane, “What?”

”I am going to hug you because you were very brave and I want to hug you.” Miles said seriously.

”Tomorrow. Today and tonight have been a lot.” Shane said with a hand up and a sheepish grin, “Let’s see how I am doing tomorrow.”

Miles nodded, “I am holding you to that. Good night Shane.”

”Good night Miles.” Shane watched as Miles made his way to the elevator and then disappeared from sight before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up WhatsApp - he needed someone else right now - and the fact that he could get him over here when he needed him…

That was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

Ilya Rozanov let himself into Penthouse 2 like it was normal. Like getting those texts from Shane and being able to fucking get to him was normal. Like it was something he was allowed to fucking have and do. But there was the man - the menace - that was Shane Hollander looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin while sitting on a couch.

”Shane?” Ilya spoke as he set his keys next to Shane’s on a table, “What happened?”

”He said that I am not broken. But I don’t know….” Shane said with a broken sigh, “I don’t get to be Asian, a hockey player and gay. That’s too many different - “

Ilya crossed the room and peered into Shane’s eyes, “Who the fuck said that? I am Russian, partly gay and the best player in the MLH - so….it’s possible.”

”Asshole.” Shane said, the word wooshing out of him on an exhale of breath, “No one can tell me how I didn’t know - I just thought I was broken. Another way that I am fucking different. I don’t want to be the ‘gay’ player. I don’t want to be the ‘gay Asian’ player. Why the fuck can’t I just be a dude that plays hockey better than Ilya Rozanov.”

”Well, there are nights that you are and you do.” Ilya said with an easy shrug of his shoulders, “But I think what your new friend might not understand is that giving you options leads to - “ he waved a hand at Shane, “Whatever ever overthinking bullshit this is.”

”He helped. Plus, he gets the issues and he’s going to help me figure out how to hide in plain sight a bit better so maybe I will feel like I can breathe better. It was nice to hear someone else say it, who wasn’t me or you or my parents.” Shane said as he moved closer to him, as Ilya took a seat on the couch.

”Personally - I think your parents and I might know you better than Miles.” Ilya said with a roll of his eyes and a bite to his voice, “But yes - I am so glad that Miles thinks you aren’t broken.” The smack to the back of his head was entirely uncalled for in Ilya’s opinion, “Hey, I have a hockey game to play tomorrow. Do you want me on concussion protocol?”

”We are playing Florida - you will be in the fucking Sin Bin enough that one smack isn’t going to hurt you.” Shane said, as his forehead fell against Ilya’s shoulder, “Ilya…”

”Da. I will turn off your brain Shane.” He tilted Shane’s face up to his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “Now are you going to walk or are you going to make me carry you to bed?”

”I mean your pants are all the way up - it’s not nearly as impressive if you do it fully clothed.” Shane said with a small grin.

’This fucking little shit…’

But before he could prove that he was impressive, even fully clothed - thank you very much you Canadian asshole - Shane took his hand and tugged him towards the bedroom. Ilya found himself being led into a bedroom that belonged to neither of them and thought to himself how many times he had had Shane in a room like this. Where it wasn’t home for either of them. Where they couldn’t stash the lube that Shane liked or the condoms that Ilya preferred. Where there were towels on the sheets because there was no way to request extra sheets without opening the door to being discovered.

He wanted Shane in a bed that had soft sheets. One that smelled like one of them before it smelled like both of them. He wanted a shower that was big enough for two hockey players and a towel warmer. (Not that he would admit that Shane’s warmer in Montreal had led to the same one being in his own bathroom.)

But before he could make a move there was a soft, ‘I need you.’”

’If anyone knew about them they would think that Ilya was the menace. when it was the the oh so innocent looking brat in front of him.

His last coherent thought before Shane started to distract him as much as he was distracting Shane was that he had to get in touch with Svetlana. He was going to be making some questionable choices and that meant - he needed to talk to her.

But there would be time for that later. Right now he was in Shane Hollander’s bed. He was kissing Ilya like the world was going to end if they didn’t kiss. But there was something else to it. An edge that wasn’t there all the time. Just when Shane got lost in his own head. One of these days Ilya was going to figure out how the hell people didn’t see him spiralling when it was so fucking clear…but that was as thought for another day.

Hips rolled against one other. Ilya’s mouth was on Shane’s throat. A low growl and a needy groan when their cocks slid against each other. Heavy breathing and the bite of nails into skin. The press of thighs against his hips and the way Shane arched up into him. The pop of the lube opening being muffled by a needy whine - and he wasn’t sure which one of them had made the filthy sound.

Ilya Rozanov also didn’t give a fuck.

The way they were both trembled a bit when he eased into Shane. The look in those dark brown eyes that told him his brain was still working - the way he had to shift them so when he rolled his hips just right - those eyelids fluttered shut and heels pressed into the small of his back. When he had to hide his face in the sweaty safety of Shane’s neck at the soft, ’Harder please…’

Time never seemed to be a thing when he was inside of Shane. On the rare occasions since that messy night in Vegas when he had gotten the ’I need you…’ When they were like this - it was easy to want more. To forget all of his other obligations. His family issues. His country issues. Everything. Because this fucking Canadian menace was letting him fuck him stupid in a hotel room again and making the roughest and most delicious sounds. So Ilya rewarded him with changing the angle of his thrusts - and picked up the pace.

Shane’s eyes opened and were glazed over and lost in a warm sea of fNeed.

Sweat slick skin slapping against each other. Loud ragged breathing. Words in English, French Russian that were all in a jumble that both made no sense and all the sense in the world. Whines. Whimpers. Growls. The smell of them mixing together with the smell of the hotel sheets and the cigarette smoke that still clung to him from his drive over here.

’Fucking hell what am I supposed to do with you and this Hollander?’

Then the world when white, warm and he fell into Shane’s arms again as he went over that edge with him…

There was something about watching Ilya getting ready for bed. Shane settled back against the pillows in the bed and let the idiot in his bathroom finish up doing whatever he did before sleep. When he didn’t have everything he needed. What did Ilya need? Was there skin care? Brushing his teeth? Water bottle process? Pillow and blanket arrangements?

Or was he just one of those chaotic demons that just fell into bed?

“Shane - question.” Ilya said from the doorway and held up bottles of skincare, “What the fuck?”

He rolled his eyes, “Skin care. So I can stay sexier than you.”

“First - never happening. Secondly - there are a million of these in here.” Ilya said with a smirk on his lips, “Fucking hell Shane…”

“There are less than ten. For morning and evening. Is it offending you there Ilya?” Shane asked as he pulled the covers up, “Joining me or….?”

DId he want him to stay? Did he want him to go? Did he want…it was too much to deal with right now. He just wanted to sleep and then to deal with the game. With his mother. With his new team. With the press and the team and…

“I just spent hours making you not think. Do I need to do it all over again? We do need to sleep - or you will be bitchy.” Ilya said as he put the bottles back and came out, turned the bathroom light out and fell into the bed next to him.

“Do you need a phone charger?” Shane asked quietly as he dodged the question and moved down under the covers more.

There was a huff of laughter next to him, “I used the one you have out in the living room.”

Then there was an arm and Shane gave himself permission - at least for tonight - that he didn’t have to decide the next ten years right now. All he had to do was sleep, win a game and deal with his friends and family. So he let Ilya pull him in closer and let out a soft sigh. There would be time later to worry about everything else.

Right now he had Ilya Rozanov behind him smelling like him and warm. Solid.

“If you marked me up again - I will kill you in your sleep by the way.” Shane said on a yawn, “Because you are a fucking asshole.”

“Ah yes - because you were angel.” Ilya said, also sounding sleepy against his throat, “Now shut the fuck up so we can sleep.”

“I am trying…but there’s this chatty fucking asshole in bed with me.” Shane said, hiding his grin in his pillow.

“Oh is Hayden here and I didn’t know?” Ilya said and then growled when a heel made contact with his shin, “I have a game tomorrow you little shit…”

Shane flipped him off over his shoulder, “Fuck off.”

“Sorry, cranky mother hen is telling me to sleep - I can’t fuck you more.” Ilya said with another yawn.

Shane huffed at him again, let his eyes close and for the first time in ages Shane fell asleep without having to really think about it.

Chapter End Notes

I do have a playlist for this: Spotify Playlist !

For those of you that struggle with the images in the chapters - I have a Pinterest board where I have uploaded them. (I think I got them all!) So if you struggle - please check out : the Fic Media Board! !

I am always open to song suggestions as well.

I am looking forward to this journey with you all!

Chapter 8: And taking the ice for his first shift as a Raider ... SHANE HOLLANDER...

Chapter Summary

In which Shane almost has an early morning heart attack and ponders all of his life choices.

Jackie and Lisa start a friendship journey.

Hockey chaos happens and deals are made.

And Montreal somehow still exists - who knew?

Chapter Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

I do have a chunk of this pre-written - but I am not committing to a posting schedule - but I do have it outlined. So, winning?

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

This chapter is currently unbeta’d - but life has been lifing. My beloved beta and I have had a LOT going on and I just miss posting so… This is me having the faith in my self-editing skills that Shane has in an iPhone mute button. (Yes, it will be updated later once Life stops being Life quite so hard.)

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

 

Waking up with Ilya Rozanov hogging the blankets was still a new experience - but one that Shane wouldn’t mind getting used to. Doing that however when he heard his phone going off was a heart attack waiting to happen. He grumbled and reached over the sleeping man to get his ringing phone. SHould he have looked at the screen? Absolutely.

Should he have pondered his life choices more - like answering it from a place where Ilya Rozanov was not stirring away next to him? Also yes.

But Shane did what any sane, comfortably warm, barely awake person would do. He clapped a hand gently over Ilya’s yawning mouth and answered the call, “Hello…?”

”UNCLE SHANE!!!!” audibly attacked him through his phone speaker and made him grin.

”Do your parents know you are calling me?” He said, as he yawned and shot the now grumpily awake Ilya a warning look.

”They said to stay busy while they look for Arthur’s teddy in the car. So we are busy!” Ruby said with a bright giggle, ”And we ALWAYS wish you luck before you play. DUH.

That was true - the Pike kids always wished him luck before a game. So it would only make sense to call him today since he was in Boston and they were in Montreal. He watched as Ilya rolled out of bed and stretched, “I am so glad you guys called. I miss you so much.”

”Uncle Shane - you need to come make us pancakes. Mommy doesn’t make them like you do.” Ruby said, a pout audible in her voice and there as a giggle from her sister, ”You know she doesn’t Emma!”

“Ladies, I don’t make pancakes during the season…” Shane started to speak and then raised a brow when Ilya came back into the bedroom scrolling on his phone and tossed him the room service menu so that it almost hit him in the frace. He kicked at the smirking menace that was heading into the bathroom again, “Emma, I will make you pancakes in the off season okay?”

”But we want you to come HOME Uncle Shane.” Emma said, sounding just as pouty as her sister, ”If the Metros said sorry - would you come back?”

If that wasn’t a fucking arrow through his damn heart. Shane had not seen the Pike’s in his ten year plan. He didn’t make friends easy - he had once upon a time - but then there had been the guys that had wanted to be his friend for the exposure. For the ‘fun’ of the press and the cameras - hell if they had wanted the attention - Shane would have let them have it. Free of charge. But those ‘friendships’ had ended when they realized that Shane liked hockey, board and card games, and documentaries over other things. So when Hayden had pushed his way into Shane's life - complete with a wife and twin girls - he hadn’t known what to do. Other guys on the team had tried - but when he had proven to be just as ‘weird’ as reported - they had backed off.

Hayden Pike hadn’t. So now he had a little family in Montreal that wasn’t technically his - but these kids were his. He missed them. He missed the good luck hugs already and he hadn’t even done the walk onto the ice yet. He ran his hand over his face and sighed.

“Hey ladies, give me five minutes to order my breakfast and then I will plan pancakes with you okay?” Shane waited until they both said yes and then sighed as he muted the phone, “Asshole!”

“You are flirting with ladies when we could be sleeping, Hollander…” Came the accented drawl from the bathroom, “Pick your food and go back to your mini Pikes hmmm…” Blue eyes and bronze curls peered around the door, “And since when the fuck do you eat pancakes?”

“I eat them in the off season - and you are never around for pancakes.” Shane said, picking the egg white omlette, turkey bacon and oatmeal with fruit, “And coffee Ilya. Order coffee.”

There was a laugh as he came back out and pressed a kiss to Shane’s lips, “I am not that stupid Shane.”

