Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ottawa Centaurs Team Ensemble & Ilya Rozanov, Zane Boodram & Shane Hollander, Troy Barrett & Shane Hollander, Wyatt Hayes & Shane Hollander, Luca Haas & Shane Hollander

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Zane Boodram, Troy Barrett, Wyatt Hayes, Luca Haas, Brandon Wiebe

Additional Tags:

4+1 Things, POV Outsider, POV Outsider on Shane Hollander, POV Outsider on Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, side Cassie Boodram/Zane Boodram, hopefully lore accurate hockey, Hockey Player Shane Hollander, Hockey Player Ilya Rozanov, Canon Compliant, Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), mentions of the montreal voyagers, mention of hayden pike - Freeform, mention of jj boiziau, shane hollander is good at hockey, Period Typical Bigotry, side Troy Barrett/Harris Drover, canon typical bigotry, mentions of adrian dela cruz, mentions of rose landry - Freeform, mentions of the toronto guardians, Mentions of Dallas Kent, side Wyatt Hayes/Lisa Hayes, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, hockey players are horny for gross things, Hollanov have a competency kink, ilya rozanov is also good at hockey

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-01 Completed: 2026-08-08 Words: 13,277 Chapters: 5/5

Former Captain, Forever Hardass, Shane Hollander

Summary

What if the Centaurs had to reconcile Hockey Hollander and Husband Hollander after he signs with Ottawa? Can they do it or are the two sides of one man really that incompatible?

Shane Hollander takes over in assisting with drills while Ilya Rozanov is on Injury Reserve and the Centaurs get a little taste of what it's like to train like the Canadian Hockey Legend himself.

Notes

This fic was inspired by this tumblr post https://www.tumblr.com/bambicoded/809092334339997696/its-important-to-me-that-ilya-remains-captain-of but I have kept more to the spirit of the post and used it as an excuse to write about Shane being good at hockey, sue me. This fic will be posted weekly (or close to it) until it's completed, since I have already written pretty much all of it and had my lovely betas (you know who you are <3) read it multiple times through. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Day One: Zane Boodram

Chapter Notes

Anyone who knew anything about hockey knew the name “Shane Hollander”. Even when Zane was just entering the league, he was still talked about in a special way. An incredible season as a rookie, rightfully earning the “Rookie of the Year” award. An unheard amount of points amassed through a similarly unreal amount of goals and assists, not to mention the many seasons after that, each with their own smashed records. Hollander was rewriting the records with his name above everyone else’s. Even before stepping onto MLH ice he was talked about as if he was the prospect of a generation. Well, he and Rozanov, the prospects of a generation. Once both were off to the races, it was hard for anyone to compete. The two of them hogged the spotlight from before they even entered their respective barns. Like the entire world went dark around them and all eyes and hearts could only be looking in their direction. Dragging their respective teams from the brink of failure instead to cup success. Zane was drafted a top pick, first round, but it was to Ottawa. The long suffering Centaurs franchise. A first round prospect relegated to the bottom of the standings in the same conference as the two most dominant players of his generation. 

If he was truly and sincerely honest, playing against them was a nightmare. Their teams had rebuilt around them, but were further along in the process than Zane’s and it showed in the scores. Shut outs were prominent fixtures. Even single goals were answered with two, or worse, hat tricks. Zane was in the motherfucking trenches, if he managed a goal on either of the cup contending teams it was handily answered by Hollander or Rozanov on their next shift. Zane could hold enough of his own, doing decent against them when bent over the faceoff circle, absorbed a chirp from Rozanov or a focused stare from Hollander. It was good to know he could do as much. Even if the turnovers went right to them, much to his chagrin. They mirrored each other in a funny way. Rozanov was tough on the puck but out maneuvered with speed and a cocksure ease. While in contrast Hollander was still deft, but could see openings and space, then subsequently playing or taking advantage of it before Zane or anyone else could even look across the ice to help his ill prepared defense. Both resulted in a truly astounding amount of goals, not just against the Centaurs but against everyone. 

That was just the beginning of Zane’s career. Now though, Shane was a three time Stanley Cup winner, Rookie of the Year Winner, Conn Smyth Award Winner, and Olympic Gold Medalist. A stellar player on the ice and stand up person off the ice as well. Co-founder of the Irina Foundation. It was almost annoying how perfect he was. Or it would be if he wasn’t so sweet and caring to the one person Zane knew deserved it more than anyone else. 

