Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova, Ilya Rozanov/Original Character(s), Alexei Rozanov/Original Female Character(s), Alexei Rozanov | Andrei Rozanov & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Alexei Rozanov, Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Alexei Rozanov is a good brother, Kid Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug, Canadian!IlyaRozanov, Brotherly Bonding, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Moving Out, Teen Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ilya Rozanov is a Little Shit, Custody Arrangements, Bad Parent Grigori Rozanov, Found Family, Growing Up

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Rivers and Roads

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-08 Completed: 2026-01-30 Words: 72,750 Chapters: 7/7

Break The Chain

Summary

Alexei's world tilts on his axis on a regular Thursday, when he finds two police cars and an ambulance parked in front of their driveway.

Or
Alexei Rozanov and the ordeal of growing up too fast.

Notes

TW: mentions of child abuse, slurs and minor character death.

Chapter 1

Alexei’s world tilts on his axis on a regular Thursday, when he finds two police cars and an ambulance parked in front of their driveway. He's still in his school uniform, uncomfortable dress shoes and the itchy beanie his mother had insisted on him wearing. It's started snowing in Moscow, ice covers the streets and the air is frigid. Still, that morning Alexei had thought it might've been an overkill, but she had looked up at him with frail eyes, insisted, and he hadn't had it in his heart to fight back further.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up the more he walks towards the house, faster and faster as the screams coming from the inside get so loud the earbuds and Metallica aren't enough to cover them anymore.

It's Ilya, he realizes, when, with trembling hands he finally manages to open the lock.

"Ilya?!" He calls out, panicked. Then, louder "Dad?" He scrambles to get his shoes off, shrugs his coat as he runs up the stairs towards his little brother's agonizing screams.

"-NO-NO LET ME GO, PLEASE LET ME GO-"

"Alexei." His father stands in front of the master bedroom, struggling as he holds back Ilya, who's thrashing and sobbing into his hold, while paramedics and the police crowd the bed and the entryway to the bathroom. He's still dressed in his uniform.

"Y-your shift- there are police cars, an ambulance." He stutters "what's going on? Ilya-? Where is mom?"

"I need you to get Ilya and go downstairs." Is what his father tells him instead. Grigory is a stoic man, he hardly ever drops the military stance when he's home, but right now his face is strained, like he's holding onto the last brink of his patience. So Alexei doesn't hesitate, he walks up the last couple of steps and, as difficult as it results, manages to scoop his brother up in his arms.

Ilya is a mess, his face is blotchy, breath ragged, still sweaty from hockey. He's short for twelve, but Alexei has to use every ounce of strength in his body to keep him from running back upstairs. When they finally reach the end of the ramp, Ilya has stopped struggling, tired to the bone and putty into Alexei's arms. His breathing his shallow, he keeps gasping for air between sobs, hurriedly like he can't keep up with them "Hey, listen-" Alexei gets a solid grip on his shoulders "Ilya I need you to tell me what happened. Breath. With me, c'mon."

"Мамочка-" Ilya cries, burrowing into his shoulder, his nails digging into the jacket of his uniform, now drenched in sweat and tears. He sniffs loudly, following by a string of words that makes Alexei's blood froze in his veins.

It's your fault, you killed mom.

"What do you mean- mom?" His own breath falters then.

Alexei can feel his legs shake and for a brief moment he's scared he's gonna send both him and Ilya to the ground. His head feels stuffed, Ilya's words repeat themselves in his mind like a broken mantra.

It's your fault, you killed mom

His mom? His mother's dead? And Ilya-?

Horror floods into his veins. Ilya has hockey until 4 on Thursday. Since their mom hasn't been well, it's been his classmate's mom to drop him off on the way back from the rink. To their mom. Ilya found-

Alexei has to cover his mouth to suppress the cry forming at the back of his throat as tears cloud his vision. Ilya has passed out from exhaustion, limp in his arms.

Alexei doesn't know how much time he spends standing in the middle of the atrium, holding his brothers body like it's the only thing keeping him upright. The paramedics walk past him at some point with a stretcher, a black plastic veil wrapped around the lifeless body of his mother. Alexei cannot believe it. He wants to see her, he wants to press his fingers on the frail skin of her wrist and prove to himself that she's not dead. She can't be dead.

It's your fault, you killed mom

"You should put him down." His father's gruff voice cuts through the air, tense. Grigory has never been a good looking man by any means, but now he looks twice his age, pale as a paper sheet, his short hair sticking out like he's been pulling on it with frustration. Alexei can see the moon-shaped marks Ilya's nails have dug into the skin of his hands and arms while he pleaded to be let go of.

"He- he fell asleep. I'll bring him upstairs." He simply answers. It comes out strained, his breath itches. "Dad- is she?"

"She's dead." His father confirmed "It was an accident."

"An accident?" He echoes, emptily.

Grigory sighs, the way one would to a small inconvenience "She was sick, Alexei."

"Can I- can we see her?" He chokes out.

"No." His father cuts him off, shaking his head imperceptibly "Ivanov will get your statements at the station while the others inspect the house. Pack a bag for the both of you, we're staying at a hotel until the case is closed. And don't touch anything outside of your rooms." Alexei wants to scream at him to say something, to be angry, to try for once and console his grieving kids, at least pretend to be grieving himself, but the only thing his father adds before following the other police officers out of the door is a curt "And wake him up, he's not a child and the guys has seen enough from him today. Fifteen minutes and we're leaving."

Alexei, admittedly, doesn't remember walking up the stairs, as he doesn't settling Ilya in his bed as he packs both their backpacks and Ilya's hockey bag. Ilya doesn't stir through any of it. His skin feels clammy at the touch, there are shadows under his eyes, swollen and rubbed raw. His golden curls are stuck to his temples, frizzy and damp.

He's just a kid, Alexei realises, now more than ever.

Ilya has undoubtedly always been their mother favourite. He looks just like her after all, Alexei thinks. He is soft just like her. His father always hated that. He never wanted anymore children after Alexei, often said he was already too old for kids when he was born, god forbid almost seven years later. They still worked somehow, the four of them. Alexei could pretend to be able to shoulder the heavy duty of his father's expectations, and Ilya had their mother who tended after his too big heart. Their compromise had been Hockey. Ilya liked it, probably because he didn't have to bother with their father's rules at the rink, and it was manly enough that Grigory could offer his stamp of approval and hope it would make Ilya grow tougher.

Alexei watches his small, bruised body passed out on the bed, the frown set on his eyebrows. He's just a kid.

It's your fault, you killed mom

When their mother got sick, Alexei had barely blinked. His father had started forcing him into training, for when he would make his application to the academy. Alexei had started juggling studying for his finals, interminable hours at the gym and boring days at the station with his dad in an alienating cycle. He hadn't noticed the light in their mother eyes slowly deteriorating. Part of him devilishly suggests that maybe he had just never cared enough. But then, why does it feel like he's just lost a limb?

"I'll fix it. I'll be better." He promises at Ilya's sunken figure "I promise."

-

Alexei has just barely turned nineteen when he tells his father he's not joining the army.

"Of course you will." Grigory replies, without even looking up from the newspaper.

It's the end of summer, less than a month ago Alexei sat for the last exams of his entire life, if he has any say in it. He's had this all planned out, he's not getting a no for an answer.

"You didn't hear me. I said I am not." He repeats, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"And, let's hear it, what are you going to do if you're not joining the army then?"

"I'm getting out of here." He answers, simple as that "The house, the neighbourhood, the country, if I have to."

"With whose money?" His father keeps humouring him, flipping the page.

It's so patronizing Alexei can feel the heat spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. Fucking asshole.

"Mine. I got a job last year, it's a one way ticket."

"It better be." Grigory suddenly growls "Because if you're not going to serve, then you're not welcome in this house, Alexei." He threatens, finally snapping as he drops the newspaper onto the coffee table.

"We're on the same page then." He nods, willing himself to stay put as his father gets up from the couch. He'd surpassed his father in height at barely sixteen, and now Alexei is far from the little boy that used to cry in his mother arms with his cheeks stinging and bruising. He shouldn't be scared of his father anymore.

"You have five minutes to compose yourself, what do you think? I'll give you that Alexei, a big act of bravery there." Grigory speaks through clenched teeth, pointing one ringed fingers at his chest "Then we can pretend this bullshit never happened. I won't even ask you to beg for forgiveness." He laughs then, as if he'd just proposed the most absurd thing anyone could ever think of.

Alexei makes sure to lock their eyes together before speaking "No."

Grigory bristles "No?"

"No." He repeats, then "And I’m bringing Ilya with me."

He's been planning this conversation in his head for months, is the thing. Every contingency, Alexei has probably already stressed about it, over and over.

Part of the money he'd saved working odd jobs and the occasional shift at a friend's family restaurant, he'd thought about spending for a private lawyer, up until one of Ilya's hockey friends' mothers, Nadia, who owned a family law firm downtown, had insisted to take his case pro bono. Alexei owed her more than he could ever imagine being in debt for. She'd outlined everything, papers and more papers and even more papers for any possible outcome, helped him get his own credit card and bank account, and together they'd built the case piece by piece.

Ilya's subject was a tricky one. He was still only twelve and Alexei was barely an adult himself, but, Nadia had reasoned, if Grigory were to resign parental rights himself, Alexei would have had every right to ask for his little brother's custody. Therefore, the money he would have used to hire a lawyer had gone into paying for a suitable two bedroom apartment, just a couple of blocks away from Ilya's school. It was tiny, a bit anguish, and had needed a lot of handywork, but after months of working and saving, he had managed to furnish it with the essentials.

"You just need to find a way to make him sign these now, I’ll do the rest." She'd assured him the last time they'd seen each other, almost three weeks ago.

Admittedly, Alexei had hesitated. Was he doing what was best for them? For Ilya? There were just so many things that could go wrong, and he'd already lost enough. Alexei couldn't offer him a lavish house, the latest gaming console or people who tended to his every need. They were going to be alone. Was it fair to rip Ilya away from his only living parent, even if said was a shitty excuse for one?

That was until Ilya had discovered him as he packed his bags. Alexei knew what going against his father's wishes entailed, you couldn't be raised by a man like Grigori and grow up to be delusional. Still, he didn't really register what he was doing at first. It starter small, with storing spare socks in his school backpack, then his old soccer duffle, slowly filling with shirts and sentimental knick-knacks from childhood, his mother's photo albums. His father wouldn't notice they disappeared, he had reasoned.

He had been pragmatic, made sure to store everything in the back of his closet where the cleaning service wouldn't look, and, little by little, started moving his things to his apartment. That afternoon, under the impression of being alone, Alexei had been packing the last pieces of his life as he fought with his traitorous mind, when Ilya's voice’d cut through the silence, filled with betrayal "Where are you going?"

He had froze. Ilya should have been at practice. When he turned Ilya was standing at his doorstep instead, still wearing his jersey but not in gear, a full blooming bruise on his jaw.

That explained it.

"What happened to you?"

"You're leaving." Ilya ignored him, dropping his bag and walking up to him, eyes flying to every corner of the room "Since when?"

Fucking perceptive little shit.

"I was going to tell you." Alexei had tried saying "But he couldn't know, I needed it to be a secret."

"so what?" Ilya had huffed, scared, mad, surprised, Alexei couldn't understand. "Were you just going to walk out? You weren't even going to say goodbye?"

It's your fault, you killed mom

Alexei had eyed the clock on his nightstand with sudden urgency, his father would have been on his way back already as they spoke. Fuck it, he'd told himself, before closing the door with a solid bang and kneeling in front of his brother "Ilya, you have to promise not to say anything to dad."

"So it's tr-"

"Promise, Ilya. I need you to promise." He'd repeated, tightening the grip on his shoulders.

Ilya's golden eyes were misty, locked into his as if he was calculating whether he could trust him. "I promise." He said then "What's going on?"

"I'm leaving." He confirmed "But-" he jumped in, before Ilya could interrupt him again outragedly "you're coming with me. That is, if you want. I would understand if you didn't." He confessed.

When Ilya was born, Alexei had already been too big to feel the childlike awe for a little brother but still too young not to feel jealous of being stripped of his mother's attention. Ilya hadn't, by any means, been a difficult baby. He would smile pretty much at everything that moved, coo at faces and loud sounds. Alexei hadn't been impressed. Their father even less. He was already fifty, grouchy and rough like a man way older, Alexei could count on the fingers on one hand the times he even bothered to acknowledged the fact he had two children instead of one the first two years of Ilya's life. Even at seven, Alexei had been able to feel the weight his mother carried caring alone for them both, so sometimes, when she was too tired, too sad, he would talk to the baby about everything and anything, just to try and take away some of her grief. But as Ilya grew older and, inevitably, Alexei burrowed the softness his father so hated in him to fit in with the rest of the kids his age, their relationship blurred into petty fights and teasing, levelled by the formal acceptance of having to share a house and all the scraps of love they could get. Alexei hadn't been a good brother.

"I have a flat." He continued "It's in Tverskaya. Even if you don't want to live with me, there is a room for you whenever you want."

Ilya's lips had parted in shock, his cheeks flushed "W-what about father?"

"Fuck him." Alexei had said, shaking his head "It's just for until I can sort out how to leave Russia, Nikky's mom is helping with the paperwork. He probably won't ever speak to me again after this regardless, so I don't care. But if you want to stay, I’ll stay, we can sort it out when you're eighteen, or-"

Ilya'd cut him off "You really want me to move in?" His voice broke halfway, with the strain of holding back tears. Alexei hadn't seen him cry since their mother's funeral. In the six months since then, Alexei had barely seen him do anything but playing hockey and pick fights on the ice, actually.

"Yes." He'd nodded "Always, лохматым."

Ilya'd huffed a teary laugh, before throwing his arms around Alexei's neck. They'd never really hugged, he'd realised then, in tensed shock, maybe just brushed shoulders for their mother's pictures or to shove the other for remote privileges. Alexei'd tried his best at hugging back, ruffling the hair at the back of his head to cheer up the morale.

"I do. Want to leave with you. Don't leave me here." Ilya mumbled against his shoulder.

"I'll do whatever it takes." He'd whispered back.

Now, Grigori looks at him like he can't believe someone would ever voluntarily take such a burden on their shoulders.

Alexei is prepared to fight for his brother. He and Nadia went over his chances thousands of times, and he's not above using any mean to get his father to sign away his parental rights, even if paying one of his old shadiest classmates to follow him around his patrols had cut a generous amount from his wallet. Grigori doesn't love Ilya, probably lost any resemblance of interest he had for Alexei just from that conversation alone, but he's stubborn, corrupted enough that he could refuse just because it would piss him off, so he could hold something above his head. Honestly, Alexei is expecting him to.

But then, Grigory surprises him for one last time.

"Good." He grits out "Get that faggot out of my house and never show your face again, Alexei." And with that, he turns back, as if nothing happened.

"I'll have my lawyer serve you with the custody agreement." Is the last thing Alexei ever says to his father, before walking away.

-

The first month at their new apartment, Alexei gets the biggest humbling of his entire life.

Being an adult fucking sucks, he'd quickly realised.

Right after graduating Alexei had started looking for a full time job. University had never been an option for him, regardless of his father's expectations. He'd barely scraped through high school, the words always mixed up on the paper and more often than not it would take him hours just to look over a simple paragraph. And, as of lately, he couldn't afford the fees even if he wanted to. Therefore, as soon as the possibility rose, he'd accepted an internship at a garage near the apartment. Alexei could speak cars, it had always been a small passion of his, and, funnily enough, that was apparently one thing Ilya could relate to. Alexei'd felt like he was discovering more about his brother in a month than 12 years of his life.

His days now start at six am, when he has the unlucky job of having to wake Ilya up for school as he makes them breakfast. They've been surviving on sandwiches, scrambled eggs and the small repertoire of pasta dishes Alexei had learned to make when he took shifts at his friend's family restaurant. Ilya is mostly self sufficient for twelve, he even packs his backpack and hockey bag every night before bed just so he can lazy around in the morning as he gets dressed and eats breakfast. Alexei can't even pretend to find fault in that logic.

Usually they're out by seven thirty and Alexei has both the time to walk Ilya to school and arrive at work on time.

The internship is tiring. Everyone is so much older than him and Alexei is mostly used for his muscles than his brain. But he can work with it, he can get the teasing, because at the end of the day nothing will ever feel as humiliating as having to read out loud in class with the skills of a seven years old. Misha, his boss, is not that terrible either, he's just a very quiet man, but one of the few that actually commits to talking out loud as he work so Alexei can learn by example.

Everyday he works from eight thirty until five, when he has to get a move on and reach the rink to pick Ilya up from hockey practice at 5:45.

With Nadia’s suggestion, he'd a talk with Ilya as soon as he'd gotten emergency custody. "They're gonna come and see the house at random times of the day. Nadia said they'll ask you questions about how you're settling, stuff like that." Alexei had explained to a frowning Ilya, who had been sporting a new pair of bruised knuckles "But I need you to stop picking up fights, doesn't matter if it's at school or at practice."

"It's hockey, that's how it is." Ilya had complained, huffing.

"You don’t even play defenceman, you're built like twig. Cut the crap." He'd hid a smirk as Ilya moaned with indignation. "I know it's hard." He'd continued then "but i really need them to see you're doing fine. And if i have to wrap you in bubble wrap just so you don't get beaten to a pulp, i fucking will." He'd also added before flicking Ilya's forehead.

Since then, Ilya had seemed to take the job very seriously. He was still getting roughed up, but at least for unmistakable hockey mishaps, like the lip he'd cut two days prior by falling face down onto the ice, chipping a corner of his tooth.

"The same one as Ovečkin!" Ilya had squealed enthusiastically when he'd picked him up that afternoon, leaving an horrified Alexei to hope Ilya wouldn't try knocking the rest of his tooth out just to look like his favourite player. He really doesn't want to have to explain that to child services.

When they finally get back home usually it's already dinner time, Alexei has to bug Ilya to do his homework and simultaneously work on not setting the kitchen on fire and getting ready for his second job. It's just a gig, Nadia had a friend who was searching for a barman to take some night shifts and Alexei had already experience in catering, so twice a week he gets to come back home with some extra cash for Ilya's school lunches and utilities.

Learning how to take care of bills and deal with the lows of the custody process revealed itself like the biggest hardship Alexei ever had to control. Which is a funny way to say he had barely any idea how to do any of both things. He'd broke down that second week. He was sitting next to Nadia as they watched their team wipe another district's ass, a bit further away from outraged dads and gossiping moms, and Alexei had felt all the frustration he'd been bottling up suddenly snap like thunder.

His shift had been shit, Ilya had been snappy and unreasonable over some stupid game socks Alexei had forgot to put in the wash, and the court order stalling had kept him up at night like social services were just going to knock at their door to drag them both back to their father's house. Nadia hadn't said anything as tears streamed down his face but offered a tissue and an advice Alexei had taken to the heart.

"You cannot think about everything all the time." She'd said "Sometimes the only way to live is taking things day by day. What's stressing about something that still hasn't happened going to help with?" Nadia had patted his back comfortingly "The hard part is over. Breathe, Alexei." And then drove both him and Ilya back home, made her husband bring takeout and, with the help of them both, Alexei had finally started getting some sense out of the piling envelopes on his nightstand.

Little by little, as Nadia said that night at the rink, everything had settled in the quiet hum routine usually falls into. Two months into his internship, Alexei is finally being trusted into making small repairs, changing oil and clean filters, under Misha's keen eye. The guys at work warm up to him enough to fall into light-hearted teasing and invites to a beer on soccer nights. Alexei is not a sports guy, the amateur soccer he'd done in middle school was more of a chore than something he committed to for enjoyment, plus, he still has Ilya to take care of at nights, but he appreciated the effort.

Ilya is thriving both in school and hockey. His coach hadn't commented on Grigori's sudden absence and Alexei's new place on the annual forms. What he'd told Alexei, instead, was that if his brother were to continue to play Hockey as well as he did, he could probably reach the Olympics in a few years. That had blown Alexei's mind to some extent. He could recognise Ilya's talent just by watching him play, but the thought of small, little Ilya being able to reach that far had moved him harder than he'd thought it would.

Four months in, right before Svyatki, Alexei finally becomes Ilya's legal guardian. He almost couldn't believe it, he'd tore open the envelope Nadia had given him so fast he'd cut his pointer. Alexei didn't need to be good at reading to catch the vague sense of the confusing sea of words printed on it. The house visits had generally always gone pretty good, even the very first times when the house was still half empty and Alexei jumpy like a thief on inquisition. Nadia had always said he had really nothing to worry about, the court would take into consideration the non deliberate way Grigori had signed off both his sons, and he was the only other living relative Ilya had that could take him, both because he genuinely wanted, but because he had all the means to. Still, Alexei had lived that past few months in crippling self doubt, with the unreasonable fear that something either way was going to go wrong.

The thing with things going wrong, though, is that there’s never enough time to prepare for them.

It started with a cop patrol car parked just a few meters away from the garage. It made sense, Alexei had reasoned, it was a busy road and people came and went to get back home from work. It made sense, if not for the uneasy feeling in his chest and the creeping sensation of eyes watching his every movement. Ilya had complained he was tired when Alexei forced them into a long detour with the excuse of a last minute grocery run. Alexei had taken his backpack on his own shoulder without saying anything, and egged him on to walk faster. That night he'd spent trying to convince himself he was just being paranoid.

Then, it became almost impossible not to notice.

Patrol cars followed him as he left Ilya's school, the rink, police men casually strolled by as he took a cigarette break or walked to get lunch at the convenience store at the corner of the street. And the worst thing was that Alexei knew there was no ulterior reason to that other than letting him know that, if Grigori wanted to, he could still let him live in the same fear Alexei had felt growing up the other end of his hand.

He hadn't told Ilya about it, Alexei would have rather walked into speeding traffic than make him think they weren't as safe as he thought they were. But, as it always happened with keeping secrets from Ilya, It didn't last that long.

Ilya barges into Alexei's room during a quiet March Sunday night. The heating had been holding up fine that winter, but neither of them has grown up in a house that took so long to warm up. Therefore, as he tries making sense out of a car magazine he's taken from work that morning, Alexei is bundled up under the covers, with a heavy knitted blanked sprawled over his knees.

Ilya doesn't even bother to knock before walking in and draping himself over the other end of the bed. He’s still in his outside clothes, too, reeking of-

"Did you smoke?" Alexei asks him, mentally patting himself for his low levelled tone.

"Of course not." Ilya waves him off "well, maybe a cigarette, but just one." He admits then guiltlessly, at Alexei deadpan stare.

"You're ten, you can't smoke, dipshit."

"I am almost thirteen!" Ilya complained "You were the same age when you started!"

Alexei can't really fault him for that logic, still "I wasn't 90 pounds while wet like you are." He says instead, putting his palm up "Give here."

Ilya rolls his eyes "I didn't buy them, I bummed one from Sasha." but still fishes a lighter from his pants and into Alexei waiting hand.

"Did you need something?" Alexei asks him then, rolling the lighter within his fingers. Its a nice one, blue, dotted with little stars and planets.

Ilya stills at the reminder, his face scrunches back into the deep frown he had barrelled in the room with as he burrows into his hoodie "Do you remember Baikov? He used to patrol with dad sometimes."

"What about him?"

"He's parked a few house back right now. I saw him when I was coming back from the park. I don't think he recognised me, though."

Alexei wills himself to stay chill "Weird, maybe something happened. I'll ask Yakob when I see him." Yakob is the nosy old man that lives a few doors down. His grandson is Ilya's classmate and sometimes Alexei finds himself walking them both to school with Yakob’s neighbourhood gossip as his personal radio.

"It's Sunday." Ilya points out.

"People can have emergencies on the weekend, Ilya, crime doesn't sleep or whatever."

"Alexei." Ilya insisted "This is not the first time I’ve seen them around, it's not even their district. What's going on?"

Alexei sighs, dropping the magazine onto the ground and finally facing his brother "I don't know." He admits "They usually hang out around the garage, I never saw one of their cars near the house. He's probably only been sending them to mess with me."

"Wait, for how long has this been going on?" Ilya demands, fists tight in his lap.

"January? Right after the court closed the case, I think." He reveals. Spilling doesn't make the uneasiness in his chest disappear, what it does is shutting Ilya up enough for Alexei to not be interrupted "They never tried anything. I would have told you if they had, I just didn't think you should have been worrying about it."

"Yes, of course. We've been tailed for months but I shouldn't worry about it." Ilya scoffs "I'm not a child, you should have told me." He insists, angrily pushing some stray curls out of his face.

"And with what purpose?" Alexei remarked, crossing his arms in front of his chest "C'mon, tell, what would you have done in my place? It's the police Ilya, I can't sue a department cause they 'misplaced' some of their officers. They're all like dad, it's not worth it." He insists.

"I don't fucking care about them, Alexei!" Ilya suddenly blurts out, glaring down at him with furious golden eyes "You just keep lying to me. First with the move, then with the whole court bullshit, now this... you never tell me anything!" He yells "You're my brother, we shouldn't lie to each other."

Alexei resolution crumbles piece by piece at his childish reasoning. Ilya is right, ultimately, Alexei plays life with his cards tucked tightly against his chest, and it probably hadn't been fair to hide something like that from him. Ilya is almost thirteen and Alexei needs to stop acting like he's still the child that used roll toy cars under his door just to spite him.

"Alright." He caves, to Ilya evident shock "You're right."

"Of course I am."

Alexei rubs at his eyes tiredly as he sighs "I just wanted you to forget about him and, I don't know, do whatever it is you want to do in your life while i figured out the rest."

"I want to play hockey." Ilya intervenes, matter of factly.

"Figures." he snorts "I wouldn't rush it if I were you, though, who knows if you'll ever hit a growth spurt agai-"

Ilya is on him with a pillow in the span of five second, Alexei covers his face as he laughs and swats back.

"Fuck off, old man." Ilya huffs when he sets back down, crossing his legs under himself as he hugs the pillow back in his arms. He looks terribly small like this "What are we going to do about it? With the cops."

The air between them chills back up, Alexei fights the urge to shrug. He has absolutely no idea.

"Legally, Nadia said they can't really do anything." He tries sounding comforting, but the frown on Ilya's face doesn't falter.

"They know where we live."

"We can't move, Ilya." Money is always been tight. Alexei manages just fine juggling his internship and odd jobs every now and then, but it is still hard to hold a house together, make sure Ilya can be dressed and fed, and, not that Ilya knows about it, he can still play hockey. Hockey is not by any means a cheap sport, but since their mother's death it had also become the only outlet to Ilya's rage, his grief. Alexei hadn't been able to ask him to quit months ago, he's not going to do it now, even if he knows Ilya would agree without batting an eye or he has to work all the shifts known to mankind.

It's your fault, you killed mom

Alexei can't take that away from him too.

"You said you wanted to leave Russia."

Alexei shakes his head "It was stupid."

And really, it was. He wasn't thinking clearly when he suggested it, about fees, money, taxes, it was just too complicated.

"It's not." Ilya insist petulantly.

"Where would you even want to go?" Alexei humours him, then, settling back against the head board.

"Somewhere I can play Hockey-"

"Obviously-"

"Shut up." Ilya cuts him off "It also has to snow in winter and you get to fix the coolest cars ever. Also, somewhere dad can never find us."

"You read too much Narnia." Alexei says, flicking his forehead "That does seems nice, though. A country without that old sack of shit is definitely a good one."

"We could go to America, it looks sick in films. There is Hollywood, LA, all weird flavours of Coke." Ilya lists.

"Trust me, you don’t want to be American." Alexei scoffs, shaking his head "You don't even speak English, and americans care about that sort of things."

Ilya fixes him with a stare "But you do. You always listen to music in english and make me watch stupid MTV."

"That's different." Alexei sputters "And you should be thankful I’m not making you grow up on that electronic shit you puck-heads all listen to."

Ilya pokes and prod all evening after that, in that annoying way he does when he knows he is right and Alexei will at some point give in. Except he is not right, what he is proposing is insane, and Alexei has more important things to focus on than indulge into fantasies.

"He has a point." Nadia offers when Alexei finishes retelling the story the next day, as they watch practice from the stands while shivering in their coats. 

"You think we should move to the other side of the world because our dad is a bitch and my brother is obsessed with shitty soda?" Alexei rebukes sarcastically.

The look Nadia sends him is strictly unimpressed "What I think." She states "Is that you need to stop pretending this isn't affecting you. You're so young, Alexei, nobody is expecting you have it all figured it out."

"He is." Alexei replies, watching Ilya slam the puck into the net with a small smile "He deserves to. I can't fail him again, Nadia."

"You'll fail the both of you if you don't stop to take care of yourself too." Is the only thing she adds before a loud whistle signs the end of practice and the kids start to loudly skate their way off the ice.

Suddenly, it becomes the only thing Alexei can think about; the thought digs traitorously into his mind whenever he feels sharp eyes follow him as he does groceries, when he notices agents pop up like ads as he brings Ilya to the barber or to get new equipment. Alexei cannot stop thinking about it when he's alone at night, his face pressed against his pillow as he fights back tears of frustration. And the worst is that he knows Ilya has noticed it. He sees how hard is becoming for him to get out of the house, that Alexei suddenly stopped going for runs in the morning or that he drags himself to work just out of pure necessity.

Then, almost a year and a half after their mother's passing and Alexei's twentieth birthday, he wakes up to his little brother standing at his bedside, hands tightly wrapped around himself as he shakes with barely contained sobs. Alexei is up and turning the lights on in a blink.

"Ilya?" He asks, grabbing his forearms gently as he looks up and down his body like he's searching for blood, a injury, anything. Alexei has barely slept up until then, but he feels like suddenly all the tiredness has just been sucked out of him as he fixes his arms around his brother and holds him against his chest. He hasn't seen Ilya like this since he came back home that Thursday to his family shred into pieces.

"You're sad too? Like mom was?" Is the only thing Alexei can grasp as Ilya cries against him, legs awkwardly folded under himself where his knees met the mattress.

Slowly, Ilya's sobs turn into whimpers, then sniffles he burrows into Alexei’s sweatshirt, now wet with tears.

"Nightmare?"

Ilya hums, his fingers twisted in the crucifix he wears around his neck. Alexei remembers being a kid and holding onto it as his mother stroked his hair while he was sick, he's glad Ilya can find some closure wearing it.

"You'll tell me if you’re sad, right?" Ilya's voice cracks.

Alexei tightens his hold around him as heartache fills his chest.

"I will." He assures him, fixing the blankets over them both. It had been hard for him to learn to be affectionate like this, to shut down the voice in his head that sounded a bit too much like Grigori's and said that it wasn't a man job to be comforting. Rozanovs weren't soft, Alexei needed to learn not to be too. Ilya had only been passively influenced by it, he was still a kid and their mother wasn't either harsh or ruthless in her affections. Their mother also isn’t there anymore and Alexei knows all too well what starvation feels like to wish it upon his brother. He doesn’t think it makes him less of a man to want to be better for him.

"You want to tell me about it?"

Ilya sniffles loudly "No."

"Alright."

"Lyosha?"

"Yes?"

"Promise you won't leave?"

Some days Alexei feels like his problems are too big for this world. As he nods, willing Ilya to get back to sleep, he thinks it’s time to flip the table for once. For Ilya. "I promise."

The next morning he's on the phone with Nadia, looking up work VISAs.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Canada is different from what Alexei imagined. The first month he spends looking for a job. Ilya had to stay in Russia with Nadia and her family, but even then, as he does his best to sort out a solid base for their new life, he feels like he finally lifted some of the weight he carried above his shoulders. Alexei brings on the table enough experience to secure a spot at a coffee shop in less than three weeks. It helps that his English, despite being deeply accented, works well with the diversity of the neighbourhood, just like his very open schedule to overtime and handywork around the shop. Something he quickly discovers, is that Canadians are awfully nice too, will tip high and never leave without 'thank you's and 'have a great day's, which Alexei can't really complain about.

He spends pretty much all the time he's off navigating through bureaucracy, calls with the immigration office and never-ending trips to IKEA, but everything is finally worth it when, almost four months since moving to Edmonton, he manages to get Ilya on a plane to Canada.

He and Nadia walking towards him, tired and jet lagged, might've been the best thing Alexei has seen since he packed a lonely suitcase and flown to the other side of the world.

Alexei doesn't pretend to care about the heavy looking luggages they're pushing, before tackling a giggling Ilya into a one armed hug, and embracing, way more gently, Nadia's lithe shoulders with the other.

"Those Canadians didn't teach you any manners, I see?" Nadia teases him, patting his cheek affectionately.

Alexei breaks the hug with a laugh "Never." He bites back, before finally focusing his eyes back on Ilya, who stands just a few centimetres shorter of his shoulder "And you, what the fuck did you do to my little brother."  He marvels. He looks good, grown, despite Alexei having been away only for a few months. His hair has been cut short, cropped on the sides and unruly as ever on top, at least from what he can see poking out his red beanie, and he looks fuller, as if he's finally starting to fit into his body.

Ilya sticks his tongue out pettily, but revels in Alexei's smothering attention as they walk to the car he'd rented for the job. Ilya watches in wonder out of the window as Alexei drives them into the city and chats with Nadia about their lay-over. She hadn't taken a no for an answer when offering to take care of Ilya as Alexei looked for a job overseas and didn't either when she  proposed to fly with and help them settle.

Alexei had been more than ready to dig into his savings and fly to Russia and back, but caved pretty easily after a few threats. In the end, he had gratefully taken advantage of it to finish up the last projects at the apartment and set everything up for their arrival.

"It looks way better than it did in the pictures." Nadia declares, when Alexei finally leads them into the flat. She's not wrong, Alexei had stressed about making it as homey as the one in Tverskaya had grown to be, at least to ease Ilya in the move.

Ilya starts to wander right away, his Hockey bag still hanging from one shoulder and trolleys trailing behind him, to where he knows Alexei has set up his room. He'd gladly given him the master bedroom, Alexei didn't need all that room anyway, and painted the walls a similar shade to the turquoise tape he knows he only uses for games. He'd kept the furniture simple, sure that Ilya would want to fill the rest by himself but not about what they could ship from their old apartment, but he was pretty proud of the long desk, full sized bed and shelves he'd built in it.

"Love what you're doing with the hair, by the way." Nadia says, munching on one of the leftover cookies Alexei’s snagged from work as they settle on the couch. They can work on unpacking later, Alexei decides, sinking through the cushions with a groan.

"Wasn't planned, but some people tip better." He winks, pushing it back from his eyes. His father had always been the one booking his appointments at the barber, Alexei couldn't say he would have bothered to keep it tidy if not, but when they'd left home he'd more important things to pay for and too much self preservation to try buzzing it by himself. Alexei had gotten used to it, he liked that it kept him warmer in winter, as well as the fact that girls apparently liked it as well.

"You got something to tell me, Alexei?" Nadia gasps.

"You wish, I know you and Ivan like to gossip."

Nadia puts a hand on her chest in faint horror "You're like a child to us, Lyosha, we would never speculate about your personal life."

Alexei masters his best unimpressed look.

Nadia spends a whole week with them. Alexei is more than happy to leave her his room, even if it means trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy couch he'd got at a thrift shop and that he's too tall for. He had taken a few days off work just for the occasion, but he still comes in for a quick coffee stop as he walks Nadia and Ilya around the city on that first day. Elke, the old lady that owns the café, is totally enchanted by Ilya's big golden eyes and broken English, and has him walking away with a paper bag full of pastries and a cup of hot chocolate before fondly urging Alexei into bringing them to do some real sight seeing.

Alexei hasn't done much of it himself since moving, but he tries his best as he guides them through the streets and long list of places the fliers they keep at the shop for tourists suggest.

Alexei and Nadia use the little time they have to file Ilya's new school forms, too. Ilya is not that thrilled about that part specifically, and Alexei cannot fault him for that. It's a whole different environment, Ilya had to leave all of his friends back in Russia, and, as much as the extra English classes he'd enrolled him in had helped him at least with understanding it, his English is still rough and blocky.

"Kids bounce back." Nadia had said later when they were finally alone, sipping out of her second wine glass of the night. It was late, too late for someone that had a flight at 8 am the following morning, but Nadia cared about routine more than jet lag.

"They can also be pretty annoying." Alexei'd pointed out, contrite, thumbing at the sticker of his beer.

Nadia had scoffed "Have you seen Ilya? I really doubt he's gonna have any problems. He's probably more worried about making the Hockey team than friends."

Alexei can't say Nadia had been totally wrong.

With her flying back to Russia and after agreeing with the school board to have Ilya start directly with the new incoming semester, Alexei had found himself having to entertain his brother both during and after his shifts. Ilya's condition to being stuck at work with him everyday had been forcing Alexei to bring him skating the next time he was off.

Ilya had spent hours at the café sipping on hot chocolate and browsing for the best ice rink on the city maps and guides Alexei had kept from his first few weeks in Edmonton. In the end they'd both agreed on an outdoor rink just about twenty minutes from the flat, and, armed with sticks, pucks, and skates, a pair of which Alexei hadn't worn since he used to go skating with his friends in high school, they'd taken the bus to Victoria's park on a cold Friday morning.

Alexei feels like a baby deer walking for the first time as he tries balancing on the ice, with a snickering Ilya smugly skating around him in circles. At least they're alone, he thinks, before proceeding to get his ass kicked by a thirteen year old on a sugar rush.

By the time they get back home for lunch, Ilya is sated, happy and somehow even more eager to get back to practice.

Alexei is not worried about him not making the team, he'd watched them practice when looking out for hockey clubs and could confidently say that they'd be grateful to have a player like Ilya. Just five more days before school starts and the season begins, Alexei tells himself, he can do this.

"What're you making?" Ilya asks, settling at the isle with hair still damp from his shower.

Alexei lets himself indulge in this moment, the calm, warm peace of an ordinary life. He smiles, then starts carefully slicing the bread "Fin from work taught me to make some weird Canadian tuna sandwich, I think you might like it, it's very gross-"

-

Ilya's first month of school is a total dumpster on fire. On his first day, he'd walked him up until the office to help him retrieve his schedule. He and the board had already discussed at the phone about the obvious linguistic barrier Ilya was going to face and necessary accommodations had been made for it, but he’d still been tense, which probably hadn’t helped Ilya much.

"It's gonna be fine." He'd reassured him, squeezing his shoulder "it'll be hard, but it always is at the start, yes?"

Ilya, who Alexei wasn't used to see so quiet and unsure, had looked a bit green.

Realizing the pep talk wouldn't do it, Alexei had moved onto stronger weapons "Tell you what, tonight we can go skating after my shift, like we did on Friday. Maybe you can find some kids to play hockey with this time, I don't know if my knees can take another round of that so soon."

Ilya had barely cracked a smile, but at least hadn't look like he was going to puke anymore. Alexei had taken that as a good sign.

At pick up, Ilya had looked if not more dejected than he'd been in the morning, and proceeded to lock himself in his room until dinner. Alexei had felt like no words he could have ever thought of would have been able to fix that. What he'd done instead was making Ilya's favourite disgusting sandwich, crack a soda open for him and let him watch TV until an unreasonable time for bed.

When Ilya finally started playing Hockey again, Alexei had breathed a sigh of relief. Ilya had been growing restless, snarky at times, and without an outlet Alexei had genuinely been scared he would start picking fights again. The first six months after their mother's death had been a blur for him, Alexei still barely remembers anything that isn't renting fees and a borderline sense of anxiety, but Ilya's rage, fierce and self consuming, might've been the worst memory above them all. With Hockey, everything levelled back into a weird balance made of stinky clothes and vocabulary sheets.

"We could start speaking English at home too, if you think it could help you." Alexei had suggested once as they walked back from the rink. Ilya had been skipping absentmindedly as if he hadn't just spent almost two hours doing the equivalent of a small marathon on ice. 

"I don't need English to play hockey." He'd replied, and that had settled it. Alexei wasn't going to press him, his only wish by then was that he would find someone to share it with sooner or later.

"You worry too much about that kid." Fin had reprimanded him once. It was near closing hour and the shop had been empty. Ilya was doing homework on his designated table, the one nearest the tall windows of the café, as they cleaned up for the day.

"I don't know what you talking about."

Fin had lifted a pale blue brow "C'mon, man, he's doing great lately." He’d emphasized "I think he talked Elke's ear off about that game of his the other day."

"Is not his English I’m worried for." Alexei had admitted "He has no friends, he did a lot in Russia."

"It's only been a couple of weeks, you need to chill." Had been Fin's sage advice "When you started working here we barely spoke and now look at us, we are best buds!"

"I don't know what it means."

"Fuck off, you love me."

"What is your name again?"

"Lex." Fin had huffed, smirking "Ilya is going to be fine, he's a cool kid. You just need to wait for other kids to realize it too."

Fin's prediction had turned out to be right. It started with an invite to go skating after school, almost two months since Ilya left Russia. Alexei had moved shifts to be able to walk with him to the rink, then had surreptitiously turned back around as soon as Ilya spotted his friends, and proceeded to hide in the building's cafeteria for the following two hours with his iPod and a long ass game of snake on his phone. It'd been worth it, Ilya couldn't stop smiling as they walked back home, sweaty and cheerful.

Soon enough, Ilya'd started walking to and from school with a flock of kids from his homeroom class. Alexei suddenly found himself having to juggle birthday parties, Hockey nights and kids running in and out their flat every other afternoon or finishing their homework at the café while waiting for their parents to pick them up.

Both Nadia and Fin had made sure to look very smug at his misery.

Bold of them to assume Alexei wouldn't suffer the most outwardly chaotic group of 14 year olds to see his brother happy.

-

Alexei meets Niamh Callahan on a rainy day of spring. He'd left Ilya at the rink before his shift so he could get on the bus for a scouting tournament in Winnipeg the team was attending. It'd been weird, admittedly, to come back home to an empty house. Alexei had always tried attending his games, most of them had taken place at the home rink anyway, but, the more serious they became, it was growing inevitable for Ilya to have to leave Edmonton.

Alexei is extremely proud, that doesn't mean he can't sulk about it, though.

"That's enough, none of this self deprecating attitude today." Fin chides him sometime halfway through their shift. It's a Friday afternoon, the shop has been quiet since that morning's rush hour. Elke is off for her daughter's birthday in Montreal that week, so he and Fin have been alone since they switched with Avery and Leah. Fin hasn't been able to keep still since approximately iced coffee number two, which was three hours ago. Alexei is near his breaking point.

"What do you propose?"

"We should go out tonight," Fin says, eyes glinting with mischief "There is this new club I wanted to check out."

"Did you and heather break up?" Alexei asks dismissively "Why don't you go with her?"

"First of all, we were never together, it's a mutual exchange of pleasure that bounds each of us to the other." Fin rectifies, in one of the most disgusting ways that Alexei should have obviously expected from him "Secondly, we haven't gone out together in ages. You need a break, man. You haven't had sex since when, exactly?"