He unmuted the phone just as Jackie came back into the room, “Ahhh, we have been caught girls!”

”Uncle Shane had to order breakfast - but he’s back now.” Ruby said, ”We wanted to wish him good luck since we can’t give him hugs today and you said he has a game we can watch.”

Shane listened while there was a brief tussle on the other end of the phone and then a slightly breathless and exasperated Jackie could be heard, ”I am so sorry Shane. We thought they would turn on the TV - not call you. We were going to do a video call later.

“Oh we can still do that.” Shane said, a genuine grin on his face, “I would love to see everyone. Now isn’t a great time. I am not caffeinated. While this hotel is great - they don’t have coffee that magically appears when I wake up.”

”Obviously you are staying in a subpar establishment.” Jackie shot back with a laugh, which was cut short when Ilya stubbed his toe and muttered a curse just loud enough to be heard, ”OH MY GOD….SHANE HOLLANDER!”

Shane glared at Ilya who was glaring back as he rubbed his foot and mouthed at the Raiders Captain, “I am going to KILL you…”

There was more scrambling on the other side of the phone and then Jackie squealed into the phone, ”The kids are watching TV and Hayden is here on speaker phone - is that LUKE?! Shane Hollander - let us say hi.”

“No, you aren’t saying hi. I stubbed my toe.” Shane said, falling back into the pillows with a groan, “Totally me and not anyone else in this suite. I ordered an omlette, turkey bacon, oatmeal with fruit and coffee for breakfast. Let’s chat about that.”

”Uh no…let’s talk about the fact that Shane Hollander had a SLEEPOVER the night before a game. I am impressed dude.” Hayden said with a chuckle, ”I told you I didn’t care when I thought it was a Lily and I don’t care now that it’s Luke. I just want to say hi and…”

“Nope. No one is saying hi because there is no one here…” Shane let out a grunt when the absolute menace that was Ilya Rozanov flopped onto the bed and his head landed on Shane’s stomach, like an ASSHOLE, “Fucking hell…”

”Swear Jar.” two of his favorite people in the world chorused together over the miles and out the speaker of his phone.

“I am not there guys okay. IF there is someone here. And IF it was Luke. And IF I did a sleepover the night before a game just know that they MIGHT be able to hear you because they MIGHT be nosy assholes.” Shane said, his finger jabbed into Ilya’s cheek with each word he emphasized and the menace on his bed just grinned up at him - unrepentantly.

There was a pause and then Jackie squealed again, ”OH HI LUKE!!! IT’S VERY NICE TO MEET YOU IN THIS VERY CONTROLLED SHANE WAY. i HOPE HE’S AT LEAST FEEDING YOU BREAKFAST - HIS MOTHER RAISED HIM TO BE A GOOD HOST.”

“Yes, IF there was someone here - I would be feeding them breakfast.” Shane said, amused exasperation in his voice, “Don’t you two have children to raise?”

”They will be annoyed if we come back too soon. Person who is there that is definitely not Luke, when he gets a place with a kitchen - make sure he makes you pancakes. I already miss them. Our kids miss them.” Hayden’s voice came through and Shane shook his head at sound of his friend’s voice.

“I think you all want me back for my rice cooker pancakes - which for the record - you both could make. It’s not impossible. I didn’t take every rice cooker in Montreal with me when I moved.” the fond annoyance came through in Shane’s voice as he spoke, his fingers in Ilya’s curls without him even realizing he was doing it.

Fingers in his hair shouldn’t feel like this. Being around Shane Hollander shouldn’t feel like this. Hearing his friends - one of which was his opponent on the ice - talk to him (and about Ilya in a round about way) shouldn’t feel like this. Not when he still had a Russian passport. Not when he still had to go home to Russia this off season to see his father, visit his mother’s tomb, and do his media and Russian press bullshit. Being here like this with Shane Hollander was the opposite of what he was supposed to be doing. He should be at home. With Sveta. Getting ready for the game tonight.

Not ordering room service with Shane and letting him pet him in bed.

“Okay, room service will be here soon and I have to go. Tell the kids I love them and I will see them when I come back to play Montreal in a week or so.” Shane’s voice was a rumble of amusement and exasperation. How many times had he heard that same tone from him? What did it mean that he used it on Ilya and people that mattered to him?

’I need to fucking talk to Sveta…soon.’

He had missed Shane ending the call officially and blinked up at him with a brow arched.

“I am off the phone Luke. You can use your words.” Shane said with a soft sigh, “Fucking hell…that was a thing wasn’t it.”

Ilya was silent for a minute then he spoke softly, “They really are okay with Luke huh.”

“They are good with the concept of Luke. They haven’t seen the pictures. They haven’t had to face the reality of what me with a guy is. But…” Shane let out a deep sigh, “But I think that they would be good, yes. They stuck around when I wasn’t easy to get to know. I have to think - hope - that they will stick around through this. Whatever ‘this’ turns into.”

At least he wasn’t the only one that didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on. It was reassuring in a strange kind of way that the overthinking Shane Hollander was also completely out of his depth. Thankfully, before he had had to open his mouth again - there was an alert that the breakfast was sitting outside and Ilya had to move so that Shane could get the food and provide a distraction.

Because Ilya wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now.

“Who the fuck orders this much sugar the morning of a fucking game?!” Shane’s voice came from the living room area and a smile spread over his face. This feels a little more normal.

“Someone who enjoys whimsy Hollander. Do you not enjoy whimsy?” He called back as he rolled off the bed and padded towards the sound of Shane and dishes. Ilya leaned in the doorway and watched as Shane uncovered dishes while drinking coffee.

Shane Hollander first thing in the morning was a grumpy, under-caffeinated mess of a man. And Ilya Rozanov wasn’t sure it was supposed to be making him this happy to see him like this. But it was. He pushed off the doorframe and headed into the room.

“Touch my syrup and I will end you.” He said with a growl in his voice.

“How are you going to fucking make it through the day when this is how you are starting it?” Shane asked, with a roll of his eyes, “Seriously…”

“Seriously - I will balance it out with other things throughout the day. But also - the pancakes are made with whole grain and will still bring me joy, asshole.” Ilya shot back with a roll of his eyes, “Now where is my coffee?”

“In the pot where I left it.” Shane said, as a berry popped into his mouth, “Help yourself.”

’Sveta….I am so fucking fucked…’

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 3

Lisa Hayes leaned back in the bed and watched her husband bring in room service with a grin on her face, “See, this is what I am missing in Toronto.”

“I am so glad the service is meeting expectations.” Wyatt said with a roll of his eyes, “Please don’t forget to tip your server ma’am.”

Her laugh was bright and made him smile, so Lisa took it as a win, “You got more than a tip last night and this morning dork.” Her hands came up and made a grabby motion, “Coffee please…”

They were deep into breakfast - which included her sausage links going ‘missing’ as they usually did. She sipped her coffee, “Alright - we have reunited, I have shopped, I have met people and I have been fed. We have looked at apartments. We have done everything but talk about what you are freaking out about.”

There was a heavy sigh from the other side of the bed and a thud as Wyatt’s head fell back and hit it. She waited him out - you had to with Wyatt. He liked to have his thoughts in order before he started the serious conversations. At least the ones that were serious to him. It was how she knew when they were about to have one - he was quiet before he started talking.

Finally he spoke, “So…I think…I really think…something is going on with Shane.”

Lisa refilled her coffee and nodded, “Okay - like - he’s not talking? He’s retreating in an unhealthy way? Because I love you baby, but sometimes people just need space.”

“I know that Leese.” Wyatt said with a sigh, “More like - he’s working through something - other than the trade. When I went over there to watch Dancing - I told you what I saw didn’t I?”

“A rumpled and grumpy Rozanov. But babe, honey, love of my heart - Ilya Rozanov is very known for fucking his way through the Eastern Seaboards female population.” Lisa said reasonably, “Is it possible they did a work out, or were debating something in a very heated way or…I don’t know ANYTHING else?”

“Of course there is. But seriously - watch them today in warm ups. Just watch them. They are either secret best friends that NO ONE knows about or there is something else.” Wyatt shot her a LOOK, “The way that after he does anything remotely impressive? Rozanov looks over at Shane like he’s expecting a treat. It’s wild.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, “Is anyone else seeing this? Or are you - “

“So the thing is - evidently - there is someone in Montreal named Jane that he’s been ‘seeing’ for awhile.” Wyatt raised a brow at her, “Who lived in Montreal with a name that rhymes?”

“Not even hockey players are that dumb Wyatt. I think that what you are seeing are two guys that are friends but aren’t public about it because antagonism sells more tickets.” Lisa said with a shake of her head, “There is no way that no one has caught on to two hockey players hooking up with as closely as those two are watched. Especially Shane in Montreal? I did a deep dive into him - the press is crazy there.”

“I know it sounds crazy. But just WATCH them this weekend okay?” Wyatt said, “And if I am just seeing things - I will let this go. But I need someone else’s opinion.”

“I will do my very best love. Eyes peeled.” Lisa said solemnly, “But I want to prepare you for the fact that they might just be figuring out how to make this work like the rest of your team of hockey idiots.”

Wyatt chuckled and groaned, “This is why I haven’t told anyone on the team. I don’t want them to think I am weird. But they do want to try and get Jane down here from Montreal to help Rozanov relax. And Shane evidently has a someone named Lily that was passing through the other night. They both looked wrecked in the locker room the other day after we watched Dancing.”

Lisa choked on her coffee, “I am sorry - say what again?”

Wyatt blinked at her, “After Dancing with the Stars, Ilya left when I did. Jane was in town for work and he came in looking wrecked. Shane was all marked up by someone named Lily. So, that’s why I want your opinion. Because I am thinking I am just seeing things that aren’t there.”

His wife looked at him like he was crazy, “So let me get this straight - Shane had someone named Lily get all hot and dirty with him after you walked in on Shane and ILYA Rozanov looking rumpled. Then Ilya Rozanov was wrecked from a Jane the morning after getting agitated with SHANE Hollander. I take it back - you all might just be really dumb. Or I am really dumb. Now I am really wishing that I had reached out to Jackie Pike sooner.”

“What does Jackie Pike have to do with this situation?” Wyatt asked in exasperation, “Baby, she - “

“She has known Shane longer than anyone who is sitting in this room.” Lisa said, as she poked him in the ribs, “Go get my phone. I need to reach out to Jackie.”

Wyatt eased himself out of bed and backed out of the room slowly, “I think maybe I have given you my crazy Leese.”

“I think you are a hockey boy and your logic is flawed. Maybe. Possibly. PHONE Wyatt.” She shooed him while taking another drink of her coffee.

When he entered the room again, Lisa had moved the breakfast dishes out of her way and had her laptop open. She waved her hand at him, “Here’s the thing Wy, did you know there are fan theories on them?”

“Don’t go into fan based anything Lisa Hayes, you know better than that.” Wyatt said with a groan, “if I listened to all of that - I would have been fucking Ryan Price while he was in Toronto.”

“I would not have said no to you fucking Ryan Price. He was shy and snarky.” Her eyes met his, “Are you befriending Shane because he is Ryan Price but here?”

“I am being Shane’s friend because we work well as friends. Did it start because we were both new? Yes. But do I genuinely like his quirky ass? Also yes.” Wyatt said as he flipped off his wife, “But what in the hell are you doing?”

“Finding someone else to watch the game from a different perspective.” Lisa said calmly, like it was the most logical thing in the world and OBVIOUS to everyone. Well, anyone who wasn’t her husband because Wyatt was clueless.

“Honey - men fire frozen rubber discs at my face for a living. Explain this to me like I am five.” Wyatt said as Lisa crowed in victory and did a little dance on the bed. A little dance that was so damn cute that Wyatt had to laugh, “Babe?”

“Okay - we like Shane. We care about Shane. We are new to knowing Shane.” Lisa said with a glance up from her screens, “But we want to be there and be supportive of our new friend. So I am reaching out to an older friend of his that might be able to shed some light on things.”

“Rose Landry? I still can’t believe you were out shopping with her.” Wyatt said, his eyes going over to his now signed lanyard and grinned like a goofy kid, “You re the best wife.”

“I know - I am amazing.” Lisa said with a peck on his cheek, “But so is Jackie Pike…”

Wyatt watched as she opened up her Instagram and pulled up an account, sent a friend request and started typing a message. Getting Lisa involved was either the smartest or dumbest thing he coud have done. But he had a gut feeling - and if he was right on any level of that gut feeling? He was going to want to make sure that this was done handled right. Lisa was good t making sure he handled things in a good way.