And the most recent event in his life? Getting married to said most deserving person, Ilya Rozanov and signing with Zane’s (possibly now formerly long suffering?) team, the Ottawa Centaurs. 

But despite dragging the Voyagers kicking and screaming from the bottom of the Eastern conference to winning two back to back cups and another one just for good measure, the former captain of the Montreal Voyagers was relatively chill. The season was midway through and Zane Boodram still had a hard time overlapping the two versions of this man. 

Zane had entered the league by being drafted by the worst of the worst in terms of teams. But with their new coach—Brandon Wiebe and new star center—Ilya Rozanov, in recent seasons, they had turned things around enough to make the playoffs for the first time in over a decade. Now for the second season in a row it looked like that would yet again be the case, being bolstered by the addition of The Shane Hollander, who’s proficiency as a center was studied by every team, every player, and every coach. With that depth, it wasn’t an if, but a when the cup would come to Ottawa. 

And even though he had three cup rings to his name, Shane Hollander attended training camp like all of the new Centaurs. Shane put his head down in training and made sure he earned his place even though he didn’t have to and even though it distracted the hell out of all of their new rookies, prospects, and AHL/OHL players; most of which definitely had a poster of him or watched his games since they were kids. Through all of that attention though he was unendingly polite. Asking certain players if he could give feedback like they hadn’t dreamt of that very thing since they had started hockey in elementary school. Or how he showed up before everyone, then also stayed after to practice the specific drills each coach asked him to do, and left the latest, with his husband waiting for him, more often than not leaning against an obnoxiously colored sports car. 

When he made the team it came as no surprise. He was placed on second line with the rookie who was no longer a rookie, Luca Haas, and another young developing player in Julien LaPointe. 

It was one thing to know of Shane Hollander. To see the seriousness and line of concentration go taut on an opponent’s face as he won a faceoff and proceeded to score, over, and over, and over again. To see him perfectly pass to an open winger across the royal road like there was barely a thought between his head and the stick. To see him lift the cup three times, two of which were back to back. But it was a completely different thing to be on the winning end of that. To observe how Hollander and Rozanov flew by each other, drop passed the puck behind them before the other was even there, and to see their super human ability to predict where the other would be on opposite sides of the net and still find each other before the goalie had time to react as it went from potential backdoor to just above the pad.  

Yet The Shane Hollander was also the man that blushed at incredibly soft and simple public displays of affection from his literal husband. The same man that sometimes broke into impossibly wide smiles. The same man that tried to hide his face when Rozanov whispered Russian into his ear before heading through the tunnel. The same man that pushed their captain playfully and skated away at practices after they exchanged a too long look close together. 

All the while he was and still is the sleep paralysis demon of every goalie in the MLH. Part of a power play unit one that had defensive, goalie, and special teams coaches waking up in a cold sweat the night before they played the Centaurs, if they could even sleep at all. The puck burying nightmare of a man that the entire league feared when he decided he wanted to win a game. 

The two sides of the future Hall of Famer were hard to reconcile if he was honest, even though he had spend over half of the season seeing it first hand, day in and day out. How Shane was focused, yet quiet most days. Not quite soft spoken, but also not outspoken and boisterous like his husband. Sure, he was never really out of breath at practice, came into every optional practice and days beyond that, on top of his daily morning runs. But he was a veteran of the sport now and a bonafided legend, maybe he was just like that naturally. Now that his captain days were behind him and he was married, he had mellowed out from the certified spitfire that had driven a failing franchise and turned it into one that  won the entire thing multiple times over. 

Zane had thought that. He really had. That was until last week. 

Ilya had been put on injury reserve (IR) for a stint of tendonitis. The man was already not happy about it, but both Wiebe and Hollander had overruled him because it had noticeably affected his shot in their last game. With their top seed already cemented and nearly cinched for playoffs, on top of the depth Shane proved they could afford a few closer games. To succeed at playoffs the team needed Ilya in peak performance, so he was being forced to rest and get better for when playoffs actually came around. 

Shane, Troy, and himself had been alternates all season so far, with which two of them who were wearing the A switching depending on the game. When it was initially brought up at the beginning of the season as a consideration for Shane to wear the A, both Troy and Zane were all for it. There was no world where they were against it, not because of his wins for the Voyagers but because he had already been acting as it informally. He had helped the rookies and newer players since training camp, and had even shared some insider knowledge with the veterans too. Useful things about not only about the Voyagers’ habits and certain goalies’ weakness, but also reviewing tapes individually with him if they asked, giving constructive yet considerate feedback.