"Is not your business." Alexei scolds him pointedly, hands deep in soapy dirty water as he cleans the few stray cups left on the counter "And be quieter, Jesus Christ."

Fin rolls his eyes "Maybe it would help you if someone heard me," He states before opening his arms wide with a curt look "And there is no one here but you and me right now, you elusive prick."

Perhaps moved by the possibility of Fin harassing new customers with full disclosures of Alexei's sex life or lack thereof, later that night Alexei finds himself dodging stray arms, spilling drinks and the very drunk, very loud, crowd of the McHale.

He clocks Fin's blue mop of hair at the counter right away. From the looks of it, he’s had four shots already poured in front of him as he chats with the bartender. Alexei wonders for a moment if he should interrupt them, eyes stuck on the flirty hand Fin has deposited at some point on the guy's hand, but then he's being waved over by an enthusiastic, probably already tipsy, Fin.

At the end of the day, it wouldn't be true to say he didn't have any fun. Two tumblers of vodka later, he's following Fin onto the dancefloor, right where the music is loudest and they can mix in with the mass of sweaty bodies moving to the rhythm. Alexei thrives in loud beats and the thundery bass of the tracks. When he was a kid he would play the radio so loud his father had to threaten to throw it out, didn't matter if it was to cover the sound of his parents arguing from the living room. At twenty-two, Alexei can play his music as loud as he wants to, he doesn't need it to cover his sorrows anymore, and it feels like freedom on earth.

Fin, to his (unrequested and unnecessary) promise, plays matchmaker right to Alexei's tastes.

During his first few months in Edmonton, Fin had been his one, if not the only, source of social engagement outside of work. Alexei isn't what one would consider an extrovert, perhaps Fin had taken it as enough of a challenge to dig him out of his apartment every now and then. After working together for almost two years, Alexei can't say not to have grown fond of the blue menace, even if it's too much opinionated and messy at times.

It helps that Ilya had taken a like to Fin right away, from his boisterous stories to all the gossip he catches from customers lounging at the tables, and not to exclude the fact that he doesn't shy away from Alexei's withering looks whenever he voluntarily serves him sugary bombs after six pm.

The girl Fin picked is beautiful, tall and lean, and moves steadily while pressed against his chest, indulging in the soft hold he has of her hips. Alexei smirks from behind her ear, blonde hair tickling his face as he ask "Is okay?"

She nods fervently, sighing over the music as Alexei trails his lips over the column of her neck, maybe not too appropriately for public but much more chaste than whatever Fin is currently doing with the goth looking girl a few feet from them.

The girl's lips, Kaylee's, she mouthed earlier, taste like tequila and cranberry juice when she finally turns in his arms and leans over to kiss him. Her hands dig in the strands of his hair, the creases of his shirt where it pulls  over his chest, the belt loops of his pants.

She's proposing finding somewhere more private when Alexei feels his phone vibrate against his leg.

"I'll be back." He assures her, making a quick sign to Fin before looking for an exit.

The alley he ends up into is quiet if not for the crashing sound of rain over the little roof by the doors he tucks himself under.

Ilya: finally got to the Hotel.

Ilya: First game is in the morning, against Ottawa.

Ilya: also I think I forgot my toothbrush.

Alexei lights his cigarette with his left hand as he types.

Alexei: I know, I put it in your backpack's pocket, moron.

Alexei: good luck tomorrow, text me how it goes.

Ilya: you got it, old man.

Chuckling, he pockets his phone, before leaning back against the backdoor. The nicotine settles right in his lungs, bringing in a familiar sense of peace with every drag. Kaylee surely wouldn't mind if he lit up another, yes?

But before he can even start looking for his lighter, the backdoor suddenly kicks open, whacking him in the back of his head so forcefully to send him stumbling against the railing.

"Blyat."

"Fuck! Oh god, are you okay? I didn't think there would be someone else outside in this weather." Small hands cradle his forearms and help him sit on a step as he clutches the back of his head.

"Here, Jesus I’m so, so sorry." The voice says "Look up here." then there is a bright cold light pointed straight into his eyes. Alexei flinches but blinks his eyes open as requested.

On the other side of the flashlight there is a pointy looking girl. Wispy flaming hair curl up around her face like a halo as she gazes concerningly into his own eyes. She looks like a fairy, all dressed up in a sparkly dress and a puffer coat, high boots and stark silver jewelry.

"I'm an EMT," she explains, "Do you feel dizzy?"

"No?" He grunts.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Club, McHale."

She nods, seemingly satisfied "You... know who the prime minister is?"

Alexei blinks blankly at her "Who?"

"Two out of three is a good statistic." She decides, face twisted with guilt "I really am sorry, I should watch where I’m going."

"You Canadians apologize too much." Alexei grumbles, feeling for a bump. Tomorrow's headache is going to suck. He sighs, tying his hair up to cover his nape.

"Perhaps you're right." She chuckles uncomfortably, then sits on the other end of the step, shivering into her coat.

Alexei studies her face silently. There are faint tear tracks along her cheeks, her bright makeup is smudged and she looks so sad that for a moment Alexei imagines the ends of her air drooping in solidarity.

"You ok?"

She startles, like she didn't expected him to speak to her again, then sighs "It's fine. I just really hate men."

Oh, well.

Alexei hums noncommittedly "Is fair."

Her head turns so violently in his direction Alexei is sure it must have hurt "I-I mean-" she stutters, before groaning into her hands "Ugh, I am a mess. And I meant a man, a specific individual with a dick who is coincidentally an asshole."

"Sounds like nightmare."

"It is. A very disappointing, self centered nightmare who can't keep it in his pants." She lists off, accepting the cigarette Alexei offers her way.

He snorts around the filter as he leans into her direction to light both their cigarettes up with his lighter "That is asshole for sure."

"And with my best friend!" She exhales angrily.

"Fuck."

"I know right."

"I guess I forgive you for almost giving me concussion."

"It would make me feel better." She proclaims jokingly "I'm Niamh."

“Ni-f?”

She chuckles, not unkindly, and patiently repeats “Nee-v”

Her hold is fierce as they shake hands "Alexei."

There is a bit of glitter stuck on his fingers when they part, but he waves Niamh's mortified expression off and simply wipes it against his jeans.

"It gets everywhere, I swear to god."

"You're fine. Is pretty." He reassures. It is, the green looks striking over the amber of her eyes, the holographic glimmer makes it look like she has stars for freckles.

Niamh's cheeks are red from the cold but she seems less tight now as they quietly watch the thick lines of smoke disappear through the air. Alexei can almost hear all her thinking from the few feet that divide them. 

"I'm usually not... like this," Niamh claims grimly then.

Alexei can feel the corners of his mouth lifting up against his will "I imagine."

"It's true!" Niamh scoffs in mocking outrage. Her playfulness dulls then "It’s just a bad moment. I don't even know why I feel like shit, actually. I've known they were going at it behind my back for months now. Who knows if he's been cheating on me for longer, at this point."

"Facing things hurts regardless, now you can move on, though." He tells her, stubbing his cigarette under his boot and pushing it into a drain. "Or you key his car first and then move on, I think he deserves it."

"He did just buy a new nice Toyota." She ponders.

"That's shitty car, you would do him favour."

"Shucks." She pouts, rolling the useless butt of her cigarette between two fingers "You know, I hope both sides of his pillow will be hot as fuck, tonight." Niamh shares then "Or-or that every time he's washing his hands he will get his sleeves wet!"

Alexei chokes on a laugh.

Niamh’s eyes glint as she continues "I wish that he'll always find only mismatched socks in his drawer or the longest red lights known to mankind."

"Don't you think that might be too far?" He gasps dramatically, clutching at his chest.

"We'd been together for three years." She points out.

"Well, fuck," He blinks, then adds "I really hope every store he'll ever go to has run out of what he needs."

Niamh's laugh sounds like Christmas bells over the pouring rain. "Attaboy."

Chatting with her on that dirty step feels easy, like many things haven’t been in his life lately. Alexei can't bring himself to think about the girl who definitely got tired enough to wait for him inside, or even Fin, who's maybe wondering where he ended up at. He can't do anything but look at the dimply, crooked smile on Niamh's face and smile back. It's so weird, he ponder silently, how some people can just do that, walk in and bright sunshine along with them.

In some way, it's good that the door chooses that moment to open, way more gently than Niamh's attempt, leaving space for a head of blue hair. Fin eyes Alexei with a frown.

"Dude, I thought you had died. C'mon, it's pretty late and Avery and Leah asked if we could switch shifts tomorrow."

"And you said yes." Alexei finishes for him, sighing as he stands up to brush dust off his clothes "Avery isn't going to sleep with you, Fin, give up."

Fin grins unashamedly "We'll see, my dear friend. Oh, hi!" Then adds, waggling his brows, when he finally notices Niamh.

"Hi." She echoes, looking endeared.

"Do you need lift?" He offers, purposefully interrupting Fin's parade.

Niamh shakes her head "I should find the rest of my friends, they're probably wondering where I am." her eyes flicks to Fin for a second before settling in Alexei's "Thank you for, you know."

He waves her off, hiding his disappointment behind a scoff "No need to be so Canadian."

Niamh bites down a grin, then, after a last moment of hesitation, shuffles her way through Fin and the doorstep, disappearing back into the crowd. 

"Two in a night? Alexei Rozanov, you dog-"

Alexei groans into his hands "Fuck off."

-

Ilya comes back from camp with a silver medal and an archnemesis.

Alexei had thought he'd get a warmer welcome when picking Ilya up at the rink the night before, after a whole week away from home. Instead, he had found him folded over his phone and staring intently at clips from the Ottawa junior team, all while standing in the middle of the sidewalk, unbothered by the crowd of parents, kids and stray luggages.

"-is he ok?" Fin asks as he wipes the counter, a concerned frown etched on his brows.

Ilya has been ignoring the pile of homework on his table since he got back from school, eyes fixed on the café's tv, where the U16 league's championship is currently playing.

"I don't know, but I hope Shane Hollander knows good babka." Alexei declares "Kid probably has headache because Ilya can't stop thinking about him." He adds just a tad too loudly as he tops up two steaming mugs with heavy cream before sending them off.

Ilya breaks his trance to send a look filled with daggers his way and elegantly flip him off. Well, someone had to say it.

"Do homework instead of watching." Alexei snaps at him in English, for the sake of Fin's entertainment, in between the next two clients, promptly turning the tv off. Noone else but him was watching it anyway.

Ilya scrambles to get the remote back, but when it becomes clear that his attempts are going to stay vain, he drops back into his chair with a pout. Alexei fixes the burning hot chocolate he'd been carrying next to his textbooks, sighing.

"Watching like a stalker won't make it better." He tells him off "You lost yesterday, you win tomorrow. It's good you care, but there is limit, and I don't think Shane Hollander will want to play against you if you become sad blob by the time you meet again."

"They got lucky this time." Ilya mumbles petulantly, reaching for the cup.

"You don't get lucky in life, you work hard, and you earn things." Alexei huffs before ruffling his hair. It's getting long, Ilya hasn't touch it much since all his team cut it into that ugly mullets at the start of the season. The more he grows up, the more he looks like their mother, he contemplates, as he lets his fingers trail off his curls. Alexei can't help but have mixed feelings about it.

Ilya swats him away, but begrudgingly proceeds to open his Biology book as he uncaps an highlighter with his teeth. Alexei will take any victory he can, so he leaves him be and walks back behind the register.

It's a rushed afternoon. Midterm season started only a week ago and sleep deprived students walk in and out the shop like hunting dogs sniffing for caffeine at every hour of the day. They have a system for days like this: Fin, who has the perfect build to slither in between tables and chairs, deals with cleaning around and refilling cups, while Alexei is on to go orders and register. It's been working seamlessly since they first started working together. Fin can use all of his pent up energy for good and Alexei practice his English as he works, a win-win kind of situation.

Bartending isn't what he'd thought he would do with his life. There is some part of him that misses working on cars and dirtying his hands, feeling the rumble of an engine under his fingertips. Canada isn't Russia, though, apprenticeships and licenses cost much more than he can afford, and the café is safe, enough that Alexei doesn't have to work odd hours and sketchy jobs to support a house and a kid.

It’s not like he minds dealing with people, despite how rude some customers may be, which is kind of a rare occurrence if he has to be honest, and Elke is probably the best employer he has ever had. If anything, he can wait at least until Ilya goes to college to think about it.

By the time they reach closing hour, all the tables have emptied and the last fleeting customers left with their to-go bags. Ilya has been texting on his phone for the past hour, and is sipping on a decaf iced latte as he demolishes one of Elke’s left over white chocolate muffins, Fin’s curtesy.

All Alexei can think about is getting home and collapse onto his bed until late in the next morning, when the door bell chimes again. They are a step away from closing, most things have already been stocked for tomorrow and Fin is just about to be cleaning the floors, but when he raises his head to gently inform the group they are closed for the day he has to stop in his tracks.

"Niamh?"

Niamh seems just as surprised to see him as she walks up to the counter with a couple of bulky men at her heels. Firefighters, he realizes, eyes fixed on their shiny golden badges.

"Alexei! Hi, uhm, sorry, are you guys still open?"

Fin, cranky after an agonizing eight hours shift, gawks at her "What do you-"

"Yes, uhm, we are." Alexei interrupts him, settling back behind the register as he ties his apron back around his waist "What can I get you?"

He can feel Ilya's interested eyes following his every movement as he hands back their change and starts brewing the six, scalding hot coffees they've been sent to retrieve for the whole night shift. The other two firefighters are chatting near the register as he works the coffee machine, so deep in thought that he doesn't notice Niamh's sneaking up behind him.

"I didn't think I would see you again." She admits, not shily, almost making him jump, leaning on the counter by her elbows.

"Yes."

Alexei doesn't tell her that he'd tried convincing Fin to go to the same club a couple of days after they’d met, hoping to see her again. He won’t, because that's not something he usually does, and it would sound utterly pathetic on his part. Maybe he is a little pathetic, he thinks, trying to force fate as if she hasn’t been just a couple of streets away all week.

"I thought you were EMT?"

"I'm certified. I am a firefighter at station 88" She replies, proudly displaying the patches on her navy uniform. Her fiery hair is held back by little braids and, without all that glitter on her face, Alexei can now distinctly see the small speck of freckles dotting her nose or the thin scar that runs over the top of her cheek and crinkles up as she offers him a smile.

"How long have you worked here? It's so weird we never crossed paths before, this place is right in our district." Niamh wonders, voicing his thoughts exactly.

Alexei is about to answer when Ilya suddenly drops on the stool next to Niamh's, a seemingly bored expression on his face plastered with a smirk that usually means trouble.

"Almost two years. How you met my brother?"

If Niamh is taken aback, she doesn't show it "At a club, a few days ago. I'm Niamh, it's nice to meet you."

“Niamh,” Ilya repeats carefully "Ilya Rozanov." He introduces himself then, shaking her hand. Then he turns to Alexei with a devilish look "She's very cute."

"Shut up." Alexei reprimands him as he pours the steaming coffee into paper cups.

"Is that Russian?" Niamh inquires, apparently unbothered by not being included into knowing the meaning of the comment, to Alexei’s relief "I noticed your accent last time but I didn't want to be nosy."

Ilya nods appraisingly "Da, It is."

"We have sugar packets there." Alexei supplies instead, arranging the coffees in a carton and into a paper bag "There you go."

Niamh smiles kindly "Thanks, Alexei."

"Thanks, man!" Echoes one of the other firefighters, Carson, Alexei reads from his nametag. He shrugs, kind of self conscious. He had completely forgot about them "Is job, have a good shift."

Niamh carefully takes the bag from his hands, making sure to support the bottom "It was nice to see you again," Alexei is already nodding in agreement, when suddenly she blurts out "We should do it again."

Alexei has to bite on his tongue to stop himself from gaping at her. There is a moment of hanging silence between them, made worse by Ilya just sitting there on the side as he loudly sips on his latte, watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes with the same interest Elke follows her lunch break telenovelas.

"For coffee, I mean." Niamh coughs, blushing up to the tips of her pointy ears "I'll definitely check this place again, this coffee smells so... caffeinated? Can never get enough of it, right?" She awkwardly slams a ten dollar bill on the counter, then starts walking backwards to her colleagues like a prey to a pack of wolves "So, uhm, see you then. Bye guys!" And to the bad conceited snickers of her crewmates, their small groups exits the shop, leaving Alexei to process the last five minutes. Has that even happened in the first place? Maybe he's finally gone insane.

"So, that was something.” Fin stands on the other side of the shop, eyes wide and shock painted on his face.

Ilya is still watching outside, where the flaming red fire truck is driving away in the opposite direction "Is not fair I leave and you find cute fire-woman girlfriend. I thought it was no secrets between us." He pouts.

"It’s firefighter. And quit smoking on fire escape and maybe we talk about keeping secrets." Alexei argues, pointing a finger at him "Also, she's not my girlfriend."

Ilya doesn’t look that touched by the accusation (even though Alexei will definitely need to circle back to it, he’s had enough complains from the neighbours already) as he gives Alexei an impish grin "But you want her to be."

"I also want you to stop leaving dirty underwear to soak in hamper, but guess what."

"Dude, that was painful to watch. Why didn’t you ask for her number?” Fin complains "What more do you need? A written invite?"

"She broke up with her boyfriend like a week ago." Alexei says, shaking his head sombrely as he starts to clean out the coffee machine once again.

It’s closing time, he reminds himself, snapping back to reality, that’s what he should be focusing on, but he can’t help the way his mind keeps flashing the picture of Niamh’s bubbly smile every time he closes his eyes.

Fin huffs in disappointment at the clear avoidance, but dutifully goes back to mopping under the tables "You can be such a martyr, sometimes. C'mon, let's finish up here, I need a pizza after this."

"Yes!" Ilya declares in solidarity before turning his pleading eyes to Alexei "Can we too, Lyosha?"

Alexei not only has a very corruptible parenting style, but is also very glad for the change of topic, and if that's what it takes... "Alright, but not horrible fruit pizza you like."

He should have known Ilya would spill, he resolves to think, when the next day right at the crack of morning, he's woken up by a string of texts and Nadia's familiar ringtone instead of his clock. Alexei sighs into his pillow. So much for a relaxing day off.

-

Despite Alexei's convictions, Niamh keeps faith to her promise. Actually, the whole A shift at station 88 does. Rapidly, they start taking regular massive orders from sleep deprived firefighters pretty much every other day, leaving Elke extremely delighted by having more mouths to unapologetically feed and Alexei and Fin to rush through espressos and iced coffees. Avery and Leah are pretty amused by the development and the bulky firefighters coming through the shop, to Fin’s disappointment.

Alexei is torn between considering it his own personal nightmare or small moment of solace, every time he sees Niamh entering the shop. Sometimes they don't even talk, she just offers him a lopsided smile and texts on her phone as she waits at the counter for her order. Other times, on slower days, she stays and they chat, all while Alexei makes a whole show of pretending to be working to stop himself from doing something insane like letting fall deeper than he probably already has. She may asks about his day, share crazy stories from some of their calls, but she always lingers for as long as her break allows her and often has to rush back to the station with a paper bag of lukewarm coffees. 

"Ask her out, Lyosha, for the love of god." Nadia's voice peaks from the phone. Alexei is currently juggling cooking and attempting to help Ilya with his math homework. The phone lays in between them, on speaker.

"I told him." Ilya chimes in "He wants to but he's too chicken to do it."

Alexei rolls his eyes "We're just friends."

"Friends my ass!" Alexei can imagine Nadia's wine glass threaten to spill as she screams into the phone "That girl is a keeper, Alexei, a very nice and pretty girl that for some reason is crushing on a moron like you."

"How do you know she's pretty?" He asks before he can stop himself, frowning.

"I sent her Niamh's Myspace." Ilya offers, unashamedly.

Alexei gapes at him "Why do you have Niamh's Myspace?"

"Because I asked. She always stops by before leaving." he shrugs smugly, pointing at him with his pencil "Just because you don't want to admit you like her doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"You should both stop getting this involved in my life." He grumbles, sliding a plate towards Ilya and settling on the stool in front of him. The bread on the sandwiches turned out more burned that expected, but Ilya still digs in like he’s been starved for decades so it doesn’t have to be that bad "And I didn't say I didn't like her." Alexei adds "It's just not the right time."

"We don’t live in ‘The Notebook’, Alexei. Are you waiting for God himself to descend and tell you to take her out? Jesus Christ, men are so stupid."

"Thanks, Darling." Ivan muffled voice supplies from Nadia's end of the line. Alexei can imagine him sitting on the other end of the couch, his wife's feet in his lap, as he balances a book on her shins and a matching glass of dark red whine in his hand. Alexei’s always liked Ivan, his dry sense of humour and the way he so openly cares for his family. That alone is way more than Grigori Rozanov ever did for either of them.

"They know I’m joking." Nadia dismisses him.

She's absolutely not joking.

"I can’t stand a relationship right now. Plus, she has just broken up with this guy, it was pretty serious." Alexei had only got some scraps of it from their conversations, but apparently they had been living together for almost a year when she’d finally ended things with him. Naimh had been complaining about having to find another roommate to fill in for her lease for weeks now, someone who possibly wouldn’t mind her crazy work schedule and snitch about the fluffy rescue cat that she’d brought in less than four months ago. It’s a cute grumpy thing, Alexei doesn’t really care about pets, but even he had to admit it.

"Don't you think it's a bit patronizing to not let her decide when she's ready herself?" Ilya submits.

"Wow." Alexei deadpans as he wipes his hands "Patronizing, a big word for a puck-head. Is that what you all practiced with instead of hockey to lose against shitty Banff?"

Ilya's ears pink in embarrassment, but he's oddly smug when he retorts back "I guess you wouldn't know what it means since your head is thicker than ice. But if you want to keep playing oblivious, at least now I can tell James he can shoot his shot?"

"Children-"

Alexei's brain takes a moment to process, the other half of his sandwich stuck midair and halfway to his mouth, then it clicks "What?"

"Hudson James? Tall, redhead firefighter who always comes in with Niamh. You can see it a mile away that he's into her." Ilya offers, leaning back into his chair with challenge burning in his eyes "He's cool, and they would make cute redhead kids, don't you think?"

Alexei is not going to be played by his teenage asshole of a brother "You mean the same firefighter that fell on his ass because he kept pulling instead of pushing the door? Yeah, great husband material." He agrees, scoffing. Stupid Hudson James, with his charming dimples and miles long legs. If anything, their kids would look inbred for all the ways they weirdly look like siblings.

"Well, he's going to be sooner or later if you keep being a bitch-"

"Ilya." Nadia's voice cuts through the phone "That's enough. Lyosha, I’m just saying, really think about it, you deserve someone who seems so invested in you to wish months of shitty coffee on themselves. Oh, by the way, we finally got that plane tick-"

Nadia's voice grows into background noise after that. Alexei only supplies some hums of agreement every now and then, he could have just agreed to a plan to take over the world and he wouldn't have noticed.

Ilya's jabs have reached far from simply nudging at the ugly green eyed monster hiding in the back of his mind. As egotistical as it may sounds, he doesn’t want for Niamh to move on, doesn't matter if it's with Stupid Hudson James or not. But Alexei? Alexei who is always busy in between work and raising a kid, who would cancel plans even if Ilya just about coughed wrong, whose first response is always fight even if it’s mean and brash. Alexei is not enough for her. Still, part of him doesn’t want to ruin them by having Niamh realising it too.

They close the call not long after, to tidy up in the kitchen before bed. Ilya has hockey before school tomorrow, some weird class where they make bonding exercises that their coach made all of them sign up for, and he has the morning shift with Avery since Leah has been home sick. He doesn’t say anything when Ilya joins him at the sink, trusting the soaking wet glass he’s holding into the dry towel in his hands. It used to surprise him at first how willing Ilya could be to help with something so trivial, it didn’t really fit the image of the lazy twelve year old he had pictured in his head, up until he’d realized Ilya used to do it with their mother, just like Alexei used to at that age. It’s a small, quiet moment of routine Alexei has grown fond for, doesn’t really matter if Ilya is old enough to wash his dishes by himself now.

"Why do you insist so much?" Alexei asks him as he scrapes melted cheese off a pan, officially addressing the elephant in the room "With Niamh."

Ilya is busy drying off a plate, but doesn't startle at the question "She would be good for you."

"You've never pushed me into dating before," Alexei presses, matter of factly "why now?"

Ilya doesn't answer right away. The plate has been dried for a long time when he finally says "I know you're doing it for me. The whole 'dating is complicated, I don't have the time'."

Alexei stops in his tracks, the cup he'd been washing falls back into the water with a muted splash "It's not because of you-"

"I don't mean it like that," Ilya pacifies him "But I guess I just realized that you sacrificed a lot for me, and you shouldn't hold yourself back from being happy just because of it."

"All I did, it was because I wanted to." Alexei states firmly, turning to look at his brother "I never felt obligated in taking you in."

"I know."

His breath itches slightly "And if I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing."

"Yes," Ilya nods, voice rough "But I’m not a kid anymore and I don't need my big brother fighting all my battles for me still." He says, pointing at Alexei's chest "what he should do, instead, is starting to live his life a little."

Alexei sighs, drying off his hands on a towel as he leans back against the sink "I don't know why you all keep saying I don't. I am happy with this, I don't need anything more."

"But you want it." Ilya stubbornly insists, clenching his fists at his sides "I don't need to win every game, but I want it, and I do. You are miserable and you won't even admit it to yourself."

"This is not just about Niamh." Alexei realizes suddenly.

"Of course it's not," Ilya snaps, raising his hands in exasperation "I mean, she's part of it too, but it's about everything, Alexei. You're allowed to do things you want not because you need it, or you think I do. And if it doesn't end well, what of it? There will always be another job, another girl or whatever." He trails off angrily. “But the worst part of it, is that I know you don't resent me for any it, " Ilya admits, wiping his nose on the back of his hand "I don’t want to discover if that will always be true. I just want you to be happy."

That’s when Alexei finally draws him in by his shoulder, tucking Ilya under his chin in a fierce hug. Ilya has grown almost too tall for it now, Alexei often wonders if or when he'll make it past him someday, but he goes willingly, hiding his face in Alexei’s shoulder and giving him a face full of golden brown curls. He’d never thought about how Ilya would feel about it, to Alexei everything he’d done up until then had come up organically. That was just how things were supposed to go now, he has responsibilities and a duty towards him that he cannot fail by being selfish. He’s never realised that maybe that had been setting a wrong example too or that it would make Ilya scared of Alexei hating him someday.

"I am." He assures him, fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head "But you're not… totally wrong."

"No shit."                      

“I just never really realised, I guess.”

Ilya sniffs loudly “Not for our lack of trying.”

"Shut up." Alexei scoffs a bit wetly, patting his back "You're a selfless sap, you know?"

Ilya laughs into his shoulder "I know, I got it from you."

"I won't allow such slander under my roof."

"Stop cutting the crusts off my sandwiches and I’ll stop calling you soft."

When they separate the air is less static, but Alexei still feels the emotional turmoil of needing to be called out like this hitting him like a freight train with no brakes. When did he let that reach that point? Alexei couldn’t remember a day he did something just because. It was better when he could control things, it made everything seem more real and Alexei needed that, he’d thought he had risked enough in that past three years for the rest of his life.

And if doesn't end well, what of it?

Later that night, perched on the windowsill with a fuming cigarette carefully aimed towards the inside, Alexei wonders if maybe it’s time to step back into the game instead of forfeiting again.

-

As many things in life go, Alexei finds that it’s better not to overthink sometimes.

It starts with the big box of still oven hot chocolate chip cookies Elke drops on the counter in front of him on a random Tuesday afternoon.

“I thought we could deliver some to station 88, as a thank you for everything they do and their support.” She offers, carefully packing the plastic box into a to go bag, with a generous handful of the small packets of candy they keep for the rowdier kids coming in. “And bring Ilya with you, I feel bad seeing him so bored.”

As a matter of fact, so does he, but all of his friends have already left for their holidays and Alexei had to insist he at least spent some time outside instead of being cooped up at their apartment for the rest of the summer. Alexei has completely ran out of ideas to keep him entertained, but still “Isn’t he a bit old for tour of the station?”

Elke chuckles as she hands him the bag “Maybe they’ll still let him slide down the pole.”

Oh well, better than seeing him sprawled in the break room’s couches in absolute misery, he thinks.

Ilya is not thrilled to have to move away from under the AC, but perks up when Alexei proposes to stop for shakes on the way back. They leave Fin to a mostly empty shop, curtesy of the holiday season, and armed with an unreasonable amount of cookies and coffee they embark on the way to the station. It’s not a long walk, Alexei vaguely remembers it from the one time he’d helped Niamh carry three full bags of goods back to the station, before the start of both their shift. Leah still teased him about it, two full months later.

Initially, at the lacking presence of the very distinctive fire truck, Alexei worries they might have already left for a call. It’s their job, it would make sense, and, as much as it would disappoint him, he would eventually have to go back to his own. Then, clued in by the loud group of voices, he spots it right in the middle of the parking lot behind the station, being hosed down by a group of sweaty firefighters. The ambulance is still inside the station, as well as the few remaining  members of the crew.

“Hey guys!” Captain Rivers waves them over, dropping the clipboard he’d been holding over the tower of cardboard boxes filled with gauzes and sterile equipment at his feet.

“Hi, we got sent over with treat.” Ilya explains, raising one of the bags he’d been carrying to demonstrate. It makes a bit of a rattling sounds, but no coffee seems to have been spilled so Alexei takes that as a victory.

“That’s nice, kid.” Rivers says, ruffling Ilya’s hair “I’ll stop by after shift to thank miss Elke myself, she’s spoiling us. They guys are draining the shift’s groceries fund for her muffins.” He confesses, as if it hadn’t been Alexei to ring them up at least once a week for the past five months.

“She is like grandma, likes feeding people.”

Rivers claps a hand on his shoulder with a hearty laugh before guiding them deeper inside the station and upstairs, into the kitchen. Alexei hadn’t gotten this far last time, they’d barely reached the parking lot before having to awkwardly say goodbye to each other to not be late for their respective shifts. The loft is spacious and kept neat, a full on open space divided by the kitchen isle, after which a couple of small couches had been laid down to create a cozy looking corner in front of the TV.

“Callahan!” Rivers calls out the kitchen window “Your boys are here!”

Alexei tries to ignore the too loud beating of his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, choosing to unpack the bags onto the isle. Niamh’s coworkers like to jibe and Alexei gets roasted just as much by Fin’s on a regular basis, but, truthfully, he would be lying if he said part of him didn’t like the idea of being called Niamh’s.

“Cap? What do you-oh, hi!” Niamh’s voice is strained, as if all the air got sucked out of her lungs, and when Alexei turns to look her way it’s hard not to relate. Her uniform shirt is damp and clings to her arms and collarbone tightly as she gets tries to get her breath back. Her cheeks are tinted red from both the heat and the strain, traced by rivulets dripping directly from her curls. Alexei feels on the verge of a stroke. “I didn’t see you come in!” Her eyes find the boxes and cups Alexei has been unloading  “Are those Elke’s? Guys, you didn’t have to.” She coos, touched.

“Don’t complain, get a cookie.” Ilya scolds her, handing her the incriminated dessert “You’re wet.”

“We were washing the rig. The mud from yesterday’s call cemented and get the bumpers clean has been a nightmare.” She explains through a bite, unsuccessfully trying to brush away some crumbs from her shirt.

“Can I help?” Ilya asks suddenly, enthusiastic in the kind of way he always is when he’s about to do something that will probably give Alexei a headache.

Niamh hesitates. They share a look over Ilya’s head, then she turns to Rivers “We could drive him back at the shop at the end of our shift.” She proposes “And you know the guys, Cap, they like having someone their actual age around.”

“If Captain agrees is fine.” Alexei nods to his brother after clearing his voice.

Rivers waves them off with a smile “Go have fun, kid.”

Ilya doesn’t think twice before sprinting down the stairs and back outside, then, leaving them behind with a curt “Thanks!”

“It get’s really boring.” Alexei supplies, in somewhat a justification.

“Kids will be kids.” Rivers sighs, shaking his head fondly as he folds a couple of cookies into a napkin “My girls were like him, enjoy it until it lasts.” He calls out before following Ilya out of the kitchen, probably to bunk into his office.

When Alexei turns back to facing Niamh, she’s already watching him, a pensive expression crossing her face. She’s pushed her hair away from her face and it’s now dripping on the back of her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Everything ok?” He asks, sitting on the stool in front of hers. Fin can survive a couple more minutes without him, he reasons.

“Yeah, totally.” She replies, snapping back into reality. The coffee in her hands should be cold by now, but she’s holding onto the cup like it’s the only think keeping her warm. Alexei thinks it must be something deeper than her wet clothes “It’s just been a long shift, can’t wait to go home.”

“It was bad?”

“No, uhm, everything turned out fine in the end. Some calls… they just hit a little too close to home, you know?”

Alexei hums in understanding. He doesn’t think he could do what she does every day without at least losing the ability to sleep at night. Niamh doesn’t share much about the bad calls as she does the lighter ones, but Alexei is no stranger to the dark shadows under her eyes or the crestfallen hunch of her shoulders.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really, but thank you.”

Alexei gently nudges the cup out of her hands “You should sleep when you get back. How long is left of your shift?”

Her eyes find the big clock hung over the fridge “Until six. Cap has taken us off calls until B shift comes in, though.”

“Good.”

“How about you? How’s going?”

“Is fine.” Alexei shrugs “I like summer, is calm, and Nadia and her family are flying in in August.”

They’ve kind of spoken about them a couple of times, pretty inevitable when the weird equivalent of your wine aunt starts following your friend on Myspace. Alexei had been nothing short of mortified, Ilya had laughed so hard he’d to hold onto the counter not to fall onto the floor.

Niamh face breaks into a small smile “I’m really glad, they sound nice.”

They are, I wish you could meet them, is what Alexei doesn’t say.

“They’re like family. Helped a lot with moving here.” Is what he says instead, scratching at his jaw.

“Do you ever miss it?” Niamh asks curiously, nibbling on another cookie “Russia, I mean.”

Alexei ponders his words carefully “Yes, but I wish it was different. It can be very old-fashioned.” It’s what he ends up going with in the end. It makes the most sense among the knotted mass of feelings in his head “I like Canada, though, even if you call things with stupid names and sell milk in plastic.”

Niamh chuckles, but doesn’t disagree “Does Ilya?”

“Oh yes, he helped choosing where we would go, had him throw darts at map.” He answers seriously “He would have ended up here anyway I think, with hockey.”

“The NHL is the best league.”

“I trust you on this.”

“You’re not a fan?” Niamh questions, looking surprised.

He shakes his hand in a so-so manner “Definitely not like Ilya. He’s going crazy with all rinks closed.”

Niamh sends him a perplexed look, thin brows curved in a frown “Closed? What do you mean closed.”

“Well, it’s summer.”

“Yes, but this is Canada.” She insists “Some indoor rinks here offer public skating in the summer too, my dad used to bring me and my siblings when it was too hot outside all the time.”

Well, Alexei hadn’t even thought about it being a possibility. Ilya had spent most of the previous summer back in Russia at Nadia’s place and, with no ulterior reason to check, he had assumed that they would close up until the start of the next season “I think he would like it. Is not hockey but…”

“You should give me your number.” Niamh mentions offhandedly. Her eyes lock in his as she speaks “I could look one up and send you the place.”

Alexei stills. This is it, he thinks, the moment when one of them finally addresses it. They’ve been friends for months now, but only into the closed secure spheres of their jobs. Giving her his number doesn’t fit into that, he know it doesn’t and that they probably shouldn’t. He shouldn’t, Alexei thinks, silently retrieving his phone from his pocket, but he really fucking wants to.

“When we go, you should come with us.” He states once she’s handed it back, before he can stop himself. Her name in his contacts is saved beside a smiling face with too many parenthesis.

Niamh doesn’t waver.

“Alexei Rozanov, I would be honoured to.” she declares solemnly, hand on her chest. It would look a lot more serious if her clothes weren’t currently creating a puddle on the ground, but, wet and covered in crumbles, Alexei only feels the weird urge to pinch her cheeks.

“You just want to see me fall on ice.”

“Oh, I absolutely want to see you falling on the ice.”

Alexei can’t stop the smile forming on his lips “It’ll be worth it.”

For once, there is nothing in his head screaming that it won’t.

Chapter End Notes

Sup people, exam season is killing me but i couldn't not deliver before Christmas. I did a whole timeline in my head about this ff actually and came to the conclusion that it might be longer than expected, but lets say 4 chapters for now.
How are we feeling about ep5? i'm still processing it's gonna be over this friday.

Have a great break yall!

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

So, this took so long ngl, but in my defense it should have been way longer, so long that i decided today to cut it in half and put another chapter in. The second half is practically finished too, so at least there's that.
So yay, Christmas interlude!

Hope yall had a great break!

(Btw, i hope i made it clear enough, but always assume that if there is only Ilya and Alexei talking to each other, it's going to be in russian. If not, anything in Russian will be in another font/actual Russian)

It starts with a letter from the immigration office.

Alexei had spent the night prior out with Niamh, her friends and Finn, and they'd slept in so late that neither of them had even heard Ilya walking out to go to practice. After three months since their first date, Niamh had become a steady presence at their flat; hair ties and products stacked under the bathroom sink, spare clothes and uniforms neatly folded in a drawer inside Alexei's closet, a small box of jewerly placed on the nightstand at her side of the bed.

It felt blissful, waking up to her hair tickling his chin, spread like a halo on his pillow. They had stumbled in the kitchen hours later, still hangover, hair ruffled and dragging their feet. As Niamh got everything ready for breakfast, brunch by that point, Alexei had walked downstairs to get the mail. He'd gotten so used to scroll through fliers that he hadn't recognised the municipal seal at first.

"Babe, are you alright?"

Niamh's voice had sounded hollow against the loud beating of his heart as he'd opened the letter with shaking hands.

"Alexei?"

His eyes had been misty when meeting hers, who was now standing a couple feet away in front of him, concern etched on her face "We got our cards." He'd croaked "The PR cards."

Niamh had exhaled in surprise.

"You did?"

Alexei had waved her closer, as he finished tearing the envelope open. At the bottom of the letter, Ilya and his' new residency cards had been glued to the paper. Alexei didn't need to see more.

No more Visas, no more exhausting call with immigration, no more having to prove they had just as much right as anybody else to be there.

"This is awesome! God I'm so happy for you." Niamh had squealed, turning into his arms and locking her hands behind his neck. Her makeup from last night was still smudged around her eyes, they both reeked of a mixture of alcohol, cigarettes and morning breath, but Alexei had still leaned into her for a bruising kiss, letting the envelope fall at their feet as he cupped her face in his hands.

"Mh." Niamh had hummed against his lips when they'd fallen apart "If I had known paperwork got you going I would have brought reports over more often." She teased.

Alexei had huffed a wet laugh, leaving a kiss on her hair "Fender benders sound more like turn off."

They'd stayed like that, standing in the middle of the living room and holding onto each other, for longer than Alexei had thought to count. The spell broke at the turn of a key and Ilya steeping into the flat, dishevelled and pink from the cold. He'd stopped right on his tracks after spotting them, scarf still hanging loosely around his neck.

"Is everything fine? Someone died?"

Alexei had bent to retrieve both cards.

"C'mon, what?" he huffed perplexed, accepting the papers. His eyes had scanned carefully over every word, widening line after line "Are you serious?" He asked in disbelief, as if he hadn't been the one holding the IDs into his hands.

"Like a heart attack."

"Fuck, yes." Ilya cheered, joining the both of them in their weird celebratory hug. His hair was still damp from the shower he’d taken at practice and he was still wearing his coat and boots, Alexei found he didn’t care that much after all "You'll teach me driving, then?"

"When you get permit." He nods.

That year Ilya had to watch all of his friends get their licenses, some full big sized cars to go with even. Alexei had gotten his when they were still living in Russia, but for Ilya, with the Canadian regime, it would have been impossible without proving residency. Ilya'd always loved cars, Alexei held nice memories about bringing him down to the garage to watch the guys work, they liked showing off in front of kids anyway, so it hadn't been that surprising to see his disappointment. Alexei had sent the paperwork in months ago hoping for a bureaucracy miracle. Someone must've heard him for once.

"You guys stink." Ilya mumbled after a while.

"Shut up. Just enjoy the moment."

Them getting their new IDs had been the final push that brought him to seek out apprenticeships programs. Alexei had always been a rational person, but he couldn't deny that all those pieces slowly slotting together had felt like some sort of sign.

This not say it had been an easy change.

"I don't think I can do this." He revealed.

Niamh had been sleeping over that night. She'd just come off a twenty-four hours shift and had looked exhausted when Alexei had let her into the flat, still smelling like ash and gasoline. Still, when they'd found their way into bed, Alexei had quickly discovered that there was no being tired enough to stop her from seeing right through him. It hadn't taken long for him to cave.

Niamh had tensed against him "You mean-"

"With the job." He'd confirmed, frowning at her reaction.

She'd let out a relieved laugh "Oh, good. Well, no, not good. But I thought you meant us.

"Why would I mean us." He asked in a smaller voice than he himself anticipated.

"I don't know, baby. But I was ready to fight, Rozanov, be aware of that."

"For me?"

"No, for the coffee machine obviously."

"Mh, obviously." he echoed against her temple, squeezing her sides.

"C'mon, what's on your mind?" Niamh asked then after slapping his hands away with a giggle.

"Here is different." Niamh's fingers started tracing patterns against his chest as he spoke "Is like going to school, when you do internships."

"You didn't like going?"

"I didn't mind, it was just hard." He'd confessed, then added something he'd never had the courage to really say out loud "I can't- I don't read good. It's... I just never did, got hold back a year for it."

Alexei had still been a kid, he didn't remember much about his first years in school. What he still did remember instead, were his father's hateful words, the raw disappointment in his eyes, his mother covering him with her own body as they fought.

Niamh listened patiently, propped up on her elbow, her fingers still caressing over his shirt as she held his gaze.

"I don't know if I’ll manage it. English is better for it, letters are more different, but I still-" he trailed off, rubbing his eye "I sound stupid."

"You don't." Niamh'd stated firmly "And you aren't. Not for this, not for your accent." Despite her shower, her fingertips still smelled like smoke when she cupped his cheek in her hand "I told you about my sister Teagan, right?"

She had. There were only a couple weeks left before Christmas and Niamh's parents had insisted both Alexei and Ilya joined them for the holidays after discovering they'd be alone that year, so she had taken it as her duty to run both of them through her abysmal number of relatives. Alexei still couldn't believe that was his life now.