“Now what do we do?” he asked when she put her phone down and closed her laptop.

“Now - we shower and get ready for your first game day in Boston.” Lisa said as she padded towards the bathroom, “Unless you want me to shower alone?”

“No ma’am - I am here to help.” Wyatt said with a grin as he followed her into the bathroom.

Four Seasons Boston

Penthouse 2

“Shane, sweet boy, what isthat?” Miles asked from his spot on the couch, watching as a dark gray suit was hung up, “That is not what you are planning to wear right? That’s the back up idea?”

“That’s his walk-in suit.” Rose said, sipping on a glass of wine, “Shane, he’s right though. Didn’t you get a new suit from the stylist? You have worn that one so much…”

Shane was convinced he needed new friends. Granted these were two of the few that he had - and he sucked at making new ones - but still. It was a familiar thing this suit. It had been one of his original walk-in look. Simple. Basic. Easily blending in. Nothing too flashy or showy. Just classically solid. But he looked over his shoulder at his two friends and raised a brow, “What?”

Miles and Rose shared a look and then the man stood up and made his way over to Shane, put his hands on his shoulders and looked him in his eye, “Shane, sweet Hockey Boy, you can’t walk into this new chapter of your life looking like your last chapter.”

“Did you get that from ‘Motivational Speeches - A Daily Calendar’?” Shane asked with a sigh, “But I always felt better…”

“Do you want to feel like you did in Montreal today?” Miles asked, a brow arched, the words hung in the air like the challenge they clearly were.

Another deep sigh escaped Shane, and he accepted the verbal gauntlet, “Well…no.”

“Okay then - what else do we have?” Miles said as he made his way into the bedroom, “Landry - get in here - we have work to do.”

Shane watched as Rose grinned at him over her wine glass as she skipped into his room where the clothes lived. He closed his eyes, took a slow deep breath and let it out counting backwards from ten…and then repeated the process.

“Listen here Trouble One and Two - I am not going wild in Boston. I am a professional. I will dress like it.” Shane said as he followed Rose, trying to deny the grin that was forming on his lips.

“Can we stop pretending that you aren’t also hot so you can dress like that too?” Rose asked as she looked through his ties, “Miles, what about black and red?”

“Do we have time to maybe go out and get him a new shirt…” Miles asked as he looked at the suit options, “Because I know you have to have more than this Shane.”

“Not everything is here yet. I have a great suit collection. But it’s somewhere between here and Montreal at the moment in a moving van or truck or…” Shane waved his hand in the air, “Whatever the hell they put my stuff in to bring it to me. And my rental has smaller closets than I am used to - so even then - I won’t have them all.”

Rose made a face, “I swear - when I am done with reshoots and you are done for the season - we are house hunting for you.”

“I have a very nice woman named Nadia who is currently doing that for me. The hope is by the end of the season I can purchase, then renovate in the off season so next year I am ready to go.” Shane said with a shrug, “But back to the issue at hand. Which I don’t think is an issue - the gray suit is - “

“It’s FINE.” Rose said and pinned him with a look, “But Shane, you can do better than fine.”

Miles held up a jacket that Shane was pretty sure he had packed thinking it was a black suit jacket. But it was black with a hint of a red stripe to it. A dark red. Rose grinned at Miles and then shot Shane a look, “THAT - is what we are talking about.”

Shane ran a hand over his face, “Fine…I guess we have time to MAYBE hit a store. But are we sure nothing else in the clost will work?”

“We will look but we make no promises.” Miles said with a shake of his head, “It’s going to be a good night to start fresh - so let’s do it with a bang.”

Rose leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder, “It’s going to be okay Shane. Fresh start right?”

“Right. Fresh start. Let’s do this I guess?” Shane just wished he sounded more confident in his choice. He trusted these two. Well, he trusted Rose and Miles was proving himself trust worthy in his own ways, “But if this goes badly - I am going to be very annoyed with both of you.”

Ilya’s Home

Master Bedroom

Svetlana Vetrova was not a woman to mince her words. She never had been and never would be. She chose them carefully and weilded them with precision. So when Ilya Rozanov had come into the kitchen after breakfast and looked like he didn’t know which way was up. She knew it was time to step in. The issue with Ilya was layered - like a matryoshka doll. A many layered one where some were broken and someone had tried to put them back together but were fragile to the touch.

So, she leaned back against the headboard of his bed and watched as he paced between his closet and the bathroom like what he wore tonight fucking mattered. She suppsoed it did in the short term - the first game playing on the ice with Shane Hollander - Ilya was going to want to look put together and in control. Tonight wasn’t the night to go crazy.

Finally - when he had selected the fifth different shirt she spoke, “Ilyusha - what the fuck are you doing?”

He stopped, closed his eyes and then turned to her, “Sveta…I have a problem.”

Finally. Finally he was going to actually talk to her.

“Okay, what is the problem?” She folded her hands in her lap and studied curiously. Something had been eating at him for a while. But he had been blowing her off for ages. She couldn’t help him if he wasn’t going to let her in. And he had never not let her in before. It had been pissing her off if she was honest with herself.

“I…” Ilya stopped moving and then looked at her with eyes taht she hadn’t seen on him in ages. Not since he was getting ready to be drafted and it started to really sink in. That he was moving to the States and it was all real.

Ilya Rozanov was nervous.

“Ilyusha…” Svetlana tried again, “What’s going on in the brain of yours? I can’t help if I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“If…If I said I wanted a way to not have a Russian passport…if I wanted to have options…” Ilya’s voice was soft, but steady, “What would you say?”

“I would say I have been waiting for you to tell me that since I walked in on you and Sasha when we were 16.” Svetlana said calmly, at least she hoped it was calm. Because she was excited for her friend - and sad for herself. Ilya getting another passport meant he was staying here. That it would be complicated if not impossible for him to come back to Russia safely. It would be messy. It would be painful.

But Ilya Rozanov was bigger than Russia would let him be - and he deserved to be happy. Fuck she wanted to see him HAPPY.

He blinked at her and swallowed hard, “What? Sasha and I were - “

“A chaotic mistake? Obviously. But Ilya - you were LIVING when you did that. For you. Not for Russia. Not for your fucking father. Not for Alexei. For YOU.” She drew her knees up to her chin, “But it’s a complicated process Ilyusha. It won’t be easy or fast. You suck at being patient. Can you be that for this?”

“Sveta - you have no idea how patient I can be.” He said with a wry smile on his face.

“Why now?” Svetlana’s voice was so calm. So reassuring. Like he couldn’t make a wrong answer. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he couldn’t make a wrong answer. Ilya’s life had been a maze of right and wrong answers. He usually made the wrong one - or at least in the eyes of everyone else.

“My father isn’t going to live forever - we both know that clock has been ticking for a while. My mama is gone. I am on my second contract and when I make my next one I don’t want to factor Alexei and his issues into anything. My life is here. You are here - or you can be here. No one else matters back in Russia really. You are the family I have left.” ilya wasn’t sure how the words were coming to him, but they were.

’Maybe Mama is helping me…that would be nice. To have her helping me.’

Green and gold eyes blinked at him and then she nodded, “I tell you what Ilya. Let’s get through this season. Then we work on it, yes?”

If he could get a non-Russian passport. If he could just keep Shane until he didn’t have to go back to Russia to take care of his father. If…there were so many if’s with this idea. But to have the fucking freedom to make his own fucking choices? To not have to factor in things that he frankly didn’t give a fuck about really. He was Russian - he would always want to make Russia proud. But Russia - much like hockey at times - didn’t always love him back the way he loved it. His mother would want him to be happy. He was happy here with Sveta and his team in Boston. He laughed here and it was real. He loved them - and for the most part they loved him back.

They didn’t know all of him - but maybe - MAYBE - if it came down to it he could be brave if it meant Shane and Sveta were proud of him. The rest of the team too. And his Mama. And him. It would be nice to be proud of himself all the time - and not just when he was here in Boston during the season.

“Yeah…we will have time in the off season. Once I get my father sorted and…” Ilya’s voice trailed off and he ran a hand over his face, “Sveta - am I fucking crazy?”

“I mean…” her grin was teasing and her eyes were soft, “You are always crazy Ilyusha. But this time I think it might work in your favor.”

He let out a laugh and collapsed onto his bed on his back looking up at his ceiling, “Fuck, I have a game today where fucking Shane Hollander is on my team Sveta.”

“I know.” She placed a kiss on his forehead, “And somehow the world is still turning.”

He smirked at her, “We will see if you still feel that way after you see our butchered Power Play tonight.”

“I am going to revel in your Power Play and tell Hollander myself how good it is.” Svetlana said with a roll of her eyes, “I am sure it’s better. His has always been better than yours.”

Ilya made a face up at her, a pout evident in his voice, “I am wounded Sveta - how can you betray me like this?”

“I am so glad that you aren’t a dramatic Russian man. So level headed and calm.” was her response as she flicked his nose.

He snorted, “I am so glad that you can see that too.”

TD Garden

3 Hours Till Puck Drop

Cora Jansen was new. She had been an intern at the AHL level - but then she had impressed Gloria at the Big Club and now she was in Boston. She liked Boston. She was living with some of the others in the PR department that were just coming out of their internships and into full time employment with the Raiders. It was amazing and fun and challenging - Cora loved it. Today was her turn to take the pictures for the walk ins - which meant she was going to sit in a hallway for three hours and take pictures of players walking in - which she was glad it was finally spring and she was able to not freeze her ass off doing this one.

She heard a rumble outside and her brow went up - the Captain never came in this early. The Rookies were early - but didn’t make a fucking uproar like what she was hearing. She got her camera up just in time to see Shane Hollander walk in - with Wyatt Hayes in tow.

CLICK

Wyatt Hayes laughing, blonde curls messy from the wind outside and his burgundy suit with a dark grey shirt and tie looked sharp. His wedding ring and a flash of a watch were the only visible jewelry and a Raiders branded travel coffee tumbler was in his left hand as he gestured to his companion.

CLICK

Shane Hollander in what looked like all black - but then the turned and the red plaid lines showed up in the light. Sunglasses up on top of his head, a silver watch and a matching coffee tumbler to the goalie's in his hand. His face was lit up with a grin as he walked in like he didn’t have a fucking care in the world.

Cora would kill for that kind of confidence. From both of them really. Like this was any other walk in but it was their first here in Boston. Especially for Hollander - it had to be huge and daunting.

She was about to offer him a smile….when something happened and he kept her camera up instead…

CLICK

Victor St. Simon came in - gray suit with dark blue plaid and a blue shirt - and sneakers instead of dress shoes. She loved photograrphing St. Simon. He was a giant of a man with brown wavy hair and a grin that was almost too much.

But it wasn’t every day you got to capture Shane Hollander letting someone drape themselves over his shoulder and grin like there was a secret that no one else knew.

“Hollzy….you are so damn early.” He winked at her as she took a few more shots of them as they made their way past her, “Hey Cora…good to see you again.”

Shane stopped and smiled at her and held out his hand around the winger that was draped over him, “Cora was it - nice to meet you. Shane Hollander.”

She had to be the color of a ripe tomato. Cora held out her hand and shook his, “Um, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Hollander.”

His grin grew a bit warmer, “It’s Shane. Mr. Hollander is my dad. DId you get the shots you needed? I can walk again if you need.”

“Umm, no need! I can absolutely get more during warm ups and everything. Thanks though?” Cora blinked and then shook her head, “I have to get back to work but…”

Shane nodded, “No worries - have a great night Cora.”

She heard them joking as they walked away and couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was her life that Shane Hollander had shaken her hand like that. She turned back to the door just in time to get the rookies walking in…and then Carmicheal…and then Sutter….

There was another roar outside and she grinned behind her camera as the doors opened and in walked Ilya Rozanov.

CLICK

Gray and yellow plaid suit with a yellow tie and a lazy grin on his face. His necklace glowed around his throat and a watch sparkled on his wrist. A tie clip and a pocket square that matched his tie - Cora thanked whomever decided that hockey players had a dress code when they walked in.

These men in suits? One of her favorite parts of the day - hands down.

“CORA!!! My favorite photographer!” He called out as she snapped a few more.

She laughed and shook her head, “I think you told Karl he was your favorite last week during the back to backs.”

“He was working back to backs - I had to make him feel special.” Ilya winked at her as she snapped another of him, “Have a good night tonight hmmm?”

“You too! Go Raiders!” Cora said with a grin as she felt him walk past.