So, in talking about what would happen while Ilya was on IR over with Wiebe, the other coaches, Shane, Troy, Zane, and Ilya, it was only natural that Shane came up as the person to temporarily help out with drills and take the C. Yes, Zane had been captain prior to Ilya’s arrival, but Shane had done it longer and certainly with more success. Zane also wondered, a little bit, with a certain amount of curiosity and maybe some sleep depervation due to the baby, what Shane would be like in captain mode. Ilya had been noticeably silent, observing the conversation that happened around him, which was slightly uncharacteristic for the man. Once the decision had been made though, his face practically split in half from laughter. He looked to Troy and Zane once he managed to get it under control, “I suppose it is your funeral. Glad you planned it with no help from me.” 

Zane snapped out of his exhaustion stupor that had been hanging over his head during this entire conversation and exchanged a look with Troy. Troy looked back to Ilya as if to get a clue of why he was being like this, only for their captain to laugh again. 

“You will be begging for me to come back on day two,” the man managed to get out in between laughs. To which Shane responded by promptly elbowing him in the side. 

“I am not that bad,” he said pointedly. 

Ilya gave him a look, one that can only be described as if the word ‘Really?’ was made manifest physically on someone’s face and body. “Oh? That is not what Pike and Boiziau tell me. Sometimes they text me saying they both have stress nightmares about the two months before playoff season.” 

Shane simply rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well, we train together every summer and you won’t even be practicing since you’re on IR.” 

Ilya huffed, “But the poor rookies moy lyubimyy,” he seemingly pleaded with him. 

“Everyone will be fine,” Shane replied, a sternness entering his tenor. 

Ilya shrugged, “We shall see.” He looks to Boodram and Barrett, “Do not call or text me for help. You will explain to the team that I contributed nothing to this decision.” 

Troy and Zane meet each others’ eyes again, still utterly confused by Ilya’s behavior. A softly chuckling Wiebe passes behind them both and gives them pats on their shoulders as he heads back towards his office.

Announcing the temporary change to the team went well from what he remembered, the second round of teething had started that week so it was all a blur if he was honest. While everyone was sad that Ilya would not be playing with them for an extended period of time, they all knew it was for the best and seemed to understand. Wiebe also announced Shane would help decide on what drills to do which Ilya regularly did as well. It had gone smoothly. Then Zane had caught Haas having some sort of reaction and proceeded to catch Hayes catching Haas having said reaction. But he was more focused on the rest of the team, taking over as the more informal leader due to his and Cassie’s frequent hosting, that he really didn’t give those reactions much thought. 

Now though? Barely halfway done with day one of Shane’s temporary captain practices, he was deeply regretting being exhausted due to the baby and thus not asking Rozanov to explain why he had acted the way he had. He was also mourning not recognizing what was probably dread coming over Haas’ face when he heard the news. His limbs ached bone deep, his lungs burned, and his hands felt raw. 

One of the rookies had already thrown up. The trio of LaPointe, Holmberg, and Young were laying flat on their backs staring up at the ceiling. Luca was draped over the boards of the bench breathing heavily. Troy was right next to him, breathing even worse and more hoarse. And Zane himself? He was face first on the ice, contemplating every life decision that had led up to this exact moment in time. Freezing cold hardness was the only thing tethering him to his body as his mind wanted to escape into the aether and never come back. 

Yet, standing in the middle of the rink, chest barely rising and falling was Shane Hollander. Doing all of these insane drills right next to them and the sweat not even dripping off of him. He even had the audacity to skate easy circles and figure eights across the length of the rink waiting for the rest of the team to catch their breath for their next round. He claps loudly, the sound ringing through the empty place, and says something about getting ready for the next round or next drill. Zane doesn’t hear it. Thankfully, the media and fans are mercifully absent this day per request of Harris to let the team adjust. If they hadn’t, he wonders what kind of a meme they all would have been turned into due to their various states of disarray. 

Once practice is finally over and he drags himself home to Cassie and Milo, he collapses just beyond the threshold of the doorway. His face against a certainly dirty but also relief-inducing cool hardwood. He can hear soft footfalls and he knows his wonderful wife approaches. A soft chuckle fills the air as she looks upon the scene that is him splayed out, “Is this your way of telling me you aren’t able to help with Milo today?” 

Zane just groans into the floor which only causes her to laugh much harder. 