"The... Librarian?"

"Yes, she owns a bookstore, always loved reading and all that jazz. But you know, when we were kids, she couldn't read a line." She'd revealed "Neither me or our brother had the same problem so my parents assumed she would grow out of it, took her to so many optometrists. Turns out she had been dyslexic the whole time and that isn't something you can fix." Her thumb had traced under his eye "She never let that hold her back, she is one of the strongest people I know. You are one of the strongest people I know."

Alexei had to actively fight against his burning eyes to keep it together "Said the firefighter."

"Shut up." She'd scolded him sweetly "Maybe you can ask her for some tips when we're over, I’m sure there are accommodations for these type of programs too." She continued "For whatever is worth, I think you can do anything you put your mind into."

Alexei answer had been in the form of chaste kiss on her lips and a whisper "Я люблю тебя."

He'd thought about it many times by that point; as the first thing in the morning, his body tangled with hers, while holding her hand as she kept him upright on the ice or they walked through the streets, whenever she would smile like that at him, like he mattered. That was just another thing he'd never said to anyone, but for Niamh he thought he would always make an exception.

"I love you."

Niamh face, still barely far from his, had broken into a smile "Good, I love you, too."

They hadn't done much talking after that, but later, as they laid, spent and sated, next to each other, Alexei had thought that he really might have been able to face anything for real if he just had Niamh on his side.

Now, exactly two weeks later on Christmas Eve, outside of her family home, on the other side of Edmonton, Alexei feels like taking his words back.

Ilya, standing beside him on their porch with his arms full of bags as they freeze in the cold, doesn't look impressed.

"Just knock."

"Yes. I'm doing it." Alexei arms feel heavy at his sides.

"You're not doing it."

"Just give me a second, I’m doing it."

He could just tell Niamh their car died on the highway, it was still snowing and the cold sure didn't help with his old beat up Honda. That could work, he tells himself, despite how much it would kill him having to lie to her. There is a rustling sound as Ilya drops the gifts for Niamh’s family on a small square of snowless ground, then he's gripping Alexei's shoulders with a firm look in his eyes.

"It took an hour to get here, I’m cold, I’m hungry, and I was promised by your beautiful, sweet girlfriend the best hot chocolate of all Edmonton. I'm not letting you ruin that because you are scared of her family." Ilya declares solemnly "So now you're going to get back into your normal self, ring the bell, be handsome for her grandma and let us get into this house."

Alexei can't believe he's getting pep-talked by his little brother.

He shrugs his hands off stiffly "You're not going to be so smug once you're in my place."

"Why would I ever be scared of old people?" Ilya shrugs "My future in-laws are going to love me. Now fucking knock."

Once Alexei finally does knock, they fortunately don't have to wait longer.

When Niamh's face comes up on the other side of the door, Alexei finally feels some of the tension melt from his shoulders. That is, at least, until he takes a better look.

"You're not Niamh."

The girl's smile crumbles in a pout "Aw, c'mon, how did you know that? Vi! You said you didn't tell him!" She yells to her back. "I'm Teagan." She adds sulkily, moving to the side "Get in, you must be freezing."

Alexei is in the middle of shrugging off his scarf, still confused, as Ilya, way too nonchalant about this, chats up with Teagan while unlacing his boots, when Niamh actually rushes down the stairs and into his arms. He lets out a surprised huff, but doesn’t hesitate to hug her to his chest with as they both laugh. Niamh had drove up to her parent's house earlier that week, to help them set up the Christmas spirit around the place, as per her family's tradition, and, even before then, she'd such a filled round of shifts that had made seeing each other almost impossible. It feels a bit overwhelming having her in his arms after more than a week apart, more than they've spent away from each other ever since they met, anyway.

"You guys are so cute." Teagan coos, taking Ilya's coat to hang.

"They give cavities." Ilya supplies cheerfully. "When can I put these?" He asks then, waving the bags.

"Show him the living room, T." Niamh tells her sister, her voice muffled by his chest.

Teagan is helping Ilya dragging the gifts under the tree when Niamh finally looks up to him, a warm smile tracing her lips. Alexei finds he doesn't feel cold anymore.

"Hey."

"Hey." He says back, tucking one of her curls behind her ear "That was ambush. You didn't tell me you were twins."

"I find the fact that you told us apart regardless very hot, right now." She retorts unashamedly, booping his nose, still red from the wind "And we're triplets, I don't know how this never came up. Sorry about Teagan, she likes terrorizing my dates. Well, I do too, is fun but, you know."

"Is fine. But why does Ilya know?"

"He follows me on Myspace." She reminds him, before getting on her tiptoes to kiss him. Alexei melts into her, cradling Niamh's waist tenderly against him. He's never getting tired of this, he thinks, when she parts her lips with a sigh.

"Are you ready?" She asks then, when they finally compose themselves and Alexei has his chance to get out of his coat "My parents are getting groceries, but my brother is upstairs pretending to give us privacy. My grandparents are coming over for dinner later and lunch tomorrow with the rest of them. So yeah, that's it."

Alexei stares at her blankly "That's it?"

"Don't worry about it." She waves him off "Rory! Get your ass here!" She proceeds to call out to the stairs after as she helps Alexei find a space on the shoe rack.

Niamh is brother is... the exact opposite of what Alexei had supposed, especially now all things considered. The guy that carefully walks down to meet them in the atrium is tall and thin, with a messy head of black curls and deep blue eyes. He kind of looks like a rock star, straight out of a magazine, Alexei thinks, with his dark ripped clothes, and the eyebrow piercing.

"Rory." He introduces himself while scanning Alexei from head to toe.

"Alexei." He offers back as they shake hands.

"We heard a lot about you." Rory informs him with a shit-eating grin and no other follow-up whatsoever, walking them towards the living room, where they find Teagan and Ilya spread each into a couch, talking animatedly over a hockey game playing on the tv.

"Good things I hope." He plays off, nervously.

Rory winks at him but doesn't elaborate.

The twins happily take them for a tour of the house, pointing at pictures and memoralias with the kind of fondness that, Alexei supposes, comes with coming back to their childhood home after a long time. He doesn't think he can relate. Their house back in Russia had been just as big as it had been empty. It was a shell, made of solid concrete walls that had felt more like a cage than home for better half of his life. There were no school portraits hung on the walls, childhood drawings and report cards stuck to the fridge, nor the warm feeling of closeness and affection that Alexei sees reflected into Niamh and her sibling's eyes.

For as much as Ilya seems to enjoy watching them bicker, Alexei can see he's thinking about it too, in the way his shoulders are hunched and he's keeping quieter than usual. Silently, he rubs a firm comforting hand on his shoulder, nudging him with a sad smile when Ilya reciprocates. Teagan and Rory are walking ahead of them, hanging off each other shoulders as they laugh hysterically about some shared joke, but Niamh's attentive eyes watch them with a softness Alexei is still learning to receive. She squeezes his hip gently, Alexei doesn't pretend to not fold into her hold, ignoring Ilya disgusted gag.

"You can bunk with me this week, little fella." Rory says to Ilya, letting him into the room closest to the bathroom so he can drop his duffel bag and their skates. Niamh had insisted they brought them and, after driving past the enormous iced lake just a couple miles behind, Alexei can reasonably assume why.

"You are with me." Niamh tells him, pushing him towards the opposite bedroom.

"Are you sure? Your parents-"

"My parents know I’ve been having sex since I was seventeen and are totally a-okay with this, don't be a gentleman." She reprimands him over their siblings' snickers.

Oh well, Alexei wasn't going to insist further to begin with.

Niamh's childhood bedroom is exactly like her apartment; neat but overcrowded. Everything is stacked, organized and colour coded. Pieces of her life, of her, cover the shelves on the walls, plastered in posters and polaroids. It feels weird seeing proofs of this version of her, years younger, like Niamh's at her prom night, posing near her siblings in matching coloured dress and suit, her and Rory, he supposes, skating with some kids on the frozen edges of the lake, or the twins in sparkly birthday hats as they tear open the wrapping paper off their gifts. Alexei feels so fond and in awe he doesn't realise he's been just standing still in the middle of the room in silence, until Niamh loudly clears her voice, amused.

Embarrassed, he drops his bag onto the ground "It's very you."

"It is, I’ve lived here for eighteen years, you know?" She giggles, pulling him towards her and in between her parted legs from where she's sitting on the edge of the twin sized bed. He's going to have his feet hanging off the edge all night, he thinks mournfully. Niamh burrows her face into the soft material of his hoodie "It feels surreal having you here for me too."

"I'm not the first boyfriend you've brought here." He points out softly.

"You're the first that I want to really like this place and my family."

Alexei can't help the blush spreading through his cheeks "They're yours, I could never not love them, too."

Niamh weakly punches him in the stomach with a wet scoff "Why do you have to be so emotionally intelligent and make me cry on Christmas Eve?"

"I have no idea what that means. But don't cry, I have to make good impression on your parents."

The loud sound of a car’s horn coming from outside disturbs the static quietness between them, making Niamh jump to her feet "Talking about the devil, they probably need help with the grocery bags."

The sound of her siblings and Ilya rushing downstairs is already telling.

"They will love you." Niamh reassures him for the last time, not waiting for his answer before pulling him from his sleeve towards the stairs.

When they reach the garage, Niamh's mother, a dark haired woman with big doe eyes, is already fawning over Ilya, while the rest of the Callahans empty the car.

"-Niamh said you were tall, but I didn't think this much, I'll have to add a couple of rows to that jumper I made you!" She's saying, in a distinctive quebequois accent Alexei has grown accustomed to, eyeing his brother like she's taking measurements in her head.

"Mom!" Niamh groans.

"You must be Alexei!" Her mother squeals, ignoring her and her embarrassed protests, before engulfing him in a hug, too. Alexei gives himself a second to be taken aback before politely leaning into it "We're so glad to finally meet you." She shares, holding him at arm length as she scans him up and down, in that same way her son did less than an hour prior "Oh my god, you're so handsome, Niamh showed us pictures but they don't give you justice, look at you! Sorry if I’m rambling, we're just so happy to have you both here."

"Thank you for inviting us." He replies, a bit overwhelmed but grateful nonetheless, to both of Niamh’s parents, as her dad walks up behind his wife, pulling her on his side. He's a tall freckled man, his hair are still a bright rust colour under candid streaks of white, and he looks at Alexei with a genuine expression on his face.

"It's our pleasure, son." He says, extending an hand "I'm Niall, this my wife Jean."

They help Niamh's siblings unload the last bags, and soon enough they're all sat at the kitchen isle, drinking hot chocolate from matching Christmas mugs as they wait for dinner to be ready and Niamh's grandparents to arrive. The air tastes sweet, everyone is chatting over the quiet buzz of the record player, and Alexei doesn't feel that nervous anymore with Niamh leaning her head on his shoulder as he interacts with her family.

Niamh's grandparents arrive bearing gifts, just in time for dinner. They welcome Ilya and Alexei kindly, and, despite merely speaking an ounce of french for three years spent living in Canada, they somehow manage a conversation just fine with only little help.

Dinner is a loud ordeal, but Alexei had already imagined it would be if all Niamh's relative were just a bit like her, and cannot say he minds at all. Niamh's hand rests comfortably on his thigh all through it, covered by his, as they eat and drink to their heart content. Alexei even pretends not to notice the two fingers of wine Rory sneaks to Ilya under the table. He did far worse when he was his age after all.

Niamh's grandparents have already drove back home when they move into the living room for what the Callahans have all insisted is a 'unsurmountable Christmas tradition', or, weirdly enough, a marathon of Die Hard. He and Niamh settle onto the plush burgundy couch nearest to the fireplace and Ilya swamps on his other side, droopy eyes transfixed onto the television.

Alexei spends the whole time barely catching up to the subtitles and the explosions on the screen, his fingers tangled in Niamh's curls and lost in thought.

Holidays had always been just the four of them; their grandparents from Grigori's side had been long dead before Alexei was even born while their mother's family had cut all contacts soon after her wedding. Sometimes they would attend his father's stupid galas, others it would be just them, their mom and a couple of presents they always got told to hide from their dad.

When they'd left home, Nadia had always made sure they knew they had a place at their house. He'd thought it would be good for Ilya, barely a year after their mother's passing, to have something happy to look forward to, like holidays for them had never been. Truth to be told, Alexei had found he needed it too.

His first Christmas in Canada had been spent alone. He'd worked at an event that year's Christmas Eve, walked back home at the ungodliest hour known to man, and spent most of the day in the darkness of his room, tangled in the sheets, until Ilya's usual call.

Nadia and the guys had always tried to fly in when possible, but planes were expensive and Alexei, at least that first year, had to work to make ends meet. Still, he'd tried his best making it just like it would have been if they'd still been at the Morozov's; they had made pelmeni together, vinegret and slightly burnt kozuli to hang off the tree, and waited until Nadia had called to open the gifts they had shipped months prior.

Alexei had wished he could have given him more than a bunch of hockey gear and candy, like a real Christmas tree or twinkling lights hung onto the porch, a swivel of people at the dinner table. Their mother back. That Christmas had felt even worse at the reminder that she wasn't there anymore.

Ilya had looked so happy that night, bundled up in a plaid blanket as they played games with Niamh's family, that Alexei had thought maybe he wasn't doing that bad of a job after all. Now, with his girlfriend snoring softly on his shoulder and his little brother snoozing on the other end of the couch, his feet planted firmly in his lap, it feels like everything played out.

"I think it's time you kids go upstairs." Jean whispers softly "It was a good night."

Niall has fallen asleep on his armchair, while both Teagan and Rory had said goodnight mid second movie and left for their rooms, dead on their feet. Alexei hadn't had it in his heart to wake either Ilya or Niamh up to follow.

"It was." Alexei nods, his thumb tracing the swell of Niamh's cheek, the freckles on her nose "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," Jean smiles, her eyes shifting on her daughter "Niamh has told us a bit about you. We didn't want to be nosy but had wondered if your parents would mind you both coming here."

Alexei knows that, he'd been the one to tell Niamh that she could tell her family whatever she wanted. Alexei wasn't ashamed of his life "It's just us." He confirms.

"And Niamh."

Alexei can't help the sleepy smile rising on his lips "And Niamh."

"I'm glad you could come. When she told us you met right after Jack, I have to say I was worried." Jean confesses as she fixes the blanket over her husband's lap "That connard, he never deserved my baby." She adds with quiet fury "My Niamh loves with her whole heart and body, I was afraid someone would take advantage of that, especially after him."

"I would have never-"

"No, I know," Jean stops him "She was very frustrated about it, funnily enough. I think she's never drunk as much coffee as she did after meeting you."

"She likes coffee." He states, a little lost.

"Cherí, no one likes coffee that much." She giggles.

Niamh sighs in her sleep. Her hand, still tangled in his, twitches from where they're both pressed against his stomach. Both him and Jean wait silently as she settles back against his chest.

When Alexei turns to look back to Jean, she's already watching him, appreciatively, and working on waking her husband up "You should all go upstairs now, it's getting late."

Ilya doesn't protests much when Alexei gently shakes his shoulder to rouse him, yawning quietly before dragging himself off the couch and upstairs, with a slurred string of unrecognisable words.

Alexei waits until he hears the sound of Rory's door clicking shut before turning to Niamh. She looks peaceful, completely lax. Alexei can't help but think she's beautiful, even like this, with her hair sticking out and frizzy and a line of drool on her cheek "Solnyshko? Wake up, we have bed upstairs, more comfy."

She stirs just enough to allow them to paddle back into her room with only little difficulties, held up by Alexei’s hand on the small of her back and a goal. Something pretty cool about being a firefighter, Alexei had discovered, was being able to sleep pretty much anywhere at anytime. As expected, it takes Niamh only a few minutes after settling in bed, not before having pulled him in towards her and rested her head on his collarbone, to fall back asleep.

Alexei can already feel the twinge of a back ache as he curls up around her, feet hanging awkwardly at the edge of the bed.

Still, he wouldn't have it in any other way.

*

The next day, Niamh's extended family arrives in the way many things happen in the Callahan's house: loudly, unapologetically loudly. One moment he's still in pyjamas, nursing a cup of coffee with Niamh's parents as they wait for the other's to wake up to open the presents, the next he's dressed up in corduroys and the turquoise sweater Jean knitted for him herself, with two kids hanging off his arms and squealing excitedly every time he moves in a circle and sends them flying onto the living room's couches, mindful of the rest of football team that crossed the doorstep that morning.

He lost Ilya around the same time Niamh's cousin (Ryan, thirty-one, Accountant) arrived with his giant husky. They must still be outside playing fetch in the snow, he reasons, falling back into the cushions with a groan. Nate, six years old and mostly toothless, takes that as invite to launch himself onto his stomach, with the conviction of a wrestler, soon followed by his brother.

"Guys! Ça suffit! Alexei, dear, send them off if they're too rough, oui?" Laurie (thirty-five, divorce lawyer), one among the incredible amount of Niamh's cousins, calls out worriedly.

"Is fine." He croaks, breathless, sending her a thumbs up, before picking each kid up on his shoulders with an exaggerated groan "You surrendering yet?" he asks them over their streak of giggles, bouncing on his feet.

"Non, non!"

"Ah, too bad." He says, starting to walk around the living room in purposely wobbly strides "Let's bring you to your dad, Da? Where is he?"

The twins shriek every time he makes his knee give out, their little fingers digging into his back.

"Having fun?" Teagan asks teasingly, appearing before them with a tall glass of eggnog that smells a tad too much like the whiskey they'd cracked open last night after dinner.

"A blast." He replies, shrugging dramatically and making the kids dissolve in giggles.

"Allez, les gars! Vivi a besoin de lui encore en un seul morceau. Go back to your parents, lunch's ready." She tells the kids, tickling the back of their knees. Alexei promptly sets both Nate and Greyson down and watches them as they scramble to get to the dining room before the other.

"Ne courez pas dans la maison- Ugh, who am I kidding." Teagan sighs, shaking her head fondly.

By the time the whole family army is on its way back home, Alexei feels so wrung out he can barely think about anything but Niamh's soft duvet waiting for him upstairs.

He'd spent the last few hours plastered for dear life on Niamh's side, who, on her part, had greatly accepted her fate as his spare social battery, while they chatted with her relatives under the chaos of voice, laughter and tiny steps chasing each other around the house.

Alexei, ironically, had been able to get a breather only when he'd somehow found himself holding Niamh's cousin's baby, as the guy (Ronan, twenty-nine, engineer) frantically went to look for his wife, to have her stop crying. Just as panicked, he'd excused himself from the conversation, the baby against his hip, and bounced her as he looked for either parent.

The baby's sobs had started de-escalating into whines, then stuffy sniffs, the further they got from the living room. He'd felt pretty awkward, standing there and holding her like a rugby ball, but she hadn't seemed to mind and he'd been too scared to move back inside in case she started crying again.

"You wanted quiet, then? I like quiet too." He'd said to no one really, feeling pretty stupid as soon the words came out "It's so crowded. I love it, but it's a lot."

Baby Edie had looked at him with blue eyes too big for her head and cooed.

"Yes, exactly." Alexei had nodded seriously  "we are introverts, its instinctual, good thinking."

"You want to kill me today." Niam's voice had said from behind him then, so softly he thought he shouldn't have heard her.

Alexei had felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment "She- uhm, I can't find her mom."

"I figured." Niamh'd answered back, staring at him with a undecipherable look on her face.

He'd cleared his voice, and tried passing her the baby "Do you want to-"

"No, uhm, Edie likes you." Niamh had stopped him, supported by Edie's shriek of protest, her cheeks still red from the sparkling wine "I saw Bonnie in the kitchen, told her you had her and was looking for her, c'mon."

A couple of threats of a full meltdown later, Bonnie had begged Alexei to keep Edie for her sake. Alexei hadn't necessarily minded being drooled over by a bossy six months old baby, and certainly he didn't the cosiness of settling furthest from the full on family feud that was rising over monopoly right in the other room. Ilya's competitive ass had surely found his people there, he'd thought.

"Uncle Hen asked if you can take a look at his car before we go back." Niamh says while taking off her jewerly. Alexei has already shed off his jumper and got comfortable under the covers, in sweatpants and an undershirt, and is now lounging as watches her get ready for bed "I think he's happy he's got finally someone to talk about this stuff with, Haley and Ronan aren't really into it."

"There is twin curse in your family," Alexei states, seriously "you would think he could find someone."

Niamh snorts "The mysteries of genetics, I guess."

"I'll take a look at the car." He promises, smiling tiredly as she settles on her side in front of him. Their legs tangle as a reflex as he pulls her closer by her waist.

"Did you have fun?"

"It was best Christmas."

"I know you're not Catholic, I really appreciate that you still came." Niamh says "With my parents we thought we could make something bigger on New years, maybe? My dad was raised as protestant, anyway, and he got really into Russian lore when I told him we started dating." She adds, leaving a kiss on his shoulder.

"He did?"

"Mhm, yeah. He really likes you if you haven't noticed."

Alexei has to bite the insides of his cheeks to stop the goofy grin about to come out "I like your family too. So loud, polite, very Canadian... I can see where you get all you from."

"Ah-ah." Niamh huffs "Remember, you brought this on yourself"

"Whatever am I going to do" He sighs dramatically, tugging on her shirt's sleeve "But also, you really don't have to."

"No way, dad is not gonna budge, now. He didn't taught himself how to make borscht for nothing."

Alexei feels like his heart is growing bigger than his ribcage.

"I don't know what to say." He confesses, voice rough.

Niamh leans in to push his hair away from his eyes, a soft look on her face  "You don't have to say anything, let us do this for you."

"Ilya will love it."

"I hope so." Niamh grins, before shoving him on his back with a playful push. His hands instinctually hold onto her hips as she crawls over him "Think you would like the rest of your gift, now?" She asks, her hands resting at the sides of his head as she leans over to press their noses together.

Alexei chuckles, a bit breathless, over the static sound of blood rushing through his veins, and flips them over "We can make it a couple gift, yes?"

Truly, the best fucking Christmas ever.

-

Boxing Day they spend walking around the Christmas markets in Brintnell. Alexei keeps his gloved hand tangled in Niamh's and tucked in his coat's pocket as they walk through stands and food trucks. Ilya is elated by the light works and keeps looking around the booths in that kind of childlike glee that reminds Alexei of the few times their mom would bring them to the fair, too long ago for Ilya to even remember it, probably.

Alexei makes sure to take some pictures to send to Nadia, the camera Niamh's had gifted him secured to his wrist by a simple chained keychain.

They had mutually decided to keep it simple that first Christmas together, no need for expensive gifts or exaggerated gestures. Neither of them was that materialistic, anyway. Therefore, when he'd opened the carefully wrapped box on Christmas morning, Alexei had expected anything but the small pocket sized camera laying at the bottom of the box.

"I know we said nothing over the top." Niamh had said pre-emptively, biting nervously at her lip. She was still holding his gift in her hands, a pair of golden dangling earrings shaped like small sunflowers. Alexei had found them in a small handmade shop near the station while on his way to surprise her at work, and they’d felt far too perfect to be left there.

The rest of her family and Ilya were still focused on the Black Star LEGO set the twins had gotten for Niall to notice them "But I found it half priced and thought about the albums you showed me, and I just- bought it, I guess"

Alexei had showed her his mother's photo albums so long ago he'd almost forgotten about it; there were mostly pictures from before either he or Ilya were born, when their parents still hadn't met each other, baby pictures of her and her sisters, people that Alexei had never met, who probably didn't know he even existed. Alexei's favourite was one from her high school years, taken at a beach in Sochi. In the picture, she was facing the camera, her white blonde hair thrown messily behind her back and fancy sunglasses perched over her head as she smiled, so free, joyful and full of life, like Alexei couldn't remember her ever being.

He and Niamh had been in the early stages of dating when he'd started opening up more about moving, their parents. Alexei had never seen her looking so distraught before, yet composed as she held his hand while he told her about their mother's passing, leaving home, the custody hearing.

"What was she like? Your mom?" she'd asked later, curled up to him as they distractedly watched the latest sitcom aired on TV. Alexei had briefly hesitated, but showed her the pictures with a wave of sadness flooding his chest. Talking about her felt like a scar that healed wrong, something rugged and still bleeding, but since then Alexei had started reaching for the pictures more often than he'd ever done in that almost four years since her death.

Niamh had taken his hands in hers "I thought maybe you would want to add to them."

Alexei had kissed her forehead with reverence, inhaling perhaps too shakily, then her lips, over their siblings mocking groans.

He is definitely no photographer, but feels satisfied enough as he and Ilya go through each picture, that afternoon, sorting which ones they should email Nadia.

Jean nods approvingly, swiping past them to retrieve the rolling pin for the dough "Save them on our desktop after sending them, cherì. I'm going to print them for our Christmas cards when I’ll develop the rest."

Ilya is too preoccupied with eating the dough straight out of the bowl, whenever Jean is not looking, to care, but Alexei nervously shifts in his seat at the implication "Are you sure?"

Jean winks at him "Completely. I want to frame that picture Rory took of you kids under the mistletoe, I bet Niamh is gonna love it."

The rest of the week feels like a fever dream made of gingerbread and domesticity; Alexei gets to wake up next to Niamh every morning, bury his nose in her hair and hold her against him as he finds the will to get out of bed. If Niamh's parents are already working on breakfast, Alexei usually pours himself some coffee and tries to help Jean with the crosswords while Niall flips pancakes at the stove, other times it's just him, the quietness of the patio and a cigarette.

Alexei has never really been one for the concept of lazy days; he was used to start his day early in the morning, squeezing a small run around the block before his shifts, and, especially when Ilya was younger, he would have to schedule his days ahead to fit both Ilya and his own life on a sole track.

At Niamh's house, no one usually wakes up before nine AM, something that Ilya pointedly said they should implement at their own house. The Callahans also believe in quality time, which is why Alexei finds himself often helping Niall with small repairs around the house, playing Mario kart with Teagan and Ilya on their beat up Wii or talking music with Rory, as he shows him some chord progression on his bass.

The best part of it, though, is that Alexei feels like he has all the time in the world. There is no rush to get out the door in the morning or half assed goodbye pecks as he leaves the bed to drive Ilya to school, there are no hours stuck in traffic as he runs errands and picks up groceries after his shifts or corners to be cut just to spend some time with each other. Alexei can feel how much that means for Ilya too, to live without a clock to look out for, even if it's just to play one of the iper-violent games Rory downloaded on the console together.

Alexei wishes he could play that week in loop, never have to leave the quiet outskirts of Edmonton to get back to normal life. It's greedy, lazy of him, but he finds he doesn't care much when he can indulge in watching Niamh's sleeping form, painted in sunlight spiralling through the curtains. His mind feels blank as he traces her face with his eyes, from the shadows her pale eyelashes set on her cheeks to the curve of her lips, resting just a couple of inches away from where he fell asleep resting on her shoulder.

Niamh stirs as he stretches his legs, her fingers tight on his nape.

"Lex?"

"Sh, моя Золотце." He whispers, softer than a sigh, faintly trailing his lip over her collarbone. He think he's found his peace "There's time."

*

Five days after Christmas, Niamh's uncle parks into the Callahan's driveway towing a beautiful flaming 1985 Corvette that, at first, Alexei feels almost too in awe to touch. With Ilya's enthusiastic help, Alexei gets to make it start up again by late in the afternoon, when Henri comes back over to pick it up.

"Cleaned injectors and filters. The engine was fine, but not enough oil and a bit rusty, should keep it somewhere that's not too humid from now on, change it if it gets worse." He tells him, rubbing sweat off his forehead with gunk stained fingers.

"Son, you might just have done a miracle." Henri gushes. The car purrs loudly as he presses on the clutch "You guys want to give it a spin?"

Ilya doesn't need to be asked twice before jumping onto the passenger seat, but Alexei waves him off with a shrug when he notices Niamh walking towards them, bundled up in a knitted vest and cozy sweatpants.

"Your uncle drives well, yes?" He asks her, as the car speeds out the driveway, over the crinkling sound of tires on snow.

"Do you want a legit answer?"

Ilya's laugh breaks through the neighbourhood as the car roughly swerves at a stop sign.

"He's going to be fine." Niamh reassures him.

"Mh." He hums unsurely. He reaches to close the garage door, then starts to clean up the mess of wrenches, screwdrivers and errant bottles left onto the ground  "Everything okay?" 

Alexei can feel Niamh's eyes unashamedly follow his every movement, from where she's sitting up on a storage container "The guys wanted to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight, at a club not far from here. Wanna go?" She asks, kicking her legs.

"Sure. Who's driving?"

"No need, it's like fifteen minutes away from here."

"You're going to get cold." He points out, smirking "and you're whiny drunk."

"I am not!" She protests, offended "How dare you."

Alexei drops the beat up rag he'd been cleaning his hands with on one of the work tables, then lets his hair back down as he walks towards her. Niamh eyes are dazed as he fits between her parted legs.

"I had to carry you last time." He reminds her "I think I can dare."

"That pair of heels sucked. It's totally unrelated."

"I'm not giving you my jacket if you get cold."

Niamh blatantly laughs in his face "As if I believe that."

Alexei drops his eyes to her lips, then the sliver of skin poking from her cardigan "You want to bet?"

"Leave some room for Jesus, you guys." Rory interrupts from the door, deadpan, startling the both of them "Mom made hot chocolate, but I think y’all need an ice bath at this point."

"Fuck off, Rory." Niamh groans, huffing in disappointment when Alexei steps back. "Give us a minute, we're coming."

"Oh I know you are." Rory replies cheekily, promptly disappearing from the doorway. Niamh's slipper hits the other wall just a little below where Rory's head was, less than a few seconds ago. Alexei hides a smile behind the back of his hand as helps her get down.

Ilya doesn't fuss about the unfairness of being left home, probably because, like Alexei, he's well aware that Niamh's parents are going to spoil the shit out of him in that few hours alone. Alexei gets practically pushed out of the house at the first hint of staying home for his sake.

Alexei feels strangely warm walking through the snow, hand in hand with Niamh as Rory and Teagan push each other on the sidewalk, howling every time one of them slips a bit too realistically on the ice.

The 'old friends from high school' turn out to be a small group of four people that, unsurprisingly, all share the twins' boisterous personality. The tipsier Alexei gets, the harder it becomes to keep his face straight at the jokes and quips flying around the booth, all filled with nostalgic fondness and laughter.

"Do you guys remember that time Viv got her head stuck inside a trombone?" Will, a tall blonde man with a chiselled jaw and the size of double doors wardrobe, asks, making the table burst out in giggles.

Niamh hides her face behind her hands "Oh, c'mon-"

"We were high as fuck." Jenna, the one with a bob of black hair and the face piercings, explains, barely containing her laugh "She kept insisting that everybody knows you can hear the sea if you put your ear close."

Alexei snort around a mouthful of beer, patting his chest not to choke around it as Niamh makes a disgruntled sound from where she's hunched in embarrassment. "It was Ryan's fault! Why would you even bring edibles at a kick off game?"

"Hello?" Ryan calls out, waving a ringed hand around himself "You know I used to get nervous before games."

"Your job was to get the microphone stands off the field after the pledge." Megan rebukes, flatly, pointing at him with a perfectly manicured finger "Hardly a reason for stage fright."

When they stumble out the bar it's early morning the next day, and so dark that they struggle even more to help each other stay upright, drunkly laughing their asses off. Alexei has known he's going to regret drinking that much ever since his fourth shot, but right now, with Niamh hanging off his back as they race Rory and Teagan back to their house, he feels younger than he's ever been, like there is nothing else to care about.

He tries to chase back that feeling a few hours later, as he slumps over the porch swing on the back patio, with a head splitting hangover and maybe four hours of sleep behind him, as he sips  on a cup of black coffee, currently the only thing he feels generally safe he'll keep down. Niamh is still asleep upstairs, dead to the world, and had barely even noticed when he'd slipped out of bed, except for unconsciously reaching for his warmth back. The kitchen had been empty when he'd padded outside, in too light clothes for the last of the year.

Alexei is lighting up his cigarette and mid coffee when he hears the backdoor opening again.

Rory drops beside him with a mere grunt of acknowledgement. He rests his own fuming mug on the glass table in front of them, before taking Alexei's example and lighting one up.

Alexei had found himself genuinely enjoying Rory's quiet company. Despite his confident mannerism and personality, he's probably the most laid back among his family, which makes this small cuts of quietness all but awkward or tense.

"I don't think I want to drink ever again." Rory whines at last, picking at his stubble in pure misery.

"Best day to make that promise."

"No, no listen, the sole idea of the smell is making me want to puke. I'm definitely off tonight." He states, inhaling deeply before stubbing his cigarette into the colourful ashtray.

His face does, in fact, look pretty green and miserable.

"Ready to go back to old normal life tomorrow?" Rory asks then, curiously, hugging his legs as he curls up over the swing's cushions.

"Not really." He admits "Is very peaceful here."

"I know, right?" Rory smiles fondly "I'm happy I could come back home this year."

"You don't usually?"

"Last year there was a crazy blizzard, all flights cancelled. Me and the guys were still in Europe and got held back until January." Rory recounts "The year before same thing, the tour got postponed and I got stuck in shitty Tampa for a whole week. We're currently working on a project so no tour this year, thankfully, with my luck we would have had a snowstorm all over Canada."

Alexei hasn't really understood yet what exactly Rory does for a living, besides the fact that it's related to music and that he lives out of state, in LA, but that does sound awful, he thinks.

"Fuck."

Rory nods "Exactly. What about you?"

"I haven't been to Russia since we moved." He says, reaching for another cigarette "Ilya goes back sometimes, we have friends there. Other times they come here, instead."

"Seem rough."

"It can be. But I like it here. This." He reassures him "I'm happy Niamh wanted me come."

Rory must get the change of topic, because the corners of his mouth lift up as he says "And I’m glad you're not like that asshole Jack. I hated that guy, and I never even met him once." Alexei has to hold himself back from chuckling as Rory crosses his arms over his chest, in the same dramatic way Niamh usually does when she has to make a point "Teagan said he only talked about his father's company and how it was basically already his, and blah, blah, blah... treated Vivi like shit too, besides the cheating. Always cancelled on her, talked her down-" Rory trails off.

It had come up, both during their friendship and after, when they'd started to learn how to be together. Alexei had never been in a serious relationship by that point, not one that he could get any insight from anyway, and Niamh had just come out of a bad attempt at one. 

It had been a very difficult task to balance their schedules for two people with completely different lives, to begin with, a path made of trials and errors. Alexei is sure that had either of them been less unfiltered, they probably wouldn't have found their way back to each other after every one of their fights.

Rory eyes him with a pondering look "You seem like a good guy, don't make me change my mind. I don't need muscles to fight you, I have a Teagan, so watch your back." He says, pointing a black polished finger at his chest.

"I'll do my best." He promises, weirdly touched by his wonky shovel talk.

"Attaboy. Now," Rory says, standing up and cradling the empty cup against his chest "More coffee, yes? The girls want to skate later, I don't think I’ll survive without it." Alexei sees him shudder in despair "It's going to be a fucking nightmare, Jesus Christ."

Alexei only laughs, topping off his own cup and following him back inside.

Rory statement turns out to be the perfect definition for that afternoon. Alexei already knew that Niamh used to play hockey in high school, god forbid he forgets that with all the times he's had to play with the two most competitive people he's ever met, but seeing her and Ilya chasing each other for the puck is like watching a war unfolding in front of his eyes. They are absolutely ruthless, laughing like maniacs every time they make turns so sharp to send some other unlucky person falling on the ice or manage to trip each other with their sticks.

"I'm not playing with them." Teagan states, appalled, planting her hockey stick into the snow. "I don't her remember her like this. Are they always like this?"

Alexei nods seriously "Always. My knees retired because of them."

Rory, who has been planted on a foldable chair ever since they arrived, sends their siblings an horrified look from under his shades. Alexei thinks he looks pretty funny, with a beanie low in his head and bundled up like he's going undercover. "Fuck."

"Fuck." Teagan echoes, watching Ilya fall on his ass and scramble to catch back up to Niamh, who's dribbling the puck in between twigs and snow piles left onto the ice, mockingly.

"You're not coming?" Alexei asks Rory as he finishes lacing up his skates. Teagan has already been dragged across the rink for what Ilya and Niamh consider a simple round of passes.

Rory shrugs "When they've tired each other out, maybe." He says, at the same time Alexei hears his brother call out from the ice "Lyosha, we need goalie!"

Alexei sighs, accepting a stick and pads from Rory before skating to his rueful destiny.

*

Niamh's dad sends all of them to warm up before coming down to dinner. Alexei doesn't let him repeat himself; he's cold, damp from the snow and still rubbing his eyes from the time Ilya snowed him mid game. Niamh isn't in better conditions and, on top of it, looks just as exhausted as Alexei remembers seeing her after a grade four fire call.

As they get changed, he calls Nadia back, and listens to her drunkly gossip about the family celebration they just got back home from. Alexei can hear Ivan giggling from their side of the line, probably in the same, if not worst, conditions. Their broken english comes out muffled as they demand to talk with Niamh, who answers animatedly and with obvious endearment.

"Get Lyosha drunk!" Nadia yells "He needs to loose!"

"Absolutely." Niamh nods seriously, shimmying out her snow pants "I always say the same."

"Good, Umnitsa." Ivan chirps "Make pictures, we sent you on Myspace."

"I'll check them right up, Ivan, I’m sure you both looked so good tonight."

Alexei watches her fondly as she chats with the weird example of functional adults in his life. Niamh'd met them a couple of times that summer, during the two weeks the Morozovs had spent in Edmonton. Alexei had almost had a heart attack seeing Nikolai in person after almost four years, tall and built from years of Hockey and Ivan's spit image, when they'd picked them up at the airport.

They'd all made a point in demonstrating how truly thrilled they were about Alexei finally asking her out, so much that he'd to hold Niamh's hair out of her face all night as she emptied her stomach of the wine Nadia had generously pumped into her during dinner.

Niamh'd showed just as much enthusiasm in wanting to make a good impression.

"It's important, they're kind of like your parents but also your equivalent of the favourite, quirky aunt and uncle that hand you weed on your eighteenth birthday." She'd told him once, while fixing her makeup.

"What is going on with your family?" He'd asked back, astonished. Not that he didn't agree, though.

They close the call with the promise of sending their regards to Niamh's family and have Ilya call them in the morning, before jumping in for a quick shower.

When they finally sit down at the table, Alexei feels like he's made of jello, still flushed from the steam and the memory of Niamh's body pressed against his under the water spray. Niall's borscht tastes warm and nostalgic, almost like the one his mom used to make when he was a kid, topped off with spoonsful of sour cream. Alexei hasn't been in Russia in years, but it feels a bit like home  being surrounded by food made with care and laughter.

When the time comes, they gather outside on the porch to watch the fireworks, scattered across the swings and rocking chairs. Niamh settles with her back against his chest, snug between his arms.

"Ya tebya lyublyu." He whispers against Niamh's lips as fizzling explosions of light fill the sky and the neighbourhood comes to life with cheers and howls.

Niamh's face is lit up by colour as she presses their foreheads together, softly "I love you too."

Alexei doesn't need anything more.

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

Balancing work and the apprenticeship reveals itself to be one of the hardest things Alexei has ever had to do in his life. And it's funny to think about it, considering he moved across the ocean before he even hit twenty-one.

Elke has been an angel and cut his hours around his classes and training, at a garage that's barely three blocks away from the café. Logistically wise, applying there had made sense with how tight his schedule had suddenly got between shifts. It's only been a couple months since he started, back in January, but it doesn't matter how helpful the extensions he and Teagan had been able to guarantee him are, neither how diligently he'd organized his life around that new reality, Alexei arrives to the week before his first essay is due with the worst stress fever of his life and barely a page into his word file.

He's propped up in his bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets that Niamh has moved into the flat, just like their usual inhabitant, who's currently making biscuits on his keyboard, half propped into his lap, half on his textbook. Alexei thinks that Potato could write a better essay than him just by pawing at the letters, at this point.

Alexei doesn't even hear Niamh come in through the door, as focused as he his into looking at the blank page in front of him while petting the ingrate cat that keeps pressing gibberish into the keyboard, that until she's halfway to the bed and about to rest her icy hand on his forehead. The relief is instant, Alexei holds her wrist from moving with both hands, despite Potato meows of protest.

"Hey baby." She says, sitting sideways on the edge of the bed "How are you feeling?"

"Like ran over by truck."

"You're still pretty hot."

"Thank you."

"Not what I meant." She sasses back, before leaving a peck over his cheek. She's still in her uniform, hair gelled back and tied into a puffy ponytail "Cap gave me a recipe for a soup that's to die for and a whole blister of Tylenol for you."

"How did you know we're out?"

Niamh levels him with a flat stare.

The thing is, neither of them has been brave enough to acknowledge the simple truth that Niamh has basically been moving in ever since Christmas. And it's not that Alexei doesn't actually want her to, because he loves this, the idea that they can share this at the end of day, run back to each other. Ilya has given him his stamp of approval many months ago even, ever since he woke up to Niamh's waffles waiting for him in the kitchen. So, rationally, there is no reason why she should still keep her lease up instead of taking the last few things out of her apartment and move into theirs.

Still, Alexei hasn't made any move to ask her yet. He hasn't, because asking Niamh to leave her apartment for him, for them, would mean put a final judgement on their relationship, and Alexei is afraid that Niamh will come to regret it sooner than later. Niamh who is the most independent person that Alexei has ever known and with whom, as a matter of fact, he share a bathroom with, meaning that she would, indeed, know that they're out of Tylenol.

The most embarrassing thing about all this, though, Alexei thinks, is that he is sure that Niamh knows why he still hasn't done anything about it, and purely decided out of spite that she won't be the one to cave in first. Alexei can't believe he really found someone just as stubborn as himself to fall in love with.

"Right. Thank you." He coughs, pushing the laptop aside. Potato, tired of being ignored, jumps from his lap and out of the room with an annoyed huff, probably to go haunt his second favourite spot, Ilya's pillow.

"How is the paper going?"

"I barely have anything. I don't know what I am doing." He admits.

"Have you talked to T?"

"Yes, but it's not that. I can't find the words and I need another page minimum to submit."

Everything aches as he settles further under the covers, dragging Niamh with him, work clothes or not. He rests his head in her lap, eyes watering from the fever as he buries his eyes into the soft material of her slacks.

"Ilya?" Niamh asks softly, combing his hair back.

"Still won't talk to me."

"He's not home."

"He's at shop, Fin texted me."

Niamh hums noncommittedly. There is a moment of silence, "I know you already made your decision, but I really think you should hear him out again." She says gently.

Alexei tenses, his jaw clenching "I just don't get it." he sighs, leaning weakly into her hand "We're fine, he doesn't need job. His only job should be school and hockey."