TD Garden

2 Hours Till Puck Drop

Gloria wasn’t sure what she had expected when she came to grab Shane Hollander to take a pre-game press scrum. But it wasn’t to walk into a game of sewer ball - or what was supposed to be sewer ball - but was instead what every game of sewer ball eventually became. Fully grown men trying to not admit they got a soccer ball stuck in the duct work and needed help getting it back.

So was she surprised to walk around the corner to see Shane Hollander on Cliff Marleau’s shoulders, holding two hockey sticks taped together and trying to knock a ball free from the ducts with the directional help of Ilya Rozanov and William Sebbins? Yes, she was. Should she have been? More than likely not.

She really hoped that the photographer she had with her, one of her new favorites Cora, got the ‘hand caught in the cookie jar’ looks on their faces that they all had when she cleared her throat. The giggle next to her told her that she had. She really liked Cora for times like this.

“Shane Hollander, we have only just signed you and you haven’t even played a game for us yet. Please do not kill yourself over a five dollar soccer ball. Can you please get off of Mr. Marleau and come with me to answer some press questions?” She tried to not smile or let her amusement show in her voice. The laughter from the other players told her that she hadn’t been the most successful ever at her attempt.

“Um, I don’t have a letter. I am kinda just a dude playing hockey. Don’t you want one of the guys with a letter?” Shane asked hopefully, “There are a couple of them down there.” He motioned at the Captain and Cliff - still with a hopeful look on his face.

“Shane. Sweetheart, I don’t know how to tell you this. But people know you are here and would like to take pictures of you in that hoodie while asking you questions that you have already answered.” Gloria said, not moving from her spot, “So again, please climb off of Cliff Marleau and I will have someone from facilities rescue the soccer ball.”

“But we almost have it!” Shane said, almost petulantly as he looked away and poked at it again.

They really did not almost have it but she would have walked away if she didn’t need the generational talent that was currently poking at a ball with several hundred dollars of hockey equipment. Equipment that she was pretty sure that the Equipment Manager didn’t know was missing.

Gloria pinched the bridge of her nose and took a slow breath, “Shane. Hollander. Press. Now.”

“OOOOH….Hollzy’s in trouble….”

“Better get going Hollzy…”

“You make Gloria sad - so mean Hollander…”

Shane gave her a LOOK that she more than happily returned, “I promise, if they can’t get it out of the duct work before you return - I will not say another word about your questionable problem solving skills.”

“Fine…” Shane started to descend and grumbled the entire time.

Gloria muttered to Cora, “We already texted facilities right?”

“RIght after I took the pictures for Instagrarm.” Cora confirmed softly.

“I am keeping you forever Cora.” Gloria said with a small smirk.

TD Garden

1 Hour Till Puck Drop

“...and joining us briefly before he heads back to get ready for his first game in the black and gold - Shane Hollander. Hello Shane, it’s great to see you again.”

Shane wondered briefly if there was a reporter anywhere that he wanted to talk to less than Marie LeClerc for the Canadian Hockey Network. But at least she was asking questions in English. She was wordier in French.

“Doing great Marie. I am so excited to be here tonight and am ready to play.” Shane said, his press smile in place and already focused on the clock that was just past the camera crew. Ten minutes. He only had ten more minutes and then he could go into the locker room and fucking just be Shane again for a bit.

“It’s been a wild post trade deadline for you hasn’t it? It must be strange to be in Boston as the home team. How has the change been for you?” Her voice seemed genuine in the headset that he was wearing, but Shane knew her too well. Marie LeClerc was a lot of things - genuine was not one of them in his experience.

“It’s been an extremely smooth transition. Everyone here has been absolutely amazing. I think it’s going to be a great fit.” Shane said with a grin on his face - and if it was a bit more genuine than normal - Marie LeClerc could kiss his fucking ass. He wasn’t playing in Canada anymore and Boston’s PR team didn’t have their lips surgically attached to her ass.

“It was a very abrupt change - people are wondering what led to such a shift at the deadline when the year was going so well for the Metros.” Marie said, doing her level best to get the answers she was looking for.

And there it was - the fucking question of the current news cycle. With sacharrine sweet poison that you had to know her to hear.

“There was a decision to retool for both teams. I am focused on winning a cup - same as I was before the trade.” Shane said, his voice calm, PR smile firmly in place and absolutely no outward signs of how much he wanted to flip this reporter off and just walk away.

Seven more minutes.

She tilted her head to the side and raised a brow, “There are rumors in Montreal - “

“And there will always be. There is a passionate fanbase in Montreal. There is a passionate one here in Boston. Where I am currently playing. We are coming together well and I am excited to play tonight and take on this new set of goals.” Shane said, redirecting the conversation back to Boston with practiced ease.

5 minutes. He could fucking do this like the damned professional he was dammit.

“Playing with Ilya Rozanov must be a challenge. Your very intense rivalry has been a topic of conversation.” Marie said, her eyes narrowing at him when he didn’t let her lead him to the talking points that she wanted.

But he didn’t have to here. Another perk to Boston. Those were starting to add up.

“I have always played some of my best hockey when I have played against Rozanov. No one challenges me and makes me creative on the ice the way that he does.” Shane laughed a bit, but it was a very controlled chuckle, “Is there going to be some growing pains? Absolutely - but there is with any trade that happens during the season. But we have approached this as professionals that have very similar goals. Winning a cup is at the top of that list.”

Three minutes.

Gloria appeared near the clock and made the wrap it up motion and Shane wondered if it would be inappropriate to kiss her on the lips. It more than likely would be. But it was fucking tempting at the moment.

There was a look on Marie’s face that made Shane wonder if he could maybe stub his toe really hard and not be able to do press in Montreal when she would be there in person.

“I can’t wait to see what you bring to the ice in a new city Shane.” Marie said, an overly sweet smile on her lips.

“It’s going to be a great time tonight Marie. I hope you do get to see some great hockey. I know you will from the Boston bench.” Shane said right before he took off the headset, handed it to the crew and locked eyes with Gloria, “I need to go get ready now right?”

“I set you free to the locker rooms Shane.” She said, her hands shooed him towards the hallway that would take him to the locker room and the team. To safety and being just Hollzy or Shane and NOT Shane Hollander. He was already getting used to it. And Shane really wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not…

TD Garden

30 Minutes Till Puck Drop

Yuna Hollander was not going to say this out loud. At least not tonight. But the staff in Boston had been amazing and tonight was going so smoothly it made her eye twitch a bit. She had wanted a hiccup. A blunder. Something so that she could still glare at people. But she couldn’t because everyone was a fucking delight. So she stood at the plexiglass and watched her son go through his warm ups. Edgework. Shooting. Stretching.

In black and gold. Without a letter. Without Hayden Pike.

But he had a kid named Sebbins that was following him around a bit like a duckling. He and Rozanov had had a mini-shoot out with the goalie - Hayes. He had given pucks to kids and done a rink side interview that had been on the jumbotron. All in all - a smooth start to the evening…and then she saw a kid with a sign and she hid a grin behind her hand.

SHANE HOLLANDER - TRADE YOU A PUCK FOR A SNACK

She moved and tapped his mother on the shoulder, “Excuse me - I am Shane’s mom and I love your son’s sign. If Shane comes over - do you mind if I get a picture with all of you?”

The other woman grinned, “Absolutely! Welcome to Boston - it’s nice to not have to feel so guilty about finding your son so talented.”

Yuna felt something settle in her chest at that. Then there was a solid THUD against the plexiglass and a grinning Shane on the other side, with a puck balanced on the blade of his stick.

“Whatcha got to trade bud?” His voice was muffled through the glass and the kid - who was almost vibrating with excitement - held up a bag of spicy ketchup chips. Shane nodded, “Oh that’s worth a puck for sure.”

He flipped it over the glass and it took Miles lifting the kid up to get the chips safely over the glass to the waiting hockey player. Before he could leave though, Yuna called out, “Shane, wait a second…”

He froze and rolled his eyes when he saw the phone in her hand. He tapped his glove against the glass, “Never say no when your mom wants a picture.”

The grin on the face of the child who was gripping the puck like it was a prize possession, the mother looking thrilled for her child and Yuna’s own son grinning through the plexiglass…it was a good picture to have.

And if she made Shane pose for another one with her, Rose, Miles and David? What did he expect from her after all? She had a reputation for recording his milestones like this.

TD Garden, Raiders Bench

10 Minutes into the FIrst Period

Shane leaned over Victor and poked Ilya with his glove, “Hey Rozanov…”

Ilya didn’t look over at him, “Not talking about this Hollander.”

“I just wanted to ask you a question.” Shane said, an innocent look on his face.

The captain of the Boston Raiders let out a sigh and closed his eyes, “What can I help you with in the middle of a fucking game Hollander?”

“When you said ’Watch this shift…’ - was it supposed to be a lesson on what not to do?” Shane asked, amusement in every word.

“Oh fuck you Hollander.” Ilya said with a glare, “It happens okay. There is nothing wrong with what happened.”

Victor shook his head, “Okay you two…back it up…Some of us are getting ready for our next shift.”

Shane leaned back into his spot, “Sure thing Vicky…”

“It does not matter - my line will still outscore yours.” Rozanov said with a wave of his hand and then a grin when Shane snorted, “What? You think you are going to beat us?”

“I think that if you whiff on more slap shots like that Hazy might outscore you.” Shane said as he stood up when he felt the tap on his shoulder, “But what do I know?”

Then he was over the bench and laughing at the growl he heard from Ilya. Sebbins skated up to him and bumped him with his shoulder.

“Hollzy is playing with fire…” He sing songed as the got into position since Florida had iced the puck while they had been doing their line change.

Victor took his spot on the other side of Shane, “The plan is still in place though - right boys?”

The plan being to outscore the first line just to prove that they could. Shane could honestly say he was having more fun on the ice than he had thought he would tonight. He was struggling a little bit with patterns - but so far nothing that was causing too much of an issue. Their play wasn’t seamless - neither of these guys was Hayden (or Ilya) and his defensemen weren’t JJ. They didn’t all have that mind reading playing ability - yet. But the signs were pointing in a good direction.

“Fuck yes.” Shane said before he got into position at the face off dot and rolled his shoulders as some newbie took the spot across from him. Winning the pull was easier than it should have been and then they were flying on the ice again.

The puck was on his stick for less than a second before he was sending it towards Victor and Victor was shooting at the net….

HHHHOOOONNNKKKK!!!!!

He was crashing into his new teammates and the goal song was playing…

Boston:1 / Florida: 0

TD Garden, Raiders Locker Room

First Intermission

“So are we going to make a deal Hollzy?” Ilya asked, leaning against the wall near Shane’s stall, a smirk on his face as he tried out the nickname for the first time. They were both still flushed and sweaty from a period of hockey - so Shane had an excuse for the blush that he could see coming up his neck.

“Oh are we doing nicknames now Roz?” Shane asked looking up at him with a grin, “What are we making a deal on? The fact that my line has scored and yours hasn’t?”

’How can you make me want to throttle you and fuck you at the same time you little shit?’

Instead of responding right away, Ilya took a moment to process the sight of Shane in his pads and sweaty. Then he shook his head, “Still 40 minutes of hockey to play…how confident are you I wonder?”

Shane looked at where Victor and Sebbins were retaping their sticks and hydrating and then back at Ilya, “Pretty confident. You?”

“I am not the newbie on my line.” Ilya said with a shrug, “We can wait a few games if you would like. Let you get more comfortable…I am generous that way.”

He was generous and he would wait. But he missed making ‘deals’ with Shane. The payouts were everything from sex, to charity donations, food…it was just fun. Ilya wanted to have fun with this man again - and not constantly feel like he was on fucking eggshells. But if Shane needed more time - he would give it to him.

“Fuck you.” Shane stood up and met his gaze, “Next game - loser does a shift as the other’s winger.”

Ilya grinned wickedly at him, “Aw, you want to get an assist on one of my goals? How sweet…”

Then the little asshole in front of him licked his lips and tilted his head to the side - like the tease that he was, “Or I am giving you the chance to assist me on one of mine since I am still leading you in the points race…”

“Deal.” Ilya held out his hand and Shane shook it firmly.

“Deal…Roz…” Shane said with a grin and then the little asshoe fucking WINKED at him.

’I am going to fucking kill you…’

TD Garden, Hollander Family Box

12 Minutes into the Second Period

“So, I get that I am new to hockey. So maybe this is something they do…no one else is though…” Miles said slowly, “Why are Shane and number 81 pointing to the score and then at each other?”