Cassie squats down and with her non-Milo occupied hand, pats him on the head, “Alright big guy at least get a shower and relax a bit since you will have to do it all over again tomorrow.” 

With that realization he almost swears up a storm in front of her, but really he’s too tired to even do that and just groans slowly rolling himself over. 

Cassie is now standing above him and still laughing at his suffering. 

“Is it too late to tell Roz I regret ever getting drafted in the first place and need him to come back as soon as possible?” he asks, even though he very well knows the answer.

“Didn’t you tell me that he, quite literally, warned you that you will be begging for him to come back by the second day?” she replies right back. 

Zane simply responds by bringing his arms up to his face and dragging them across and down it, “I’m doomed.” 

“Yeah probably.” 

“I’m gonna text Roz anyways.” 

“Yeah also probably true.” 

“He’s going to laugh at my text, if not call me to laugh at me while on the phone.” 

“Almost certainly.” 

Zane groans again and starts digging around his pockets to find his phone. 

Cassie leans down and kisses his forehead before heading back towards the living room, “Don’t forget to tell Roz he’s invited to the WAG watch parties and the family room while he’s on IR. I know he’ll probably be in the press box, but, you know.” 

“Yup got it,” he says throwing up a thumbs up above him as his phone finally unearths itself. 

He pulls it out, quickly maneuvering to the messaging app and the contact named “Ra Ra Rozanov”. 

“I know it isn’t day two but I already want you back man,” is the quick text that swooshes off as Zane does his best to pry himself off of the floor, on the way to a shower to hopefully help his aching muscles and then drafting another text for inviting the man to WAG(?), or well HAB(?), or SAP(?)—there is really no good name for this—activities while he’s on IR. 

Chapter End Notes

I love Zane and getting to write him was so much fun! If you have any feedback about hockey, russian, baby teething timeline, or other inaccuracies please let me know! Otherwise I hope you enjoyed and please let me know of that too! See you all next week!

Chapter 2: Day Three: Troy Barrett

Chapter Summary

It's Troy's turn to text Ilya

Chapter Notes

Just walk with me on this one

Troy thought he knew everything he needed to about Ilya Rozanov. After all, he was the one able to guess his biggest secret (Shane Hollander) once he had all the pieces. But Ilya’s reaction to Shane becoming captain for a couple weeks showed him this was far from the case.

And Hollander? Well that was even more of a mystery. The man had been a thorn in Toronto’s side for years. Winning nearly every face-off he took. Unyielding, even in the face of Dallas, Troy, and others’ insults and comments. It was always answered on the scoreboard. Racist remark? Brutal breakaway. Homophobic slur on the icing face off in Toronto’s D zone? Assist to Pike’s goal straight off of Shane’s face-off win. Combination of the two? 154 kilometer per hour slap shot straight to the top shelf, knocking off grandma’s cookies and your team’s hope for a comeback.

The rare time Hollander had actually broken was a particularly misogynistic comment Troy had regrettably snickered at during the Hollandry era, something about Rose in the X-Squad movies. After a glove stop, Hollander had skated by Dallas to say something Troy wasn't privy to, before the linesman got over. It made Dallas so red with rage that the face-off barely finished before Hollander was getting cross-checked in the back, drawing a penalty. And as soon as Dallas’ penalty was over? A fourth liner immediately checked him into the boards and Troy had to drop the gloves in order to dance with a new partner.

All this to say, that version of Hollander: the serious, dialed in hockey player was quite the contrast to the one he had come to know over the summer. After their mandatory fist fight for the aforementioned racist, misogynistic, and homophobic comments as well as tacit support of them, that is if you could call Hollzy just straight up socking Troy in the face behind a Shopper’s Drug Mart a fight, the two couples had gone on some double dates. Various visits had been made to the Hollander-Rozanov home and the reciprocal ones to the Drover family farm and Troy and Harris’ apartment. During these a different person came out. One that melted under Ilya’s gaze, one that reached out unconsciously for his other half to hand him a spatula in the kitchen, one that snuck a peck in the parking lot before heading in for training. That isn’t to say that the hockey player was gone. He was just more relaxed. At practice Hollander was focused, completing the drills with ease, chirping—which they had all found out he was liable to do, once he had gotten more comfortable—and checking his husband into the boards. But there was an ease to it all. Different than the focus sharped to a scalpel's blade that he had encountered when he was on the opposing ice across from Shane.