That had been the biggest fight he and Ilya ever had, hands down. It had started less then two weeks ago when, during dinner, Ilya said he wanted to start working, to pitch in somehow. It'd sounded like more than just a random idea sprung out of nowhere, which had only made it worse when Alexei had completely shut him down.

"I don't necessarily think you're wrong." Niamh confides "Working is very self and time consuming and he already has a lot on his plate."

Alexei is about to agree when she raises a hand to stop him "But I also think that you should at least let him work half your shifts at the café, maybe during the weekends, to help you out. It’s not money he worries about, but the fact that you are killing yourself between the shifts at shop, the garage and your classes."

"It's just the flu." He retorts "And I'm the adult here, I shouldn't ask him to start work at sixteen because we need money."

"But you're not asking. He is." Niamh points out "And he's doing it, because he's scared for you. Because he loves you and he cares when you work yourself sick just because you're too stubborn to let him help." She continues "He's almost seventeen, many kids start working for way less noble reasons at his age, too."

"I did. Just to have pocket money, but it wasn't- I didn't want to bother my parents." His father, who was starting doting on him to finally make himself useful, and his mother, who was already withering away. "When we left home I had to do more, kind of like now, I was eighteen. But this is different. It's-I don’t want him to worry about these things." Alexei is pretty aware he must be making no sense, but Niamh doesn't correct him, just keeps caressing his hair, his temples, soothing the headache forming at the back of his eyes "I want better for him. Not like me."

"Not like you? Baby, you're years too late for that." Niamh says, turning his head in her lap to lock their eyes together, like she does when she wants him to listen  “I don't know about before I met you, but you can't tell me you haven't notice how much he looks up to you." Her thumb traces gently over his cheekbone as she speaks "He's sweet, compassionate and selfless, because you raised him like this, to unapologetically be himself, even if it means having to fight you when you're being an asshole."

Alexei lets out a wet laugh, that has both of them crumble into giggles.

"I was,” he agrees “an asshole."

"I mean, not like I understood half of what you said, but it did sound mean as fuck."

Alexei nods bitterly, it really fucking was "I have to tell him I’m sorry."

"Yes. And you also need to drop some the load off your shoulders. This isn't healthy, Alexei."

"I wish he didn't have to." He whispers brokenly, letting tears run down his face. He wants to blame it on the fever, on the stress, on the humiliation that is admitting that he can't to this alone, for as much as he's tried to prove otherwise "I fail him, and he knows."

"Alexei-" He hears Niamh call him, but to the first sob traitorously falling out of his lips, follows a second and a third, and suddenly he's there, still half draped on top his girlfriend, sick and crying his eyes out like he doesn't remember ever doing. He feels like he can't breath, delirious and cut out of his own body. He registers Niamh's arms wrapping around his shoulders, the heat of her body against his shivering one, the shape of the words she's whispering but not their meaning.

When he comes out of it, Alexei feels completely boneless, tired and achy. The tear tracks on his cheeks are dry and pull tightly at his face. He feels gross, sweaty, like he just run miles.

Niamh’s voice sounds tentative then "Lex?"

"Mh?"

"Hey." Niamh's arms slowly unlock from behind his neck, so Alexei drops his head on their shared pillow, barely finding the strength to hold her gaze. "That was scary."

"Never happened before." He rasps out.

"Shit. Are you ok?"

Alexei bats his eyes heavily "I don't know. Sorry for this, was not fair to you."

"Shut up, idiot." Niamh scoffs, more lovingly than not, tangling their hands between them "I don't mind scary if it's about you. That was a lot you kept to yourself, I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't tell me."

Alexei shakes his head, as much as he can while on his side, at least "Is not that. Is old stuff, it just got topped off by new."

"You can always, always talk to me. I don't expect you to be invincible." She says, pressing her lips on the back of his hand, softly.

His head feels like it got stuffed with cotton, and he's probably already cried all the tears his body could think of producing for the next five years, but Niamh's words get close to open a whole new dam.

"Ilya doesn't think you failed him, he's just worried about you working yourself too hard. You always bear the weight for us, you need to let us do the same, yes? It doesn't make you weak, it doesn't mean you are a failure, it's what makes you human."  Niamh continues "And if you need to cry, scream, god knows what, you can do it. You don't think less of me whenever I cry during Grey's Anatomy, no?"

Alexei snorts, wiping his eyes with his sleeve "No, but every episode is the same, I don't get why you do."

"It's predictably sad."

"It's free emotional torture."

"The point is," Niamh shushes him "I love you, Alexei, and so does Ilya. Let us help you."

The thing is, Alexei is used to hold onto the reins, that's just who he is. Control makes life easier, it's calculated and efficient.

Alexei doesn't know who he is when he's not the one leading the game.

But he thinks of Ilya, of the anger and hurt painted on his face, the silent breakage between them, all just because of a stupid fight Alexei had made into a warpath.

It hadn't seemed so unreasonable to him to want Ilya to have better than he did, at the time. When he was nineteen there had been no one else to help out and now, at almost twenty-four, watching Ilya grow up more and more to the same age, he's starting to realize just how much fucked up that had been. He wouldn’t wish that on his brother. Ilya is just a kid, Alexei had been just a kid.

"Just few shifts, when there is no school and hockey." He compromises "And he keeps half money for college fund or whatever he wants to do after."

"It seems fair." Niamh nods, before cupping his cheeks and gently thumbing away at the last tears on the corners of his eyes "It's not me you have to tell this, though."

"I have to ask Elke first if it's fine with her."

"Alexei, that woman treats you like you're her grandchildren, she's not going to say no."

"It's rude to assume, you Canadians are tactless."

Niamh’s lips curl up in a smirk "And you're on your way to become one of us, what does that say about you?"

"Mh." He hums, pulling her closer by the waist. Her hair tickle his chin as he buries his face into her shoulder "Thank you, for making me think. And being here."

He feels Niamh leave a gentle kiss against his neck "For as long as you'll have me. As for now, get up, take a shower, and then we'll see what we can do about that essay. You can talk to Ilya after dinner, yes?"

"Yes." He nods "You shower too?" He then asks innocently, eyeing her crimpled uniform. She always feels gross after coming back from work, despite already showering at the station, it’s just thoughtful thinking.

"No funny business, Mr. Rozanov." Niamh says, looking up mischievously before dislodging herself from the sheets. Her feet slide on the pavement as she rushes to start up the water "You coming?" She yells from the bathroom.

Alexei smiles to the ceiling, before following her out of the room.

-

Ilya accepts the bargain on the spot. Alexei hadn't expected him to not put up a fight or try to compromise his way around it, which, he supposes, might've something to do with Niamh after all. He feels guilty, almost, at Ilya's eagerness, just as he did for their fight. 

"I had no right speaking to you like that." He tells him, even though it doesn't convey half the amount of his regret "I'm really sorry."

Ilya nods, carefully, releasing a relieved sigh and leaning back against the headboard of his bed, like a puppet who got his strings cut "I'm sorry too." He admits after a few seconds "I was pushy, you were stressed, I basically loaded a gun and put it in your hands."

"It doesn't make it alright." Alexei states firmly "Not if it's me or anybody else. That wasn't just chirping."

"Of course it wasn't, nobody got hit after."

"Be serious." Alexei reprimands him, failing to hide his smile "Thank you, for wanting to help. I don't expect you to, I wish you could just be a stupid teen and not have to worry about me."

Ilya bites the inside of his cheeks, like he's picking at his words "You always did for me, I want to do the same. We're brothers, that's how it works and how I want it to work." He settles with, looking back at Alexei with fierceness burning in his eyes "I'm not a kid anymore."

"No, you're not."

"I can be a stupid teen and still help." Ilya insists.

Alexei exhales roughly "Alright. But if it gets in the way of school you are getting fired." He warns him, patting his leg over the duvet "Elke said you can start after a couple of days of training with Avery."

Ilya grins, challenge written all over his face "I won't need it, but I guess it's ok."

To Alexei’s (not-really) surprise, Ilya settles quickly at work. Not that he has never been lazy, but Elke seems really happy with him when Alexei asks, a few weeks in into their agreement. His grades don't stray from their usual average either, a proud B (whatever that means, Alexei still hasn't wrapped his head around it, aside from it being a good thing), and he seems to be playing better than ever on the ice. Therefore, fighting against his guilt, Alexei creates a saving account for him, where he starts to transfer, as agreed, half the money for every shift he takes in his place, all accessible by Ilya once he'll turn eighteen next year.

To Ilya's smugness and Niamh silent but palpable 'I told you so's, Alexei does manage to fix his schedule and simultaneously bring to an end his exhausting cycle of all-nighters and stress illnesses, by shrugging off some of his shifts.

Slowly, painfully so, he starts to get the hang of it, also due to Teagan's help.

Alexei couldn't thank her enough for putting up with him since that first few months of his internship, despite barely knowing him still. He hadn't touched a textbook pretty much since high school by then, and Alexei had discovered he had absolutely no idea about where to start again. Not only she'd offered the quietness of her bookshop's loft to write his essays, but she'd also shared tips and suggestions to help with his reading.

Ironically enough, her first advice had been to start with a book.

"Pick any you think you might find interesting, doesn't matter if it's long, short, or whatever the topic is." She'd said "Reading is not about how much you get down in how little time, is about enjoying what's in front of you and actually get something out of it. So don't pressure yourself and be consistent. Maybe you won't become the next bookworm out there, but it'll give you some lucrative practice."

Alexei had drove home from her shop with a couple books stuck into his backpack and vaguely in need of a drink.

Those... are still a working progress. He hasn't told neither Niamh or Ilya about it, barely got through half the first, read in between breaks at the garage or on the few nights that align with Niamh's shifts. It's frustrating, time consuming and he feels like he's suddenly back in third grade, reading blocky words about magic and monsters with the speed of a dying sloth. Only this time he's twenty-three and there is no one to call him stupid, lazy, an attention seeker, but his girlfriend's very doting sister that supportively keeps a quiet table at her shop for him, and tries to corrupt him into weird methods of colour coding and highlighting.

So, when Teagan surreptitiously hands him a clear squared wrapped package, while both Ilya and Niamh are distracted fussing over his unofficial birthday dinner, Alexei only offers her an embarrassed, yet thankful, smile, later slipping it inside his bedside table, along the rest of his battered copies.

For Ilya's birthday that year, his brother asks for only one thing.

"I want to camp."

"Like, summer camp?"

Ilya shifts in his seat, shaking his head "No, I mean us camping."

"Where?"

"There is a reserve near where Niall and Jean live." Ilya offers.

"Oh, yeah." Niamh nods around a forkful of mashed potatoes. Alexei would find it disgusting if it were anyone else but her, but they did say that loves makes you a fool after all "Dad brought us a couple times, for family bonding. We all kinda hated it, too many spiders."

"Jack K. went with his siblings." Ilya interjects "He said it was very cool, the hikes and everything. And I know you went in Russia, so I thought we could go. Three of us maybe?" He adds, battling his eyelashes in Niamh's direction.

"I love you, kid, but hell would have to freeze over."

Alexei chuckles around the neck of his beer.

"We can do that." He decides after a few minutes "But we speak to Niall first and get right equipment. I'm not getting killed by bear."

"It would be dignified death." Ilya protests, a little too seriously in Alexei's opinion "Russia's national animal is bear and for good reason. It would make pretty good idea for a tattoo, too." He adds significantly. A bit too significantly.

Now it's Alexei's turn to recoil "Over my dead body."

Ilya tilts his head innocently "Might be soon if we meet a bear."

Niall is thrilled to be asked when Alexei gives him a call a few days later. So, on Ilya's birthday, they all drive up to the Callahan’s for dinner and finish packing for that weekend's trip. Ilya doesn't complain about being cramped up in the backseat with their backpacks and duffels, like he usually does when he can't comfortably stretch his legs. Instead, he keeps reading off a guide they got from an outdoor shop when they'd gone looking for appropriate clothes and the few items left on Niall's list, like the Swiss army knife now hanging off a carabineer on Ilya's belt loop.

Alexei feels pretty excited too if he has to be honest. He'd only gone once back when he was fourteen, with a couple of guys from his football team and one of their dad's, to this one camping site a couple of hours away from Moscow. It'd been nice, quiet, Alexei had liked climbing over logs and rocks and playing ball in the middle of nowhere, chasing each other around trees and bushes.

The Callahans start smothering Ilya in affections as soon as Alexei turns off the engine of his car. Niamh watches her parents fuss over his brother while leaning over the hood of his car, with a small soft smile that basically begs Alexei to pull her into his side. She has taken the weekend off to stay with her mother while Niall is off camping with them. A girl's weekend, she'd called it while on the phone with Rory, over his whines about being stuck in his studio while they got to have fun.

Teagan is in the kitchen when they come in, hands covered in red icing, working on writing Ilya's name on top of a mouthwatering chocolate cake.

"Is there something you don't know to do?" is what Alexei greets her with, dipping his pinkie into the bowl.

"Hand's off!" Teagan reprimands him, swatting at his hand. The action only serves to smear more icing on his fingers, to Alexei's delight "But no, I guess not." She says cockily, before going back to the cake. A small frown makes space on her face "Is Ilya spelled with an I or a Y?"

Alexei does his mental math "it's a Y."

"Fuck."

"Is fine, he probably won't even notice."

Ilya, as a matter of fact, doesn't care a bit about the wonky line Teagan tried to use to save the cake, not like he does for securing a piece of it for breakfast tomorrow and thank her with a loud smacking kiss on her cheek.

Alexei makes sure to get a good shot of Ilya blowing out the candles for his album, paired with a picture with all of them standing beside him, and a shot with Rory peaking out the screen of Teagan's laptop, held beside Ilya's head as they make silly faces at the camera.

They stay up late playing board games, a bloodshed, considering Ilya and Niamh's ruthless winning streak, up until Niall prompts them to check their bags one last time before bed.

Niamh is busy changing when Alexei drops into Rory's room, where Ilya is bunking for the night. His brother is already sprawled over the pitch black duvet, in pyjamas, and probably texting his friends, when he leans in after a weak knock.

Ilya barely looks up before signalling him in.

Alexei closes the door behind himself, the wooden box in his hands held precariously against his chest. Ilya's eyes find it immediately, but Alexei stops him before he can even try protesting.

"I know you said this trip was your gift." He says, dropping in front of him on the bed "I didn't pay for this or anything that's inside of the box, I swear."

He hands him the box with an encouraging nod. His words seem to have made Ilya curious enough that he doesn't even fuss apart from eyeing him suspiciously, as he takes off the lid.

Alexei hears him sucking in a shocked breath.

"This is-"

"Mom's jewerly." He nods, as Ilya reverently picks up a small golden set of hoops from one of the compartments.

"How?" Ilya asks, a bit wobblily, clenching his jaw.

"It was in one of the boxes left in the storage room, found it when I was looking for our rain jackets."

"No, I mean, how did you get this?"

Alexei can't help the embarrassed laugh that rips out of him "I took it when father said he wanted to remarry."

"We were still living with him." Ilya gawks "Alexei, did you steal from father?"

"He was going to throw it all away." He defends himself "And even if, he didn't fucking deserve it to keep something of her, probably didn't even notice I took it."

"Fuck." Ilya laughs, wetly "I wish I could've seen it if he ever did." He confesses, sorting through the box with a nostalgic smile. "Why are you giving this to me now?"

"You know…" Alexei says, pointing at his ear. Niamh's birthday gift had consisted in bringing Ilya in to pierce his ears. She'd seen him eyeing her earrings curiously a couple of times and, as Alexei had reasoned when she'd asked him for his permission, Ilya was turning seventeen, he was old enough make these kind of decisions by himself. Ilya had jumped up at the opportunity and didn't even flinch when the guy at the tattoo shop where Fin had helped them get an appointment at for that morning, stabbed him with a needle.

Alexei had already made up his mind about the box earlier than then, but it surely had seemed fitting to not wait until next year anymore.

"I thought you could wear them if you like. Maybe some are bit too girly but-"

"They're perfect." Ilya blocks him, shaking his head furiously, to Alexei's relief "I don't care. But aren't you keeping anything? I already have this." Ilya asks then, touching the cross hanging around his neck.

Alexei bites his lip, a bit sheepish "I did. Her engagement ring."

Ilya's eyes widen up in surprise "You're-?”

"No, no, no, don't get any ideas." He rushes to halt him, raising his hands "I just- she used to say she wanted me to have it, if I ever wanted to marry.” He confesses, his mind stuck to old memories of her getting ready at her vanity, slipping her rings safely on her fingers “I never understood why she'd want that since they’d always fucking hated each other. I don't think I’d use it for it, just in case it's cursed, but it still is a very pretty ring, and it's hers." He ends quietly, shrugging into his shoulders.

Ilya chuckles, his expression soft "Thanks, Lyosha."

"No need." He says, flicking his shin "But remember, you can't change those earrings out for a month, or your ears will fall out."

"Fuck off" Ilya scoffs, laughing. "Here." He says then, when Alexei makes a move to get up. They still have to wake up early tomorrow after all. "Take this for the ring. It probably doesn't fit you, anyway."

Hanging off his fingers is a golden chain, thicker than the one wrapped around Ilya's neck. Alexei doesn't really wear jewerly, he was ready to hide the ring with his books and forget about it, keeping the bittersweet feeling to himself. Instead, he reaches for the necklace, tangling the cold metal between his fingers.

"Now we match!" Ilya smiles, still kind of misty eyed, raising a hand for a high five.

Alexei claps his hand with a humoured sigh "Alright, off to bed now, I’m leaving you here if you're not up by six."

"You're not the boss of me!" Is the last thing Alexei hears before leaving the room, along with the sound of the light switch turning off.

Their morning starts along sunrise. Alexei swiftly gets out of bed to get ready and leaves Niamh, still too conked out to notice, with a forehead kiss and a text on her phone.

Ilya is bouncing off the walls, despite never having been a morning person, and dutifully helps Niall set up the car. Niall and Alexei had both agreed the Callahan's van would be better to travel with.

"We fit three toddler car seats in here back in the days, tents are nothing." Niall had said gingerly, closing the trunk with a click.

Less than an hour later they're on their way to the camping site. Alexei offered to drive, he's used to do it that early in the morning anyway, and is following Niall’s directions over the Folk station playing on the radio. Despite his excitement, Ilya falls asleep not long after leaving the driveway, his head tilted back over the head rest and the seatbelt cutting through his neck.

The camping site is a small clearing a ten minutes walk from the parking spots.

Alexei leaves Ilya and Niall to set up the tents as he pays for the campground fees and utilities, and comes back to find Ilya frowning at the dislodged pieces of tent straight out the duffle.

"Why is it-?" he says, pointing at the ground.

"You have to build it, kiddo." Niall laughs, getting a hammer out of his backpack.

Alexei hides his smile behind his hand as he joins them.

Assembling the tents, despite Ilya's initial worry, doesn't take them that long. Beside them, there is only a couple of families, scattered over the other end of the field, one with a teenager around Ilya's age, the other a couple of littler kids. Niall greets the former with a friendly wave.

"They live a few houses down from us." he explains, as Alexei helps him tying a hammock between two large trees "Teagan babysat their kid a couple of times when she was in high school."

Ilya, the social butterfly, doesn’t waste any time to engage, and Alexei is left making sure he doesn’t stray off too much while he plays football with the oldest of the kids, a few feet away from where they’re finishing unpacking.

They have lunch at the picnic area further down the clearing, with turkey sandwiches Niall packed last night into the biggest cooler Alexei has ever seen, along with enough food for the next two days, a six pack of beers and an insane amount of coke that has Ilya's eyes budge out of their sockets.

That afternoon, they decide to try a middle level trail, an hour long walk on the outskirts of the forest and just above the lake shore. Alexei brings his camera with him, already excited about showing Niamh  pictures once they get back. Niall points out different plants and trees as they walk, adding funny stories about coming out there with his kids or guys from work, every now and then.

"We come fishing sometimes, we have to release the fish but is still pretty fun. I brought the rods if you kids wanna try." He says. Ilya has stopped to look at a couple of squirrels chasing each other up a tree, so Alexei agrees for the both of them. It seems cool, and he can see the appeal of the quietness of the lake that early in morning.

They stop halfway through the trail to rest, drink and, under Niall imperative suggestion, reapply sunscreen. Alexei hates the sticky feeling of it stuck under his fingernails, but doesn't fight it, not with how high the sun still is and the prickling sensation he can already feel on the back of his shoulders, barely covered by his tank top.

When they get back to the campsite its almost dark, and he’s sweaty and achy in his legs, but somehow still feels better than he has in a long time.

They help Niall set up the fire under the cast iron, chatting quietly as the hot dogs sizzle. After dinner, Niall teaches Ilya how to make what Alexei can only consider a marshmallow abomination on a stick, that leaves both of them with sticky fingers covered in melted chocolate. He can still appreciate the fact that they taste really fucking good, though.

Alexei fortunately manages to take a lukewarm shower in the communal facilities, washing off both the grime and sweat of the day and the last residues of tension he'd built up. He comes out in light sweats and a zip up, hair dripping everywhere as he drags his feet back to the camp.

Ilya re-emerges from his own stall in similar conditions, droopy eyed, and doesn't even hesitate to drop onto his sleeping bag once they get back to their tents, with a muffled 'goodnight'.

Alexei sleeps better than he'd have ever expected, waking up only to the sound of crinkling fire outside of the tent and the strong smell of coffee.

As promised, Niall brings them both fishing that morning, as soon as Alexei succeeds in dragging Ilya out of the tent anyway. They don't last long, mostly because Ilya is not cut out to stay still and quiet for such a big span of time, so, while Niall lays back on the grass for his 'old man nap', as Ilya called it, they run back to grab their towels, shredding off everything but swimming shorts to take a dip into the lake.

By lunch, Alexei is wet, starving and nursing a bruise on his hip from being tackled too roughly off the edge of the dock by his brother. His brother who, apparently, keeps forgetting he's not the twelve year old Alexei could still carry to bed when he dozed off on the couch, but a whole six foot tank of a hockey player.

Ilya spends the afternoon running off with the Ferguson's kid, whose parents Niall manages to tempt into a easy game of poker.

"That's your older son?" Mrs Ferguson, Kaylee, asks, surprised, as she and her husband sit down in front of Alexei, who's been mindlessly shuffling the deck "I remembered him a lot shorter."

Niall lets out a booming laugh "No, but I’ll make sure to tell Rory." He says, before clapping a big hand on Alexei shoulder, a proudly open expression on his freckled face "This is Alexei, my Niamh's boyfriend. It was his little brother's birthday a few days ago and he wanted to go camping. Who am I to say no to that, nay? Also, don't let this pretty face fool ya, he's a monster at cards."

Alexei does, indeed, wipe the floor with each of them, as they make small talk over life, work, their kids.

Ilya and Will resurface from god knows where just in time for dinner, rumpled and sweaty and red in their faces, dirt stuck on their knees and clothes.

Ilya is the first to turn in that night, dragging himself into the tent after a long sated stretch.

"I think we can make another trail in the morning, drive back for lunch." Niall proposes, holding out a beer. Alexei cracks it open on the side of his chair, nodding.

"Thank you for agreeing to this." He says, truthfully. He probably wouldn't have had any idea on how to do this if it hadn't been for him.

Niall waves him off with a smile "Glad I did, the kids never liked this kinda stuff." He admits "I missed going out here, lots of clean air, very peaceful... I hope you guys had fun."

"We did." He assures him firmly, his eyes stuck on the burning flames "I think Ilya is going to want to do it again next year, too." He adds, chuckling. His next words come out more bitter than he expected "Maybe if I didn't have work on Monday-"

Niall interrupts him, shaking his head "There is no handbook for this stuff, son, you just do what you can. Parenthood is hard, but kids care about showing up more than anything else, and seems to me you have done plenty of that.

Alexei flushes "I'm not his parent."

Niall pats his shoulder, in a kind of paternal way that has Alexei feel a bit mystified "I've raised three little rascals, I know something about these things." He laughs "You're doing a hell of a job."

"Thank you." He nods, embarrassingly grateful. Then adds, in a smaller voice "Maybe we don't have to wait next year to do it again."

The look on Niall face is so fond Alexei has to look away. Damn Callahans and their wearing their heart on their sleeves.

The next day, Niall brings them deeper into the forest. The sun is high yet invisible behind the trees branches, and the only sound is the crunch of their boots over the rocky trail. It takes them longer to get back to camp, tired from climbing over slopes and through bushes, but, by the time they're all packed up and into the car, on the way to the nearest Tims, he feels settled and relaxed, melted into a puddle in the passenger seat.

The first thing Niamh says to him, after not seeing each other for nearly three whole days, is an accurate, but still very rude, "Shit, babe, you stink like a whole locker." She holds him at arm length while giving him a long, dark look over "and... umh, very sunburnt."

But then, she doesn’t seem to mind much, later that night, as Alexei smirks against her eager lips while carrying her to bed, finally alone behind the closed door of his room.

-

The past comes knocking back at their door during Ilya's first game of the season.

Alexei took a day off specifically to attend, as he often tries for home games, and is currently watching from the stands, wrapped up in a warm fleece, Niamh and Finn both squirming excitedly at his sides every time Ilya touches the puck. Which is, admittedly, many times.

Alexei is just about to turn back to his seat, with Niamh's scalding hot pop corn bin and two root beers held precariously against his chest, when a distinctly accented voice causes him still in his step  "Alexei Rozanov?"

"Da?" He answers, turning to look at the well dressed man, too well dressed for a simple qualification game in a Edmonton’s dingy arena. He's a couple of inches shorter than him, with salt and pepper hair and a pair of rich emerald eyes that make him feel scrutinized from the inside out. Beside him, his carbon copy of a teen, with darker skin and perfectly styled curls, does the same.

"Sergei Vetrov." The man introduces himself, holding out a calloused hand. There is a moment of silence as Alexei awkwardly shakes his hand, as if Vetrov is expecting to be recognised, or any other kind of reaction from him. Probably realizing he's not going to get either, Vetrov smiles, humoured, settling a hand on his daughter's, Alexei supposes, shoulder.

"This is my daughter, Svetlana." He continues, in Russian "We came to watch your brother play."

Alexei didn't think Ilya would be so famous to have fans. He raises an eyebrow with scepticism "You want an autograph?"

Both Vetrovs laugh loudly. The food stands are mostly empty now, the game probably has already started up again, he reasons, but the few people left eye them curiously at the sound.

"No, God, you're funny." Vetrov wheezes out, wiping at his eye, before extracting a business card from the pocket of his suit "I work for a scouting agency, I have clients all over the NHL and KHL. Turns out that Russia is currently very interested in Ilya Rozanov, the Russian-Canadian phenomenon. They want him to play for them at the world juniors." Vetrov says, without beating around the bush.

Alexei feels his face fall "The world juniors?" he repeats, astonished.

"Yes."

"We are not residents in Russia anymore, is that even legal?" Is the only think that comes up to his mind.

"Oh, we can make that legal, you shouldn't worry about that." Vetrov waves him off "What you should do, instead, is call me back if you're interested. I think we could make a great partnership." He adds, sultrily, before walking away with his daughter hanging off his arm, back into the arena.

"Are you okay? What took you so long?" Niamh asks, concerned, when he drops back into the seat next to hers. Finn is too occupied cursing the ref for a penalty to notice. He hands her the now lukewarm pop corn, with a simple sign for 'later'.

Ilya's team, predictably, wins, a clean 5-0, that in his brother's opinion makes the perfect occasion to order pizza for dinner.

They are through the second carton of, thankfully, pineapple-free pizza, when Alexei lets the offer slip out. Ilya's sixth slice falls back into his plate as his hand freezes mid air.

"Sergei Vetrov?" He repeats, shocked "Alexei, what the fuck. Do you even know who that is?"

Actually, no, he does not, but both their reaction are making him feel quite self conscious about it, now "He said he was scout from NHL."

"He was goalie for Moscow Wolves, he went to the Olympics three times, Alexei." Ilya says with urgency, gripping the table with greasy hands "How could you not know?"

"I second that." Niamh adds faintly, Vetrov's business card tight in her hand. "Jesus Ilya, you're gonna play at the world juniors." She laughs, breathlessly.

Everything suddenly feels more real as her words settle into the kitchen's silence.

"Fuck, yes, I'm going to play at the world juniors!" Ilya echoes loudly, tackling her in a fierce hug, right there in the middle of kitchen, in dirty sweatpants and a shirt covered in ketchup stains, over laughter and a joy so bright that has Alexei's heart flutter in his chest, as he gets dragged into their pile.

The next few months are a blur; Vetrov is delighted when he calls him back that Monday, but totally unsurprised and, Alexei thinks, for a pretty good reason after all. Who in their right minds would refuse such offer? Definitely not Ilya, who, in the few months until that fated December, sets up an even more brutal pace both on and off the ice, sometimes even joining Alexei on his morning runs, against all of his precedents.

Then, when he finally reaches Regina for the 2008 World Juniors final, after a whole week and a half spent obsessively watching Russia’s games on their TV, like the fan he's never been, and an almost eight hours drive to Saskatchewan, Alexei finally realizes why.

"Figures." He scoffs, as team Canada steps onto the ice to stretch.

Niamh, still tired from the drive, yawns inside her palm. They've arrived in Regina pretty late into the night, and Alexei can still feel the twinge in his back from trying to sleep on the rock hard bus’s seats. The little sleep they'd managed at the hotel, before having to meet Ilya for breakfast that morning, has barely done anything to keep Niamh's eyes from fluttering shut once she leans on his shoulder. There is still an hour before the game, he'll wake her up then, he thinks.

"That's Shane Hollander." Vetrov says, following his gaze, while digging in a trail of cheesy chips "He's probably Canada's best prospect in this year's division."

There is still something weird, in his opinion, about being this close to an alleged hockey celebrity. Vetrov has been guiding them through all the necessary paperwork ever since they agreed to the contract, even from miles away in Massachusetts, always making time to fly in for games and sponsorships events. Somehow, though, little by little, Alexei had started to really see him fucking everywhere; at Niamh's birthday grill at her parents, on thanksgiving dinner, or, weirdly enough, sat on his couch on a random Sunday morning with a laptop and a tumbler of vodka, surrounded by his usual air of entitlement.

Alexei is pretty sure Niamh has something to do with this, he just can't prove it. So, regretfully, he has learned to accept this, consoled by the growing friendship between Sveta and Ilya. Alexei is quite fond of her, despite her crazy specimen of a father.

"Oh, I know." Alexei grumbles "Ilya is obsessed. I don't know if he hasn't realized I can see his search history on the computer too or he just doesn't care anymore."

Vetrov wiggles his eyebrows.

Alexei makes a retching sound "Not like that, asshole."

Svetlana giggles from her father's side as she carefully looks over each player "Hollander has the best stats and IQ in the junior league. Along Ilya of course." She says then. On the ice, Canada makes space for the Russian team. "But Canada is not a united front this year and their defence sucks." She twirls one of her curls between a delicate finger, deep in thought. "Meanwhile,  Russia has strong skaters but an injured goalie."

"It's going to be a bloodbath!"  Vetrov announces cheerfully.

Alexei wakes Niamh up just in time for the first face off. Ilya and Hollander bend on the ice one in front of the other, eyes locked. Alexei can see Ilya's mouth move on the big screen, Hollander's freckled face contort in a frown, then the puck is being dropped onto the ice and Ilya gets to swipe it under Hollander nose before skating towards Canada's net.

Vetrov was right, the game is brutal, probably the most violent Alexei has ever seen Ilya play. Russia's team doesn't concern itself with the dubious sportsmanship of dirty playing; they trip, chirp and push around Canada's players like rag dolls, no mercy whatsoever.

Still, part of him thinks he's never seen Ilya looking so alive during a game. He's smiling almost ferally as he skates left and right the rink, egged on by the booing crowd like he's listening to his favourite song.

Alexei is only half surprised when Russia takes the last point right by the end of third period, winning with a 3-2 score, but still jumps up in his seat when the timer goes out, after what had seemed like the longest game of his life.

Ilya skates past them with his arms raised in victory, flushed with adrenaline and the satisfaction of having earned gold for his team, his country, whose team stops in its celebration only to line up to shake the other team's hands. Canada's players look dejected as they silently skate past them. Alexei can see Hollander's eyes harden as Ilya keeps his hand hostage for half a second longer, mouthing words he doesn't understand but that clearly have Canada's captain clench his jaw with rage.

Alexei feels so fucking proud he can't even describe it as Ilya leans down to receive his medal, waving to them from the ice. His phone keeps buzzing in his pocket, probably from Nadia's spamming texts. He'll make sure to send her the pictures Niamh is taking of the ceremony, he thinks, as the Russian national anthem starts playing on the arena's speakers.

Alexei doesn't think about possibly embarrassing Ilya in front of his team when they finally meet up back in the hotel’s lobby. The guys are still dressed in suits and carrying their hockey bags as they finish up with the last interviewers.

Ilya doesn't seem to care, laughing over his back as Alexei ruffles the hair on his nape.

"You were amazing, fucking amazing." He tells him, before letting Niamh tackle him into one of her hugs and get his congratulations from the Vetrovs.

"I think this calls for nice dinner!" Vetrov says jovially, one arm around his daughter's shoulders, the other draped around Ilya's "It's on me!"

Actually, maybe Alexei can learn to like Vetrov.

"What did you tell him? Hollander, I mean, after the game. He looked pissed." Alexei asks Ilya curiously, while following Vetrov to his car, Niamh and Svetlana chatting a couple of feet away from them.

"I told him I’ll see him at the draft." Is the only thing Ilya offers, smirking at his own words like it's the best joke he's ever told, as he keeps walking, golden medal still swinging off his neck.

Alexei is left perplexed and, honestly, kind of concerned for Shane Hollander.

-

A month before graduation, Ilya knocks on Alexei's door. This is already enough to click Alexei's brain into flight or fight, because never, in almost eighteen years of his life, has Ilya ever knocked before barging into his personal space.

Potato jumps off his lap to wrap around Ilya's legs as he walks up to his bed to star fish over the duvet, with a long sigh.

"You okay?" Alexei asks after a couple of minutes, dropping his reading glasses over the desk and closing his laptop. Studying for this test has been draining him, so much that Alexei almost regrets whatever made him think he had higher aspirations than serving coffees for a living.

"Mh." Ilya hums, hugging one of his pillows to his chest.

Is just the two of them that night, Niamh has a twenty-four hour shift and Fin has left briefly after dinner to meet up with his mystery girlfriend. Alexei has some theories about it, but if he knows Finn as much as he thinks he does, he's going to cave sooner than later without him needing to pry much.

Alexei turns into his desk chair, rolling over the edge of the bed to put his feet over his brother's lap.

"What? Why are you moping?"

"Is not moping." Ilya pouts.

Alexei gives him a meaningful look.

Ilya bites on his words for a few seconds, then, still looking at the ceiling, says "I don't want to go to college."

That has Alexei frowning in his seat.

"Why would-"

"I know you wish I did." Ilya interrupts "But I just- hockey is what I want to do. Sergei says it's pretty certain I’ll be drafted, he's heard rumours about North America’s teams looking for star centers."

"Alright." Alexei trails off, slowly "I would never force you to do something you don't want to."

"But you also think hockey is dangerous and unpredictable."

"I do." Alexei nods, truthfully "And it is."

"But?"

"But it's your life, I'm not the one playing." He sighs "You already know all of this, what is it really?"

"Sveta thinks I should wait and play a year in the minor league. Many players do, is to get more chances at training camps." He explains vaguely.

"Ilya."

"She wants me to move to New York with her." Ilya says, finally "Sergei has some contacts there with the AHL and Sveta is going to Columbia in the fall."

"New York." Alexei echoes, faintly.

"New York." Ilya confirms "Sergei said the team would take care of the housing, or Sveta and I could share an apartment. It's a good team, good opportunity." He adds, nervously braiding the fringe of the pillow.

New York. Two thousands miles away New York. The thought only is enough to send his brain into a spiral.

Rationally, Alexei has always known that Hockey would haver brought Ilya out of boring Edmonton. Sure, part of him hoped maybe he would choose a different career later on, something safer, that hopefully wouldn't cost them that many trips to the dentist, but Alexei has known he was done for pretty much for the past two years. It was just a matter of when, and when, apparently, is now, or, well, in September, because Ilya wants to move to New York and Alexei, for as much as the thought makes his skin prickle with anxiety, knows he isn't going to say no.

Ilya might be only 18, in less than a couple of weeks anyway, but it would be really hypocritical of Alexei to fight him about something he did himself when he was barely older than him. Still-

"Isn't there any team in Edmonton?" He chuckles awkwardly, picking at his sweatpants' string.

"Edmonton affiliates are in California."

"What the fuck." Alexei groans "Why would they be in California if they play for Edmonton?"

That manages to get a smile out of Ilya, who turns on his side to lock their eyes.

He's grown so much that past year; he thinks they're almost the same height now and Ilya got pretty broad shouldered lately, too, strong, a long call from the little kid that couldn't even reach the pantry, less than five years ago. Alexei used to think they didn't look that much alike, but now it's kind of uncanny when they're side by side; same high cheekbones, hooded eyes and curled blond hair, similar in everything but the colour of their eyes and the moles littering Ilya’s skin.

"There are a couple teams closer to home." Ilya admits "They're just not like the Comets. It would be a great contract and salary, especially if I get a signing bonus to like, I don't know, Toronto or the Admirals."

"If this is about money-"

"It's not." Ilya reassures him "It would just be nice. And I look hot in black."

"Shut up." Alexei says, throwing a pillow in his face.

They giggle stupidly for a couple of minutes, Alexei still leaned back into his chair and Ilya holding a purring Potato on his chest.

"If you really want to go, I’m okay with it." He states calmly, maybe also to try and convince himself "Even if it has to be six hours away from here."

Ilya's face contorts in an undecipherable expression, the way it usually does when he's trying to not be emotional.

"I'm gonna miss it here." He whispers roughly, scratching behind Potato's ears.

I'm gonna miss you.

Fuck, if Alexei is going to miss him too.

Alexei nudges gently at his thigh with one foot "Maybe the Comets won’t even want to sign with you, don't break your head over it."

"Fuck off, asshole." Ilya beams, pushing Alexei's legs off "Maybe I should go to California, the further from you the better. Rory said the girls are very hot there, anyway."

"Rory is such a workaholic, he probably hasn't seen anywhere but his studio since he came to visit. I'm pretty sure he forgot how a woman that's not related to him looks like." Alexei deadpans, standing and clapping his hands over Ilya's shoulders.

"I'm proud of you." He says earnestly. And he is, more than he could have ever imagine feeling for a person "But god knows what will happen if you forget to call even one night. I'll have Sveta snitch on you so fast."

Ilya smirks, wobblily "She wouldn't."

"She wouldn't." Alexei agrees after a few seconds, defeated "I despise the day you two became friends."

"You don't."

He doesn't.

"I do. Every time she's here, Vetrov is too." He still complains.

"He was a goalie, they're all weird."

Alexei sighs heavily "Fucking hockey."

From then on, it’s only a matter of trying not to think about everything that could go wrong.

In the meanwhile, Ilya finally graduates. It's a big event; the Callahans insist on attending and Alexei can swear their side of the crowd is the loudest, the moment Ilya walks up on stage to get his diploma. Alexei is teary eyed once the students start to disperse and he walks up to them in his navy blue cap and gown.

They barely fit at their dinner table that night, but Alexei tries to take in as much as he can, stamp this picture beneath his eyelids to look at it every time he feels like missing something. He has everything he could ever want, he thinks, holding Niamh's hand tightly over his thigh.

Then, Ilya gets drafted first overall by the Boston bears. Honestly, Alexei had no idea who they even were before Vetrov came up to them a few minutes before the actual draft to share the news. Ilya is shaking into his seat by the time his name gets called, and smiles so brightly at the cameras, while holding up his new jersey, that Alexei can't even bother worrying about anything but making sure to get a good shot of it, to keep safe.

Alexei stands next to Ilya as the Bear's president eagerly shakes both their hands, a proud hand settles on his brother’s shoulder.

"I'll work hard." Ilya promises, more professional than he’s ever seen him.

"I know you'll do, son." Davies responds, lifting his glass in a silent toast. "Between you and Hollander, it's going to be a whole new era." He says joyfully.

Niamh couldn't take a few days off to fly to LA with them, but Rory, despite having as much knowledge as Alexei regarding such things, happily ditched a late night recording session just to attend. It comes specifically in handy once Sveta drags Ilya away to socialize with the other picks, and they retreat to the open bar to catch up.

Alexei is tipsy enough when they get back that he doesn't even hear the door to his and Ilya's room open up again that night, unlike he does when Ilya pads back in, around three AM, in work out clothes and sweaty like he just ran the New York marathon, grinning like a maniac into the dark room.

"Stop being creepy and fucking go to sleep." Is the only thing Alexei is able to slur out, before passing out again.

That summer slips through his fingers like sand; between packing Ilya’s room on a one way ticket to New York and work, Alexei has his hands completely full. He thinks he does a good job at hiding how bittersweet it feels, to put it all back into boxes, the same trophies and posters they’d hung up together when Ilya first came to Edmonton. His room feels void when they’re done with it, once everything is in the hands of Vetrov’s men and ready to be shipped across the continent.

When it’s time, Alexei forces himself to hold on until Ilya is way past the baggage drop before breaking down. It’s a bit embarrassing how long it takes them to leave the airport’s parking lot, after that. Alexei lets Niamh drive on the way back, his head pressed against the window and his eyes still burning.

It’s a lot to get used to. Alexei had thought he wouldn’t notice that much difference by getting back to his normal life. Instead, it feels utterly lonesome whenever Niamh is on shift and he’s home alone, even more so when, out of habit, he keeps coming back from the grocery store with cereals he’s never going to eat and juice he doesn’t even like. Ilya, on his part, keeps his promise and fills his phone with texts and calls whenever he’s bored and left to himself, which, until the start of the season and with Sveta busy with college orientation, is pretty much all the time.

He and Sveta got a decent sized apartment in Brooklyn. Alexei had flied in to help them house hunting, back in July, and it feels almost overwhelming seeing it in the back of Ilya’s head during their calls, fully painted and furnished, as he and Sveta bicker over dirty socks and errant pairs of shoes.

They’re so domestic that, a month into their cohabitation, Alexei can’t help but ask “Are you two fucking?”

The answer he gets from their side of the screen is a boisterous couple of laughs and a middle finger. Sue him, he’s had to throw out Ilya’s empty condom boxes from their bathroom ever since he turned sixteen, Alexei feels at least a little entitled to snoop.

“Sveta, you can definitely do better.” Is the only thing he manages to add, before getting hung up on.