Rose stopped with popcorn halfway to her mouth, “I honestly have no idea. That’s not a hockey thing…”

“Oh good - so it’s not just me that’s lost…” Miles said with a nod, “Good to know.”

Hockey was more entertaining than he had thought it would be - definitely better than the baseball game he had had to attend when they had thrown the first pitch in LA after a premier. And Shane seemed to be doing good - the people around him that understood more of what was happening…

“OH FUCK YOU REF! Are you BLIND?”, Yuna Hollander, a very nice woman who was also slightly terrifying, was currently gesturing at the ice and then men in striped shirts like they had both personally wronged her.

The confusion he was feeling must have shown on his face - and since Rose was currently also yelling at the ice he turned to the brunette next to him with a raised brow - and she took pity on him.

“Shane is very huggable. Which normally is good. But the other team can’t hug him during the game.” Lisa Hayes pointed to the jumbotron, “Our boy just got a penalty called on Florida and we are going on the … oh SHIT. Are they actually putting them both out on the Power Play?”

“That was a lot of words that you seem to think I understand all put together like that.” Miles said, “What does that mean?”

“It means that there are two generational talents on the ice at the same time.” Lisa said and then shook her head, “Sorry - so the Power Play is when someone is put into the Time Out box.” She pointed to where a Florida player was sitting in a plexiglass box, “Because they were naughty and they have to think about their life choices.”

Rose clapped and bounced in her chair next to him, “And they can’t replace him on the ice - so they have to play a man down during his time in the Time Out Box. And everyone is excited because Shane and Rozanov are lethal by themselves - together? This is either going to be GLORIOUS or it’s going to be a fucking clusterfuck.”

“My insider tells me that even the team isn’t sure how this is going to go.” Lisa said as she rubbed her hands together, “But no matter which way it goes - it’s going to be a SHOW.”

The two women reached around him and gave each other a high five. Miles looked between them, then over to where the Hollanders were both leaning forward with serious looks on their faces. What he was gathering was this was good for Shane - but maybe not…but maybe yes…

One minute and ten seconds later they had their answer.

”Hollander SCORES! Assists from Ilya Rozanov and Winston Sebbins. BOSTON SCORES IT’S SECOND GOAL!”

“Oh my god…did Shane just celebrate?” Yuna asked, laughing as she clapped and cheered, “He hasn’t done that in YEARS…!”

Miles also had no idea what that meant but Shane was laughing on the ice and then fist bumping his team mates so - he was going to go with the idea that this was a good thing.

The Pike Family Living Room

Second Intermission

Jackie, who was doing the ‘bob and sway’ with Arthur in her arms, did an abbreviated ‘celly’ of her own when Shane scored. Then she cackled when Shane celebrated on her television screen. She hadn’t seen Shane Hollander do a goal celebration since their first play off run. He had done one in the divisional winner and had gotten a ‘conversation’ with coaching over it. It wasn’t something they wanted to see the Captain doing - it pulled attention. And there he was - laughing on the ice and doing an ‘Are you not entertained’ celly for Boston.

Ruby and Emma were jumping up and down in front of the television - wearing Boston t-shirts with ‘Uncle Shane’ on the backs over the 24 - celebrating the goal again when it was beng broken down in the intermission show. Before she could overthink it - she opened the camera on her phone one handed and took a short video. Then sent it to Yuna.

 

Jackie: We are coming to the Sunday and Monday games. They miss him. So do I. Give him hugs for us.

Three minutes later…

Yuna: We will have your seats ready and waiting for you. Will do on the hugs.

“Mommy - if the Metros said they were sorry would Uncle Shane come home?” Emma asked and looked back over her shoulder at Jackie, and her heart broke a little bit.

There wasn’t an easy way to explain to little ones that homophobic assholes had hurt Shane. That hockey - the sport that paid the bills and that Uncle Shane and Daddy loved - was toxic on a good day and harmful on bad ones. That there wasn’t a ‘Sorry’ big enough to bring Uncle Shane back to Montreal forever.

“I tell you what baby, maybe when we surprise Uncle Shane in a few days we can talk about doing a summer trip. You two are big enough for the jet skis this year.” Jackie said, distracting them with the idea of the lake.

It was better to ask for forgiveness at times when it came to distracting the girls - and Shane wouldn’t mind a long weekend if it made the girls happy. In theory. Maybe.

TD Garden, Raiders Locker Room

Post Game Scrums

“Ilya…it was a great game. You guys are still firmly in play off contention. What was it like playing with Shane Hollander tonight?” Steve, a reporter from a local hockey news site said with his phone held out to record.

’Well Steve it was fucking insane and both magical and a pain in my fucking ass.’

“Hollander is a solid player. It’s good to add depth at Center and he’s not too bad of a shot.” Ilya said with a lazy grin from his stall. Shirtless as usuall and wishing he had gotten another two minutes to take off his fuckig skates before the press had been allowed into the room.

“How has the adjustment been to having your biggest rival on the ice with you?” came another voice to his left.

’If you knew what this ‘rivalry’ has taken from me you wouldn’t fucking care. It takes. It gives. It’s a fucking complicated mess Andrea.’

“I have always played my best hockey against Shane Hollander. Tonight was no different - he challenges me yes? Now the challenge is internal and not so much external.” Ilya said, his fingers in his sweaty, matted curls, “Now if we can just help him figure out how to keep the puck in the offensive zone…”

“But having two captains on one team….”Andrea tried again, this time before Ilya could figure out a reply - because how the fuck was he supposed to explain SHane’s mentality about this shift in dynamics.

“Not a captain anymore.” Shane’s voice cut in as he made his way back to his own scrum that was waiting by his stall, “just a dude playing hockey. That guy is the Captain.” he pointed at Ilya and grinned, “Even if my line outscored his tonight.”

“We are not counting Power Play goals Hollander.” Ilya drawled, and winked at him, “So we are even tonight.”

Shane, walking backwards towards his scrum, shot his a wicked grin, “But who’s in the lead of the scoring race again?”

Without thinking Ilya flipped him off and Shane just shook his head, “You wound me Rozanov.” Then he turned to face his own group of reporters and Ilya was left with his own reporters.

But the feeling in his chest was lighter. Maybe…just maybe….things would start to make sense again soon.

Maybe.

Bell Centre, Press Room

Post Game

Hayden Pike was going to kill people. His team. Management. The press in this room with him. He wasn’t sure who was going to be at the top of the list if he was completely fucking honest with people. But someone was going to fuckinkg die soon. He ran his fingers through his still wet hair from the shower and tried to not glare at the two men sitting next to him at the fucking table in this godforsaken presser.

They had lost. To fucking Columbus. In their own FUCKING house. There was no fucking reason that they should have FUCKING lost to FUCKING Columbus. They were a solid team - sure. You had to respect every opponent because hockey was a weird game and any night to go to any team. Obviously.

But in theory - even without Shane - Montreal was just the FUCKING better team. And they had lost 5-1 to Columbus. It was their second loss in their Post- Shane Hollander timeline and people were starting to fucking notice.

’Gee Golly Willikers fuckheads - it’s almost like you built an entire team around one fucking dude and then got rid of the lynchpin that held the whole fucking mess together. I wonder why we are fucking losing.’

“Hayden, congratulations on the goal in tonight’s game. What do you think is leading to this slump for the Metros?” Phil Lockhead, one of the reporters that Shane had actually liked for his game breakdowns, asked with a concerned look on his face, “Since the trade deadline changes there seems to be a shift that has fans worried.”

’Well, Phil, it turns out that the locker room is full of homophobic dickheads that couldn’t lead a starving man to food at a fully stocked buffet. But the man that COULD do that was traded to Boston because he likes dick. So now here we fucking are. What do you think we should do here Phil?’

But Hayden couldn’t say any of that. Not with the coach at the table and Commeau sitting next to him. That isn’t how you did things in Montreal. Everyone learned that the hard way in this city. Victories were group efforts and losses were hung on individuals. There had to be a scapegoat. But in this game - that broken lynchpin was fucking Gilbert Commeau who couldn’t seem to remember how to pass the puck to someone on his own team and Patrice Drapeau who had the goalie skills that would have him backing up a Mites team goalie.

’Losing to fucking COLUMBUS…’

“We are still in a period of adjustment. I am sure we will get it sorted out soon.” Hayden said, his smile glued into place, “Line changes can take some time but I am sure we will get this sorted out soon.”

Phil raised a brow at the table, “Shane Hollander had a goal and assist tonight in Boston’s win over Florida. That moves Boston to the number one Wild Card slot over Montreal. Are there any concerns that the adjustments won’t be made in time and you will keep the points necessary to stay in the hunt for the first three-peat in modern MLH history?”

’Why fucking yes there is Phil. But I can’t tell you that. Because I have to go back into the locker room and hear how all of this is OUR fault. Because obviously when you build a team around Shane Hollander and then you trade Shane Hollander. We can just fix that gaping hole in our offense in no time at all. It’s fucking magic Phil.’

“We are a strong team with great players.” Hayden said, lying through his teeth with his PR smile still in place, “I have no doubt that we will be defending our title in the Final.”

Melissa, the PR rep that Hayden didn’t mind the most, stepped up and smiled, “That’s all guys. We need to let the team recover for Minnesota tomorrow night.”

Hayden grabbed his water bottle and headed towards the locker room without another word. He had nothing else that would be productive to add to the conversation. Nothing that wouldn’t get him fined by the League and cost him ice time from the Coaching staff. He made it back into the locker room and then he got slammed into the wall by Commeau.

“What the fucking hell Pike? You just fucking leave Coach and I in there?” His voice was a low growl, “Way to show fucking support.”

“I showed support when I scored the only fucking goal we got Commeau.” Hayden snarled back at him, “I smiled. I answered the fucking questions. But see, I am not Shane. I am not going to fall on the god damned sword for everyone when you have a shitty game. You get to answer for those turn overs. You get to answer for your fuck ups. Isn’t that how it is? Wins are the team - losses are the people?”

Hayden had to get through the season. His agent was aware he wanted the fuck out. Shane had made the fucking bullshit tolerable. He had been gone barely over a week and it was already showing. The cracks in the Montreal foundation. The flaws in the system. And there wasn’t any fixing it with the personnel they had. He felt for the new guy from Boston - but he was in the AHL for the moment. He would be brought up soon if Montreal followed the pattern. But even he wouldn’t be enough to replace what had been traded away.

JJ stepped in and pushed Commeau back and glared at the asshole, “Back all the way the fuck off Gilly. You don’t get to fucking blame Pike when we were all out there on the ice. At least my lines were. Where the fuck were you huh?”

Hayden wasn’t going to comment on the fact that JJ’s accent was thicker tonight. Or how tired the defenseman looked. They had been skating their asses off all fucking night. But the guys who in the room kept preaching about stepping up. Putting the team on everyone’s backs. Making the playoffs and showing everyone the resilience of Montreal? Not one of them had been a productive player tonight.

Then he heard the Canadian Sports Network broadcast on the other side of the lockerroom, ”And in Boston tonight - Shane Hollander, the newest Boston Raider - had two points in their win over Florida. Hollander looks to be gelling well with the new team. Linemate Victor St. Simon even commented on the work ethic of Hollander saying he is putting in the time to blend in on the new team - ‘

Drapeau snorted from his spot where he was just back from the shower, “I bet they wouldn’t -” his voice died off when Theriault entered the locker room. All sound died when he entered the room.

Theriault glared at the room, “Morning bag skate and line work tomorrow. We are NOT letting that”, he jerked a thumb towards the screen, where they were now covering the San Fransisco and Edmonton game, “Be the story of our season. Wherever the fuck your heads are? Figure it out by tomorrow.”

He shot a disgusted look around the room and then stormed out of the room. Hayden watched him go and then let out a slow breath.

’Yeah….it’s time to get the fuck out of here…’

Hayden and JJ shared a look - then the defenseman just shook his head and went back to his stall. The room was quiet - but it was an uneasy quiet. Like everyone was on eggshells and terrified to breathe.

Chapter End Notes

I do have a playlist for this: Spotify Playlist !

For those of you that struggle with the images in the chapters - I have a Pinterest board where I have uploaded them. (I think I got them all!) So if you struggle - please check out : the Fic Media Board! !

I am always open to song suggestions as well.

I am looking forward to this journey with you all!

Chapter 9: A Moment to Breathe Before the Mayhem

Chapter Summary

Plans are hatched.