It’s almost impossible, with their jobs, to fly in for his games, but he knows Ilya appreciates the texts they send him both before and after, pictures of them curled up on their couch in front of the TV, sometimes at Jean and Niall’s house, where they’re all dressed in black and red jerseys. Alexei thinks he’s probably never watched as many games as he did in that last three months.

Ilya comes out of luggage claim, three days before Christmas, wearing a Comets’ toque over his head and a blinding smile on his face. There is a blooming bruise on his jaw from his last game against Pennsylvania, and he looks worn out from flying, but still finds the energy to tackle both him and Niamh against the trunk of his car. Everything feels back to normal once he starts driving to the Callahan’s, from Ilya leaning in from the backseat as he and Niamh talk about that season’s stats, to Fleetwood Mac playing on the radio. Ilya flies back two days after New Year’s Eve. Alexei doesn’t realise he’s really going back to new York until he’s helping him getting his trolley out of the car.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” he can’t help but ask, once they reach security “And give Sveta our gifts and the gloves Jean made her, she’s very proud of them.”

“Alright, mom.” Ilya says, patting him on the shoulder, a soft look on his face “You know, I’m not going to war.”

Alexei clears his voice, wiping his eyes “Fuck off. Just take care, alright? They beat you like a drum set in every game, let the defensemen do their job for once.”

Ilya spares him from calling him out at the obvious lie and hugs him just a little bit tighter.

It get’s easier over time, despite the awful guilt Alexei carries from watching his brother’s life only through a screen.

Coming January, Alexei officially enters the last year of his apprenticeship and Niamh gets officially promoted to Lieutenant. It’s a formal ceremony, and everyone, from the rest of her shift and their family to the district’s fire chief, attend. Alexei is not even bothered by having to wear a tie when he gets to see the love of his life standing proudly over the stage, new badge shining on her uniform as she delivers her oath. Niamh hadn’t expected the offer. She had spiralled so much that Alexei had been sure they would have to fill the hole she made in the floor, by pacing back and forth through the living room.

“You studied hard for this.” Alexei had told her that evening, when she’d come back home tight as a spring “You’re qualified, experienced, why wouldn’t the choose you?”

“Why would they?” she retorted “Most of the guys are older than I am and have the same qualifications I do.”

“But Rivers didn’t choose them. He chose you.” Alexei had insisted, padding closer and closer until their socked feet touched and he could cup her cheek into his hand “You are great firefighter; you are strong, brave, you care, and you don’t let anything bring you down. If I had to choose who give promotion to, that would be you, Lisichka.”

“You don’t think you’re a bit biased?” Niamh had sniffed, her palm coming up to cover the back of his hand as she gave him a watery smile.

“Maybe,” he said, honestly “But I also know I am right. You deserve all of it, Lieutenant.”

Niamh had kissed him then, in the middle of their living room, just like she does now, after getting off the stage, laughing against his lips as he picks her off the ground.

That year, Canada wins the World Juniors with a 3-1 score. Ilya sulks, but doesn’t seem too distraught about it apart from the apparently unacceptable knowledge of having lost to Shane Hollander, of all people.

“You are so full of yourself.” Alexei tells him while unloading groceries, his computer perched over a pile of clean laundry begging to be fold. Ilya groans over then line, a whiny high pitched sound.

“It’s totally unfair. Half the team doesn't know to use a stick and I am the one that has to pay the price.”

“Tell me you didn’t say this to the other guys, too.”

“How could they get better if I didn’t?” Ilya huffs.

Alexei shakes his head, fondly “You’re such an asshole. You’re lucky you’re never going to see them again. Nikolai shouldn't tell anyone he’s actually your friend, or they’re going to kick his ass in the KHL.”

“Why wouldn’t he? I am going to be the number one player of the NHL.”

“Not if Hollander beats you to that, too, loser.”

Alexei is still laughing when Niamh gets back from her shift that day, to the sounds of Ilya’s outraged shrieks.

With the incoming playoffs, Ilya’s calls become more erratic. Alexei gets rapidly used to see the background of the arena’s gym, as Ilya yaps about anything and everything, like the new gyros kiosk that opened a few blocks over their apartment or the last Admirals game that Svetlana insisted to get tickets for. Despite this, the Comets get kicked off on third round after a brutal game that costs them not only that year’s cup, but, to Ilya, one of his bottom teeth. Alexei and Niamh had been watching the game when Winnipeg’s forward shot the puck straight to his face, ten minutes before the end of third period. Alexei hadn’t know whether to feel more disturbed from the sight of his brother’s blood splattered face or Ilya’s nonchalance in displaying his new smile like a normal development.

Dr. Trembley doesn’t look that impressed to see them in his waiting room, that Monday, a couple of days after Ilya’s flight back home. Alexei wishes they wouldn’t come up in his schedule that often, either.

The good thing about all of that at least, Alexei thinks, is that Ilya doesn’t have to fly out until training camp early in August. At least that’s up until, a week after getting  back from camping with Niall and the Fergusons, he tells Alexei he’s been offered an endorsement deal with CCM. On the phone, Vetrov sounds satisfied both about the contract and the eventual publicity, and he too has glumly grown to trust him about those kind of things, enough to agree it may be a good idea. Encouraged by Niamh, Alexei accepts to fly in with him that weekend.

“He misses you.” She says, when he brings out Ilya’s offer as they clean up after dinner. Ilya’s already taken the first turn in the bathroom, Alexei can hear the shower running and music blasting through the door. “Plus, I work all week and you hate staying home alone. It’s a win-win situation.”

Alexei has never been to Toronto, but Ilya moves around with expertise once they land, guiding them through customs and luggage claim, to the car already waiting for them outside of the airport. Alexei hasn’t really thought about how much exactly Ilya is earning by playing hockey, but when they reach the hotel the company booked them in, he feels a bit lightheaded. His room, because apparently they had the budget to book two of them separately, feels kind of like a very big and lavish living room, only with a king sized bed and a view of the whole damn city.

Totally taking advantage of finally being back to Canada, Ilya has the car leave them in front of a pub, right in the centre of Toronto. It’s less crowded than Alexei expected, the food is great, and he and Ilya spend the rest of the night playing pool and nursing a couple beers before going back for the night.

The shooting is at a nearby rink at noon the next day.

“Isn’t that Hollander?” Alexei asks Ilya once he catches up to him, now fully in gear, nodding in the direction of another fully geared up player stuck in the middle of a conversation with a middle aged Asian woman and, Alexei supposes, the shooting director.

Ilya nonchalantly fiddles with his helmet’s straps as Willow, the makeup artist on set, fixes his curls around his face, touching up faded acne scars and stubborn traces of stubble. “Oh, yeah. They told me yesterday.” He says, not meeting his eyes.

Alexei hums quietly but doesn’t press the matter.

They have Ilya and Hollander warm up for a couple of minutes, before setting them up for accuracy shots, puck control circuits, following them with the cameras around the rink like parents with a crawling toddler. Alexei is texting Niamh some pictures from last night and the set when he feels someone settling in the other seat next to his.

“Hi!” the woman says, tucking herself more tightly into her coat. “I’m Yuna Hollander, Shane’s mother.”

Confused, he pockets his phone, accepting her handshake “Alexei, Ilya’s brother.”

“This is a bit surreal, right?” Mrs. Hollander says then, her eyes back onto the ice. They lowered the lights, Ilya and Hollander are crouched down like they would for a face-off as the technicians move a black screen behind them.

“Yes.” He nods “NHL deal, is big thing.”

“Shane can’t wait.” She continues “It has been his dream ever since he put on his skates for the first time.”

Alexei nods “Ilya does too, is excited for training camp. Shane is going to Montreal, yes?”

“Montreal.” Mrs. Hollander confirms “They’re going to be playing each other a lot, Montreal and Boston are natural enemies on the ice.”

Alexei can’t help but grimace “They are pitting them against the other for money, hardly natural.”

Mrs. Hollander doesn’t look offended by his remark, turning to watch him with an undecipherable look on her face “It could be good publicity for their games.”

“They’re still kids.” Alexei shrugs. They both get distracted by Ilya’s booming laugh coming from ice. Beside him, Hollander is leaning with his hands on his knees, shaking in silent laughter as the director, urges them for another take. Alexei chuckles quietly “And they think those two are going to be enemies?”

The stunt had always felt almost preposterous to him, especially considering neither of them had ever played in a professional NHL game yet. Plus, he doesn’t think Ilya actually has any hating bone in his body, especially not towards Hollander, who Alexei has had to hear about ever since Ilya was sixteen. There is some sick twist in the media taking a solid position over this, even though, Alexei is convinced, Ilya has never played better as he does when it’s against Shane Hollander.

Mrs. Hollander shakes her head, amused “Boys.” She sighs “Well, they are both great players, is surely going to be an interesting season.” There is a tone of finality in her words that is almost intimidating, but then her stance turns softer as she turns and asks “So, are you flying back home tomorrow?”

“In the morning, is long way to Edmonton.”

That is how Alexei spends the next thirty minutes talking with Shane-fucking-Hollander’s mother, about a bit of everything really, like their families, work, the unfairness of car insurance expenses. Mrs. Hollander seems like a nice woman, maybe a bit too much into hockey, but great company as they wait for the shooting to be done. They part ways when Ilya’s text comes through, saying that he’s waiting for him outside of the rink.

When he finds him, Ilya is bouncing on the balls of his feet, still pink from the shower and in a weirdly happy mood. Sometimes is better not to ask, he thinks to himself, just like he does when, right after dinner, Ilya uncharacteristically announces he’s going back to his room to get some sleep before their flight.

That summer, while both Alexei and Niamh work, Ilya is barely home. Honestly, Alexei is glad he still managed to keep up with his friend from back home even after moving to New York; some nights he’s out with the kids from his old hockey team, others is Jay and Bryce from high school, who still drop by the café sometimes, armed with laptops and too little hours of sleep, or the Ferguson’s kid, Will, over the few weekends they spend at the Callahan’s.

This time, when Ilya leaves, Alexei doesn’t feel as lost as he did that first time around. There is still some uneasiness throbbing at the back of his head, he doesn’t like the idea of Ilya alone in Boston, despite Vetrov’s stamp of approval that doesn’t do anything but make him even more sceptical. Still, Ilya seems to be thriving there, and Alexei is absolutely not surprised when he makes the roaster.

As it turns out, Ilya’s first game as an NHL player is against the Montreal Voyageurs. Media wise, it’s a whole ordeal, at least from what Finn refers as he scrolls through his phone, instead of working. They’ve already closed the shop after a hell of a double shift, and normally, even if barely awake on his feet, he wouldn’t press him about hurrying up, but Niamh has been sick for the past few days with a horrible stomach virus and the thought of leaving her to suffer through it any longer by herself is rapidly becoming unbearable. Their plans to fly to Boston for the game had completely evaporated by the second day Niamh woke up to empty her entire soul into the toilet. When they’d informed Ilya he had simply told Niamh to feel better soon, along with an overconfident ‘Not the only game I’m going to win, anyway’ and a wink.

Despite the unfortunate development, they still planned to watch the live streaming, cozied up at home and in the near trajectory of a sick bucket.

If Alexei indulges in the gas pedal while driving back home, that’s only between him and the thankfully empty roads. It’s only October, but it’s already freezing in Edmonton, and Alexei is still shivering in his boots when he finally gets into the apartment, to the engulfing warmth of the heater and the distinctive smell of home. The TV is already on the sport channel, Alexei can hear the analysts comments from the door as he shucks coat and shoes off. The living room is empty when he walks in, there are bags from the convenience store still to be emptied onto the kitchen isle and take away from their usual Indian place still fuming on the counter. But no Niamh.

“Niamh?”

The bathroom door is only half closed, but Alexei still knocks before coming in “Niamh, is everything okay?”

Niamh voice is short as she calls out “You can come in.”

Anxiety settles on the bottom of his stomach as he slips in through the door, but when he peaks in Niamh is sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, her eyes fixed on the sink and vacant. She looks better than she did that morning, but the shadows under her eyes look almost daunting now and her freckles are dark over the sickly paleness of her skin. Alexei feels a pang of helplessness course through him as he walks up to her, kneeling at her feet and bringing her hand to his lips.

“Solnyshko? What’s wrong, love?”

“I was feeling better earlier and I went to get groceries.” Niamh says, after a few seconds. Her face is completely void, there are no tears, no lines on her face, and it’s kind of freaking him out all things considered, more than it would have to find her in crying on the bathroom floor “Max was ringing me up, but there was this pregnant woman behind me so, you know, I let her go first, obviously. And while she was paying I thought…” her breath itches “I’ve been sick all week, every morning, and I was really craving butter chicken tonight.” She rambles, before reaching up to the sink.

Alexei feels a bit faint when he finally looks up, to Niamh holding a pregnancy test in her free hand.

“You-“

Niamh nods, staring into nothing “I am.”

His ears are ringing as he falls back on his ass, against the cabinet under the sink, unstable on his legs. There is total emptiness in his head when he tries to put together one coherent though, all but-

“Are you okay?” he asks her.

Niamh slowly lowers herself to the floor, next to the toilet, leaning on the wall behind her as she finally locks their eyes together. Their knees are touching, sat like this, and despite it being the least comfortable position he could have ever ended up in, Alexei feels just a little more grounded.

“I don’t know.” She admits, biting at her knuckles “We talked about having kids but I’d never thought it would be now, you know.”

It’s not like they haven’t been safe. The only good thing Grigori Rozanov had ever taught him, in his own contorted way, was to be pragmatic. But at some point in their relationship, it had grown inevitable to wonder about the future, and there was no universe in which Alexei couldn’t imagine having one with Niamh. It was something to look forward to, down the line.

Now, his hands are shaking as he drags them roughly over his thighs, the fabric of his jeans burning his palms “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Is your choice” He stutters, over the sound of his sinking heart “There is, how is called, aborition? Or- uhm- I could-“

Niamh laugh breaks through the four claustrophobic walls of the bathroom like thunder, catching him off guard. Only it’s not the nervous, hysterical, kind of laughter she falls into when she’s trying not to cry, but an uncontrollable fit that soon enough has him bent over his knees, face hidden behind his hands as he shakes in his shoulders.

“We’re having a baby.” Niamh laughs through tears, a beaming wet smile stretched on her lips.

Alexei doesn’t think he can master a single string of English right now, so he just nods, opening his arms for her to crawl into as they end up sobbing into each other. They’re going to have a baby. It feels so surreal that he can’t even think about anything else. He’s twenty-six, crouched on a bathroom’s floor with tears streaming down his face, happier than he’d ever thought he would be and absolutely scared shitless. But Niamh is still laughing in his arms, her face glowing underneath the tear tracks, as the realization finally kicks in.

Alexei supposes they can be afraid together this once, and he kind of can’t wait for it.

Chapter End Notes

As said, here's the second part, way earlier than usual 'cause i have no idea when the last chap will be ready since i have exams up until february (Jesus christ), kinda wanted to make myself forgiven pre-emptively.
I have big plans for the last one and maybe a little epilogue at the very end, but i will not raise any expectations.

Thanks to all the reddit posts talking about how the NHL work, they were my crutches while navigating through this mess.
The funniest thing i thought about while writing this is the 'a single mom that works two jobs' audio playing over Alexei's hovering and mothering his way around, literally the entirety of this fic.

This being said, hope y'all liked this, really grateful for all the comments and kudos!

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

Niamh's first trimester is what Alexei would describe as a fucking emotional roller coaster.

The first month, Niamh spends it making her way back and forth to the bathroom.

It's almost absurd how even the subtlest smell of coffee is able to send her off, just like the hint of anything spicy, the chemical smell of the lockers at the station, or the faint traces of smoke left on Alexei's clothes after a cigarette. Despite this, Niamh takes all of it like a champion, chugging on electrolytes and ginger ale like a drunk with a beer on Saint Patrick's day while still trying to keep up with the life outside their bathroom.

One downside of it, though, is that it makes it almost impossible for them to keep it a secret.

It takes Ilya exactly three days to call them out on it; the day after their win, the Bears fly to Tampa for another game later that week. Ilya calls them from a luxurious hotel room, visibly jet lagged but still hyped from the game. Alexei, who has spent the past few days waking up at the break of dawn to keep Niamh hair back as she retched, is only able to keep up with half of his chatter. There is something about Marlow, his designated roommate on the road and alleged babysitter, and Alexei vaguely gets the one anecdote from Svetlana's terrible dating life in New York, but that's just about it.

To top it off, Alexei has been jittery ever since seeing the two lines on Niamh's pregnancy test.

Right after the final and ultimate realization that that was actually happening, neither of them had been able to sleep much.

"What if it gets my ears?" Niamh had blurted out, maybe twenty minutes into their pretending to be fine, spent on their back, side by side, with their eyes locked onto the ceiling and their hands tangled between them "Kids at school used to call me Spock. Do you think ears are genetic?"

"I have no idea."

"I will give my kid the ugliest ears ever." Niamh had said dejectedly.

"They are not ugly, they are... particular."

"This doesn't make me feel better." Niamh sighed "I hope it gets your ears."

There'd been a moment of silence, then Niamh had shifted onto her side, prompting him to do the same. They'd already turned off the lights, but the soft pallor coming from the open window was enough for him to see the frown etched between her brows as well as the way she kept torturing her lower lip between her teeth.

"Do you think... do you think we're making the right call about this?" She'd asked, without looking him in the eyes, as she trailed a hand over his forearm "I got that promotion just a few months ago and, I mean, the guys will be happy for us, you know them, but... wouldn't it be like letting them down? And you still have a couple months left before finals, I don't want to stress you with this."

Despite his own turmoil, Alexei had firmly shook his head  "No." He said, his own hand coming up to lift up her chin towards him. There were unshed tears stuck on her lashes, a bit from earlier, some fresh, threatening to fall. Alexei had felt his heart pull in his chest "This is not stress. It's scary, because it's big change, but it could never be stress. Whatever you choose to do, I am with you, but do not do it for my sake." He'd whispered, locking their eyes together "And the guys would never think that. Do you remember when Grace had her baby last year? She had just stopped being rookie, yes? Maybe is not same thing, but they love you, and I’m sure they will love it too."

"They would spoil it." Niamh had sniffled, before hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

Alexei had caressed her hair, leaving a kiss on the crown of her head "They would. Letting it slide down the pole, turn on siren..."

Niamh huffed a wet laugh "How are you so calm about this?" She asked, leaning back to press their foreheads together.

"I am terrified" he admitted, instead "What if I am bad parent? What if I let you down? My dad was shit, I have no idea how to do this." Alexei had said, thumbing at the corner of her eyes "But we can learn together. We always figure it out. Best team."

"Best team." Niamh had echoed, smiling softly, before leaning in for a kiss. She tasted like Pepto and raspberry Gatorade, but Alexei hadn't cared as he brought her closer to rest over him.

They'd fallen asleep like that, that night, one on top of the other, nestled deeply into the covers and completely wiped out. That is until Niamh had woke up at barely five in the morning, nearly crashing over the nightstand in her rush to reach the toilet.

"Okay so, why do you look like you're about to fall over?" Ilya finally asks, crossing his arms over his chest "Is Niamh still sick?"

Alexei tenses, sitting up on the stool "No, she should be on her way back from her shift now, just a bit battered up still. Why? You talked to her?" She hadn't said anything to him, had she?

They had decided they would keep off announcing anything yet, at least until her doctor appointment next week. Just to be sure, they'd agreed, as if the four other tests Niamh had made Alexei buy yesterday morning hadn't been already proof enough.

Ilya's face morphs in confusion "No? Should I have to?"

"No!" He hurries to say, in the heaps of fixing his mistake "Everything is fine. Totally fine. Don't call her."

"Alright..." Ilya trails off, looking definitely concerned. Fuck, Alexei should have caught up on some sleep before accepting his call "Is there... anything you want to tell me?"

Alexei wipes his hands across his face as he scrambles for an answer, anything really.

Then, the front door opens, and Niamh comes barrelling in, wearing her civvies, her coat buttoned up to her neck.

"Oh! Hey Ilya." She greets the screen as she comes up behind him.

Ilya watches her, both of them, with an impending frown "Hey, Vi."

She leaves a kiss on Alexei's cheek as she slips past him, towards the fridge, before sitting down on the stool next to his, a can of ginger ale clutched in her hands. She looks better than she did that morning, less pale and weary, but like she could fall asleep at any moment.

Alexei is too busy checking her over to notice Ilya's face falling to the ground "You're pregnant."

Silence hangs from both sides of the line.

"What?" Niamh laughs, albeit a bit hysterically.

"Ginger Ale." Ilya points out eagerly "Marly's wife only drinks that when we go out, for morning sickness. I only had hunch from all the vomiting but you guys suck at keeping secrets." He looks smug for a few seconds, then his expression softens in what Alexei can only define as hopeful "So, is true?"

Alexei sighs, but he's smiling when Niamh nods to the camera, sheepishly.

"We think so."

"You think so? What does it mean? You don't know how babies are made, now?"

Alexei holds up a middle finger "Shut up, asshole. Niamh has doctor appointment next week, to confirm, but we're pretty sure."

"Fuck." Ilya lets out, then more excitedly "I'm going to be an uncle?!"

"You're going to be an uncle." He confirms, voice weirdly thick, pulling Niamh closer by the edge of her stool "But keep it to yourself, we haven't-"

"Marly!" Ilya's voice barks through the screen, to the sudden shadow behind the camera "I'm going to be an uncle!"

"Thats's rad, Rozy!"

Niamh is giggling beside him, her nose scrunched up in laugher as she keeps her ginger ale from spilling. She excuses herself not long after, waving at Ilya with drooping eyes, before walking straight to their room for her well earned rest.

Ilya smirks then, leaning into the camera with mischief painted on his face "So, how do you feel, daddy?"

"Fuck off." He snorts, totally aware of how he looks right now, too flushed and content to be taken seriously "We had talked about having kids someday, but now? It's crazy. Maybe I'm crazy, for being this happy about all of this." He considers out loud.

Alexei had never really thought that much about having kids before meeting Niamh, to be completely honest. It had felt mostly like an actual rite of passage into real adulthood, something people are expected to do at some point in their life. Instead, Alexei feels like he's been tasked with the responsibility of a piece of each of their hearts walking on the outside of their bodies. It's thrilling and absolutely terrifying at the same time.

"Being happy is a good look on you." Ilya assures him "Have you already thought about what's next? Names, babyproofing, furniture... you should move into my room now that you're going to have a baby, use yours for the nursery." He suggests absentmindedly, playing with the strings of his Bears hoodie.

"We were thinking about moving actually." Alexei reveals, sipping off Niamh's half empty ginger ale "Get a bigger place, a three bedroom maybe, closer to the station."

Ilya stops in his movements "Three?"

"Of course." He states firmly "There is always going to be a place for you here, baby or not."

There had been no doubt in that, neither on his or Niamh's part, when looking over flats listings with only 4 hours of sleep and a dream, like the baby was going to come out in the span of a week.

Still, Ilya's eyes look glassy in the grainy picture of his camera as he nods, clearing his voice before swiftly changing the subject.

That week before Niamh's appointment feels never ending. Alexei rapidly loses count of the amount of times he catches himself looking at the circled date on their calendar. But when the OB/GYN points at the mostly shapeless form on the black and white screen, any doubt still simmering at the back of his mind unravels into peaceful quiet.

Niamh is glowing on the way home, in the passenger seat, pictures held safely on her lap as she brainstorms.

"Six weeks it's still pretty early, but I don't know if I can manage keeping it a secret until Christmas." She admits "And I mean, we're not that superstitious, are we?"

Alexei keeps his eyes on the road as he deadpans "I don't know, I haven't been pregnant before."

"You're a comedian, has anyone ever told you that?" She asks, her lips pursed, like she's trying not to laugh.

"Your dad loves my jokes."

"My dad is an old man, of course he likes lame jokes."

Alexei gasps "Are you calling me lame?"

"It's okay, baby, you have many other qualities." She reassures amusedly, patting his thigh over the gear stick.

"I think it doesn't matter if we tell now or wait." Alexei says then, covering her hand with his "It's going to be fine."

Niamh is smiling the next time he looks over.

The high and the rush of the first couple of months culminate when Alexei opens their front door, fully expecting the delivering man with the greasy pizza Niamh has been craving all afternoon, and in his place finds Vetrov with a small trolley and a fourteen carats smile.

"A little birdie told me you need assistance for housing!" He says jovially, walking over Alexei and into the house, to embrace a well shocked Niamh into his arms "Niamh, my precious, congratulations!"

"Hi, Sergei." She stutters, confused, sending Alexei a lost look over Vetrov's shoulder.

"I'm going to kill him." Alexei mouths. Ilya is going to pay for this. Alexei will make holes in that old, battered, fowl smelling lucky socks of his and key his new and very expensive car, for as much as the thought alone is enough to make him sick, all for they day he brought Sergei Vetrov into their lives.

"What... what do you mean?"

"Consider me your new estate realtor." Vetrov says, shrugging off his pricy looking coat and throwing it over an armchair "I love doing these things, is very, how you say, fun side job."

"I don't think my brother pays you to work for us." Alexei mumbles.

"He doesn't." Vetrov agrees, clapping his hands like one would with a child "He said you have problem and I offered to fix it. You know, he is very happy with house I found him in Boston."

"It is a beautiful house." Niamh considers.

"See?" Vetrov says, trafficking with his work bag "He called and said 'Lyosha can't find bigger flat' and since I’m also very good at my not-side-job, I came here! I take my clients interests very seriously." He takes a sleek computer out of his briefcase, settling back against the couch. He sinks into the cushions with a displeased groan "We will also find you better couch, yes?"

Alexei has to count to three in his head before saying something very offensive.

Overall, Vetrov makes himself actually useful. In less than a week they have four appointments for house visiting and Niamh looks way less preoccupied whenever the topic rises, irrelevant if it’s on the phone with her family or late at night in bed with him, in hushed whispered confessions.

Packing up the apartment settles a grovelling knot of sadness onto his chest. Alexei almost can't believe he only moved in less than five years ago; all the pictures hung onto the walls, the DVDs stacked under the tv, every knick-knack they've accumulated through time, scattered on second hand furniture, pieces of their life mixed with memories from their childhood, and, with Niamh's, his future.

Ilya insists on flying in to help on the next long weekend. Alexei has the vague impression that it is only to keep him from going into his room and find anything compromising that a) he forgot to bring to Boston, b) must not be hidden that well, after all, like Alexei has never had to smell the stench of weed flowing from Ilya's room to his through their confining windows. This not to say he doesn't appreciate the ulterior pair of hands, not with the battlefield of boxes and trash bags that they end up with.

"I think I found your baby pictures." Niamh says, a bit giddily, sat onto their living room’s floor and sorting through the lowest cabinets under the tv, behind a half filled carton box that reads 'stuff' in a pink marker and Ilya's scratchy handwriting.

Ilya has already dragged himself into his room, too tired to engage further than a muttered 'goodnight' and 'keep tv down'. Alexei crouches onto the floor, his knees protesting as he settles behind her, his legs framing hers. He gently props his chin on her shoulders, his hands coming to rest around her hips "This are Ilya's." He says, getting a better look over a bright red cheeked baby with a few wispy curls and a gummy smile. Alexei can't help the soft smile stretching on his lips.

"Of course he was a pretty baby." Niamh notes while flipping through the pages, over yellowed pictures of toddler Ilya in tiny overalls, playing with blocks on their old dining room floor, or him as a newborn, sleeping soundly in his crib. Niamh coos at his seven year old self, frowning at the baby through the bars.

"He would never shut up either." He reveals "I’m not surprised he's like this now."

They laugh conspiratorially for a couple of minutes, then Niamh tilts her head back over his shoulder, curiously.

"Where do you keep yours? I don't think I’ve ever seen them."

"You did." He insists, rubbing his thumbs softly over her stomach "In mom's albums."

"You are like ten in those." She pouts "C'mon, I want a spoiler of how this baby is going to look like."

Alexei smiles fondly, shaking his head "Why are you so convinced it's going to look like me?"

"Just a hunch. The guys and I really look like our dad." She shrugs.

Alexei chuckles, amused "Rory looks adopted."

"And we never let him forget that." She says, seriously, before sweetly fluttering her eyelashes in his direction "So?"

Alexei leaves a kiss on the pale skin of her shoulder, hiding his face between the slope of her neck "I can't, don't know where they are. Russia maybe." He admits "I couldn't get everything or he would have noticed. When he threw me out I only got what I had packed already, most important things."

Alexei doesn't like thinking about Russia, not beyond Nadia's updates and calls, because then, if he has to think about Russia, he also has to think of his father, and that somehow feels even worse than the memory of his mother's body being rolled out of their house on a cold stretcher. Part of him is glad he never took those picture, like he could ever forget being his father's son in the first place, simply by looking at himself in the mirror.

Niamh tenses in his arms "Oh, baby." She sniffs, wiping her eyes "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Is fine, is just pictures, you didn't know." He shushes her, gently "And Baby is going to look beautiful like its mom, anyway" He says, pecking the side of her nose "Pretty nose," her cheek "pretty freckles..."

Alexei is never going to be able to say no to that kid if it comes out with freckles.

"Jesus." Niamh huffs wetly "You are going to make me cry."

"You are already crying." He points out. That one is definitely a pregnancy quirk Alexei is not going to miss, with the painful way it pulls at his heartstrings.

"This is just hormone crying, if you keep being this cute you're going to get the real thing." She warns him.

Alexei smirks against her hair as he slides the Album out of her hands and into the box. Niamh melts against his chest when he presses a languid wet kiss over her jumping pulse "Mhm, is there anything I can do to make it better?"

Niamh's breath itches "Fuck, help me up, will you?"

They officially move a couple of weeks short of Christmas, with the eager help of Niamh's  army of devoted firefighters.

Their new flat is a cozy three bedroom four blocks in the other direction from the station.  Vetrov had been strangely insightful, when looking over places in their price range and mediating with each apartment's landlord, and Alexei can't say he's too mad about the springy old man that finally delivers their new sets of keys into his hand, one cold Thursday morning.

That night, they sprawl on opposite ends over their new cloudy-soft couch, surrounded by boxes and half assembled furniture, and watch Ilya's last game of the season against New York, eating takeout directly from the boxes and booing at the precariously perched tv every time Scott Hunter takes the puck.

Christmas that year is more chaotic than usual: Nadia had announced back in November that they were going to fly out to Canada that year, to spend the holidays together, and the Callahans had been happy to offer to host them over. Therefore, Christmas lunch look more like a medieval banquet than a family event, so much that Alexei has to excuse himself halfway through for a moment of piece.

His cigarette burns quickly in the cold and windy weather by the porch, Alexei regrets not bringing his coat on his way outside. He's so grateful, so much he cannot even describe it, to have all of his family under one roof, but he can't help the way his shoulders sag in relief as he sits on the porch swing, bathed in quiet instead of well-meaning but still invasive questions.

It's been stressful lately, between the move and the still upside down apartment, his incoming finals, work, and he's going to have a baby in less than five months from now. Less than five months. A fragile, small and innocent baby who will depend on him, while Alexei may have just started to realise that he can barely depend on him himself.

Nadia eyes him attentively when he walks back in, a disapproving look in her eyes when she gets a sniff of the cigarettes on him. She still pats his cheek with tenderness, in the way that has Alexei feel like the same boy that used to call her even to ask how to use the washing machine, and doesn't ask questions when he indulges into her hug.

Alexei graduates from his program in late January, after the most intense two weeks of his life and with too much caffeine running through his veins, but it's all worth it when he finally gets his certification in the mail and he can finally send his papers through to request his license.

Niamh insists on taking him out for dinner that night, at a jazz club near the flat that they found while house hunting. They're about to sit at their table when it dawns on him, just how long has passed since they last went out on a date, or did anything really, only the two of them. With everything happening, Alexei thinks he shouldn't feel that surprised,  but part of him can't help but mourn the long hikes they used to do during the weekends, date nights that implied more than simply ordering in and watch tv together.

He owes Niamh more than that now that they've settled, Alexei decides, holding her hand over the table. Niamh looks like a dream in her dark green dress, doe eyes wide in awe as the next band takes the stage and a low beat spreads over the room.

Alexei's heart is beating miles on the way home, both from the beer Niamh pushed in front of him to celebrate and the sight of her laughing at his side in the low dimmed lights of the streets, as they stumble back to their apartment.

They've barely crossed the door when Alexei backs her up against it, with the same urgency she left kisses under his jaw, across his neck, with as he scrambled for his keys. Niamh is neither short or frail, and her body is strong, so strong, Alexei thinks, brushing his hands over the new softness of her stomach, the harder ridges of her back and shoulders, before lifting her up in his arms. Niamh's legs cross behind his back as her hand tightens its grip over his nape. The other comes up to take his hair down, and buries among the strands, tugging with a fierceness that has him gasp in her mouth.

It's exhilarating, Alexei can't hear anything over the sound of their breaths mixing together, their skin meeting in the middle, the rush of blood pumping through his veins as he slowly walks them to the bedroom.

Alexei's favourite part of sex, though, is what comes after, the deep intimacy of Niamh's hands on him as they come down from the high, the music of their breathless pants muffled against each other. Niamh is red in the face, her freckles invisible under her blush, as she smiles up to him, dazed and droopy eyed.

"Had a good night?"

It's way too late outside, the neighbour is quiet under her whisper.

Alexei kisses her forehead "With you? Always, lyubimaya.”

Leaving the job at the café leaves Alexei filled with a weird mix of feelings, too difficult to unpack. Elke accepts his termination notice with a sad smile.

"Come by whenever. You better not disappear on us, honey." She threatens, as if Alexei could ever leave behind the first person that ever believed in him when he first got to Canada. Alexei has never had grandparents, but he supposes that Niamh's right and that that's how it should feel like, being cared for like Elke has done for him and Ilya through all those years.

"Now who am I going to complain about our shifts with?" Finn whines, sprawled on the break room's couch as he watches Alexei emptying his locker.

"Didn't Elke already find someone?"

"She did, but he's a college kid! That's practically a baby, I cannot talk real shit with him." Finn pouts.

"I'm sure you'll manage." Alexei states, without hiding his amusement.

"We're still going to hang out, right?"

"Yes, Finn."

"And have our best friends nights?"

"Sure, Finn."

Finn straightens in his seat "And... you're going to give me Niamh's sister's number?"

"Not a fucking chance, Finn"

"Worth a shot." He groans, surrendering way more easily than Alexei had expected.

"Weren't you with yoga instructor?"

"She said she wasn't ready for something that serious!" Finn bursts out, groaning pitifully "To me? I only asked her if she wanted to meet you guys to drink something together. I can totally do casual, I am the king of casual."

This has got to be the funniest thing Alexei has heard all week "She really said that?"

"And when I went to get the stuff I left at her apartment, her new boyfriend opened up."

"Jesus Christ." Well, now Alexei feels kind of bad. He makes a quick decision "I'll give you T's number, but," he stops him, before Finn can even put a single word into his celebratory speech "I ask her first and then give it you. No negotiable."

"Sure, absolutely."

"And you never make joke about her and Niamh being twins."

Finn nose twitches in consideration "Fine." When Alexei finally closes the locker behind him, Finn is looking at him upside down from the couch's backrest "It's going to suck without you, man." He says "But I’m glad you made it through with the program. I'll bring old Bessy by your shop sometime."

Alexei slaps his back affectionately "I'll miss working with you too. And Bessy is on point of no return, just get another car, Finn."

Bessy is an old Ford held together by packing tape and a miracle. He would need another pair of hands to count all the times he's had to pick up Finn around the city because Bessy broke down on him.

That night, Finn drags him into a farewell club hopping with Avery and Leah and, by the time Alexei fits himself behind Niamh's sleeping form, he's too tired and definitely too drunk to do anything but folding around her, where she's spread on his side of the bed, Potato curled on the other half of his pillow. They fit like pieces of the same puzzle, he thinks dozily, when Niamh sighs in her sleep, melting against his chest, before completely letting himself succumb to the dark.

Everything comes in with a new rhythm once  he gets back into the work loop.

The guys at Alexei's new garage are a tight knit group, mostly made of men way older than him, but somehow he still manages to fit in, between lunchbreaks and rotations, cigarettes smoked in between shifts. Funnily enough, he has to thank Ilya for that.

"Rozanov? Like Bear's Ilya Rozanov?" Matt, the youngest among his shift, asks him as they shake hands. Alexei had barely walked in the break room to leave his stuff into a locker when he'd stopped him, bubbly smile and all, to introduce himself.

He nods "Yes. He's my baby brother."

"No fucking way!" Matt gasps, turning his cap on his head and proudly displaying the familiar logo. Alexei would know, Ilya's been infesting their apartment with it ever since he got drafted; scarves, jerseys, sweaters and sweats that, at least, Niamh has taken a particular like for, after growing too big for her old jeans "I'm from Boston, born and raised, baby!"

It's Matt that leads him around the place, introducing him to the rest of the guys as they make their way over through the front and back. The garage is way bigger than he imagined, with high ceilings, five different stations and a whole separated area for pick up, even. Matt takes the job of showing him the ropes enthusiastically, and Alexei can't help the fondness and sentimental feeling that has him snap a picture during their lunchbreak and send it to Finn's contact.

Alexei: (pic attached)

Alexei: found replacement.

Finn: WHOS WHITE BOY OVER THERE

Finn: DELETE THIS

Finn: He never gon be good for u like i am >:(

Alexei hides a smirk behind his water bottle, Matt still obliviously rambling beside him. He thinks he's going to like working here.

Niamh's maternity leave starts around eight weeks before her due date, over Rivers' subtle threat of personally driving her home on the ambulance with sirens on and all. Despite this, Alexei doesn't think he's ever seen their kitchen isle this covered in paperwork in all three years they've been living together. He quickly grows used to coming back from work to the sight of Niamh looking over reports, usually with a fresh pot of decaf coffee at her side and her hair clipped back in preparation for the mental work out.

What Alexei doesn't grow used to, as insane as it might seem after all those months, is the impending anxiety of seeing her doing anything but sitting down.

It started small, with simply offering to take care of chores they usually split, like laundry or grocery shopping, then, when Niamh had hit her last trimester and the doctor had advised her to take it easy, Alexei can recognise he might have started to care a bit too much.

Consciously, Alexei is well aware that Niamh has been tolerating his hovering only through love, which only serves to make him feel even more offended when the first words coming out of her mouth, after Ilya offer to fly them out to Las Vegas for the NHL awards, are "Get your brother out of this house or I'll have him sedated until this baby comes out."

Ilya doesn't pretend to hide his amusement as he props his laptop open on his lap, feet rested on the coffee table as he balances an ice bag over his knee. The bears have been kicked out the playoffs in the first round, which, on a bright note, had brought Ilya back home earlier than the summer, limping from a bad hit on his left leg but overall in one piece. Unlike Niamh, he hadn't let Alexei fuss more than allow him to replace his ice bags throughout the day.

"Niamh...

"No, 'Niamh' nothing. Being cute won't help you this time, Rozanov." She cuts him off as she waddles over to the fridge. Alexei has to refrain from helping her reach down to her ginger ale stash.

"Has it been this bad?"

"Only bad?"

"I'm still here." He says pointedly, crossing his arms in front of his chest "Doctor said you should rest, I help you rest." He adds, a bit petulantly.

Niamh's face melts into something softer as she comes up behind him to leave a kiss on top of his head "I love you," She says firmly, over Ilya's mock retching "but if you don't get your ass out of here, I won't be hold accountable for my actions."

"And I just got you plane ticket, would be very rude to say no, now." Ilya adds, bumping his fist against Niamh's.

So, barely a couple weeks before Niamh's scheduled date, Alexei finds himself tied onto a plane seat to Nevada with no ulterior chances of negotiations.

"You worry too much." Ilya tells him while lifting their carry-ons the rack "Teagan is staying with her, she's going to be fine, and the baby too."

"If you could give me my phone back, at least, I would feel much better-"

"No fucking way, your lovely girlfriend would come for my blood if I caved now." Ilya groans appreciatively as his back makes contact with the plushy backrest of the seat "I'll give it back to you when we board tomorrow, I promised Niamh twenty-four hours free of your mother henning."

Alexei grunts in response, looking out of the window.

"You know we're kidding right?" Ilya says after a few minutes, leaning over his seat to poke him in the ribs. Alexei swats him away with a glare.

"Do I?"

"Dude." Ilya pouts "You really think that Niamh wouldn't have told you off already if she actually minded that much?"

Alexei shrugs. She would have, in fact, Alexei is pretty sure of it, but it's not enough to let the worry simmering in his chest dissolve.

"You're actually so dumb" Ilya frowns, stunned "you are with the only woman that would let her boyfriend go to Las Vegas while she's about to pop their kid, and you're here moping when all she wants is for you to relax before the baby-geddon begins."

"I don't need relaxing!" He bites back, lowering his voice as he buckles in, after the hostess' disapproving look "I'm totally fine, you two need to stop getting all over me about this."

"We will." Ilya nods "But only when I’ll get you black out drunk, tonight, after they'll give me Rookie of the year."

Despite everything, Alexei finds himself snorting "Rookie of the year? The only award you could win tonight is shit-talker of the year."

"It's just a trophy." His brother waves him off.

"Let's see if you'll still think that after they give it to Shane Hollander." Alexei teases, reeling in the way Ilya's face contorts with outrage. His protests are blocked by the departure alarm, which leaves Alexei smugly reclining into his seat as the lights deem and the pilot's voice welcomes them from the intervoice.

Las Vegas is exactly like Alexei had imagined; extremely crowded and bathed in skin-burning sunlight. The car leaves them right outside the biggest hotel Alexei has ever seen, and he can't help the wonder painted on his face as Ilya leads them up to the 13th floor and into their room, a luscious space about the size of their apartment with ceiling high windows and the comfiest looking queen sized beds Alexei has ever had the honour to sprawl onto.

The tuxedo Vetrov sent him for the occasion feels tailored to perfection, from the way the dress pants fall over his shins to the slim cut of the pressed white shirt over his shoulders.  That is not the craziest thing Vetrov has ever achieved in all the time he's known him, but Alexei is still a bit freaked out.

He's fixing his cufflinks in front of the bathroom's mirror when Ilya pokes into the room with his phone raised and still only half dressed.

"I'm sending this to Niamh, proof you didn't board a plane back after landing."

Alexei doesn't honestly care if he's mid flipping him off in it.

Something Alexei has never really minded about Ilya's fame in the hockey world, is fans coming up to their table for pictures or getting jerseys and caps signed whenever they're out. It's cute, Alexei is extremely proud of Ilya's success and the gentle but cocky way he kneels down to small kids as he lets their parents take their pictures. What he still can't get used to, though, is paparazzi and bright flashes of cameras following them out of the arena, the few times they've flown to see his games, or events like this, when Alexei, a nobody really, has to step out of the car to people crowding them up until the doors.

Alexei never knows what to do with himself those times, it's Ilya that usually takes the initiative and drags him forward, an arm around his shoulders as he nods to reporters and photographers with his thousands-watt smile and absolutely no media training whatsoever in the answers he gives to shouted out questions.

Alexei can't pretend to be surprised when Shane Hollander's name gets announced from the stage, just like he can't stop the belly laugh he lets out at Ilya's grimace, even though, all things considered, he doesn’t seem to actually be that mad about it, if the way his eyes are fixed on the stage are any giving.

Despite the lack of award, Ilya doesn't walk out of his promise; twenty minutes later Alexei is stuck at a table full of hockey players doing shots out of a bottle of very expensive tequila and barely keeping up with the conversations Ilya drags him into. Alexei's mind rapidly fuzzes out at the edges after that, so much that he doesn't even notice Ilya disappearing into the crowd, and soon enough he's left standing at the bar, a drink in his hand and his face red from the alcohol, as he scans through people in search of his brother.

"Alexei!"

Embarrassingly, Alexei has to grip the edge of the counter to keep upright as he turns, rather awkwardly, to meet Yuna Hollander's eyes.

"Mrs Hollander!" He echoes back, smiling up at the elegantly dressed woman and the older looking man holding onto her waist.

"This is my husband, David." She says, patting the man's chest with a fond look on her face. Alexei carelessly abandons his drink over the counter, to shake his hand.

"Are you having a good night?" She asks then "I didn't expect to see you, but I’m very glad I did."

"Congratulations for award!" He says, albeit too loudly, swaying on his feet "It was very good night, but I lost my brother, I think." He adds, dejectedly, hunching over his stool.

The Hollanders exchange an amused look, then Mr. Hollander leans over the counter, calling for the barman.

"I'm sure he's here somewhere." He says, smiling politely at the man behind the counter before pushing a tall glass of water towards him "I think you should drink some of this, kiddo."

Well, Alexei does feel kind of parched. He doesn't hesitate to bring it to his lips, humming in contentment "Thank you."

"Do you have your phone?" Mrs. Hollander asks gently "Maybe we can call your brother."

Alexei scoffs "He stole it. He made plan with my girlfriend and stole my phone so I can't ask her if she's ok." He mumbles into his glass "She's very, uhm, she likes to do things by herself."

"Independent?"

"Yes. My Niamh is very independent." He sighs dreamily "She's also very pregnant right now." He informs them "but she doesn't like if I worry too much. She told Ilya to bring me here."

"Well, I think congratulations are due back." Mr. Hollander smiles, patting his back "is she due soon?"

"End of the month." He says brightly.

"That's amazing, dear. Being a parent is not easy, but it sure is gratifying and makes you learn a lot about yourself too, at least I did with Shane." Mrs. Hollander admits.

"And they are so cute and tiny. Look!" He slurs, as he struggles to take his wallet out of his pocket. Inside, a photo of Niamh's last sonogram is folded neatly and hidden behind Ilya's seventh grade picture and a polaroid from last summer, taken at a music festival in Vancouver.

That's how Ilya finds him, sprawled on a chair at the Hollanders' table as they collectively fawn over the baby picture and Mrs Hollander fills him in on her personal parenting agenda. Ilya is a mess, shirt half untucked, hair in disarray and lips red and bitten, but Alexei's joke gets stuck somewhere in his mouth when he finally connects the urgency in his brother's face and the pale extent of it.

"We have to go." Ilya snaps, grabbing Alexei's jacket from the back of his chair.

"Is everything ok?" He asks, eyes fixed on the phone in Ilya's other hand, closed in a tight fist.

They must look rude, Alexei thinks, speaking Russian in front of people who can't understand it, but, especially as tipsy as he is, he can't find himself to care over the blaring alarms in his head.

The Hollanders look just as concerned as they glance between the two of them like in a tennis match.

“Don't freak out." Ilya says, seriously "I need you to not freak out."

"What the fuck is going on?" Alexei insists, definitely freaked out.

"Teagan called, Niamh is in labour."

It takes him a moment to process Ilya's words.

"Niamh can't be in labour." Alexei shots back, stunned "It's too soon."

"But she is." Ilya presses, urging him to stand up "And if we don't fucking get a move on you're still going to be here when your kid is born and I'll have to hear your 'I told you so's until the day I die, so hurry the fuck up."

That does put Alexei's legs to work.

"Fuck." He says, standing on wobblily legs. He gives the Hollanders what he hopes looks like an apologizing look "I'm sorry, I- my girlfriend, she's in labour. It was nice to-uhm, fuck, sorry-"

"It's ok." Mrs Hollander says, posing a reassuring hand on his shoulder "Do you guys need help getting back to your hotel? We're calling you a car." She decides, reaching for her purse "David?"

"On it." Her husband nods, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.

"What-"

"No time for questions, thanks or sorrys." Mrs Hollander interrupts him, firmly but with an underlying gentleness that has his eyes water. Beside him, Ilya sends her an appreciative look.

"Do you have anyone that could send you plane tickets?" She asks Ilya then, who nods eagerly, still holding onto Alexei's elbow "Good. Call them. We'll help you get to the car, c'mon."

Everything is kind of blurry from there; the Hollanders lead them out by a quieter exit, curtesy of a server who took enough pity in Alexei's position and escorted them through the back of the kitchens. Alexei can barely mutter his gratitude before collapsing into the backseat of the cab, his head heavy between his hands as he leans over his knees.

This cannot be happening, he thinks deliriously, as the car drives out the alley and into the road, away from journalists and  cameras still outside the venue.

"Here, Niamh's on the phone." Ilya says, thrusting his phone into Alexei hands. It would seem rough from the outside, but Alexei can see the way Ilya's leg impatiently jumps as he dials Vetrov's number.

"Baby?"

"Niamh? Are you okay?" He stutters.

Niamh answer comes in the form of a pained shriek and a loud enraged "Jesus Christ!" that does nothing to ease his growing worry.

Teagan's voice cuts over Niamh's following whimpers, calm and reassuring "Lex? It's Teagan. So, overall the doctor said everything is fine, contractions are normal, but she's not dilated enough yet so they’ll try delaying this as much as they can."

Alexei blinks blankly at the seat in front of him "I have no idea what that means."

"It means that you might have just the time to get here before she'll have to start pushing, so get on with it please."

"We'll get on the first flight." He assures her, just as the car finally stops in front of the double doors of the building.

The first thing Alexei does when they finally reach their hotel room, is walking confidently into the bathroom and throw up every single drink he's had that night. He's lightheaded and covered in cold sweat when he walks out, but ultimately sobered as he reaches for a water bottle inside their minibar.

He packs fast, haphazardly throwing back in the few things he'd got out of his trolley earlier that night and zipping it shut with force.

"Our flight is in three hours." Ilya informs him, coming out of the bathroom with both their toothbrushes and toiletries, bowtie hanging loosely around his neck and over his necklace, peeking from the unbuttoned top of his shirt. They're still both in their tuxes, he realizes then, Alexei didn't even think about changing "Sergei sent me our boarding passes."

The clock signs just about four in the morning when they arrive to the airport. Niamh's last text had been a selfie with a McDonald's bag balancing on her belly and a blurry peace sign. Her being able to update him through pictures and vague threats to airline companies surely helps his guilt. He should be there, sat in an uncomfortable hospital chair and trying to keep her distracted from the pain and the eagerness of finally meeting their kid. Their kid, who's going to be born sooner rather than later at this point, while Alexei is in a smelly lounge room with other thirty or so sleep deprived people and a drunk Elvis, waiting to board.

It takes him exactly another twenty minutes before giving in and look for the nearest smoking area. Ilya is still somewhere, looking for decent coffee. He won't mind, he tells himself, lighting his cigarette as he leans back over the glass wall.

It doesn't take long for Ilya to find him, two large cups on a paper trail, as he pushes his way into the room. Outside, the sun is just rising through the clouds, bloody orange and vibrant. It makes the gold of Ilya's eyes look crystalline, even when he's frowning at him over his classy shades.

"You said you wouldn't move." He complains, settling the coffees and too many sugar packets between them as he sits, before plucking a cigarette out Alexei's metal box.

"Are you ok?"

"Just peachy."

"I mean, aside from all of this." Ilya specifies "Niamh and the baby are going to be fine, the doctor said so. And she just sent me a meme, so she must be doing pretty good after all."

"You know her." Alexei exhales loudly.

"Which brings me to ask, what's going on?"

Alexei loves him, but dear god is he annoying.

"Ilya."

Ilya doesn't falter "Alexei."

He stubs his cigarette with more force than intended, before crossing his arms across his chest "You mean apart from the fact that Niamh is having our kid while I’m stuck in shitty Las Vegas? What kind of deadbeat father does that? I could say a lot against our father's parenting, but at least he was there when both of us where born." He scoffs.

"That's not fair." Ilya reprimands him "Nobody could have predicted this, not even someone as neurotic as you."

Alexei laughs, humourless "Thanks."

"It's true."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter." He lashes out, folding over his knees and hiding his face in his hands "I thought that I would fuck them up in some way someday, but they're not even born and I’m already screwing this up. What does that even say about me?"

"That you're one unlucky motherfucker." Ilya considers "And that maybe we should start trusting your instinct from now on." He also admits sheepishly, turning back to look outside the glass "but a bad father? You? The guy that slept on the floor next to my bed after our mom died, in case I had nightmares, for a whole fucking year? The same one that fed me, clothed me, helped me with my homework and never once complained about any of it, even if he had to work three job and live off leftovers?" He continues. "Alexei, I make six figures in a year, but you still give me an allowance every damn month. You know, the bank sends me an alert even if the money are going in instead of out." He scoffs, his arm flailing as he tries to make his point, nearly spilling coffee everywhere.

"How could you ever not be a great father, when you've basically been mine since I was twelve." Ilya says, shrugging, his voice thick "I really can't see it. Just the fact that you're worrying about it, makes that kid very lucky."

Alexei is seeing through tears by the time he's done, his lips pressed together as he turns his head away to compose himself.

"Wow." He says, clearing his voice "And people say you're an asshole."

"I have a multitude of sides." Ilya nods knowingly, bumping his head on Alexei's shoulder. They must look ridiculous, two grown men in wrinkly suits and miles long eyebags, watching plane traffic while hanging off each other shoulder.

"For the record, I wouldn't mind if my kid turned out even half like you did."

Ilya smiles "You're lucky, I heard being awesome is genetic."

Despite the odds and the beast of an espresso Ilya made them, Alexei dozes off at some point during their flight, legs bent uncomfortably in the little space available by their last minute economy seats and neck crooked at a wrong angle. Ilya is still snoring loudly when the stewards start walking their last round through the aisles, before landing.

Alexei is shaking into his seat when they finally get into a cab to the hospital. His head is stuck playing every possible scenario into his head, but nothing equals the blinding smile breaking on Niamh's face when he finally walks into the room. She looks pale, tired and she's a bit loopy from the medications when she reaches over to cup his cheek within her hand.

"Why do you have to look so hot, right now?" She pouts, eyes trailing down his tux "I feel like a bag of trash."

"You're beautiful." He says back, pushing her hair out of her face and sitting sideways onto the bed. Kissing her lips feels like coming back home.

"Teagan?"

"She left with mom and dad to get breakfast. They said this is probably going to take long." Niamh huffs, clutching his fingers tighter as she wiggles with a pained whine "The kicks are killing me, I swear."

"They're little hockey player, of course they know how to kick." Ilya says, catching up to them with their trolleys and an amused smile "They're going to be a strong forward, I know."

"Don't you think it's a bit premature?"

"They have first and second best hockey players' blood in their veins, of course it's not." Ilya quips, kissing Niamh cheek and dropping on the nearest chair with a loud groan "Fuck, never again, yes?"

"It took you way less than I imagined to get here." Niamh confesses.

"Is thanks to the old couple at the party, Lyosha should sent them a fruit basket when the baby is born." Ilya quips, closing his eyes.

"Old couple?"

"The Hollanders." Alexei explains "They called us a cab."

Ilya tenses, straightening in his chair "Hollander? Those were Hollander's parents?"

"His mom and I met at that promo thing you did last summer." Alexei says, frowning at the sudden reaction. He turns back to Niamh, embarrassed "I was a bit drunk, they let me sit with them."

"Aw, baby." Niamh cackles.

"Well, they wouldn't have had to if someone hadn't left to get some." Alexei says pointedly. Ilya owns it, barely blushing over the comment, but still looking pretty absent eyed as he claps Niamh's extended hand. It's probably the three hours of sleep, Alexei reasons "I think I did shots with Scott Hunter at some point last night. He was pretty gone and thought I was you."

"I always tell him he needs prescription glasses, he's an old grandpa."

"He's four years younger than me." Alexei protests, kicking him in the shin.

"If the hat fits."

"If the shoe fits." Niamh corrects gently, before eyeing their bags "You guys should go home and take a shower, sleep some too. You kind of reek."

"Liar, you just said I look very hot." Alexei scowls, poking her in the ribs. He can't help his smile as she giggles, squirming away from his hands "And you're fool if you think I'm leaving this hospital until baby is born, you two gave me panic attack."

"Yes, yes, I'll listen to you next time." Niamh waves him off.

"Good. I'll glue to you like tick."

"I think you earned the right to." Niamh considers, bashful "At least change out of these suits, they can't be comfortable." She smirks mischievously "Plus, if you get blood on them or something, Sergei will never forgive you."

Ilya goes slack jawed, horrified "Why would we get blood on them?"

He's definitely home.

Niamh gives birth exactly after thirty-six painful hours of labour, at the break of dusk and under the sound of the worse storm Alexei has ever seen in all his years in Edmonton. Alexei is too preoccupied fussing over her that he doesn't actually realize he's really just become a father until a nurse settles a tight bundle of blankets into his arms. Alexei can't even find the words to speak as he watches his daughter's nose twitch in discomfort at being tousled around. She doesn't cry, just wiggles in her swaddle before sighing sweetly against his chest.

Oh god, Alexei is going to cry.

"Hey, baby." he whispers brokenly, caressing the soft tuft of white blonde hair on top of her head "I'm your papa. Look at you. You're so loved, Yulia."

Niamh's thumb brushes away the tears falling over his cheek when he leans down to secure Yulia in the cradle of her arm, but their kiss still tastes salty and coiled, overwhelmed with emotions. They both rush to look back down as Yulia whines, a high pitched sound.

"It's fine, malyshka. You're fine." Alexei says softly, tracing her cheek gently as her cries quiet down.

"She has a good set of lungs." Niamh considers, smiling.

"That's all you; Loud and Canadian."

"I'm not the one that listens to Van Halen in the shower. That's why she remembers your voice, with all that singing."

"Is fine, I get it, not all of us can have great music tastes."

"You really can't stop bickering for even a second, can you?" Ilya's voice says from the doorstep. He's wearing a soft light blue tracksuit and his curls are flat on one side of his head. He was probably catching up with sleep when he got Alexei's text, less than an hour ago. Niamh's parents and Teagan should be arriving any time soon too, if he had to guess.

"Shut up an come meet your niece." Niamh reprimands him playfully, handing little Yulia back to Alexei.

Ilya's face melts in something akin to pure wonder when he looks down into Alexei's arms.

"This is your dyadya, baby. You want to say hi to Ilyushka?" Alexei asks, nonsensically, to the baby, as he signs at Ilya to seat.

"What's her name?" Ilya asks, biting his lip to contain his obvious eagerness while Alexei fixes his arms correctly around the baby.

"This is Yulia."

Niamh had insisted their child's name should be in Russian. It'd have made sense, in her opinion, with a Russian last name, even if they planned to hyphenate. Alexei, on his part, had spent most of her pregnancy worrying about everything but names, and would have settled with anything she'd decide. Well, apart from-

"If it's a girl, we could name her after your mom." She'd whispered to him one night. Alexei had his head resting on her chest, his fingers rubbing circles on her stomach as they talked in hushed tones.

Alexei had froze "No."

Niamh had let him elaborate.

"I loved my mom, but... it's morbid. She died because she was depressed, not sick. It was preventable, and I didn't do anything."

Alexei had spent too many years trying to understand where it all went wrong. He could have been more lenient with her, he should have found a way to keep her away from his father. But the thing with past is that, for as much as you can try, there is no way to change it.

"You were so young, baby."

"I should have known better." Alexei had insisted "I don't want my child to bear my regret. It wouldn't be fair."

"It's ok, I understand." Niamh's fingers had tangled gently into his hair, easing through the knots.

"We should name them something just for them." He'd proposed instead.

Now, Alexei has to grip Niamh's hand not to cry again. Ilya's face is so openly happy and soft when staring down at Yulia's. Alexei can't help but think of Ilya's words at the airport, and picture that boy from eight years ago in his place, still so small to disappear between his arms when he would cry on his shoulder on cold unforgiving nights, the same kid that never walked out of a fight, that always bounced back relentlessly, who now is holding his daughter with such devotion in his eyes that Alexei can't help but tear up.

"She looks just like Lyosha."

Alexei thinks she looks wrinkly for the most, like all newborns do, but even he can't deny the deep resemblance of her little frown.

"Like I didn't just spend nine months baking her in my body." Niamh agrees in an all but  desolated voice, yawning tiredly.

"Hi Yulechka." Ilya coos "I'm your uncle Ilya. I'm going to have you in skates before you can walk and we're going to make your papa go grey before thirty, what do you think?" He asks, plottingly "We're going to be the best partners in crime, you'll see, Little Star."

"Stop setting up my daughter against me." Alexei says, without any actual bite, over Niamh’s blatant laugh. Her Russian is blocky, she probably got only half of what Ilya said, but he can't help but feel fond at the reminder of her effort, like he's always been since the day he woke up to their kitchen appliances covered in post-its and a very committed girlfriend.

Alexei stills this moment into a picture, but he's sure there is no way he would forget it regardless.

-

Living with a newborn is exactly how Alexei had imagined it would be.

He spends the first three weeks after bringing Yulia home barely sleeping and making the equivalent of a small marathon every night, between their room, the kitchen and the nursery.

After all, Niamh has always been the deepest sleeper between the two of them and, as exhausted as she is dealing with postpartum fatigue, Alexei takes it upon himself to make the transition better for everyone.

Ilya being home makes running errands extremely easy; his brother is very enthusiastic about helping, doesn't matter if it's just for a late run to the grocery store or babysitting when Niamh has her follow up appointments. Niamh's parents stop by every other day at first, usually to bring homemade meals to fill their freezer shut and for emotional support. Alexei finds out that when your days are filled with no sleeping, changing diapers and making an insane amount of laundry, emotional support, as much as any other human interaction that is not made in grunts and tired sighs, is much appreciated.

Which is why he doesn't immediately close the door in Vetrov's face when he and Svetlana come knocking at their flat, one sunny morning of July. For Sveta's sake, of course.

"It reminds me of when my Sveta was this little." Vetrov says emotionally while poking gently at Yulia's fist. Alexei hopes she's digging her little deadly nails into his pointer.

Honestly, newborns are not half as defenceless as they make them to be; Alexei has lost the count of how many times he's had to clean bodily fluids off himself and/or furniture and/or the cat, or has been a victim to Yulia's insane grip. Which is why, two months into being a parent, with too little hours of sleep on his back and Potato's judging stare coming from the bathtub, Alexei makes an impromptu decision.

"What the fuck did you do?" Is how Nadia greets him on their next Video call, leaning into the screen with visible horror.

"Oh, you know, everything is the same, but thank you. How are you?" Alexei scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, rather self consciously.

"Are Canadians making you all join the army, now?"

"Are you done?" He quips flatly "It was just all getting a bit too much." He says, dragging a hand over the buzzed ends of his hair. It's weird, Alexei feels like he was just magically transported back into his seventeen year old self, only with a less patchy beard and clothes smelling of spit up and dried formula.

"It doesn't look that bad."

"Ilya said I look like a cheap rapper."

"Well, he's not exactly wrong."

"No, please continue, you're doing wonders for my self esteem."

"What did Niamh say?" Nadia diverts, twirling the wine in her glass.

"She's still pumped with hormones." He prefaces, before sighing dejectedly "but, uhm, she cried."

Niamh had been coming back from a walk with Yulia safe and sound into her stroller, when she'd found him sweeping up a whole wig worth of hair from their bathroom's floor, the incriminating clippers still plugged in next to the mirror. Alexei had nearly had a heart attack seeing her sniffle and sob into her hands, like a mourning widow. It hadn't helped that the sound had soon startled Yulia into crying too, like the empath she apparently is.

Nadia laughs loudly at the story, dropping wine all over the edge of the leather couch of her studio.

"Yes, yes, very funny." He mumbles.

"Speaking of, where is your better half?"

"She took Yulia on a walk. The Doctor said she can start light work outs, now." That news alone had been able to cheer up Niamh's morale after the whole haircut fiasco. Realistically, Alexei has always known that for as much as she loves Yulia, she's also longing to get back to work, so much that even the most oblivious person on the planet would be able to notice her impatient pace. It's part of her, and Alexei can't deny finding her sense of duty pretty hot, too.

"Aw, I wanted to see Yulechka." Nadia pouts "Did you get the package we sent you?"

"Niamh is getting it from the post office on her way back." He says, sipping on his ice coffee, bless Finn and his emergency delivery services "What's in it, anyway?"

"Winter clothes for Yulia, Niamh's birthday gift, two bottles of Ruskov..."

"You know I have a baby now, yes?"

"Ivan and I always had a drink after putting Kolya down to sleep." She brushes him off "And look how fine he turned out."

"How is he? Ilya told me he started playing for St. Petersburg?"

Nadia nods, pensive "He's doing very good, it'd been a good couple of seasons."

Alexei hums around his straw "But?"

"He wants to trade for the NHL for the next one." Nadia confesses, without beating around the bush "He's a good defenceman, I think he might have a chance. His agent is not thrilled exactly, but it hardly counts at this point."

"I though he liked it in the KHL?" Alexei asks, perplexed.

Alexei spots immediately the way Nadia threads carefully through her words "He does. But you know my Nikki, he's a sensitive boy." She says, eyes fixed on her glass "Russia is what it is, and the people are who they are, especially hockey players. But you don't need me to tell you that."

She doesn't, not exactly. Alexei is pretty accustomed to secondhandedly have to deal with those things, he's the one that has had to talk Ilya out of fighting on the ice at the first chirp, with more or less fruitful results. It's also true that Ilya has never played for the KHL, and Alexei knows for a fact that the league has very little mercy for its players. Still, part of him thinks that it's not the violence they're talking about now.

"And you and Ivan would be okay with it? If he left?"

"Probably not." Nadia says, smiling sadly "It's our son, we love him and we would miss him. But it wouldn't be the first time we see one of our kids fly out the coop." She adds matter of factly, sending him a playful look "And there is always planes, texts. It's not like we saw each other much anyway with him all the way over to St. Petersburg."

"He's always welcome here if he needs a place to stay." Alexei states, seriously "Maybe I could ask Vetrov a favour. Nikki is a good player, I'm sure he could put in a good word for him."

"We'll see, but thank you, Lyoshka."

"Of course, you're family." He nods, sending her a firm smile.

The door to the flat chooses that moment to open, and Niamh comes barrelling in with the stroller in tow, humming quietly as she hangs her keys and toes her shoes off.

"Hi Nadia! ‘Sup?" She whispers, sitting down on Alexei's knee as she rocks the stroller with one foot.

Nadia leans happily towards the camera "Vi, sweetcheeks, how are you doing? Lyoshka told me about the hair funeral."

With Ilya at training camp and the start of the new season, his first day back to work after his leave creeps up on him worryingly fast.

"You know that I'm still going to be home with her, right?" Niamh's voice cuts through his thoughts, startling him. It's the middle of the night, Alexei has been too jittery to attempt sleeping and is pretty sure he left her still passed out under the sheets when he left the bed to sit by Yulia's crib, to brood in silence.

"I know."

"And I would hope you trust me with our child." She says, threatening but not unkindly "You accidentally melt a bottle once and suddenly your stove privileges are revoked." She sighs dramatically, sitting sideways on his legs. The rocking chair swings with a creaking sound, adjusting to both their weights as Niamh snuggles in the crook of his neck. Alexei kisses her forehead, wrapping his arms around her and reeling in her warmth.

"It's not that." He assures her, as if they both don't know there is no one he would ever trust more with their child than Niamh herself "I'm just... sad? Not in bad way. It just feels too soon, like loosing time with her while she needs me."

"What age do you think she would need to be not to feel like that?" Niamh asks, scratching gently at his nape. Alexei's eyes flutter shut for a few seconds as he comes up with an answer.

"When she leaves for college?"

"Mhm, you are being reasonable, I see."

"Always." He nods seriously "I don't know."

"Would it help you if I sent you a picture every few hours?"

"Maybe." He considers "But I'm still going to miss you both."

The truth is that Alexei might like playing house a little too much. Sue him, thinking back to it, he and Niamh have never spent that much time together as they did that past few months, not with their respective shifts and errands in between.

He wonders sometimes what would have happened if they’d never met, in that dirty alley behind a club, if he'd turned Finn down that night and walked back to his lonely flat. Alexei never feels as lucky as he does when he gets back to reality and finds Niamh beside him.

"I'm going to miss you too. Even the whole pregnancy mothering." She admits "I know we made fun of you, but I really appreciated everything you did for me."

"You don't need to be pregnant if you want me to rub your feet."

"Shut up." She says, affectionately.

Yulia gurgles in her sleep, they both turn to watch her as she settles, mesmerized.

"She's going to be fine." Niamh whispers.

Alexei smiles "She is."

His first day back, Alexei gets to remember why he really likes his job. There something ultimately peaceful in working in silence, apart from the clunking noise of metal and the music echoing around the shop, and set his brain on a single lane road. Alexei rarely doubts himself when he's working on a car.

The guys are also very excited about seeing the baby's pictures, and Alexei even more about showing them.

Matt awes loudly when Alexei scrolls over a more recent one, where Yulia is dressed in a Bears onesie and looking straight at the camera with her blue-grey eyes wide like saucers.

Life slowly comes back to normal; Niamh goes back into shift rotation around November, right after finding a trusted baby sitter among hundreds of applications. Alexei admits he didn't make the process any easier for her, not as wary as he is, but they find a common ground into Berkley, a sweet woman a couple of years younger than both of them, with good references and a flexible schedule. Yulia seems to like her as well, babbling gleefully every time Berkley's head of green hair comes near her immediate reach.

Which makes it very unfortunate when Berkley goes to leave one night, turning down Niamh's offer of a lift back home, to get in what is unmistakably Finn's nightmare of a car.

"If you break that poor girl's heart, I'm going to stomp my five inch heels into your crotch."  is the threat Niamh settles with, the next night, at their usual bar, paired with her best scathing look "I'm serious, Finn."

"I swear I had no idea she was the babysitter you hired." Finn, on his part, looks genuinely apologetic as he raises his hands in surrender "We met at that club I told you about, when I went out with the girls last week."

"You better tell me you like her and that she's the love of your life, because I'm not doing the whole Babysitter Dilemma all over again." Niamh hisses.

"She's exaggerating." He chimes in.

Niamh leans towards the other end of the table with a dark look on her face "Oh, but I'm not. You break up with her in any non considerate way, and I'll have to explain to Yulia why uncle Finn died so prematurely, got it?"

God, Alexei is in love with a psycho, he thinks, watching Finn squeak and retreating on his chair. Good thing he's not that normal either.

That year flies by in a blink; Alexei swears he was just wrapping Christmas gifts when Ilya finally gets back home from the playoffs, at the right end of May, and his routine gets breached by his brother bouncing his kid around the living room under the loud bass of reggaeton, at any given time of the day. Alexei has to admit that Yulia looks just fucking adorable in the little shades Ilya bought her, though. 

Their camping trip that year is replaced by a pop-up weekend in California that Ilya had reasonably coaxed them into agreeing to, earlier that year.

"For mine and Yulechka's birthdays." He had justified himself at Alexei's call, brought on by the suspicious presence of three boarding passes sent to his email address.

"Ilya, she doesn't even understand what a birthday is yet." Alexei had argued, trying to distract himself from guessing the insane amount of money he must've spent for the flights alone.

"But I do! Only the best for my favourite niece."

"She's your only niece."

Ilya had blown a raspberry into the phone and hung up.

Alexei has learned he can't really stay mad at his brother, though, especially not when he and Rory, the second enabler and Alexei's new enemy after the kid drum set he'd had delivered at their house for Christmas, offer to take Yulia from them for their last afternoon in Los Angeles. Neither he or Niamh have them ask twice.

Life is painfully ordinary and Alexei wouldn't have it in any other way. 

"Why is uncle Ilya on our TV?" Yulia asks, hanging upside down from the back of the couch. Alexei playfully pushes her back onto the pillow fort, over her shriek of giggles.

"He has a game, remember? We're cheering for him." He says, handing her a juice box and laying beside her under the fortress of blankets. Yulia drops her head on his lap, dragging his hand to rest over her hair. Alexei thinks it made incredible sense for two clingy people to make an insanely clingy child.

"Is he coming home later?"

Alexei twists one of her golden curls around his fingers "He can't, baby, he's going to Russia after."

Yulia makes a displeased sound, hiding her face in Alexei's jumper "Why?"

Alexei shares her sentiment, to be honest. 

"For the Olympics, he's playing with Uncle Nikki."

Part of him thinks that might have been the only reason Ilya agreed to the offer, besides the obvious honour of being chosen for the roaster. There had been something in Ilya's expression that had given him the impression he wasn't that excited about going back to Russia, when he'd received Vetrov's call back in December, but Ilya had changed the subject too fast for him to pry any further. 

"Are we going to Russia too?" 

No, never if Alexei can help it "No, but we're going to see them on TV. Auntie will send us a lot of pictures and we're going to call him everyday, ok?"

Yulia seems to perk up at that "Alright. Can we call him now too?"

"After the game." Alexei concedes, kissing her forehead.

On the screen, Shane Hollander scores the first point of the game. Alexei smirks. He's going to have a lot of fun ribbing his brother about it, later.

Yulia watches the game with quiet wonder, something that she definitely didn't inherit from him, asking questions Alexei doesn't really know the answer to, still, after years of watching Ilya on the ice.  

Niamh comes back home from her shift in the middle of the third period, to Yulia snoring against Alexei's chest and in time to see Ilya squaring up the game. 

"How are they doing?" She asks, briefly kissing his cheek and dropping beside him, surprisingly, in civilian clothes.

"Boston just scored, Montreal is probably going to win, though." 

"You always say that."

"Is true, Price is playing like shit tonight." He insists, wrapping his only free arm around her shoulders "He looks like scared little mouse in skates."

"Captain Roz doesn't seem too happy about him." Niamh agrees, as the cameras zoom in  to show Ilya's contrite expression "They should still have enough points for play offs even if they lose, at least."

"At least." He echoes.

Yulia wakes up in time for dinner and Ilya's routine call, spent moaning about the unfairness of penalties and ice warfare.

"You know, you don't have to drop your gloves just because, every single time." Alexei chastises him, skinning Yulia's apple and cutting it up for her.

"That wouldn't be fun, though, wouldn't it?" Ilya pouts "Where's the honour in that?"

"I don't know, but at least you get to keep your teeth while you're at it."

"Your papa is so mean to me, Zvezdochka." Ilya whines into the phone, making Yulia giggle around her apple stick.

"Chew, baby." Niamh reminds her gently, leaning on Alexei's chair and back into Ilya's view "When is your flight tomorrow? Did you remember to pack everything?" She asks him "Two weeks is a long time away."

"You are spending too much time with Lyosha, worrywart." Ilya states grumpily, settling up against the bedpost. "We leave after lunch and there is five hours layover in Amsterdam. Kolya gets same plane as me to Sochi, after, Sergei made sure."

"That's nice."

"It is. And I packed, see?" He says, turning the camera towards the bulging luggage in the corner of the room.

"You want a gold star for that?" Alexei deadpans, barely in time to cover Yulia's eyes from the sight of Ilya's middle finger.

"Papaaa-"

"Good Yulechka, revolt! Uncle Ilya will bring you so much Pirozhki when he gets back."

The Olympics... Russia doesn't exactly give its best during either of the three games they play before getting kicked out of the qualification rounds. 

Ilya and Nikolai fly back two days later, in the middle of semifinals, with long faces and so tired that not even Yulia's yapping from her car seat is able to drag more than a swift smile out of them throughout the whole way back from the airport. 

"Niamh set up the mattress in Ilya's room." He informs Nikolai as he leads them through the front door, Ilyas hockey bag slung over his shoulder "You remember where everything is, right?"

Nikolai nods silently, blue eyes dazed and heavy lidded "I'm sorry for intruding, I'll get back to Toronto as soon as I can."

"Shut the fuck up." Alexei mutters jovially, as soon as Yulia is out of ear and occupied with unwrap Ilya's gifts "Stay as much as you want, you know you're always welcome here. Did you text your mom?"

Nikolai blushes slightly, toeing off his trainers "As soon as we landed."

"Good. Grab a shower and go to sleep then, both of you." he says, loudly enough for Ilya to hear "You stink of plane, and I'm too old to carry you to bed if you fall asleep on my floor."

Their apartment is not made to hold five people, but they make it work, and Alexei surely appreciates the free childcare in the few days prior to both their departure. 

"Is Toronto treating you well?" Alexei asks Nikolai on their last night in Edmonton, reaching for the ashtray. After Yulia's birth, he'd mostly managed to cut out the habit, but it still holds something cathartic to indulge into it every once in a while, enough to let him sleep through the night. When he'd found Nikolai standing lost in the middle of their kitchen earlier, Alexei had thought he might need it too.

"the team is good." Nikolai says, exhaling deeply. Smoke curls around his head, cutting through the static breeze of the night "The guys suck, though. Minnesota was better."

"Ilya told me." Alexei nods "You think you'll ask for a trade next season?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Offers, Coaches, my stats..." Nikolai lists.

"Vetrov said anything about it?"

"He said he heard rumours about Boston looking for a second line defencemen. Would be fun to play with Ilyusha, again." Nikolai admits, retreating into his shoulders "We'll see, I guess."

Alexei has always liked Nikolai. He was a timid child, too shy for his height and a bit of a pushover, especially towards Ilya's initiatives, but Alexei could always trust him to keep him safe on the ice. 

Growing up surely made him more aware of himself, confident, but, looking at him, Alexei can't help but see the twelve year old that used to blush up to the top of his head even when he had to let him in through the front door of their house or order ice cream at the shop.

"Ilyushka would like it, too." He assures him, chuckling at the warm hue spreading over Nikolai's cheeks. Sometimes people never change.

Perhaps fuelled by the loss at the Olympics, Ilya's game becomes brutal during that year's playoffs. Alexei can't say he's surprised when Boston's winning streak culminates with Ilya finally raising the Stanley Cup in his arms, tears streaming down his face, as he's swarmed by his team. Alexei is even less surprised by the overwhelming feeling in his chest when they get to reach Ilya on the ice, as the rest of the other's players families.

"I'm so fucking proud of you." He whispers into his brother's ear over the sound of the crowd, laughter and whistles "She would be so proud of you." Ilya sobs harder against his shoulder, where they stand on uneven ground in the middle of the ice.

Ilya's eyes are still red rimmed when Alexei picks him up from the bar he and his team went to celebrate at, and he faintly smells like he just took a dip into a tank of champagne, but he looks so happy that Alexei can't even tease him about the terrible hangover he's going to have later in the morning.

"Who are you texting?" He asks nosily, frowning at the deserted road as he keeps track of the gps. He'll never understand why in all Boston, Ilya chose to live in the middle of literally fucking nowhere. 

"No one." Ilya slurs from the passenger seats, clutching his phone over his chest "Just Nadia."

"What did Nadia say to make you frown like that?"

"I’m not frowning, fuck off."

Alexei scoffs a laugh "If you say so. Is it Jane?" 

Ilya freezes and, for a second, Alexei feels almost bad about insisting, when he turns to look at him like a deer in headlight "What."

"Marlow asked me if I knew why Jane wasn’t there, earlier" He says, carefully "He said she's your girlfriend."

Ilya's shoulders drop "Ah, no. Not girlfriend." He laughs uncomfortably "Just a hookup."

"It's fine if she's your girlfriend, I just thought you would-"

"She's not." Ilya cuts him off grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to look outside the window.

"Brat." He huffs.

Awkward silence hangs between them as Alexei turns into an empty state road. 

Ilya doesn't last much, all things considered "If you-" he starts, clearing his voice.

Alexei makes an acknowledging sound, encouraging him to go on.

"If you got the impression you did someone wrong, but you don't know what, and now this person is not texting you anymore, what would you do?"

"I guess it depends on what I did." Alexei answers slowly, after making sense of what Ilya tried to say.

"But you don't know."

"Have I tried asking what I did wrong, in this scenario?" 

"No." Ilya admits, petulantly "I- that is just how things are supposed to go, you were both clear about it before then."

"Things can change."

From the corner of his eye, he can see Ilya shake his head with force, almost bitterly "Not all things."

"Well." Alexei sighs after a solid minute of pondering "I guess if I did my not-girlfriend wrong and she was pissed at me, I would start with asking that, after giving her some space. And then, when I know what I did wrong, I’d apologise. Not before then, girls hate it." He sagely adds, pulling into Ilya's driveway.

"I gave her space, a lot of space in fact!"

"Like what?" He asks, absentmindedly.

"I don't know, five months?"

Alexei hand gets stuck on the way to turn off the ignition "Five months?" He repeats, appalled "You didn't text this girl once in five months?"

"Well, she didn't text me either!" Ilya shrieks, raising his hands over his head, frustrated.

"No wonder why she didn't." Alexei mutters, turning into his seat "Is that why you're sulking now? She didn't text to congratulate you for the cup after you ignored her for five months?"

Ilya inhales loudly "You need to mind your own business." He decides at last, stumbling out of the car.

"Hey! You asked for my advice!" He yells at his back, running after him.

When he pads into the guest room, Niamh is deeply asleep under the duvet while Yulia is curled up on one corner of the bed, probably from a late-night escapade from her room.

"Papa?" She murmurs drowsily, hiding her face into his neck as he picks her up on his hip.

"Sh, go back to sleep, malyshka." He whispers, rocking on his feet for a couple of seconds before sliding under the covers. Yulia settles over half his body with a sleepy sigh.

Alexei kind of wishes she could stay tiny like this forever, small enough to fit in the curve of his arm still, his funny and opinionated child. 

"Please don't be asshole teenager." He whispers wistfully against her hair, before pulling both her and Niamh closer and shut his eyes. 

Chapter End Notes

Yahoo people,
as you might have noticed, i moved up the chapter count again, i'm a yapper even when i write so i'm not even that surprised by this point, but you know... we are near the end though, that i can tell you.
Writing this chapter made me realize that, first of all, I know nothing about pregnancy over the bare minimum despite one year of nursing school, but also that i revel a little too much in making Alexei stress, sweet child of mine.
I had Nikolai's character written down since the first chapter and the fact that i could finally use it made me feel so powerful, god bless the ideas i get at 2 in the night that are between me, myself and i (and yall that get to read them ig).
I really debated a lot with myself when looking for Yulia's name; i really wanted a musical theme going on and but also liked the idea of something simple and genuine, then i discovered that Wolf Parade (who wrote I'll believe in everything) have a literal song called Yulia, which is a bop, go listen to it, yall. So yeah, i fell in love.

This being said, for any of you with tumblr, my tag is on my dashboard if you wanna vibe, or check out my hr drawings that will never see any more light than that along my brainrot over all of this.

Have a good night (or day, time zones quirks ig)!

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

Alexei wakes to the sound of brushing keys outside of their door. It's late, he'd tucked Yulia in at least three hours ago, before falling asleep in front of the TV to the other half of a Disney movie Yulia had been too tired to finish. Niamh is still on her twenty-four hour shift, due to come back home early in the morning to see Yulia off before school, at least as of her last text, a mirror selfie in the station's gym and a goodnight topped off with a little heart, that had made his own heart do backflips inside his chest.

There is no one that could justifiably be standing outside, fumbling with their lock, so Alexei does the most reasonable thing he can think of and pads quietly to the broom closet to grab Yulia's goalie stick.

It's sturdy enough, he tells himself, hiding in the shadows of the hallway as the door finally clicks open and a figure comes tumbling in.

Alexei pounces.

"What the fuck!" Ilya shrieks, a hand to his chest, barely avoiding getting a stick to his face as he crouches against the door.

Alexei heart is beating miles "Ilya?"

"Who else, you psycho." Ilya grumbles, pushing in the duffle bag that had fell from his hands with his shoe and closing the door behind him "You made this house into Fort Knox and you still think someone is going to break in without a key?"

"Fuck off." Alexei says without any real bite, watching him toe off his shoes and winter jacket, still processing "What are you doing here? Don't you have a game tomorrow?" He asks, dropping the stick near the shoe rack.

"The game was postponed because of the storm in Calgary, I thought to fly in for Vi's birthday." Ilya shrugs.

"If you had told me I could have picked you up from the airport."

"It's fine, the flight was very late. Didn't want you driving out at night, old man." Ilya waves him off.

Maybe if Alexei hadn't just had the scare of his life, he would be too tired to notice how tight he looks, tense like a string about to snap. His duffle is only half full and he gives off the impression that he got dressed in the dark, all rumpled and jet lagged.

"The important is that you're here now" He says, patting him on the back before closing the door to the hallway and walking towards the living room's cabinets, for the good glasses.

Ilya sits heavily on a kitchen stool as Alexei pours him a good two fingers of vodka, before sitting in front of him with a contemplating look and a matching glass. They don't talk much at first, Alexei starts to get the impression he is not going to pry anything off of him after all, but then Ilya start asking about Yulia's first hockey season, how work is going and Niamh's plans for the weekend at her parents, slowly starting relaxing into his seat the more vodka disappears from his tumbler.

"Is better?" Alexei asks, overtired and pleasingly buzzed.

Ilya smiles sheepishly "Yes. Sorry for not telling you i was coming."

"I was going to hit you with a hockey stick, i think we're even."

"Your aim was totally off, you couldn't hit me even if I stood still in front of you."

"Shut up, asshole. It would be hard to miss that big ass ego of yours."

Ilya snorts into his glass, making both of them fall into uncontrollable cackles.

"You want to talk about it?" He asks, when he gets his breath back, deliberately putting the vodka away, for both their sakes.

"I don't know." Ilya says, picking at the hot glue stuck onto the isle from Yulia's last school project. Alexei still hasn't finished fishing out all the glitters from the kitchen floor "Just... i guess something happened," He admits, with a spent look in his eyes "Nothing important," he hurries to says, to ease Alexei's concern "but I didn't want to stay alone in the house after that."