Reunions occur.

Group chats are created.

Svetlana has a plan. Jackie is staging mayhem. Meanwhile, the team meeting that could change everything and the Montreal game loom ever closer. The Raiders are still convinced that Jane needs to come help Ilya relax and Shane is convinced that his new team is out to give him a heartattack.

So...it's a normal day in Boston...

Chapter Notes

This is going to be a canon divergent fic after the Tampa Bay All Stars weekend. It's going to be a mesh of Season One of the show and the book series. Both are amazing and deserve sunshine. Tags and Character lists are going to evolve over time - I don't want to spoil anything coming up with tags.

I really don't have a posting schedule - which I keep proving - but I do have it outlined. So, winning?

I can't stress enough how these boys are still idiots. Across the board. Idiots who are being paid millions of dollars to play human bumper cars and keep away with a frozen rubber disk with sticks and knife shoes on their feet.

This chapter is currently unbeta’d - but life has been lifing. My beloved beta and I have had a LOT going on and I just miss posting so… This is me having the faith in my self-editing skills that Shane has in an iPhone mute button.

Ilya Rozanov’s Kitchen

Morning After First Game

Boston, MA

Ilya Rozanov hadn’t been caught doing a ‘walk of shame’ since he was fifteen years old. One - because he had stopped having shame at some point. Two - because he had moved into the team dorms and they hadn’t minded as long as it fit the narrative they had wanted for him. And lastly - he had lived along in the states since he was nineteen years old. Who was going to catch him? The dust bunnies?

So when he walked into his home to see Svetlana sitting at his kitchen counter, drinking coffee and smirking at him - he just came to a stop.

”What? Did I have a curfew I wasn’t aware of? There had better be coffee for me too…” Ilya tossed his keys to the counter and headed for the mug sitting out by his Nespresso machine and then shot a look over his shoulder at her, ”You are being quiet…”

”It’s funnily Ilyusha. When you say you need me here. That we need to talk? You didn’t tell me I would be talking to empty rooms.” Svetlana took another sip of coffee, ”Also, congratulations on not sucking on the ice last night. You looked like you knew what hockey was.”

He flipped off one of his oldest friends as he took a sip of his coffee and raised a brow in her direction, ”What are you doing up so early anyway? Aren’t you normally still passed out in my guest room?”

Her laugh was warm, but had an edge to it he wasn’t expecting, ”You didn’t come home and you got me here because you were losing your shit over something. I want to know what the something is. Or was it just you wanting out of Russia’s grasp?” Her gaze locked on his and she pinned him him place with a lethal precision that was terrifying to him on some level. That she could really SEE him.

Ilya drank more coffee and then sighed, ”It’s the Russia of it all. I need a sounding board and your ideas aren’t the fucking worst all the time.” He ran his fingers through his bronze curls and chewed on his lower lip for a moment, ”I need someone I trust to do this right and safe. I trust you Svetochka.”

”That is because you have somehow managed to make it this far into your career without excessive brain damage.” Svetlana responded with a roll of her eyes, ”And since you abandoned me - I have had time to come up with the start of a plan. If you have time for some of it. Or do you have more mystery plans that take precedence over your future?”

A heavy silence fell in the kitchen. Ilya heard the hum of his appliances and wind outside of his windows. Svetlana’s nails on her mug and his own breathing. He set his mug down and braced his hands on the counter, eyes locked on the pattern in the marble. Part of him ached to tell her about Shane. To tell her that he wanted to keep him. She would help him find a way. She would keep this safe. Like she had kept him safe - like she had kept Sascha safe. Svetlana Vetrova was too good for him. Ilya had a habit of attracting people that were too good for him and then convincing them to stay.

He hoped Shane followed that pattern. But his luck had to run out at some point.

”Alright. Alright. What’s this plan?” His voice was rough, and he looked at her with narrowed eyes, ”And I crashed on a couch after last night’s celebration. Evidently everyone wanted to boost Hollander’s confidence since he managed to score last night.”

There would be a day when Ilya Rozanov didn’t try to take her for a fucking idiot. Today was not that day it seemed. Svetlana shook her head gently and then rested her chin on the palm of her hand on the counter as she watched her friend.

She sighed softly, ”Again I need to ask you this - are you sure? Because once we start this - you can’t go back. Not really. This is going to start burning bridges.”

There were a million reasons for Ilya to not fuck with the hand that was currently feeding him. Russia could be terrifying - but it had given him opportunities. It was where his mother was buried. Where his history and his roots were. There was history there - and while a lot of it was awful - there were amazing moments too.

There was conflict in his eyes and on his face. But he took a slow breath and nodded, ”I know it sounds crazy - I do. But - ” Ilya finally met her gaze, and gave her a small grin, crooked and genuine, ”But I feel like I am stuck in fucking holding pattern. I can’t go foreward if I am still fucking stuck.”

The thing was…she had been waiting for this. Svetlana wasn’t an idiot. She was her father’s daughter. The man who had deliberately had her born in the states so that she had dual citizenship. The man who had encouraged her to get a business degree. To keep her options open.

So when Ilya had been drafted and started to thrive in Boston? Buying an actual home and not a condo. Cars. Charity work. Friendship and connections. Svetlana had started plotting. Taking note of his choices and making plans quietly in the background. Because she knew her friend. He wasn’t patient. When he made a descision he acted on it. Which - on the ice? Amazing. Buying a car? Fantastic. Picking a restaurant for dinner - endlessly wonderful.

Life choices that could decimate his life? She had to set up cement blockades and safety tape everywhere. She was going to have to keep him focused on the goal. Because if he rushed things - it could all blow up in his face. Ilya Rozanov couldn’t afford to have this blow up in his face.

”We start by making a move with your representation.” She smirked at his shocked look, ”You have been vocal about wanting more Western ad revenue. Your contract with GSA is over at the end of the season. You can quietly make the change and no one is going to really think anything of it. People are more shocked I think that you are still with them.”

When Ilya didn’t speak again, Svetlana continued, ”We get you a new agent. We work on shifting your endorsements. Then we work on the next steps.”

”Steps? Just how many steps are there in this master plan of yours?” Ilya said, amusement in his voice, but the look on his face was worried, ”How long have you been planning this Svetochka.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t anothing but a statement.

”Long enough to know that we need to do this in stages and we need a back up plan. Because I love you Ilyusha. I love you so damn much. But…” Svetlana shrugged a shoulder, ”Life happens and you invite chaos and then some. Plan and have back up options when well intentioned plans go to hell.”

He tapped his coffee mug against hers gently and Svetlana rested a hand over his and squeezed it before continuing to outline her plan.

Shane Hollander’s Condo

Late Afternoon, Off Day

Boston, MA

Say what you wanted about his parent’s involvement in his life. There were plenty that did. But the fact that they had been overseeing the move of his shit into his new place and all Shane had to do was spend a few days unpacking boxes? He would strongly recommend this aspect of it to anyone. But that was neither here nor there really. He had clothes in his closet and dressers. He had dishes in his cupboards. He had sheets on his own fucking bed.

His own fucking bed.

The other thing he had today - was silence. There wasn’t the hum of life of the hotel. There weren’t team members in his business and just appearing. There wasn’t a Russian forward looming in his periphery.

His parents were taking the day to do whatever it was they did when he wasn’t around. HIs teammates were off doing whatever it was they wanted to do. Ilya was with Svetlana. And that meant - for the first time in awhile - Shane Hollander was alone with his thoughts.

It really did feel like it had been forever since he had had space and time to just exist. So he sat on his kitchen counter, eating berries and doing a grocery order on a tablet while his thoughts took a moment to wander. To the trade. The move. The team. The Ilya of it all.

That was the real kicker of it all - fucking Ilya Rozanov. Or rather being fucked by Ilya Rozanov. But also - spending actual time with him. He had known the asshole for the better part of a decade. Eight years of fucking, fighting and rivalry. It was a lot. At times it was too much. He really thought that their days here and hours there, the texts, the All Star Weekends. The play off series…it was all enough. They hadn’t had any other option.

But now they had time. Real time. He had hung out with Ilya and other people the night before. They had had drinks and talked and existed in the same space and the world hadn’t ended. There hadn’t been an invasion of media or it plastered over every blog in the world. He hadn’t gotten a call from management today or PR about how he had not been a great role model because he had said ‘fuck’ a few times near a hot mic in the locker room.

His entire world view was shifting and part of it - a massive part if he was going to be honest with himself - was that fucking mouthy Russian that had been keeping him awake at night since he was 17.

’Siince you were 16 and your Juniors coach showed you that fucking fluke shot that had leaked out of Moscow online.’ the little voice in the back of Shane’s mind said.

But he didn’t listen to that voice. Ever. that voice is what had led him to hotel gyms and photo shoots and tuna melts…

Shane shook his head and was about to go back to his shopping when the screen on his phone lit up next to him.

JJ

He hadn’t heard from his friend since the move. Shane licked his lips and watched the screen go dark on his phone - only to light up again with the same name. It happened twice more before he picked it up and tapped the green phone icon on the screen.

“Hey man…what’s up?”

JJ wasn’t sure why he had called Shane. He couldn’t fix this. The longer it went on the more the defensman was sure that it couldn’t be fixed. That there was something fucked up in his locker room and the one person that could have fixed it wasn’t there. But he wasn’t sure Shane Hollander could fix it either. Shane would be the mask to hide what was broken and ugly. But not the cure.

He wasn’t even sure if management wanted a cure. Not really. Because if they did? Shane wouldn’t be the one in the wrong fucking city.

“How the hell did you do this?” came out of his mouth before he could really say anything else. He ran a hand over his face and his head fell back against the wall with a dull thud, “How in the fucking hell did you do this shit for eight years?”

There was a silence and then a soft laugh, “I didn’t realize it was shit until I got here. I just thought it was what it was.”

Didn’t that hurt like a fucking bitch. JJ had been in his second year up in the MLH when Shane had arrived. There had been so much hype around his draft class - and around him and Rozanov specifically - that he hadn’t really blinked at the added press. Or that Shane was constantly being pulled by the media. In a way it had been nice - easier to get out after games. Easier to breathe and Shane had seemed to handle it with grace.

But if he had felt like this for eight years? JJ would like to have words with his younger self. Because this was fucking bullshit.

“Capitaine…” The words came out in a rush, “It is never supposed to be like this. I knew you fell on a sword occasionally - but - “

There was a snort and a slightly sharper laugh, “JJ, there were a lot of swords. I was the Captain. C'est moi qui prends le blâme.” Another heavy pause, “C'était exactement ce que le capitaine était censé faire. ”

Which is how Montreal worked - since Shane Hollander appeared. Since the organization decided the last bit of the rebuild sat solely on the shoulders of one man. One kid. Their previous captain hadn’t had the weight on his shoulders - not like Shane. But there hadn’t been someone like him in Montreal in a very long time.

Much like Boston hadn’t had someone like fucking Rozanov in a fucking long time.

Two Original Six franchises that had lucked into getting two generational talents in the same fucking year. A rivalry for the ages.

But Montreal had tasted revelvancy again and ran with it. Guys who hadn’t had winning seasons in a while had tasted victory - and it was - it was alot and it had snowballed…

“I am so sorry Shane.” JJ didn’t know what else to say. It didn’t seem like enough, but there wasn’t anything else he could say…and that hurt too. Because Shane deserved more.

Another couple of heartbeats and there as a deep, soft sigh in his ear, “JJ, it’s - it is what it is. There isn’t a way to change things now. But thanks - I think?” A soft laugh, “Honestly, for the most part it was fine. We all were learning as we went.” Shane cleared his throat, “How bad is it? Do you need me to make a statement? Are they - “

That made the man sitting in the dim lights of his Montreal apartment sit up straight, “Capitaine, you are not making a fucking statement to help us. Tabarnak - have you lost your damn mind?”

JJ took another breath and let it out slowly, “I really just wanted to say - I am sorry. Because I have done some press shit since you have been gone - but they keep making Hayden do it and he’s not nearly as polite as you.”

Another beat came and went, “You guys are coming down in a few days. Let’s do dinner, yeah? I think I might have a place to take you.”

A grin tugged at JJ’s lips, “You. You have a restaurant to take us to. Alright Hollander - I am in. Should I look on Yelp to see - “

“Listen here asshole - it’s going to be good. Have a little bit of faith here huh?” Shane sounded amused, “I have been known to have good restaurants up my sleeves on occasion. We’ll surprise Hayd with a place that doens’t have a kids menu.”