"You know you can come home whenever you want." Alexei says, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. There is something deeper in the glassy shine of Ilya's golden eyes, a thorough sadness that, for as much as he can try grasping around it, makes him think he will always come out empty ended. But Ilya is here now, not thousands miles away at his lonely penthouse in Boston, because he knew he could come home if he ever needed it.

Alexei can pretend that's enough for now.

He grasps his brother forearm in a firm grip, kicking his stool playfully "I'm glad you're here."

Ilya presses his lips together, nodding. Alexei thinks he's about to say something, but then the door to the hallway creaks open and the rhythmic sound of the clock is replaced by the pitter patter of small feet padding to the kitchen.

Yulia comes in with bleary eyes and her hair a mess, but stops short as she gets the sight of both him and Ilya at the table, with a loud gasp "Uncle Ilya!"

Ilya makes an exaggerated strained sound when he catches her into his arms, holding her tightly as he pulls her into his lap.

"Oh, moya zvezdochka, how much did you grow while i was gone? Let me look at you." He says, holding her at arm length over her drowsy giggles.

Alexei give the clock a defeated look. Two in the morning. Yulia got many great things from her mom, but her incredible ability of sleeping through a potential world war.

"Did you have a bad dream, baby?"

"No." Yulia says, snuggling into Ilya's Bears sweater "I heard you talk."

Alexei leans in to brush a curl out of her eyes "We can talk with Uncle Ilya tomorrow. It's still time to sleep, you have school later."

Yulia pouts "Can Uncle Ilya read me a story?"

Alexei wants to point out that they have already read two entire chapters about some kid with a pen-sword just five hours ago, and two AM is not the time to keep up with it. But then again, he sees the unguarded expression on Ilya’s face, torn between not wanting to disappoint his niece and a compelling heaviness, and decides that maybe he can make an exception for that night.

"Uncle Ilya is tired, he took a long flight to get here." He says, blocking out Ilya's protests with an eloquent look "But how about I do it and he stays with us until you fall asleep, mh?"

Yulia makes him lock their pinkies together, before sliding off Ilya's lap and run to her room.

"You don't have to, I can read to her." Ilya whispers, as they follow her into the hallway.

"You're about to fall asleep on your feet. Shut up and deal with it." He answers jovially. The floor of Yulia's room is a trip hazard as always, but when they reach her bed, somehow unscathed by stray pieces of lego, she's already set under the covers, eagerly waiting with a book in her little hands.

Ilya hesitates, but ultimately can't fight the pull of both Yulia's grabby hands and puppy eyes, and lays down over the colourful duvet. Yulia manhandles his arms to her liking before resting her head on his shoulder, in a way that leaves Alexei chuckling at the absurdity of a big Russian man like his brother being bossed around by a little girl.

Alexei can already see both their eyes growing heavy, but a promise is a promise so he grabs the book off the nightstand and starts reading.

"'Mytholo-gically speaking, if there's anything I hate worse than trios off old ladies, it's bulls-'"

If Niamh is surprised to find Ilya sleeping with half his body on the floor and Yulia's feet dangerously close to his face in her tall princess bed, later that morning, when she finally gets back from her shift, she surely doesn't show it, apart from happily adding a fourth plate on the breakfast table.

Ilya looks less sullen than he did that night, sitting in front of a generous stack of pancakes and eggs, as he laughs at Yulia's enthusiastic retelling of her dream and Niamh's shitshow of a shift.

Alexei almost forgets why Ilya came over in the first place throughout the weekend.

The Callahans have always made a great deal about their kids birthday, and that one is no exception. November in Edmonton means snow, but Alexei doesn't mind the cold if he gets to watch his kid shrieking with glee while sledding off the small hill behind the house, along her unidentified number of cousins, as he drinks root beer on the porch and helps Niall with the grill.

Ilya gets incredibly hyped by family gatherings too, especially with the promise of cake and Jean loaded Mac and Cheese. And, as usually, he gets both, in between chasing the younger kids around the backyard, helping Jean in the kitchen and laying lazily on the couch with Niamh's cousin's insanely big dog sprawled on him like a drooly weighted blanket of fur.

Dinner that night is quieter, everyone is still recovering from lunch, and letting the tv do the talking seems like a general agreement.

"Hey, that's the film I was telling you about!" Rory says then, pointing at the screen "It's a bummer that it's going to suck." He huffs, digging into his salad "We spent months composing the track for it."

"Why did you even sign the contract if you knew you were going to hate it?" Teagan asks, throwing a balled up crumb of bread at his face.

Alexei is glad Yulia is too occupied making smiley faces into her mashed potatoes to notice, they are years past the throwing food phase and he doesn't want a repeat of it.

"Rose Landry is in it." Rory shrugs, as some sort of solid justification.

"Isn't she the girl from 'Lost'? The one that gets kidnapped." Niamh asks her brother, passing the gravy over to her dad.

"Could be, she’s always the one getting kidnapped."

"And she's on the television right now." Niamh informs him, making Rory jump out of his seat, over their parents chuckles.

It is her, Alexei remembers her face from a couple of their movie nights, a good actor for a long list of shitty movies for sure, someone you can't really forget. The tv is set on the showbiz news Jean likes to watch before bed, playing a video of the Rose Landry in person leaving a club hand in hand with no other than Shane Hollander. They make a funny pair, Alexei thinks. It should very difficult to look so stuck up while holding a beautiful woman's hand, but Hollander looks genuinely green in the shots, it’s almost hilarious.

"That's one of the metros guys," Teagan considers "I swear, his face is plastered on every ad near the shop."

Alexei nods, helping Yulia wipe her hands from the ketchup murder scene she made of her plate "You play them anymore this season?" He asks, turning towards his brother, but Ilya's eyes are fixed to the screen, distant, and he's gripping the table with so much force Alexei starts growing concerned for his knuckles.

"Ilya?"

"No." Ilya says darkly, shaking his head back into reality as the ad switches to a cereal commercial "I'm going to the bathroom." He announces behind gritted teeth, then, before hastily getting up from his chair and stalking towards the stairs.

He can’t help but notice he’s not the only one a little stunned by it.

Rory lets out a surprised low whistle, leaning back into his chair "Damn, he must really hate the guy, then."

Alexei watches his brother disappear upstairs with a frown and at least a dozen questions stuck on the back of his throat "Yeah." He mutters, quietly wondering what the fuck is going on.

Niamh seems just as clueless as they drive back home, both Ilya and Yulia asleep in the backseats.

"Give him some time, he's probably stressed for the new season." She says quietly, laying a comforting hand over his on the gear shift "He'll come to you when he's ready."

Ilya doesn't, in fact, do anything apart from sulking into his room until the next morning, when Alexei drops him off at the airport. Alexei finds that he doesn't want him to get on a plane to Boston, not like this, any more than he's already done for the past five years. Ilya, for once, doesn't seem that much thrilled either, if the way he keeps tugging at a loose thread of his sweatpants is any giving.

"Come back after your game, alright? You don't have to be back in Boston until after Christmas, anyway." He says, clutching the wheel tighter between his hands.

Ilya nods, keeping his eyes stuck outside the window.

"Whatever it is, everything sorts itself out in the end." Alexei continues "Sometimes you just have to stick around and find out how, though, even if it hurts. It's always worth it."

And it is, Alexei wouldn't change a single thing in his life if, at the end, it had to cost him everything that made him the man he's now, or the family he never though he was allowed to have.

Ilya's tone bears the same childlike hopefulness Yulia's voice does when asking for five more minutes on the park's swings "Always?"

"Always." He confirms, nodding to the road as Ilya sniffles quietly in the passenger seat.

Alexei sends him off to Boston hoping that he won't have to wait long to know the end.

January brings even more snow and, concerningly, a lot of clients who tried using water as screen wash, filling the garage with towed off cars frozen down to their engines. Alexei spends most of his days cleaning out pipes and running anti-freeze through the system, now, working in peaceful silence or to the sweet sound of Yulia's yap, the few times he's allowed to bring her with, when Berkley is busy with her master’s thesis.

Yulia's second season in mini mite hockey is going as well as a group of uncoordinated five to six year olds on skates can go, but Ilya takes it extremely seriously every time he asks her to tell him about practice, or show him her new tricks on the synthetic ice mats he'd got her for Christmas. Alexei has already had to sweep off the ground one too many vases over flying pucks. Still, there is an inevitable familiarity about sitting in the arena's stands, watching waddling kids skate after the puck in gear too big for them, that has him think he probably doesn't mind half as much as he pretends to, not when Yulia looks so happy in her carseat, on the way back from the rink, her glasses askew and still red cheeked.

If time heals all wounds, Ilya looks undoubtedly better the next time he calls, aside from the tacky Hawaiian shirt he's wearing.

"Are you going through your quarter of life crisis?" Alexei asks, sorting through laundry by colour as the phone hangs precariously against a bottle of detergent "'cause if you ran out of stuff to wear, I can send some of the clothes you left here." He says, picking up an even uglier years old t-shirt bought at a hot dog eating contest. He wouldn't know why Ilya kept it, he spent that night attached to the toilet like a safe line, not exactly something to commemorate "Or maybe not."

"You hate me 'cause you ain't me." Ilya quips, fixing the collar of his shirt with a giddy smile on his face.

"You look happy." Alexei considers "Excited for the game?"

"Mh." Ilya nods, settling back against the bedpost "All star's are always fun: I get to show off and wipe the floor with half the continent's players, is there anything better?"

"Keeping your teeth in your skull.” Alexei instantly replies, scratching at a stubborn stain left on one of Yulia's sweaters. Alexei is going to find whoever made slime the new trend of the moment and bust their tires.

"Ha-Ha."

"No, seriously, Dr. Trembley called and said his schedule is packed for the next month, you better watch it."

"Aw, bummers." Ilya sighs theatrically "Is Vi on shift tonight?"

Alexei shakes his head, finally loading the washing machine and getting back on his feet. His back makes a satisfying and quite disturbing popping sound, perks of being in his thirties if he had to guess "She went to pick up Yulia from school. She switched to watch your game tonight." He tells him, going straight for the couch

Ilya looks almost bashful "Yeah?"

"She said she didn't want to miss you and Hollander playing on the same line." Alexei snorts, as he nods to the camera "How will that even work? He's a center too, right? It's not going to end well."

Alexei has to eat his words that night. Not only Ilya's, Hollander's, team ends the game with seven points and a double hat trick, but seeing Ilya skate that night feels a bit like witnessing a genuine miracle; he doesn't get stupid penalties, doesn't drop his gloves at the first chance he gets, but sticks to Hollander's right wing like a guard dog, and jesus fucking christ does that work. Alexei is far from an expert, but he can gather from Niamh's pleasantly surprised face that he's not that wrong in thinking that that game might have been Ilya's best performance in months.

Alexei thinks he hasn't seen Ilya having that much fun playing hockey in years, either, but that he doesn't tell Niamh, when they curl up together later that night, Yulia passed out in the middle of them.

Alexei waits until her breath settles before picking her up and tuck her in into her own bed, closing the door to her room as quietly as he can.

"You think she's maybe getting too old to climb in our bed?" Niamh asks once he gets back, laying on her side and pillowed on his arm "The mom's at the rink said she should be able to fall asleep by herself."

Alexei can't help the small smirk stretching on his lips "Yulia knows how, she just doesn't want to.”

"Sure she doesn't, when you fold like a fitted sheet every time she comes in here." Niamh teases.

"Are you calling me weak?"

"Baby, evidence speaks louder than words"

"But she does that thing with her face." Alexei complains with a small voice, promptly demonstrating "how can I say no to that?"

"Pathetic." Niamh states fondly, leaning over to brush her thumb over his jaw "Guess who she got that from." She huffs. Then her face contorts in a undecipherable expression  "Do you ever think about having other kids?" She asks, leaving Alexei to gape at her in silent for a solid five minutes.

"Never mind, I-"

"Yes?" Alexei stutters "I mean, Yulia is more than enough for me, but I wouldn't mind another."

"Wow." Niamh chuckles.

"Not- I don't mean like that." He grumbles, flustered, reaching out to push his frozen toes against her calf. Niamh jumps, giggling as he drags her back by the hips "Is just... she's very attached to both of us, I don't know if having a baby now would be best idea." He admits.

"I loved growing up with siblings." Niamh considers.

"And I couldn't stand Ilya when he was born." He retorts "It was different for you, because you didn't know life without them, but seven years is big gap." He says, brushing a curl away from her face. Yulia has never voiced wanting a sibling either, and part of him doesn’t want to take any chances there. He’d wondered sometimes what would have happened if he’d never took his brother in, sucked up years of jealousy and reciprocal pettiness to get where they are now. There is no scenario he likes better than this one, though.

Niamh eyes him pensively "You really did?"

"I thought he was going to steal my mom away from me." Alexei confesses, a bit self consciously "And my parents started fighting more after he was born. It was easier to blame him."

"You never told me this." Niamh observes, drawing circles on his chest.

"It was very long ago, I don't even know how much Ilya remembers from then.” He tells her, truthfully “I put him on the porch once so the stork could get him back." He reveals, making Niamh laugh into her hand, to muffle the sound.

The idea of Yulia doing the same for her potential sibling is genuinely horrifying now, though. Almost more than twenty years later, he can say he finally understands why his mother looked on the verge of a stroke that day.

"Would you want more kids?" He asks back, then, drawing her to rest completely over him and locking their eyes together.

Niamh contemplates the thought for a couple of seconds "Not really." She says slowly "Yulia was unexpected, but I also think that it's a small blessing she happened then rather than now. But doing it all over again with our schedules and a kid would be a nightmare." She considers, matter of factly. He can't say he disagrees with her.

"I just though I would ask." She continues in a small voice "you're so good with Yulia, I would have understood if you wanted more."

Alexei leans in to catch her lips into a slow kiss "You're all I want." He whispers, holding her chin with devotion "I don't need more, ever."

He has that night and all the rest of their lives to show her how much he means it.

-

Alexei likes to think he's good at contingency plans.

He's always been a bit of an overthinker, spent too many sleepless nights staring at the dark ceiling of his room and scrolling through everything and nothing in his mind.

Not a single scenario he'd ever allowed himself to think about ever ended with him on a plane to Moscow, though.

Next to him, Ilya's face looks ashen, both from the little rest he's had since his last game, barely twelve hours ago, and the absurdity of the situation.

Their father died.

Their father died and not even once, in the past fourteen years, has Alexei ever thought that he would ever come back to Russia for it.

He probably doesn't look any better than his brother, right now, he thinks. He had barely got any sleep in the last thirty hours between boarding the first plane to London and the hours long layover in Istanbul. He hasn't shaved, and he stinks of plane and half a pack of Marlboros.

That should have been just another day, and now it feels like he just knocked open the dusty old box of memories he'd once tried to bury in his head and forget about.

The call had arrived in the middle of the night. Alexei usually wouldn't answer to unknown numbers, but the Russian prefix had been too weird to ignore. Something could have happened with Nadia and Ivan, he'd thought, and that alone had been enough of a reason to press answer as he closed himself into their bathroom.

Alexei barely remembers the lawyer's words now, apart from the request of a formal encounter to attend the inheritance’s reading.

An inheritance. Alexei had almost started laughing before understanding she wasn't, in fact, making a joke. He wouldn't have voluntarily taken a single penny from that man even if it was to save his life and, up until then, he'd thought the feeling was extensively mutual.

He could only assure her to inform his brother as well and call her back once he landed in Russia, before hanging up, his heart in his throat.

Niamh had found him like that, later that night, leaning back onto the bathroom sink with his arms hanging uselessly at his sides and staring blankly at the wall.

Nadia and Ivan are waiting for them by the arrivals when they finally get through customs and luggage claim, dragging their feet. Neither of them speaks much during the drive back to their house.

Moscow is just like Alexei remembers, crowded with people of all ages rushing through life, rich and theatrical. It's almost overwhelming to not have to translate everything into his head, whether it's ads, the music coming from the radio, or the groceries list Nadia hands him as he and Ivan hold back to make a quick run to the store, leaving her and Ilya to sort the rest out in the house. They had barely had any time to prepare before Alexei had sprung this onto them but had furthermore insisted they stayed at their place instead of booking out a flat.

"I can hear you thinking." Ivan says, pushing the cart through the dairy isle. Alexei almost forgot milk is not sold into stupid plastic bags everywhere else in the world.

"You know me."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"You don't have to get all therapist on me." Alexei says, in what he hopes is a light enough tone "Everything is fine."

Ivan doesn't take it personally, but Alexei can feel his eyes taking him apart as he dumps yogurt into the cart.

 "Your father just died." Ivan considers "I know he was a piece of shit, but he was still your father."

"It's like you said: he was a piece of shit, so why should I care?" He shrugs tensely "Me and Ilya already decided we're not taking anything from him, let any next of kin get the hassle. We just have to wait for the funeral, then we can sign everything away and go home."

"Me and Dusya could get a day off, come with you, if you want." Ivan proposes.

Alexei wants to say yes, that the idea of getting back into that house makes him feel ill, and he wishes he could just hop on a plane back to Canada and hide in Niamh's arms to try and make this any less real. He doesn't, and shakes his head.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." He says instead, knocking two bags of flour into the cart "What does Nadia need all this flour for, anyway?"

Ivan snorts, accepting the change of subject, and keeps leading them through the store. He insists on not letting Alexei pay for anything, even the pastries and the bag of marshmallows he got for Ilya's indomitable sweet tooth.

Ilya is snoring on the living room's couch when they get back, a mess of limbs and a throw blanket that Nadia tried covering him with, and doesn't even stir while they unload the grocery bags, apart from hiding his face deeper into the cushions. Ivan disappears upstairs, Alexei hears the door of the studio softly click shut.

"Ilya can sleep in Kolya's room, I fixed the guest bedroom for you." Nadia says, closing the fridge. Her gaze softens when she turns and finally takes him in "I know the circumstances aren't the best, but I'm really glad to see you."

Alexei tries smiling, but it comes out more like a grimace "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Nadia reprimands, cupping his cheeks with a firm look "You don't have to apologize. We like visiting you guys, and I get why you wouldn't want to be here."

"It's stupid."

"Not at all." she states "I made some background checks, by the way, and spoke with the executor."

"You did? She pretty much refused to tell me anything on the phone." Alexei frowns.

Nadia laughs, patting his cheek affectionately "Sweetheart, it's my job to make people talk." She says, before moving to the stove to stir the hot chocolate she insisted on making "And I told her I was your lawyer."

"But  you aren't my lawyer."

"She doesn't know that, does she?" Nadia huffs, getting four cups out of the cabinet "She seems very straightforward, I like her. She said that Grigori's wife is up for negotiating about the will. It’s all talk until the reading, anyway."

Alexei clenches his jaw "So he remarried."

He shouldn't be surprised, he tells himself, it's not like he didn't know this would eventually happen, his father had started talking about re-marrying just months after their mother's death. He guesses he just never thought that someone might be that insane to actually tie the knot with him, though.

There is a couple of seconds of silence as Nadia purses her lips and gives him a tentative look "I looked her up on VK. They had a son, Lyoshka."

Alexei's cup spills when he lowers it back down onto the table "You're kidding me." He pleads. He’s shaking, whether from exhaustion or rage, he doesn’t know anymore "He didn't fucking wanted the ones he already had, and he went and knocked up some rando for a replacement kid?" He scoffs, gripping his hair tightly for just a hint of clarity "How old is he even? He was fucking geriatric already."

Nadia visibly hesitates, before caving in to his urgency "I think about eleven."

"Eleven." Alexei echoes, blankly, deflating.

He can't do this.

"I need a smoke." He urges, stumbling off his chair under Nadia's protests.

The air outside is frigid when he manages to get his hand to stop shaking and close around the lighter.

A kid. His father had another kid. Alexei has a stepbrother somewhere here in Moscow, and the only thing he can think about is that he would have rather never know.

Alexei hates him. He hates that he went and got a new life like they didn't even matter. He hates that maybe they never did, to him. And he fucking hates, after all those years, feeling this hurt about a kid whose only fault is sharing half the rotten blood in their veins. Jealousy simmers on high in the pit in his stomach, shameful and filled with guilt, and makes him feel just like the eight year old that used to glare at his brother through the slats of his crib, in the hope of finally making him disappear.

Ilya doesn't say anything when he finds him, still freezing on the porch, apart from leaning his head on his arm and fixing the blanket around both their shoulders.

Alexei supposes he knows, if the way he picks up his half finished cigarette to bring it to his own lips is any giving.

Alexei doesn't bother wiping the tear tracks off his face.

Ivan insists to drive them to the function, the next morning, no matter how many times Alexei tells him they don't have to fix their lives to coddle them. Infuriatingly, Ivan pretends to not hear a thing as he packs up his briefcase and keys and pushes them towards the car.

Alexei thinks he could still walk around these roads with his eyes closed, as they drive past the district and deep into Rublyovka. Ilya keeps his head low on his phone, in the backseat, clad into a black suit that somehow makes him look younger, unguarded.

Ivan pulls over a couple of houses away.

"I can still turn the car around." He says quietly, looking straight ahead at the cars parked neatly along the sidewalk "Or we can wait for the service to finish."

Alexei meets Ilya's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"We're here, anyway. We'll take care of it." He declares, before getting out of the car.

Their steps make a crinkling sound over the snow as they walk up towards the driveway.

Alexei can picture another version of them, sat on that same porch while waiting for Nadia's car to pull up as they clutch their last belongings in battered backpacks, under July's heated sun. He feels just as lost as he did then, when he knocks at the door and a poised woman in a fitted, black tailleur greets them with a tight smile.

"Alexei, I presume?" She asks, warily.

He nods curtly, dragging Ilya at his side by the hem of his sleeve "This is my brother, Ilya."

She looks them up and down for a couple of seconds, before letting them in.

"My name is Polina." She introduces herself, shaking both their hands "Your father was my husband."

It's incredibly awkward, especially after acknowledging the fact that she must not be that much older than Alexei, after all, with the barely there lines around her smile and eyes and the youthful colour on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He still offers, politely.

"Likewise."

Alexei has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from being rude, or worse, laugh.

Being guided through the house as guests would it’s unsettling, almost like Alexei didn't used to do his homework at that exact oak wood table, on the other side of the living room from the fireplace, where Ilya took his first steps and their mom used to curl up in a armchair to read during the winter.

It looks like that same, empty house Alexei left fourteen years ago, for the exception that now it's filled with people talking in low voices and whispers, and there is an open casket on the furthest side from the glass doors, that does nothing but giving him the creeps. Nobody turns to look at them, which Alexei feels incredibly grateful for, as they both consciously beeline for the alcohol.

Some faces Alexei recognises from the times he used to shadow his father at work; retired policemen, station's employee that sometimes brought him candy from the vending machines, when work was slow and his father more distant than usual. Others, Alexei remembers from sleepless nights spent looking at the patrol cars parked in front of their apartment, or the long walks home from the rink done trying to loose the steps always walking just a few feet behind.

There are old and new neighbours, Alexei used to go to school with some of their kids, here to offer their condolences and respect.

Ilya looks a little green behind his glass as he throws back the brandy.

"Do you need a minute?"

"It's fine." He says, dropping the glass on a coaster, before muttering a soft "I need a cigarette." and starting to walk towards the door to the backyard, where a couple of younger kids disappeared just a few minutes ago.

Alexei ponders the idea of following his example, but just as he's about to walk away from the table, he hears a grave voice calling him back "Alexei? Is it you?"

"Mrs. Ageyeva?" He tries, digging into his memories. She's obviously older, but still has the same piercing green eyes that used to soften with indulgence, whenever his father left him at her desk to go on a call. She always kept a box of crayons in one of the drawers of her file cabinets for him, that he does remember, along the way she could talk for hours without stopping for air.

"You look so grown up, let me look at you. So handsome." She coos, holding him gently by his forearms. Alexei has to bend forward to not jostle them much.

He cracks a smile, embarrassed "Oh, uhm, yes, thank you. How have you been?"

"Good. Enjoying retirement." She admits slyly "My husband says I'm making him go crazy at home. How about you?"

"I live in Canada now, with my family. It's great." He says, showing her his lockscreen, a picture of Niamh and Yulia dancing together at Niamh's cousin's wedding last year. Alexei itches to hear their voices, he can't wait to get out of there.

"They're so beautiful, your daughter looks just like you did at her age." Mrs Ageyeva points out softly and with a little wonder "You were such a patient child, always a gem to look after while your dad-" Her smile falls then, turning compassionate "I'm really sorry about your loss. After your mother... I can't imagine how it must feel, you're so young still."

Alexei gulps down his grimace "Yes, uhm-"

"When your father told us you went to study abroad I was surprised, we all thought you were going to fill into his shoes. He was already very concerned when you started living alone, but that far from home? I wouldn't have made it in his place." She rambles, fixing her thin glasses over her nose "And you can only guess my surprise when I saw little Ilya on tv last month, at the Olympics. Well, not so little anymore, but he still has the same smile. Is he aroun-"

"Study abroad?" Alexei quotes absentmindedly "He told you he was worried."

Mrs. Ageyeva frowns in concern "Are you feeling alright, dear?"

"What else- what else did he tell you?"

What else did he lie about.

She looks around uncomfortably before leaning in, as if to share a secret "It's fine, dear, you were going through a lot. People fall into these things for all kind of reasons. I was very happy when he told me you recovered and was starting this new chapter. Look at you, now!" She says, more brightly.

Alexei feels a bit faint.

"Yes- thanks. It was nice to nice you, but I just remembered i had to tell my brother something, so-"

He barely gives her the time to answer before fleeing the room.

Ilya is watching some kids chasing each other around the newly added swings, a beer in his hand, when he catches up with him. He sits on the other side of the bench, his limbs heavy.

"He told everyone I was an addict." Escapes him, before he can try and stop himself "He threw me out and then told everyone that I was in rehab or something."

Ilya chuckles humourlessly "Well, apparently I am a reformed violent punk. A boarding school miracle, really."

"How do you-"

"Chirkov, the guy that lived four houses down, asked for advice for his 'hotheaded son'" Ilya takes a long swig out of his beer "It took me way too long to realise he wasn't talking about hockey."

He can't help but snort, dragging his hands across his face "I can't fucking believe this."

"Me too. You punch a stupid racist kid in sixth grade once and everyone agrees you deserved military school?" Ilya complains, successfully dragging a smile out of him, the first ever since he got that call.

Alexei doesn't even feel bad about laughing at a funeral, everyone already thinks they're clinical cases anyway.

The funeral is a simple ceremony. He and Ilya stand in the far back as the casket gets lowered into the ground and keep to themselves when guests walk up to the pit to drop flowers over the casket.

Polina stands upfront with a thin boy curled up under her arm, rubbing his arm soothingly despite the clear lack of tears in both of their eyes. He looks a lot like her, he thinks, with his dark wavy hair and lean built, but the icy blue of his stare matches his own in stark familiarity as they eye each other warily from different ends of the table.

Polina insisted on having them over for coffee after the function. Alexei had been halfway into calling a uber to get back to Nadia's place when she'd approached them, at the exit of the cemetery. They'd already agreed on postponing the reading to the next day through her lawyer, and that day alone had brought to the surface more than Alexei's mind ever agreed to tolerate. She'd seem earnest enough in her offer, though, despite the reciprocal awkwardness.

"Grigori didn't talk a lot about you." Polina admits, her back turned as she fumbles with the coffee machine "I never thought it was my place to ask, either."

"He was your husband." Alexei points out in a grave voice.

"And I knew he had already had a family before, like i knew it wasn't going to be a problem." Polina retorts, defensively.

Ilya shifts uncomfortably in the chair beside his. His fists are clenched where they're resting on top of his thighs "I don't know what he told you, but all of that was pretty mutual."

Polina nods stiffly, sliding two mugs in their direction "I figured he lied about it." She says, finally sitting on her son's other side and gripping her own cup between slim fingers "Grigori was smart, but it sounded just a bit too convenient for someone like him."

Then why did you marry him? Alexei wants to ask. Why would you ever have a child with him? He thinks, watching Isaak fidget with the buttons of his suit jacket. He looks a lot like he did at that age, it's almost unsettling.

The air in the room is so thick it could be cut with a kitchen knife, which is why is not that surprising when Polina turns to her son and quietly asks "Izya, why don't you go to your room to watch some tv, mh?" in a tone that clearly suggest that it's not really up for discussions. Isaak frowns, his eyes jumping between each of them like in a tennis match,  but doesn't fight her aloud, stomping angrily out of the room.

"Listen." Alexei sighs, as soon as he hears a door upstairs close with a startling bang "We didn't come here for any money. I always thought he would disown me after leaving home, surely never expected him to put any of us in his will. If it's the house you want, all of his assets, whatever, you can have it." He says, leaning back into his chair and settling a firm hand on his brother's shoulder "We already talked about this, we're going to sign everything off tomorrow either way."

Polina eyes widen in surprise  "Oh, wow, uhm. You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

Alexei barks a laugh "I'll be very honest with you; I don't know what i thought i would find here when we came back, this hasn't been home in a long time." The coffee burns his lips when he takes a sip, Alexei feels more grounded than he has during all this shitshow of a trip "Our father wasn't a kind man. Not to us, not to our mother, despite what everyone seemed to think." He says, bitterly "I just needed some kind of... closure, I guess, to put it behind us for the better. I have a daughter, a family, I need to be at my best for them."

Polina's gaze softens "I can understand that."

"Your son." Ilya says, as hesitant as Alexei has almost never seen him "Is he really...?"

"He's Grigori's." Polina confirms, seemingly not offended by the question.

"Did he knew? About us?"

Polina sighs, fidgeting with her fingers. He can’t help but notice the bareness on her right hand "He did. After your father got sick, his memory started to fail him. He would call him by your names often, yell at him to leave. I had to tell him."

Alexei has to look down on his lap to hide his grief.

Polina sends Ilya a small smile "He's also really into hockey, he figured it out after that."

"Oh."

"He thinks I don't know, but he really wanted to meet you." She continues. Her hair has fallen from the tidy bun she wore at the funeral, its shadows make her look tired under all that composure, sadder than he’s ever seen her that day, even during the funeral "He doesn't have a lot of friends, kids pick fun at him at school. I think he had his ideas about how this would go, but I'm not going to ask you to lie for his sake."

Ilya frowns at her words "Lie? About what?"

"She's telling us that if we don't want a relationship with him, we don't have to." Alexei explains hoarsely, clearing his voice.

"You have your lives, we have ours." Polina rationalizes "He will understand."

Alexei can almost see the clogs turning into his brother's head as the room falls into a somber silence.

Would he? Want a relationship with him? Alexei could be the kid's father, whatever could they have in common? But part of him can't get over Polina's words, or the idea that if it were Yulia in Isaak's place, it would break his heart into pieces having to tell her that her siblings want nothing to do with her, for reasons way beyond her own fault.

"We- can we think about it?" He whispers, beating Ilya at answering for himself.

The tension in Polina's shoulders loosens up a notch as she cracks an hopeful smile at him "Sure, I would like that."

The drive back home is awfully quiet, after that.

When they pull up the Morozov's address, Ilya doesn't wait for him before storming out of the car and into the house.

"Losing someone is hard. Hang in there, bro." The uber driver offers sympathetically, handing back his change.

Nadia is standing outside Ilya's, Nikolai’s, room when he drags himself upstairs, a worried look on her face as she stares at the door like whatever she might find inside could blow up any minute. She doesn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him as Alexei feels the strength he'd tried holding onto all day slither out of his body.

Ilya doesn't come down for dinner, the door stays stubbornly closed.

"You want to tell me why the first thing Ilya told me when I called him earlier is that you're a fucking idiot?" Niamh asks him, after properly seeing Yulia and Berkley off at the front door. Alexei's mood, which had greatly improved while listening to Yulia babble about the previous day and the goal she was going to make later at practice around a greasy slice of pizza, sours up again.

"He said that?"

"Among other things. Everything was in Russian, that was the least offensive thing i think i can translate."

Alexei sighs tiredly against his pillow. Niamh copies his position as she settles in their bed. Like this, it almost feels like she's just a couple of inches away, not all the way on the other side of the world.

She listens quietly as he tells her about the function, the charged stares they had gotten during the funeral and about Polina, but Alexei can't help but notice the conflict between outrage and heartbreak into her eyes the more he goes on.

"What a fucking old bag of piss!" She yells "If he weren't already dead I would ran him over with the firetruck."

"Nadia would bail you out, she was very mad at dinner."

"Of course she would! What the fuck." She grumbles angrily.

"You think I shouldn't have asked?" He asks timidly, after a couple of seconds "I felt bad when she said he'd been wanting to meet us. I didn't even know he existed."

"So you would want to keep in contact?"

"Wouldn't you, if you were in my place?"

"I don't know what i would do." Niamh admits, playing with the string of what is, undoubtedly, Alexei's sweater "What I know is that Ilya thinks you're using him to punish yourself."

Alexei's breath gets stuck in his windpipe "what do you mean?"

"Try putting yourself into his shoes: this is the first time in years you come back together, all for someone he thought you both hated to the point that it wouldn't matter whatever happened to him. Then you get there and you discover he had a new wife, a new son, and your brother, who is a bit of a pushover," she scolds him gently "he actually thinks about keeping up with people they have no business with, because he feels responsible about a kid he's never met having a shitty dad."

"It's not like that." He tries, but it sounds empty to his ears too.

Niamh must think the same too, because she proceeds to bite her lip, hesitantly "Is it not? Baby, it's not your fault you never knew about him, just like you would have every right to not wanting anything to do with him. It's nothing personal, but it hurt you, your father hurt you. And Ilya knows that this is way more of a deal for you than it is for him, because while he had you to take care of him, you had no one." Alexei wishes he could hide his face in the crook of her neck and inhale the soft scent of her bodywash while listening to her talking. Maybe it would hurt somewhat less. "That piece of shit was still your father, you're allowed to grieve. You can't fix everyone else's problems while you're at it, too, though." Niamh soothes him.

Her thumb appears briefly over the camera, like she's trying to brush off his tears from the other side of the screen "Ultimately, it's your decision what to do about this, but I think Ilya is more upset that you didn't ask him for his opinion before telling her you would both consider it."

Definitely not his brightest moment, he thinks, hiding his face into his pillow. Has this what he's being doing? Projecting onto a kid out of guilt?

"I think, maybe, I feel bad that he died and I'm not that sad about it." He says, carefully "Everyone kept saying great things about him at the funeral, but I know- we know, that he was a corrupt asshole. I wish all those things were true, that he cared, about me, about Ilya the most. But I think that he knew we would come back here someday, and he wanted it to hurt."

Polina had said that his father was smart, Alexei thinks he had just always been too good at being cruel.

"You didn't deserve it, any of it." Niamh says firmly to the camera "I hope he knew to wish to burn in hell when he died, because when I will I'll do him way worse than that."

"My little knight in shining armour." Alexei sighs, kissing his fingertips and laying them over the camera.

"I love you." Niamh whispers back, smiling sweetly "But talk to Ilya, alright? I think he might be a little bit jealous too, after all." She considers.

Alexei stops wiping at his eyes to send her a confused look "Of who?"

Niamh chuckles quietly "Of the kid, dummy. He thought it was just the two of you against the world, and now he feels a bit left out with you wanting the kid in your lives. You didn’t hear how he was talking about him. I think he hasn't really realized that if he's your half brother, that means he is his too."

Alexei is torn between feeling very sad and weirdly touched about it.

They hang up right after Berkley and Yulia come back home from practice and Alexei has the chance of saying goodnight to her too.

He tosses and turns for about thirty minutes before giving up and walking out to the balcony. Nadia left an ashtray for him outside, disapprovingly, he is sure, but he's grateful nonetheless as he sits on the ground with his back to the window, his head tilted back on the glass. The cold is comforting, the high walls of the balcony cover him from the wind and clueless passer-by. By the second cigarette of the night, Alexei feels so floaty that he barely registers the voice speaking in hushed tones coming from somewhere his left.

Ilya must be on the phone in the other room, he thinks, and definitely left his window open to get the smell of smoke out before incoming into Nadia's rage. He wonders who he might be calling this late. Svetlana probably, his brain supplies, after catching a few strings of indiscernible russian.

Alexei is about to crawl back to his room to give him some privacy, despite the other half of his cigarette laying on the ashtray still intact, but then he hears a wet sniffle coming through the window, that has him stop in his tracks about a feet away from the door, concerned.

"-hate him, i fucking hate him. And I think he hated me too, for existing. Enough to play all of this, us, like puppets, just like he used to when we were kids. It kills me, I think it kills my brother more." Ilya says, in that choked rasp that means he's trying to hold back his tears.

Alexei is frozen, both from guiltiness and absolute devastation.

"I just hate everything here. I hate hiding, I hate lying." Ilya continues "But the worst part of it is that I have to either way, Russia or not Russia, just because i want you. Only you." Ilya's voice breaks as Alexei feels his heart collapse into his chest "I'm so in love with you that I don't know what to do about it."

He's definitely not talking to Svetlana.

Alexei is back in in the span of seconds, the window haphazardly closed behind him in a vague attempt to muffle Ilya's voice.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was definitely not supposed to hear that.

Alexei realises he's been pacing only when he finally trips on a misplaced shirt, checking the tiles with a loud smack of his cheek. That, at least, is enough to bring him back to reality.

With half his face stinging, Alexei turns on his back, staring intently at the ceiling.

He feels almost as embarrassed as that time Ilya came back home early from practice and found him and Niamh still naked on the couch. Only then, Ilya had laughed and closed the door to give them five awkward minutes to get dressed, before forgiving and forget. Alexei doesn't think he can ever forget the rawness of Ilya's voice in his quiet confession.

Alexei didn't even know he was dating someone. Ilya has always been secretive about that aspect of his life, and he had always respected it apart from the occasional rib over TMZ's blogs and scandalous tabloids. Still, he wasn't the type to kiss and tell.

This is not just about some girl met at a bar.

I hate lying... but the worst part of it is that I have to either way, Russia or not Russia, just because i want you.

Alexei thinks this might not be about a girl at all.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Nadia gasps the next morning when he walk downstairs for breakfast, rumpled and with barely two hours of sleep into his body.

"Walked into the door last night." He grunts, sitting across Ilya at the table and ignoring both their looks of concern.

Ivan must have already left, while Nadia is spinning around the house in search of her car keys. She brushes a loud kiss on both their heads before hastily walking out the house, cursing about traffic.

It doesn't take long for either of them to crack.

"I'm sorry about-"

"I shouldn't have-"

They both laugh at the timing. Alexei signs him to go first.

"I'm sorry about acting like that yesterday, when we got back, it was childish." Ilya admits, pushing his cereal around his bowl "It just- you always let other people walk all over you when you're feeling like shit. I hate that they take advantage of it." He huffs.

Alexei waves him off "I shouldn't have spoken for the both of us with Polina. I get why you wouldn't want to stay in contact with them."

"Still." Ilya shrugs, folding into his shoulders "I just don't get why you would, i guess. We don't owe them anything."

Alexei has rehearsed his speech all night for this moment "We don't." He agrees "But they're not our father, Ilya, it's not their faults either if he was an asshole. Isaak is just a kid, a lonely kid, whose deadbeat of a father just died. I'm not saying it's our job to pick up after what he left, but Isaak doesn't deserve other people treating him like he's nothing just for existing, no kid does." He states firmly.

Ilya leans his face into his hands. He looks awfully young like this, in a beat up Bears shirt and sweats. His curls are wild and frizzy around his head, like he spent all night rubbing his head on the pillow.

"I hate when you're right."

"I know."

"And I'm not going to refer to him as my brother."

"Fair enough."

"I guess we can try." Ilya says through a fake smile, dragging a laugh out of him.

"I like when you're enthusiastic."

"Eat shit."

Alexei pats his forearm "I love you, you know? Nothing is going to change it. You’re my little brother, no matter what."

Ilya lowers his gaze back onto his cereals, his cheeks pink "I know."

"I mean it." He presses, seriously "Whatever happens, i have your back, always."

Ilya's eyes search his face for a couple of seconds, under the small frown of suspiciousness his face always does when he's taking something in, but then he smiles teasingly, battling his hand away with a playful slap

"I can't take you seriously when your face looks like that."

The reading goes just as expected; Alexei doesn't need to known whatever the will contains before signing everything off to Polina. It's freeing, in some way, Alexei feels like he finally got rid of the last tie to his father. The executor merely informs them she'll be emailing them a copy before packing up and leave.

Polina invites them to stay over for lunch after that. She accepts his help in the kitchen with grace, and so they leave Ilya and Isaak in the living room, to study one another like kids at a playground. If one of them was a twenty-six year old manchild, that is.

"I was thinking of selling the house." Polina confesses, stirring the soup with a serious look on her face, like bracing for impact "You know, is just the two of us, and a change of scenery might do Isaak good after all."

"The house is yours." Alexei reminds her, not unkindly "Has it been hard for him? With Grigori..."

"Not really." Polina admits "They never really connected. It mostly felt like being married to your roommate, if you know what I mean. And I think it felt like this for Isaak, too."

Alexei could never imagine it, being a stranger to his son while living under the same roof, but Grigori had already enough practice with it with the first two rounds, he supposes.

"I know what you might think of me." Polina says suddenly, while they're peeling potatoes by the sink. Alexei barely register it at first.

"What?"

"You know, that i must be a gold digger for finding myself an older man."

Well, to be fair Alexei can't exactly say the thought hadn't brushed his mind "It's not my place to judge. I mean, I think you could have still done better than him, at least."

"It kind of was." Polina confesses, coughing out a chuckle "for money. But I had really nothing when I met him. It felt like an easy way out; i could live in a house again, get a degree, all of it if just agreed to marry him. Isaak was a small miracle, too, despite the circumstances." she  says, a small smile on her face when she nudges him back to peeling, where he's standing eyeing her with quiet assessment.

"You really don't owe me an explanation." He says slowly "But i get it. When I left home I had to work anywhere that could pay to hold us up. But i was lucky, I had Nadia to pitch in, help with Ilya. There is no shame in wanting better for yourself."

He watches the woman beside him, barely older than himself, and thinks that they could both escape this, him, at the end. It's a good thought, after all.

Ilya and Isaak are playing Mario Kart when Alexei walks into the living room to call them for lunch. Isaak giggles at the screen every time Ilya looses control of his car and whines loudly at the tv, which happens surprisingly a lot for someone who spends most of his free time playing videogames on his PlayStation.

As bizarre as the whole situation is, lunch is not that bad. Isaak, Alexei finds, is a quiet kid but, like his mom, has an incredible dry humour, especially for being only eleven. Ilya seems to go through the whole five stages of grief trying to hide the amusement off his face, but Alexei can see right through him as he makes small talk with Polina, about work, about their family.