“But how will we entertain him while we talk about the game?”

Shane laughed and it was warm and familiar, “I think we will figure it out man. Are you guys going to be here the night before or staying after?”

“Staying after - we are headed to fucking Texas after you guys.” his head fel back against the wall again - a bit gentler this time, “So you know how that goes - early flight afternoon skate.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Also…” JJ started to grin, “You could invite Luke to dinner with us.”

“Oh FUCK YOU. No. You aren’t meeting Luke.” Shane said, laughing, “That is not going to be a thing.”

“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?” JJ said with what he hoped was an even tone, “We are delights.”

Another snort came through the phone, “Oh fuck you - you are not meeting Luke. So let’s focus on other topics huh…”

When Shane kept talking about how JJ and Hayden were not actually delights and then started talking about grocery shopping in the States versus Canada. He let his friend’s voice fill his ears for the first time in a while and for the first time since the trade - JJ Boiziau felt the band aroundhis chest loosen up a bit.

Boston Sports News

‘Hockey Tonight with Chris Newhall and Sam Ursault’

Boston, MA

“Last night we had one hell of a hockey game at the Garden.” A bright grin was on the face of Chris Newhall, the anchor for the hockey desk, “We have all seen Shane Hollander play over the years, but we weren’t sure how that would translate to this Boston team. The answer - pretty good.”

“I am not saying he’s not going to be just as amazing here as he was in Montreal, but there is usually a bump when there is a trade. I am just saying - if we struggle a bit. Everyone breathe. It’s going to be okay.” A woman to his left, said with a grin, “Not that I want us to - and I know everyone in Boston can be very level headed when it comes to our teams - “ Her laugh was bright, “But I am going to need us all to take a breath if there are some moments of less than stellar play.”

“Sam, let me ask you this. You have friends in the press up in Canada - more than me anyway - what is the feeling up there with this trade? Again - as I have said since it was announced - this was a dream move that no one saw coming.”

Sam tucked some dark hair behind her ear and shook her head, “A lot of people up in Montreal - and in Canadian media in general - still have no idea how or why this happened. It would be one thing if the Metros hadn’t missed a step since the trade. But they have lost both games since it happened and now…” She shook her head, “No one really knows what’s happening. However, as we all know, the Montreal organization loves an NDA and I can see that being used to keep things quiet through the end of the season - if not the end of the Cup finals.”

“And to see Hollander here, and already on PowerPlay One, putting in significant ice time… Was that to be expected, do you think?”

A well-manicured hand made a ‘so-so’ motion in the air, “Yes and no. Hollander is a known entity. He’s someone we have seen play. We know what he can do. So that makes him a bit easier to slot into a spot with pretty solid returns. That being said however, I will say how he did on the PowerPlay with Rozanov last night was a welcome surprise.”

“I was concerned that their rivalry would be too much to overcome in such a small window of time.” Chris said, “I mean, it’s been since that International Prospects Cup before they were even drafted…”

Sam had a thoughtful look on her face, “Chris, my father was in the MLH for 9 seasons. My husband was in the MLB for 14. I asked them about the rivalry when I heard about the draft and they both see it differently - and seeing Rozanov and Hollander on the ice last night - I think I see where they are coming from.” She looked straight at the camera, “When you are the very best at your level - where does the challenge to constantly improve come from? Your rivals. Where do the games that are meaningful to you come from? Your rivals. It’s not always animosity that drives these rivalries. It’s passion and competition - but rarely is it true hatred.”

She shrugged, “The man my husband had as the best man in our wedding was technically his biggest rival - in college and then in the big leagues. But they had such respect and friendship off of the field - hell Marty is still in my backyard heckling my husband most weekends.”

“Interesting. So you are saying we could be seeing a different side of the rivalry now that they are on the ice challenging each other more than just a handful of games a season? I mean, if that’s the case, does the rest of the league even really stand a chance?” Chris said with a chuckle and genuinely curious look on his face.

“I don’t know if I would go that far. It can take awhile for a real working relationship to gel. We are talking about two vastly different players with vastly different approaches to the game. I am a massive Hollander fan - a fact that has gotten me plenty of ire from our fans here. But I really think that once he really settles into Boston’s style and gets more time with his linemates? We could see an entirely new version of Shane Hollander on the ice. He’s already one of the most - I hate the word feared - but he’s one of the most watched and highly guarded forwards in the league. If he finds a new gear?” She gave a low whistle, “That could be something to see.”

“Now I have been out on the blogs and in the social media landscape.” Chris said with a wink at the camera, “And fans are concerned that he’s renting and not buying. I think that says more about the Boston housing market than anything.”

“Firstly - I am not even going to ask how people know that. Second - it’s absolutely more about the market than him. My roommate from college covers Calgary and there was a whole piece on Hollander up there when he was in the process of being drafted. He values privacy and being able to reset himself mentally. Which I am all here for - so I can see why he wouldn’t want to be in a hotel for the rest of the season. Also, to anyone who hasn’t tried purchasing a house in Boston - you would be renting too. Buyers remorse at these price points isn’t something I would want to experience. Give him some time - it’s going to be fine.”

Chris chuckled, “And in other hockey news around the league - the New York Admirals’ Captain Scott Hunter is having one of his best seasons in the last few years…”

Shane Hollander’s Home

Boston, MA

Jackie Pike was carrying take out bags and her kids were passed out in a hotel room with Grandma Pike after an afternoon in the pool. They were sold on the idea of surprising Uncle Shane tomorrow at the game - but Jackie knew that just showing up there with no warning was the best way to overwhelm him. So she was here with comfort food, herself and a heads up.

Besides, she wanted to check in on him. See his new place. Not let him hide. Maybe she would get lucky and ‘Luke’ would be there and she could make sure he was there for good reasons. Not awful ones.

Yuna had given her the parking pass and the security codes - and so she knocked on the door and waited as patiently as a six-months pregnant woman could wait.

A muffled, “Coming…” preceded the door swinging open and there stood Shane. Reading glasses on, sweats, a t-shirt from one of the girl’s dance class fundraisers and barefoot stood in front of her.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she just lunged forward to hug him with a wet, “Oh Shane!”

Then his arms were around her and he just hugged her. No questions. Just solid arms and a shocked, “Jackie.”

She had MISSED him.

There was a rustle from the Thai food go bag and Jackie just held on tightly to him. Then found herself being guided into his place and the door closing behind them. It hadn’t been that long - not really. But he had been in her home multiple times a week for years and then she hadn’t seen him and he was in a whole new place but was still Shane… It was all the pregnancy hormones - she was going to blame all of her rollercoaster emotions on the fact that she was creating a life and one of her steady pillars had been traded away and she had missed him.

“I brought pho and spring rolls.” Jackie said, her voice muffled from where her face was smooshed into his chest, “Eat with a pregnant lady?”

His chuckle was both heard and felt as he guided her into his place further and then towards the kitchen. He took the bag and set it on the counter and then looked at her with a raised brow.

“Jacks, I love you. I will always eat pho with you. But ma’am…the fuck are you doing in Boston?” Shane asked as he pulled out a stool for her and helped her up onto it before going to open the bag, “Water? Juice? Tea? Tears of your enemies?”

“Fizzy water?” Jackie said with a slightly damp smile, “And I got onto a plane - with the kids and my mother-in-law, and then I got into a rental car - “

Shane slid her a can of sparkling water and pinned her with an arched brow as he went back to unpacking the food she had brought, “Jacks….”

”I wanted to check in on you. The kids wanted to see you play. I knew it could be dicey when you were up in Montreal for the first time so…” She waved her hands, “Here we are.”

”Here you are indeed.” Shane said with a roll of his eyes, “Alright,. I can go along with that. Let’s hope they sent silverware because some of mine is still in a box.” He gestured over to the left where there was still a small stack of boxes waiting for him to pay them attention.

”Wait, Shane Hollander has not completely unpacked? Are you feeling okay?” Her words and tone were light and playful, but her eyes were calculating as they ran over him.

Shane was a lot of things - but able to live where things were not at least conceptually in their right place - was not one of them. She watched him blush and shrug.

“New team. New city. Tight schedule. Fifty million other things.” Shane said, with an eye roll and a shrug of his shoulders, “Honestly - I have unpacked enough to eat and cook - and plastic silverware is helping me make do.”

Jackie paused in sipping her water and studied him curiously, “The girls and I are going to stay through the Montreal game here and then head home. We can help if you want some?”

“My goddaughters are going to help us unpack silverware and kitchen towels?” Shane snorted out a laugh, “How about instead we do a hockey game and maybe the children’s museum? I can unpack once you guys are in Montreal. I have a few days before we head up there again.”

“Maybe Luke can help you.” She really hoped her face was calm and her voice was even, “Does he like museums? Or little girls at museums?”

“I don’t know - as I haven’t ever had a reason to ask him. Mainly because I don’t normally travel with random small children. That can be considered kidnapping and a felony if I cross international borders. Are you suggesting I involve someone in a felony, Jackie Pike?” Shane said between slurps of noodles, “Should I warn everyone that you are encouraging felonies? Do I need to call your husband and warn him too?”

“Are you really surprised? I mean - who helped you take that traffic sign during the first play off run?” Jackie pointed to herself, “And who helped you liberate those appetizers during the second MLH awards from the kitchen? It wasn’t my husband.”

“Shit…I think I still have to unpack the sign - it’s still in the boxes. I have to get it into the guest room.” Shane said with a twinkle in his eye.

“What?! The guest room?! What is the point of a moose crossing sign - with the moose holding a Canadian flag - if you are going to hide it in the guest room? It should be in a place of honor.” Jackie looked offended, “Where is it? We are hanging it up out here where it can be a conversational topic.”

“Is the topic going to be how the hell I stole a sign out of Edmonton during a playoff run? Because I don’t know if I want to have that conversation.” Shane said, then slurped more noodles, “Not to mention my mother is in town. She was there when the security team questioned us about the sign.”

“Your mom would find it hilarious. If you didn’t want it in a place of honor - you would have it out in the cabin or your training palace by the cabin.” Jackie said, picking up a spring roll and pointing it at him with emphasis, “We are hanging it up. Out here where it fucking belongs. Then you won’t forget us.”

“You think I am going to forget you if I don't have a stolen street sign hanging up in my living room?” Shane said with an incredulous look on his face, “Jacks…”

“Humor the pregnant lady.”Jackie said with a grin - if it was a little wobbly at the edges she wasn’t going to say anything, “Besides, it’s a good sign. You shouldn’t hide it. How long is the statute of limitations on street sign theft anyway?”

Shane laughed, warm and genuine, “Alright Jacks, before you leave, we’ll hang the sign.”

They tapped chopsticks together and had a few moments of just eating. Existing in each other’s company and it calmed Jackie down a bit. She could also see Shane’s shoulders relax as the quiet lingered around them. Sometimes Jackie Pike, mother of soon to be four and with a husband that didn’t know what an ‘inside’ voice was to save his life, forgot how soothing silence could be. She remembered once after Arthur was born and the twins were chaos gremlins because adjustment to a new baby is hard - Hayden had taken them out to do something and Shane had shown up with food and taken the baby and gotten him to sleep. Then he had just sat with her in complete silence and let her exist.

Jackie didn’t just get to exist a whole lot. So these moments with Shane, where there was no expectation? She craved them. She supposed it was good that he was a very short plane ride away. If they even stayed after this season. Hayden wasn’t happy and the girls were young enough that they could move them without it being a massive issue.

There was an inhale and then the softly spoken, “You really okay though Jackie? I talked to JJ and he seemed to think things are shit right now…”

Maybe she would throttle JJ Boiziau when she went back to Montreal. There wasn’t a point to bringing up issues to Shane. He couldn’t fix the locker room and the press up there wasn’t his issue anymore. He wasn’t going to fall on any more swords for them and he shouldn ‘t have to. Even bringing up the shit show that was the Metros right now to him was fucking unfair.

Jackie just shook her head, rested her chin on the palm of her hand and sipped her fizzy water, “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Shane mimicked her stance and smirked, “I reserve the right to tell you to fuck off. But sure, go for it.”

She fiddled with the chopsticks in her hands and then met his gaze, “Are you going to tell them before the Metro-Asshats come to town?”

Shane’s groan was deep and gutteral, “Fuck Jacks…”

“I was going to ask if you wanted support if you were going to.” She said with small shrug, “I don’t might being your emotional support Canadian.”