Now that the house isn't so full of people, it's easy to assess that it's just like the day Alexei left it, down to the last piece of furniture. Alexei can't help but wander around after Isaak insists on showing them his room. Well, Ilya's old room. He almost has to elbow his brother in the ribs to make him fix the pout surging on his face, but Ilya's face falls by itself at the realization that maybe, in all those years, the only thing changing in it had been its inhabitant.

There is still the shelves where their mom hung Ilya's hockey trophies, the indent in the wall Ilya made headbutting it with his helmet and the toy cars lined up over the windowsill. It's almost like Isaak lived as a guest into someone else's home, in some sick and twisted way. He thinks of Yulia’s room, so colourful and filled with toys, drawings and pictures of her growing up, about her height marked in sharpie along the doorstep. That’s what a kid’s room should look like. This feels like Alexei got transported back to his own childhood, instead.

"Mom said we can put posters on the walls." Isaak says, smiling widely, like he's sharing a thrilling news and not making Alexei's heart bleed into his chest.

"That's awesome, buddy." Ilya answers faintly, and lets Isaak show him the box of little army soldiers stored under his bed. He remembers those, Ilya used to hide them around his room when he wasn't home, just to annoy him, so much that Alexei had to get used to check into his shoes before getting prickled by little plastic firearms.

He should get back downstairs and help Polina with the dishes, leave Ilya and Isaak be, but he can't help the curiosity blooming into his chest as he walks into the opposite room.

The weights by the foot of the bed, his football jerseys hung over the wall, the prep tests he used for his finals; everything is exactly where he left it, covered by a thin layer of dust.

Grigori had kept everything, every single thing, as if nothing ever happened. Alexei doesn't know how to feel about it.

He doesn't want to think about what it might mean, either. There is no simple explanation that doesn’t make him want to muffle his screams into a pillow until losing his voice.

He snaps a couple of pictures for Niamh's sake, and finally closes the door behind himself.

He wonders if...

Maybe he can stray for a couple of more minutes, he decides.

"You have our numbers." Alexei tells Polina, later, as he's pulling on his coat "Lets not be strangers."

Ilya is showing Isaak something on his phone while pulling on his boots, balancing on the rack as they chatter.

"Thank you, really." She says, watching her son with a soft smile on her face. God, Alexei can't wait to squeeze Yulia back into his arms.

"You don't have to thank me, he's a good kid."

Polina nods absentmindedly, before turning back to him "You're flying back tomorrow?"

"Yes. Ilya has a game next week and I have work. It was nice meeting you, though." he's surprised at how genuine it feels to say it.

"So?" He asks Ilya, once they're halfway back to the Morozov's house.

"I suppose he's fine."

"Mh-mh."

"I'll have to send him new hockey gloves, though, his are completely busted. Maybe I'll ask Nikki to sign a stick for him, he's a Wolves fan."

"Oh yeah, makes total sense."

Alexei laughs as he gets pushed against the window. The driver sends them a wary look through the rearview mirror.

The air is charged, the next day, as Alexei watches his brother crouch over their mother's grave. He can't hear his words, not from this far, in the backseat of Nadia's car, but Alexei can see he's smiling. It's wet, broken at the edges, but he's smiling. He thinks he did good by giving him a minute to himself, he eavesdropped enough to last a lifetime already.

They had been on their way to the airport when Ilya had timidly asked Nadia to pull over by the graveyard. Neither of them had thought of denying him.

"He used to ask me to bring him here, when he came to visit, before flying back." Nadia says, breaking the silence. It feels almost disrespectful to talk, despite no one alive being there to hear it.

He nods. It's not like Ilya ever hid it from him. Alexei had always thought it was kind of her to find the time to let him say goodbye, even if he was bound to never hear it back.

Alexei watches his brother gently caress the edges of the stone, before fixing the wildflowers he’d got at the florist’s cart by the entrance over the soil and walking back towards the car.

His eyes are red rimmed when he drops into the backseat, but he looks weirdly at peace with himself.

"You can go." Ilya tells him, rough but not unkind, patting him on the shoulder.

Alexei takes a deep breath before getting out of the car.

He hasn't been here ever since their mother's funeral, and, despite it having been almost fifteen years, he doesn't know what to say at first, when he finds himself standing over her grave. Time has chipped the stone, the depth of the incisions are covered in snow. Alexei barely feels its cold sting as he brushes it away barehanded.

He stares in silence for a couple of minutes, his breath coming out in condensed puffs.

"Hi." He whispers, then "I- I'm sorry if I didn't come sooner. You didn't deserve it. I hope Ilya kept you entertained enough when he did." The sun is high in the sky, but Alexei feels like he's freezing as he rocks on his feet "You would be very proud of him. He's an amazing player. A good man, too. I tried my best. I tried, mom, I tried so hard." He exhales, digging his teeth into his lower lip "Maybe I could have done more for us, but I think we came out pretty good, didn't we? We have a family, like you always wanted to."

Maybe that's why she never left their father, after all. Maybe being with him had sounded better than being utterly alone to her too. Alexei thinks he can understand it now, better than he ever did at nineteen.

"You would like Niamh." He says. His lips curl involuntarily into a smile "she's a rock. I think she gave me back a piece of myself I had forgot about. And she gave me Yulia. I love that little girl like I have never loved anything in my life." He admits "Maybe you were the one who sent them for me. Even if you didn't, thank you, mama."

The wind picks up in a gentle breeze as he stands back up. Alexei clutches at the ring hanging off his neck. There are so many things that he would tell her if she were here, now, watching him with an encouraging smile.

"I hope you can forgive me. I think I might be ready for it." He tells the wind, instead. She will understand "I love you."

He hesitates then "If you can, could you watch over Ilya? I think he might need it now more than ever." He says, before turning to the snow covered trail and trace his steps back to the car.

Ilya offers him a sad smile as he slides in beside him. Alexei ruffles his curls before he can stop himself and closes his eyes against the window as Nadia starts the car back up.

Saying goodbye to Nadia and Ivan is as bittersweet as it had been all those years ago, but, almost twenty-six hours later, Alexei can't say it wasn't worth it when Yulia runs through the arrivals and right into his arms.

She's already talking miles, her arms tight around his neck as he walks them both to meet Niamh in the middle. She squeaks when he drops his duffle on the ground to wrap his free arm around her waist, lifting her a couple of inches off the ground as he breaths her in. Fuck, if he missed her. They laugh against each other's lips as they sway, right there in the middle of the airport.

He thinks he can deal with Russia still holding a piece of himself as long as he can come home to this.

"Well, hello to you too. Who am I, Chopped liver?" Ilya scoffs dramatically, still catching Yulia before she can split her head on the ground.

Her excitement is short lived. It's pretty late into the evening, Alexei is not surprised to see her conk out as soon as they get on the highway, her little hand tight around Ilya's pinky. His brother snores into the next seat, his head leaned against Yulia's carseat. Niamh knows him well enough to snap a picture with her phone, smiling fondly at the scene.

"I have something for you." He confesses, after a while, accepting a sip of Niamh's iced coffee.

Niamh perks up "Really? What is it?"

"You can't wait until we get home?"

"Do you know me?"

Alexei chuckles quietly, keeping his eyes on the road "Check side pocket."

There is a rustling sound, then a gasp as Niamh scrolls through the album "Oh, baby. Where did you found it?"

"My father's study, with our family pictures." He says lowly "I thought maybe Yulia would like to have them and it's not like Polina was going to keep them, anyway. She said she'll send us everything she finds, when they'll move out, by the way."

"That's really nice of her." Niamh says, a bit wetly "Oh god these are adorable." She babbles, her eyes transfixed on the pages. Then, with the corner of his eye, he sees her raising her head abruptly "Wait, you played piano?"

Alexei cringes "Let's not talk about that."

"I love it." Niamh whispers truthfully, tangling their fingers on her lap "And I'm glad everything turned out fine."

Despite everything, Alexei can't help but smile as he drives them home "Me too."

"Now, why does your face look like you got beaten up?"

Chapter End Notes

Heyo guys,
so, writing the second half of this was a nightmare, i have actually never been to a funeral so, yeah.
take this as a first part of something bigger, I can tell you with enough certainty now that the next will be the last one, at least if ecerything goes as planned. It's pretty surreal for me, I never finished a ff in my entire life, but I'm glad I fell way over into this.
But who says that this is the end for this universe, anyway?

this being said, thank you for reading and all of your comments and kudos, deeply grateful to have yall walk with me through this journey.

stay safe <3

Chapter 7: Green Light

Chapter Notes

Alexei likes to think he's a good brother. It's not a hardship, he takes the job very seriously and he's proud of where he and Ilya stand now, at almost thirty-three and twenty-six respectively.

Which is why, on their next free weekend, curtesy of two very loving grandparents, Alexei finds himself wedged in the middle of a thick crowd of people, covered in body glitter, sweat and jumping to the loud beat of the music.

Niamh is pushing her way through the crowd, Berkley holding onto her hand, to get their second round, when he finally turns towards Finn with a determined look in his eyes.

"So... you like men."

Finn inhales the last remnants of his drink, coughing loudly as it spills out of his nose and over the booth's table. It's a little disgusting, but Alexei is a parent, he has seen much worse in this past six years of experience.

"The fuck." Finn rasps "Dude, warn a man next time." He wipes his chin with the hem of his cropped shirt "Was that even a question?"

"No, I mean, I know you like men." Alexei says, awkwardly.

"Too, I like men too. If my girlfriend wasn't enough of an example, already." Finn corrects him gently, officially interested in the conversation, if the way he leans in is any giving "But why are we talking about it?"

"If you... if you had a friend that you think is afraid to tell you, but you want to let them know that it's fine, what would you do?" He asks, hoping it came across the way he intended.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't start the conversation with 'So... you like men'." Finn says with a grimace.

Alexei groans into his hands.

"I don’t know, dude, I guess it depends." Finn continues "This shit is scary as fuck to deal with, not all of us do it the same."

"But how did you know that you could tell me?" Alexei insists, maybe a bit more desperately than intended.

It's a thought that has been grovelling inside him ever since they came back from Russia, less than a month ago.

He and Ilya don't keep secrets with each other, that is just how it has always been between them. The idea that he could be afraid of telling him something like this has been killing him, especially after spending days picking apart the past and looking for the inevitable proof that it's his own fault. Alexei just has no idea where he went wrong, even less how to fix it.

Finn's face does something complicated as he twirls the straw into his drink "Lex, I don't think we've actually ever talked about this." He admits.

"What do you mean, of course we did."

"No," Finn says, not meeting his eyes "you know because I never hid it." He points out "but even if you knew about me liking men, you never said anything about it. I just thought you preferred it that way. Up until now, at least." He adds, shrugging into his shoulders.

"Is your business, why should my opinion matter?" Alexei asks, confused.

Finn sighs "It's the same principle of lying by omission: it's still lying. I think this is the most we've ever acknowledged the fact that I'm not straight."

Is it? Alexei is left staring blankly at the reflection of Finn's shades, folded over the hem of his mesh shirt.

"It's not that I thought you were a homophobe, maybe more like that you were uncomfortable, in some way, talking about these things." Finn continues "So I knew I didn't have to worry about you knocking my teeth in if I flirted with the barman, but I sure wasn't going to tell you what we did later at my apartment."

Alexei does the best thing he can think of and downs the rest of his drink with a haste gulp. The vodka makes him feel even worse, somehow.

"I'm not." He says, dejectedly "Not uncomfortable, not disgusted, I just... is different, in Russia. Everything is." He sighs, fiddling with his necklace  "It's not like Canada. Maybe not everyone thinks the same there, but if they don't, they don't go telling other people about it."

In Russia, there was no option about who you could be apart from straight. Alexei had never though about it more deeply than he needed to. He liked girls, why should he had? And the locker room was filled with slurs, their house wasn't any better.

But, just like him, Ilya had grown up in both.

Maybe Alexei never told him he couldn't be gay, but he didn't tell him the opposite either.

"I'm sorry, Finn. I didn't realize-"

Finn eyes soften "Hey, you're fine. I thought it might because of that, and maybe it's also a little my fault for never asking." He admits "But I guess if you want your friend to know, you might need to be a bit more explicit. Wait, is this why you insisted of coming here tonight?" He says, now smiling brightly.

"I heard they made really great drinks." He shrugs. And maybe he'd also foolishly thought he could try and get some insight by people watching, but he understands now how that might have been a stupid idea.

"You are an eternal discovery, Alexei Rozanov." Finn laughs, before intercepting Berkley and the drinks lodged in her arms and helping her to the booth.

"Everything ok?" Niamh asks, sliding beside him with two tall glasses topped with little paper umbrellas. The lights of the club make her eyes shine like mirror balls. Alexei is awfully addicted.

"Yes." He says, smoothing out the small frown forming between her eyebrows with his thumb "Don't worry, solnyshko."

He falls in a bit of a rabbit hole after that, with the accomplice of the rainbow section at Teagan's store and parenting books that Alexei never thought he would have had to ever read. Admittedly, it's kind of overwhelming at first. He has barely any idea of where to put his hands, apart from trying to be as open as possible, especially, for once, towards Finn's pop culture suggestions.

This feels way too important to hold onto assumptions, even if their beer and movie night that day ends with Alexei fighting off tears during credits and Finn laughing at him from the other end of the couch, just as teary eyed.

"So, don't get me wrong," Niamh yawns, one morning, while coming up behind him and circling her arms around his waist, her eyes still half closed. It's a Sunday morning, Yulia is miraculously still asleep, and Alexei had thought about waking Niamh up with breakfast in bed. He must have been louder that he'd thought, he thinks with a small pout "I'm glad that you're very passionate about human rights," She prefaces, her voice muffled by his t-shirt "but is there a reason why I almost tripped and died over 'A rainbow guide: how to support your queer kid'?"

The hand that he is currently using to flip pancakes with gets stuck mid air. He feels Niamh nuzzle her face between his shoulder blades. She doesn't insist, just waits.

"You know that Finn is queer."

"Mh-mh"

"He said something a couple of weeks ago," he admits carefully. Niamh's fingers knead gently at his hips as he talks, Alexei can't help but melt into her hands "and it made me realise that I don't know a lot about these things, and maybe I should. For Yulia too. I don't want her to be scared to tell us anything, not about who she is or who she loves." He says in a quiet voice.

It's not the whole truth, but it's not a lie either. There are very few things that Alexei spontaneously keeps from Niamh from time to time, like the awful marker stain he and Yulia hid by flipping the couch seat, but, as a matter of now, he will keep Ilya's secret too.

He doesn't realize Niamh's hands have stopped in their ministration until she's sliding the spatula out of his hand, prompting him to turn around with a squeeze to his waist. He's only half turned when she eagerly presses him against the counter, her arms coming up to rest on his shoulders as she dives for his lips. It's far from heated, but the kiss still makes his toes curl as he pushes back against her, trying to match her pace as surprise gets replaced by the rush of having her close.

He doesn't know exactly what he did to deserve it, but he's definitely all in for it.

So much, in fact, that he barely registers the smell of smoke coming from the pan.

"Fuck, babe, wait." Niamh gasps, coming up for air, and reaching over to turn the burner off. Alexei is still dazed when she walks over the window to let the smoke out, the collar of her shirt, his shirt, held over her nose. When he finally gets kicked back into reality, she's already poking the carbonized batter left into the pan.

Alexei sighs dejectedly "Ah. No more breakfast in bed, I think."

They stare at each other blankly from the two ends of the stove for a couple of seconds, but once Niamh starts giggling, he's totally done for, and has to grip the edge of the counter to stay upright.

"Jesus." Niamh says, wiping the corners of her eyes and stepping into his open arms "Your reaction time sucks." She mumbles into his shoulder.

"I was a bit distracted, Mrs Firefighter." He points out, smiling into her hair. That would have been a way to go, for sure.

He feels Niamh leave a kiss over his collarbone, before raising her head and locking their eyes together. He can't help but reach over and tuck her bangs behind her ear, brushing his thumb over her freckles on the way. There is something to this, these small cut out moments of domesticity, that always make him feel a little lightheaded with love. How could he not, he thinks, with Niamh looking at him like this, like they belong.

"Marry me."

Alexei's breath stutters "You ask all the people you save that?"

"I'm not joking." She says with a cut out laugh, cupping his cheeks between her hands. Her eyes are misty but determined as she smiles wobblily at him "I know we said we would wait until the perfect moment, but I don't want to wait anymore. Now it's perfect. Please, marry me, Alexei Rozanov."

Alexei's brain feels uncharacteristically blank as he looks at her.

They just risked a whole house fire and she's asking him to marry her. She's asking him to marry her, like there wasn't a ring hidden into Ilya's closet right now, in the only room she would never look in, or a dinner reservation already booked for their anniversary that year. Alexei had plans for this, he thinks he's had them ever since they decided they would, one day, just make what they have already promised to each other even more real.

But now they're rumpled, still crusty-eyed from sleep and he has pancake batter stuck on his shirt, far from the picture he'd in his mind of getting onto one knee in front of her, just like in the movies.

But this? This feels more like them, though, and there is no better movie than it.

He leaves a kiss on her palm, sliding one of her hands over his heart. It's beating so fast that he feels almost drunk off it "So polite. Of course I'll marry you."

Niamh shoulders sag with relief "You will?"

"You thought I was going to say no?" He chuckles wetly, pulling her over. Their foreheads meet in the middle. It feels like a silent promise.

"I don't know." She answers truthfully, sniffing quietly "but you were just being so... you, I couldn't help myself."

"I was being me?" He repeats, in mock speechlessness "so is my fault now?"

"You know what I mean." She whines, betrayed by her smile "You're an amazing father, I love how you are with her, and I don't to waste any more time." She says, brushing his bangs back "I love you."

"I love you, too, lisichka." He whispers against her lips, before leaning in for his well-earned kiss.

-

Boston doesn't last long into the play-offs that year. When Ilya comes home, in time to watch the final round at Jean and Niall's place, like they’ve been doing every year ever since Niamh brought them home for that first time, he looks way more settled than Alexei had imagined, though.

"So, you finally got a date for the wedding?" Ilya asks, handing him an ice-cold beer from the refrigerator. Second period just finished and the Admirals just tied with Minnesota. Apart from whining about the unfairness of Scott Hunter playing for the cup in his place, Ilya doesn't seem particularly interested in the actual game. Still, Alexei can tell something is on his mind, with the way he keeps mindlessly fidgeting with his ear, just like he's always done ever since he was little.

"Sometime in September." He says, flipping off the cap on the corner of the kitchen table "Definitely before Yulia has to go back to school."

"First grade." Ilya sighs "Doesn't it make you feel a bit old?"

"Shut up, asshole." He scoffs, tipping the bottom of his beer forward when he goes to take his next sip. Ilya sputters, and Alexei is left laughing as he watches him wipe beer and spit from his chin and try to dry the puddle he made over the kitchen floor as fast as he can, possibly away from Jean unsuspecting eyes.

"You're going to make me chip a tooth like this!"

"I think you have done much worse than that, by now, with the way you let the other teams beat you like a ragdoll." He deadpans, unimpressed "speaking of, have you heard anything about Hollander after you last game? He got injured, yes?"

Ilya lowers his beer slowly away from his mouth "I mean." He says, clearing his voice "We all get our bell rung at some point, he'll be fine."

"Yuna said you went to see him, the day after." Alexei reveals, genuinely impressed "That was nice of you."

When Alexei had texted her to check in with her and David, after seeing the headlines on the sport section of a newspaper at work, she'd sounded somewhat pleased by it, despite the conviction that it had been Alexei to send him off.

Ilya flushes pink "I'm the captain, of course I did." He answers, flatly and, if Alexei had to say, a bit too defensively "And why do you have Hollander's mom's number, anyway?" He grumbles "You're so weird."

"She asked Vetrov for it sometime after Yulia was born, she wanted to make sure everything went fine, congratulate us..."

Alexei had found it both pretty sweet and kind of unsettling. Apparently, there were very few things that Yuna Hollander's sole will couldn't achieve. He did have to have a talk with Vetrov about handing his number to strangers, though, even if under duress. It was already disturbing enough waking up to his texts.

Ilya hums around the neck of his bottle.

"She's been a great help." He admits "She was the one that gave us that tip for Yulia's eczema." A scary, maybe too involved, but very resourceful woman, indeed. Alexei had made sure to send them a very fine bottle of Vodka, that Christmas.

"We should go back; third period is starting up." Ilya suggests, before pulling out his phone and take off to the living room, not so unlike a man being chased.

Alexei frowns to himself before following him out of the kitchen.

"The Admirals are definitely going to win this. Their goalie is on fire tonight." Niamh says as he drops on the floor between her parted legs. Yulia doesn't hesitate to lay her head on his lap, her eyes stuck over to the screen. The more she grows up, the more he realises he really made a little copy of his own brother. Alexei is deeply in disadvantage into his own house.

"If Scott Hunter doesn't pop his hip out while taking the next shot." Ilya considers, kicking his legs over the arm of his armchair.

"You're such a sore loser."

"I'm just stating facts."

"Like a loser."

Alexei is too slow to catch the chip aimed at his forehead. He leans his head back over Niamh's legs as he laughs.

"Kids." Jean sighs, but Alexei can see she's hiding her own smile in her husband's shoulder.

Niamh prediction turns out to be, in fact, true. The timer goes off just as New York's left wing tucks the winning puck into the net, right after recovering from a brutal check into the boards. Ilya throws his head back over the armrest with a groan as the crowd erupts, and New York finally raises the cup over the rink for the first time in years, as Niamh decidedly points out.

Niamh's parents leave for bed not long after that, while they stick around to watch the highlights and after game interviews.

Alexei can't help the sad smile on his lips watching Hunter hold to himself, as the other players' families swarm the ice. He vaguely remembers hearing about his parents passing, in one of his old interviews to the press. It must feel terribly lonely, he thinks, to reach so high and have no one to share it with. But then, Hunter starts waving to a specific point to the crowd, catching the commentator’s attention as a guy clumsily walks down the bleachers towards the glass.

"What's he doing?" Niamh asks, curiously.

Ilya frowns as he leans halfway off the armchair, to frown sceptically at the screen.

Alexei can't help but asking himself that too.

At least up until Scott Hunter finally grabs the guy’s jacket lapels into his hands and plants a bruising kiss on his boyfriend’s lips on national live, right there in the middle on the ice, over the loudest roar Alexei has ever heard raising from an arena.

No fucking way.

His eyes can't help but flicker to his brother. Ilya is looking at the screen like he's never seen a television in his entire life. His eyes are wide open, jumping to every side of the camera’s shot like it might disappear in front of his eyes, as he sits up and starts furiously texting on his phone.

"Papa, they're kissing!" Yulia squeals, pointing to the screen.

Alexei can feel the heavy stare of Ilya's gaze as he makes a deliberate decision.

"They must love each other, malishka." He says carefully, tucking one of Yulia's blonde ringlets behind her ear, under the temples of her sparkly blue glasses "just like and me and mama do." Niamh hand finds his shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"But they're two boys." Yulia frowns innocently, tipping her head sideways.

"Well, wouldn't it be a bit boring if we all loved the same?" He asks back.

Yulia hums quietly "I guess you're right." She decides then, going back to watch the screen. Well, that was easier than he'd thought it would be.

With his heart stuck into his throat, he has just the time to hesitantly turn to look towards his brother before Ilya is jumping off his chair and out of the room.

Alexei is about to follow him when Niamh’s hand closes around his wrist, holding him back.

"Give him a minute." She whispers gently.

"You...?"

"You're not as subtle as you might think, Alexei Rozanov." Niamh chuckles, cupping his jaw with an adoring smile on her face. The cool metal of her ring is blissful over the heat of his cheek, the thought of the matching one on his right hand even more. She had insisted on getting him one back, right after he'd got back into himself enough to give her the one he'd wished to propose with. To make it fair, she'd said, as an early anniversary present. Alexei likes the weight of it on his ring finger, just as much as he likes the intense and heated stare settling in Niamh's eyes every time they interlock their fingers together "and you're also a great brother.”

"You don't think that was too much?"

"It was just right." She says, leaving a smacking kiss over his cheek.

When Alexei finds Ilya next, he's smoking on the backyard porch, tucked under one of Jean's knitted blankets and staring at where the fence ends at the border with the forest. May has been kind, but Alexei still finds himself shivering as he steps out the door.

He sits beside him on the step, patiently leaning his head on the palm of his hand.

"You know." Ilya says finally, then, with an indecipherable expression on his face. His voice is hoarse, his eyes look red-rimmed. Alexei wishes he could free him of all of his sorrows.

"What you think I know?"

He almost expects Ilya to answer with a joke, a funny quip, maybe. Instead, he only seems to make himself even smaller under the blanket, like a little bird looking for warmth.

"That I- That I'm bi."

"I've, uhm, I've had my suspicions."

"Since when?"

"Since Russia." He admits, wiping his palms over his pants "I heard you talking on the phone- not everything!" He promises, after Ilya's green look "Just enough to guess."

"That was private." Ilya says lowly.

"I know, I'm really sorry about it. But we had fought and I thought I heard you crying so I just- yeah."

Ilya puts his head into his hands "I don't know what to say." He admits, his voice shaking.

“What about I talk and you just listen?” he proposes, leaning back over his arms. The cold air helps with clearing his head as he starts talking “I guess I had never really thought much about who you could be while you were growing up, you always seemed to have it figured it out already, ever since you were a kid. But I should have, and I regret not to, because I would have never wanted you to assume that I could love you any less for this.” He says, lowering his eyes to the ground “I meant every word I said to Yulia, earlier. I’m sorry if I made you doubt it.”

Ilya’s eyes are wet and so sad when he turns to look at him, his lips downturned like he’s trying to keep himself from crying  “It wasn’t just you, I think, that I was scared about.” That I am scared of. It goes unsaid, but the words hang between them like stretched at the seams “but I- I guess I just never wanted to risk it.”

"Like what?"

"What do you think?" Ilya scoffs wetly "You’ve ever heard of a gay hockey player before? And what about you? Maybe you would have hated me, worse case scenario you would have never wanted to speak to me again. It was just too much.” He admits, his voice breaking, along the last pieces of Alexei’s heart “I just didn’t want you to leave me-“

He’s already circling Ilya’s shoulders with his arms when the first sob makes its way out of Ilya’s throat, digging through the thin surface of the whole dam. Alexei doesn’t do anything apart from rocking them over the quiet whimper of the wind and the ugly sound of Ilya’s breathless cries. One after the other, it feels like getting stabbed deeper and deeper into his chest. Alexei doesn't think he's ever seen him cry like this ever since that first year after their mother's death, the few times he would wake up in the middle of the night shaking and screaming, pleading for her to come back.

"I'm here, I promise I’m not leaving. No one is. You're not alone." He whispers against his forehead, as he pushes his hair back with the gentlest fingers.

Ilya’s breathing slowly softens into short gasps, muffled in the cotton of his shirt, now wet with tears. Alexei indulges into the soothing scratches over his scalp even after he his hiccups quietens into sniffles and Ilya finally melts against his shoulder.

"Feel better?"

Ilya hums quietly, nodding slightly.

"Can I ask how long have you known?"

"Since I was sixteen, I think." Ilya answers in a small voice.

He can't help the pained laugh barrelling out of him "And just never told anyone, all this time?"

Did he went through this all alone?

He feels Ilya shake his head against his neck "Sveta knows. Kolya, too."

Alexei hums noncommittally, before stilling with a frown "Wait, is he who you were on the phone with?"

"No! No, no." Ilya snorts "We're just friends, really."

"Friends as in like you and Sveta?"

"Something like that."

"So, he..."

"Yes. Nadia and Ivan have known for a while."

Russia is what it is, and the people are who they are, especially hockey players. But you don't need me to tell you that.

Alexei has really been really walking blindly through this, hasn't he? Everything clicks together little by little, like newfound pieces of a puzzle he thought he had finished a long time ago.

"And when he wanted to move here-"

"It was to leave Russia, yes. He really liked playing there but... it's hard having to hide. He's not like me." Ilya says with a sniff.

Alexei brings him closer, leaning his chin over his head "You don't have to go through this alone anymore, neither of you."

Fresh tears wet his shirt, but he merely reaches down to wipe under Ilya’s eyes, just the way he would with Yulia.

Alexei doesn't know how long it's passed when Ilya breaks the hug to press his palms against his eyes. His face is puffy and there are marks where his teeth have sunk into his bottom lip to swallow his sobs, but he’s less tense overall as he resurfaces and his smile feels genuine when he offers him a cigarette, next.

"But if it's not Kolya, then who was it, though?" He can't help but ask, a bit too curiously, as he accepts the lighter Ilya waves in his direction.

"You should drop it." Ilya says amicably.

“Can you blame me?” he huffs, blowing the smoke in his direction “I thought you were still hung up over that Montreal girl Marlow always teases you about, Jane, was it?” he asks, only to be met with silence and a tile-flat stare “Oh.” He realises “Oh. So, Jane is…”

"A man." Ilya confirms, exhaling loudly, almost as if a weight has just been lifted off his shoulders.

"Your boyfriend?"

Ilya scratches at the expanse of his neck "Ah, no."

“No.” He echoes, blankly “What do you mean ‘no’? I thought you confessed. Does he not love you back?”

"You said you didn't hear everything." Ilya accuses him with a glare "And it’s just complicated, everything about this, him, is. I wish it wasn’t, but even if Hunter went and just turned the whole NHL inside out, it just wouldn’t work.”

“Jane plays too?” he can’t stop himself from asking, before being promptly shot down but Ilya’s glare. Sue him for actually being invested into his little brother’s life. He sighs "Listen, obviously what Hunter did tonight is not going to make people stop caring all of a sudden." Alexei says, butting out the ashes off his cigarette in the frog-like little tray Ilya left over a step "But if you love this guy and, god forbid, you think he might do too, it’s just not worth it to let him get away."

"I told you, it's more complicated than that." Ilya laughs humourlessly.

“Then uncomplicate it. That’s what people like us have to do everyday of their lives, Ilya. You don’t get to have what you want just by waiting for it to come knocking at your door.” He reminds him, hooking his hands on his shoulders.

Ilya's phone, which hasn't stopped ringing with texts all night, chirps once again. His brother eyes it with an almost wary look.

"Someone gave me a very great advice once:” Alexei says, smiling softly at him “you can't pause your life for the rest of the world, sometimes you gotta live for yourself. Be a little selfish, Ilya." He flicks his head towards the phone "And text him back. We both know you want to."

Ilya clenches his jaw. He looks incredibly young like this, still swaddled into Jean’s blanket and with tear tracks still marking his cheeks “What if I fuck it up, though?”

“Well, I don’t know this guy.” Alexei shrugs “But if you fuck it up, you try again. No more, no less. This is not hockey, you’re not out if you lose a game.”

Ilya sends him a strained smile “That is the worse hockey metaphor I’ve ever heard.”

“You know what a metaphor is, now?” Alexei gasps, ruffling his curls as he stands up despite his knees protests “Call Jane!” he calls behind his back, definitely too loudly for the middle of the night.

He can’t help but mentally pat himself in the shoulder as he hears Ilya scrambling for his phone, right as he’s about to close the door to the backyard behind his back.

Maybe the world won’t fix itself because Scott Hunter came out in front of just a little less than half the world, but, if he has any say in it, Alexei will never allow hockey to make Ilya hide any less than he already had to.

-

Considering everything, it takes Alexei an embarrassing amount of time to realise that it has always been Shane Hollander.

Around five months after coming back from Russia, Polina warns Alexei he's going to receive something in the mail. He's not that surprised at first, she'd updated him throughout the whole process of selling the old house, and Alexei had been plenty happy about helping her looking for a good neighbourhood to have Isaak grow up in. Their father hadn’t been exactly rich, but between his family inheritance, selling the house, and Polina's own generous income, the options hadn't surely been that limited.

For a person as pragmatic as her, Alexei had already kind of expected the job to be done in the least amount of time possible. What he didn’t expect, though, are the four large boxes that find him at the post office one lazy afternoon after receiving a delivery notification.

"Jesus Christ, how old are these things even?" Niamh gapes, holding up a yellowed newborn sized pressed shirt.

One of Ilya's last season's games is playing in the background, one Niamh probably missed and recorded for later. Alexei finds it quite charming how she can both keep up with it to yell at the refs and snoop through the boxes as they sort through keep sakes and pure junk.

"I think that's from Ilya's christening, so... almost thirty?" He suggests, vaguely impressed.

Yulia has been thoroughly invested in the job, scattering across the living room's floor the few older toys their mother must had hidden somewhere in the attic after they’d outgrown them, and the last remnants from Ilya's room. It's mostly Legos, a whole lot of toy cars and a racetrack, some stuffies, and a gaming console, straight out of the nineties. The thing looks like it could explode if plugged into an outlet, but Yulia seems extremely fascinated by it, in particular, despite the latest device set up under their TV that Ilya got her for Christmas, just that year, to play on their little island game. Kids are weird, Alexei thinks fondly.

"Oh c’mon, that was a penalty-" Niamh scoffs to the screen, crossing her arms over her chest as he leans back into the couch "If Hollander hadn't got that injury, Montreal could have gotten that cup, I swear. That was a sweet goal."

Alexei nods absentmindedly, tossing another kid shirt into the laundry basket. They're probably going to need a couple of washes before being donated, anyway "There is always next year, no?"

"I mean," Niamh hums "Montreal would need at least a couple good trades not to rely only on their center. Like their goalie, that dude handles a stick like a blind man."

Alexei snorts in what he hopes count also as silent agreement. He's totally out of his depth here.

"What are those?" Yulia asks curiously, picking up a dark red long-sleeved shirt from the bulkiest box.

"That's one of my old football's jerseys." He tells her, shimmying towards both "I played when I was little."

Yulia eyes him with a wide-eyed look "Really?"

"I started when I was your age." He says, poking her side and taking advantage of her moment of weakness to drag her into his lap, under her furious giggles. Football, Alexei hadn't minded much among his father's demands. It let him out of the house, more often than not, and for a long time it had felt like the only point of connection between them, didn't matter if all Grigori would do was pointing out his mistakes on the field, wrong passes and missed chances. Years later, Alexei realised that he wouldn't have cared regardless of his playing, anyway.

"Why did you stop?" Yulia asks then, turning into his lap.

"It just wasn't fun anymore." He admits, kissing her forehead.

"Did uncle Ilya play too?"

"Oh yes." He nods, smirking "But he was so bad the coach asked our mom to make him quit." Thinking back to it now, he's pretty sure Ilya just liked making the poor man tear his hair out. If Ilya had been any less annoying, they probably wouldn’t be watching him on tv right now, chasing Montreal’s forwards like a madman.

Yulia throws her head back as she laughs and Alexei ultimately decides they can leave the mess for later, standing up with his shrieking kid hanging off his shoulders and settling besides Niamh on the couch as Yulia crawls over to her and into her arms. Their engagement rings glitter under the mood lights.

Alexei still can't believe they're getting married in less than a couple months. Everything has been a bit of a priority run lately, between the actual planning, choosing their rings, the flowers and cake (probably the least boring afternoon they’d had in a long time), but he thinks he can push through for the outcome, especially if it keeps smiling at him like this, even in dirty sweatpants and frizzy hair.

Alexei is pretty much lost into his own world after that, his head hostage to Niamh's careful fingers, when she suddenly hisses loudly at the tv, in a sympathetic demonstration of pain "Jeez."

"What?"

"I think this was the game Hollander got injured, he just went down like a bowling pin. Marlow got him good." Niamh says, pointing over one side of the screen, where a player lays unmoving onto the ice "Look.”

In the replay, one of Montreal's forwards has already dropped his gloves, crowding Boston's defenceman as he screams loudly over the stunned silence of the arena.

Alexei can't take his eyes off of his brother, though. The cameras hadn't been enough to catch up with whatever he was yelling over the ref's shoulder, in that moment, as the man pushed him back towards his bench, but he looks lost while looking over to Hollander's motionless body, barely aware of still being in the middle of a game.

Alexei frowns at the screen.

Actually, Ilya looks really fucking devastated. It's in the way he's folded over himself as he tries going past the ref, the tight line of his jaw while watching the medical team take the ice.

And Hollander isn't moving. The analyst sounds just as appalled as he feels, seeing him being wheeled out of the rink. If Alexei didn't already know Hollander was safe and sound somewhere in Ottawa right now, apparently on some hippie meditating trip, from what he’d got from Yuna’s texts, he would be genuinely concerned.

He barely registers Niamh standing up to get Yulia a snack, his eyes stuck to the spot they last showed Ilya's white blank face, as the NBC commentator and the analyst spiel about sportsmanship and solidarity.

They didn't see it, none of them did.

But Alexei has raised that kid. The kid who once pleaded to play even if feverish and shivering, against not playing Ottawa's juniors team at all. Every game, photoshoot, all the media teasing, the chirps and the ribs, in retrospect everything seems just so transparent now.

Which makes it only more tragic to see him stand alone on the ice, looking like one of his limbs got caught up in the crash, and just left the rink on that same stretcher.

The last thing Alexei sees, before making the conscious decision to turn off the tv, it's Ilya stomping off the ice like a man possessed.

He takes a couple minutes to think as he stares at the empty screen.

Alexei feels exactly like he did that one time he'd spent twenty minutes looking for his phone only to realise he’d been holding it into his hand that whole time: really fucking stupid.

There probably isn’t a parenting book about this, he thinks faintly.

I told you, it's more complicated than that

Yes, Alexei can understand now why that might be. Years spent being pitted against each other like enemies, two kids that just wanted to play the best hockey they could, in a sport that wouldn’t care if what they had to sacrifice to do it were each other.

He wonders if that is when it started then, at the ripe start of their careers, when they were just rookies wandering through a world way bigger than them. Maybe it was after the draft, or just about the first time Alexei came to see one of his games and got tackled by an overly enthusiastic crowd of hockey players, all wanting to know about their captain’s lucky charm, sweet Jane.

But then again, he thinks about the first time Ilya ever came back home from a road trip, moaning about a kid with stupid freckles and a weak backhand, and can’t help but surmise, also to ease his last sprout of sanity,  that maybe it doesn’t really matter when it started. Alexei barely remembers a time where Ilya wasn't absolutely obsessed with Shane fucking Hollander, anyway.

He only knows half of what he’s going to say when he retrieves his phone from his nightstand and quietly closes the sliding door to the balcony behind himself.

“Hey.” Ilya smile is particularly giddy as he answers the call.

When Ilya had told him, just short of a week after the end of the Playoffs, that he would stay with Jane for a couple of weeks that summer, Alexei had been pretty bemused. He hadn’t expected to receive as many texts as he’d that past few days, either; mostly they were pictures, never of either of them. One time Ilya had sent him a blurry photo of duck with no other caption but a small emoji of a wolf. Alexei has always known his brother was weird, he hadn’t really questioned it.

Hippie meditating trip. Yeah, Alexei is not exactly sure about how much meditating they actually did.

There are some ruffled, stilted sounds as Ilya walks outside, his phone clutched over his chest, then Alexei is being greeted by the sight of his brother’s sunburnt cheeks and the background view of a deck, extending just above the large surface of crystalline water “I was about to text you actually. I think I’m staying over a little longer.”

“Sure, just text me your flight informations.” He responds automatically, before kicking himself in the shin “Listen, I wanted to-“

“He’s my boyfriend.” Ilya interrupts him, with an incredulous laugh, as if he cannot believe it himself either “We uhm, we didn’t really talk, like you said, but yeah. We just came back from his parent’s house, actually.”

“You did all that in a day?” Alexei can’t help but ask, a little stunned.

“More like four hours. It’s a long story.” Ilya brushes him off.

Yeah, and it started almost thirteen years ago, Alexei thinks, as he settles on the balcony’s swing, a cigarette lit between his fingers as Ilya yaps and laughs.

Alexei thinks he hasn’t seen him look that carefree in a long time, not like that at least, with his cheeks ruddy and pulled by the force of his smile, his amber eyes lit by sunlight and simple, pure happiness.

“I should go.” Ilya says then, almost timidly, as if he hadn’t just spent fifteen minutes talking Alexei’s ear off about the man he loves. Which reminds him-

“Ilya,” he stops him, before he can hang up. Ilya tits his head questioningly “You should bring him here for dinner, when you come back.” Alexei exhales, eyes firmly set over the camera “Bring him with you.”

Ilya looks hesitant at that “I don’t if he-“

“You met his parents.” Alexei considers “And I don’t bite. Yulia might, but I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Lyosha-“

“I want to meet my baby brother’s boyfriend.” Alexei tells him, over a cloud of smoke “If he really exists.” He teases him, over Ilya’s sudden outraged scoff “Jane knows that I know, no? No problem, then. We can keep a secret, so bring him over for dinner. If he’s really the way you talk about him, he’s someone I want to meet, I don’t care if he’s the Queen of England or the Prime Minister.”

Ilya’s eyes seem to look a little mistier.

“Really?”

 “Bring him over.” Alexei repeats, softer, butting out his cigarette and hanging up.

-

If someone had told Alexei, just short of thirteen years ago, that one day he would be opening his front door to Shane Hollander himself, he would have laughed at their faces.

Shane Hollander? Who-must-not-be-named in their house, along his U16 championship gold metal? Yes, highly improbable.

But then again, when the doorbell rings, it’s not anyone but Canada’s golden boy standing nervously in front of their door, in dark shades and a baseball cap, a bottle of wine held like a safe line in the crook of his arm. The other is limp at his side, where he’s clutching his fist tightly as if keeping himself from holding onto Ilya’s own hand, just a fingertip away.

His brother doesn’t look any less nervous, watching Alexei like he’s bracing for impact.

“Shane Hollander." Alexei says, trying to look at least a little surprised, but at the same time slowly enough to make both of them sweat on their feet. He has to fight the endeared smile threatening to stretch over his lips "Don't disappoint me." He states jovially and maybe only half kidding, moving to let him into their home.

Chapter End Notes

Welcome back, beautiful people
This should have been a THREE chapters story, how the hell did we reach this?
But, yeah, I guess that this just how it needed to end.
I've always thought it was funny enough for Shane to haunt the narrative up until the end, I don't think he actually has a single quote into all seven chapters, and it was a very deliberate decision not to incorporate them.
As the first ff i've ever actually finished, I'm actually pretty proud of this overall.
I don't know if anyone would be interested in me making a series out of this, but ideas are cooking, let me tell you that, i've grown really fond of these characters and there are dynamics that I really think would be fun to see.
But at the end, this story has always been more about Alexei and Ilya than Ilya and Shane, so I feel this was the perfect ending for it.

Thanks for all of you reading, commenting and kudoing (?), I couldn't be more grateful.

Stay safe, y'all
Until we meet again ;)

 

EDIT: Shane and Ilya's POVs are now out!

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