“You were born in Chicago.” Shane said dryly, “But…yeah. I know there are NDA’s, but I don’t trust them to not be dicks on the ice.” He shook h8is head, “Isn’t your husband on that team ma’am?”

Jackie waved off the comment like she was shooing a fly, “But he can be an asshat at times - so it’s fine.” She reached over and put her hand on his elbow, “I can be there for you. You need people in your corner. I am here. In the corner with you. I could glare at them all. I cma be very intimidating.”

“You are one of the most intimidating people I know.” Shane said with a very solemn nod of his head, “While I would love to have you there with me? I think I will take you waiting for me here. Maybe with some ice cream.”

“What if I take you out for shots after? If they aren’t dickbags, they can come out with us.” Jackie said with a grin, “Whatcha say? I can be the DD.”

If she wasn’t pregnant, Shane would say yes, because shots with Jackie Pike were up there with some of his more chaotic memories, “Ma’am, we aren’t allowed to do shots unsupervised. Not after the second Cup win.”

“Technically we aren’t allowed to do them unsupervised during Cup celebrations.” Jackie said, again dismissing his concerns like they were a pesky insect, “This would be supportive shots and I wouldn’t be drinking so really - what’s the harm?”

Shane shot her a look with a raised brow, “I don’t drink tequila solo Mrs. Pike. How about we save the shots for the next Cup celebration post baby Pike? How about we go for appetizers and a cocktail/mocktail sampler? Or very spicy wings?”

Jackie gave him a disappointed look, “But I think that you would have more fun if we did shots…”

“Fun for you to watch me get ridiculous.” Shane said with a roll of his eyes, “Wyatt Hayes and I found a place nearby that does really good spicy wings and I will even drink a beer. How about that? Full flavor beer at that.”

“Two beers at minimum. And you agree that once this baby is inthe world - the next celebration we are doing shots.” Jackie said, her hand held out with a charming smile on her face.

The thing with Jackie Pike was that smile was deceptive. It looked like a fucking charming, innocent facial expression. She was a mother of three - soon to be four. Her husband was a golden retriever in human form. What people tended to forget was that she had grown up with two older brothers and had the cunning survival instincts to prove it. Tonight she looked sweet, pregnant and innocent.

That last one rarely applied to Jackie Pike.

So Shane Hollander did the one that that made the most sense in the world to do in that moment. He reached out, took her hand and shook it.

“I am going to tell them in the meeting after the game tomorrow night. You all come to town the day after so…” Shane gave her a small shrug and what he hoped was a very brave smile, “What’s the worst that could happen? They can’t trade me away until the off season.”

“No one is going to trade you Shane.” Her voice held all the confidence that Shane wished he had. In theory, he had had no reason to think that there was anyone that was going to have an issue with him in Boston. Everyone had been great so far.

But he hadn’t had any reason to worry in Montreal either. He had won them Cups. he had brought home awards and accolades. He had made the fans - who were always feral - more so. He had done everything in his fucking power to be the leader they had wanted him to be. In the end though - it hadn’t been enough.

Looking at the shit show they were without him though…and he loved Hayden and JJ. He did. But it was a bit satisfying to see them flailing. But it was also a bit terrifying. Because they had nothing to lose and if they had nothing to lose? What was taking him down as collateral damage in the long run really.

“Here’s hoping.” Shane said with a small shake of his head and a slurp of his noodles, “Now eat up lady and I will drive you back to the hotel.”

“I drove here. I am parked in the parking garage.” Jackie said with a prim smile, “I can get back to the hotel just fine.”

Shane just rolled is eyes and shook his head, “Alright - but I want you to call me when you get back.”

This time he reached out and put his hand on her elbow, “I am allowed to worry about my family.”

“Deal.” Her smile was wobbly again and her eyes got a bit brighter. But neither of them said a word about it because that would be silly.

Shane’s Master Bedroom

Midnight-ish

Shane wasn’t sure what the fuck his life was these days. Because he was currently in bed, where he should be fast asleep. But was he? Nope. Not in the slightest. Why? Well that would be due to the fact that he had just been asked by Cliff Marleau if he would be game to help them figure out how to find someone named Jane in Montreal to help ‘even out’ Rozanov. So Shane was sitting in bed staring at his phone screen and a group chat he had been added to and wondered again - just what the fuck was his life.

So he did what any sane, rational person would do in this moment. He opened up his iPad and FaceTimed Ilya because these were his idiots and they were hurting Shane’s brain. All he wanted to do was go to go bed. Not whatever the fuck this was.

“See, I know that you miss me Hollander…” Ilya said as he answered, also in bed and looking far too amused with his life, “But isn’t this way past your bedtime.”

“Oh, I would love to be sleep right now. I would.” Shane said with a narrowed eyes glare at the other man as he held up his phone, “But your team is full of idiots. And now I am being pulled into bullshit.”

Ilya blinked at Shane, then reached for his own tablet and pulled something up, “Breaking news, Shane Hollander traded to the Boston Raiders…” He smirked into his phone camera, “I think they are also your idiots now.”

“Nope. Not the Captain. Not my circus and definitely not my monkeys.” Shane said, “This is all your bullshit.”

“See, I tell people that you are a foul mouthed asshole, no one beleives me. They are not being woken up at midnight so you can mock their team.” Ilya said, as he fell dramatically back onto his pillows, “I should record this and play it at the end of season media days so they all know my suffering.”

Shane snorted, “I am an innocent lamb who has never done anything wrong. Ask anyone in media. I am fucking delight Ilya.”

“Fuck you.” Ilya said with a sigh, “but seriously, I was trying to go do sleep Shane. What the fuck could be so important that you felt the need to not only be awake but make me join you?”

“Your team wants me to help them find a girl in Montreal named Jane when we go up there for the next game.” Shane said, “There’s a group chat and they have THOUGHTS on how to find her.”

He watched Ilyua absorb that information and process it. Then he all he saw was the ceiling in Ilya’s room (which really was too stark of a white and could stand to be softened a bit really) and listen to his laughter. Because again - this evidently was his fucking life now and he wasn’t sure just what he had done to deserve this level of fucking stupidity and bullshit. But here he was. In Boston. Listening to Ilya Rozanov laugh at midnight over nonsense that their teammates were getting up to.

A small smirk tugged at his lips.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst.

“Who is in this group chat?” Ilya asked, his cheeks flushed and his eyes still sparkling with amusement when he came back into frame, “I think that this is very sweet of them. You should help them find this Jane.”

Shane took everything back. This was the absolute WORST and it was all Ilya’s fault. The damn asshole.

“Oh, would you like that? For them to meet Jane?” Shane genuinely hoped that his glare was coming through the screen at full force.

Ilya sighed and rolled his eyes, “Shane, you are over thinking this. They don’t know Jane. They only know that I - on occasion - have some very memorable nights with someone when I am in Montreal. Are you saying that I haven’t had some very memorable nights in Montreal? I think last time I scored twice in one period. Almost had a hat trick. Very memorable night.”

“If you are counting an ‘almost’ hat trick as memorable…well…you do only have that one Cup so…” Shane said, his face the picture of innocence.

“Yet more proof you are a fucking asshole.” Ilya said with a shake of his head, “But seriously, Shane, it’s going to be okay.”

Ilya was so fucking close to makinng people do bag skates - and if they didn’t have a fucking back to back series of games - he would. He had been so close to sleep. Shane was calming down. He had the first game under his belt and seemed to be finding a semblance of footing. It was all going great. So great. Until this fucking group chat and Jane.

“There will be even less worry that you are Jane after the team meeting tomorrow right?” Ilya said, as he made sure to keep his voice calm and level, “You tell everyone why you were traded and then suddenly, even if you don’t help them find Jane, no one is looking at you. Which is helpful since looking at you would be a very easy way to find Jane.”

Shane bit his lower lip, “I am…I am sorry Ilya. You know that right? I am not trying to make your team implode. If anything happens because of this…”

“Then we have a very short rest of the season and we get rid of them. Sadly they will get a ring out of it by the end of things, but is a nice parting gift yes?” Ilya said, his eyes tracking Shane through the screen. It was good they were spending the night apart. It was good to have balance and space. It was. He knew that - because Svetlana had reminded him of it several times. But there was also the fact that he could be there right now. Reassuring Shane in person. Distracting him in person.

But in person it was dangerous. In person it could lead to slip ups and everything imploding. So he stayed in his bed. On the other side of Boston and talked to Shane through a screen. Knowing he would see him in person tomorrow since they were now on the same team. Because life was insane.

After the game…after the meeting…after Montreal…Ilya was going to have to have a talk with shane though. Changes were coming for him - and that could make things more complicated when it came to whatever this was. When he made the change in representation it wasn’t going to stir up a lot of waves. He wasn’t the first - and he wouldn’t be the last - Russian athlete to choose Western representation. But his brother was going to have opinions. It was one time that Ilya was thrilled his father wasn’t going to be aware of the changes. He could fight with Alexei all day long and twice on Saturdays.

But his father was different. Always had been.

But he could also sell it as Western representation meant a far more lucrative market and more money. Alexei would never say no to that. But that would all have to happen after the Montreal game. He knew the man on the other side of the screen far better than anyone thought. Including Shane Hollander. Telling him now was asking for him to over think things. To be stupid about his own plans that he needed to work on. It would snow ball.

One thing at at time. First - Shane tells Boston the reason for the trade and warns them about Montreal because Ilya trusted one Metro player. That player is now playing for the Raiders. So…there’s that. Second - destroy Montreal. It should be easy since they no longer have Shane Hollander. But - it’s going to be a revenge game. Those were hard to predict. Then - Ilya changes representation.

Somewhere in there they would win a Cup and Ilya figured out a way to convince Shane that carbs weren’t out to kill him.

“Okay, so I told them I would think and reach out to my contacts on Montreal.” Shane said with a sigh, “Why do these guys care so much about who you are fucking anyway?”

“If you had ever fucked anyone besides Rose Landry - you would know that the Captain’s sex life can be very juicy gossip.” Ilya said, and mentally patted himself on the back for not saying Rose Landry’s name like he was tasting grapefruit.

There was a snort of laughter from the menace on his screen, “Ilya, I wasn’t a virgin when Rose and I did anything. And - I wasn’t completely clueless when we did.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, “Yes, I am sure whomever taught you to not suck at kissing is a very interesting person and Shane.” He pinned the other man through the screen with a glare, “Myself, your mother, the management team of the Metros and several Metros players are all very aware that you like to get your dick sucked. It’s a great day to be alive.”

“Soon the Raiders will know too.” Shane said thoughtfully, “The management team here might - “

Ilya really wished he was there in person in order to hit Shane repeatedly with one of his three million pillows from his bed, “Shane. I think we can agree - it’s marginally known you are not a virgin. But you aren’t me so - “

“That is true, I didn’t sleep my way down the Eastern Seaboard.” Shane said, “So I don’t see still - why they care. If it was remotely interesting wouldn’t you have had another Instagram model threatening you again?”

Ilya ran a hand over his face, “I want to SLEEP Hollander. Can we both agree that this is resolved and if they pester you again - you can invite me to this group chat and I will help them find Jane.”

Shane sat up a bit straighter, “No, you don’t get to be in this group chat. This is MY group chat.”

Ilya was going to kill this man. With orgasms. At some point soon, “I thought the entire point of this call was for me to step in and prevent them from finding Jane. Who is very lovely but I may throttle the next time I see them in person.”

“No, the point of this call was to tell you that your team is ridiculous and to bitch about having to lead them on a fucking wild goose chase through the dating scene in Montreal.” Shane said with a shrug of his shoulder, “Plus if they were keeping me up with this fuckery - it only seemed fair that you were kept up to.”

Ilya nodded slowly, “Shane, I am going to bed now. You can do whatever you want with your little group chat. But -”, He stopped for a moment and then narrowed his eyes, “Who the hell is your contact in -” He shook his head, “You are not involving Jackie Pike in this. No. Or that defenseman that - “

“Sorry Ilya…I have to go. My Captain said he’s very old and needs sleep.” Shane’s grin was fast and wicked, “See you at morning skate - if you can make it on time that is…”

And then the screen was blank and Ilya was blinking at it before he leaned over and put it on the charger with a bit more force than was absolutely necessary.

“Whatever god or gods are currently listening to me…” Ilya said as he turned out the lights next to his bed, “Please give me the patience to not maim the asshole that is currently in driving me fucking crazy…”

But since he was alone in his bed because he had self restraint, no one had to know about the small smirk on his lips as he sunk into his pillows.

Chapter End Notes

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