The theme continued as the season finally started, Troy being on Ilya’s line and thus first line again, let him see some of that seriousness from the bench. The concentration tightening across Shane’s face when Troy caught a glimpse of face-offs, the pumped up but restrained cellys after goal upon goal, and Shane hyping up Troy when he scored on the power play. Through all of it though, Shane was so much lighter than Troy had ever seen. At a certain point he brought it up to Harris because how could he not.

Troy didn’t even notice Harris entering the room. Troy was sitting at their dining room table with his tablet propped up on its stand as he toggled between highlight reels back to back. Switching back and forth between Voyager and Centaur uniformed versions of his new teammate, noticing the weight he saw when Shane was draped in blue, like the color itself was somehow dragging him down and simultaneously winding him up, Shane’s shoulders just narrowly tensed. Verses the red, which had seemingly manage to unearth an entirely different person. Someone who was still media trained, but who had certain fluidity and ease that guided his movements, not quite as stilted and practiced. A smile appearing more often than not too, only growing wider when he saw something across the room, or more like someone. Troy knew from the direction Shane was looking that he had been tracking Ilya in the locker room behind the reporters during media availability.

So, when a soft hand gently placed itself on his shoulder, Troy about jumped out of his skin, swearing under his breath. Harris simply giggled in response, “You know,” he starts, “usually someone would be more concerned that their partner is looking at a disturbing amount of footage of another man. But considering what I do for work I think we’re way past that.”

Troy simply sighs in relief as his nervous system calms down to a more normal level, “Yeah, I suppose we are.”

“So,” Harris says rocking on his heels, “Are you going to tell me why you are analyzing Hollander clips or..?”

Troy’s face knits together. Why was he looking at all of these clips? “I don’t know. He just..” He trails off, “he seems… different.”

“Well I would hope so. You got to know him over the summer first,” Harris replies.

“That’s not what I meant,” Troy responds.

Harris raises an eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue.

Troy simply sighs harder, “I don’t know. When he was at Montreal he was different. More wound up maybe?” he tries to offer.

“Like how you were different in Toronto?” Harris says.

Troy opens his mouth to say something and then closes it, “Not like that. More.. stressed I think?”

Harris gives him the look he usually gives Troy when he has missed a very obvious gay cultural reference in Rupaul’s, “And you don’t think that has to do with the fact he wasn’t publicly out? Not to mention, that he was in a secret relationship with his former arch-rival, that he had to started a charity with to even have them be seen together in public and have it be normal?”

Troy opens his mouth again and closes it yet again, settling on a nod. That’s what Harris had meant by different in Toronto. He knew how he felt dating Adrian in secret, he couldn’t even fathom being with another player, not really anyways.

Maybe the two sides of Shane Hollander were reconcilable. He had relaxed after a tense situation in Montreal. He got to play on a team with his husband, and even though he was on the second line for the first time in his life, he took it in stride. But maybe that was easy when every power play goal that you scored off of your husband, you two looked at each other like the other had hung the stars in the sky and no one else mattered. At least for the split second before your other teammates on the ice crashed into you.

Troy had thought he was beginning to understand who Shane Hollander-Rozanov really was. He really had. He thought he was at least starting to get an outline of the man beyond the stats. That was until the meeting with the coaching staff, the alternate captains, and the captain who was soon to be on IR happened. They had all agreed on making Shane temporary captain while Ilya was on injury reserve when they should have realized their mistake.

The laughter rung out from beside him. Ilya, who had been uncharacteristically silent for the boisterous and charismatic man he was, practically burst into laughter, his face the embodiment of unconstrained joy and clearly some surprise as well. Once he had caught his breath and recovered from being doubled over in laughter Ilya looked to Zane and then Troy, “I suppose it is your funeral. Glad you planned it with no help from me.”

Troy immediately looked to Zane who met his gaze and they just gave each other a ‘what the hell is that supposed to mean’ look.

Troy turned to look at Ilya fully, and went to say something, but seeing the wordless exchange between the two alternate captains made Ilya break out into laughter again.

“You will be begging for me to come back on day two,” is the rest of what he managed to say to the two of them before getting into conversation with his husband. The two bickering like that was their day job and not playing with a vulcanized rubber biscuit for millions of dollars.

Luca Haas’ reaction to hearing Shane would be helping with drills temporarily is when Troy caught on that Ilya’s reaction might not have been an overreaction. It was an open secret that Luca had joined optional trainings with Shane and Wyatt. So, to see a look flash across Haas’ face that screamed prey animal, it only set Troy’s internal alarm bells off even more. The young player, for his part, covered the look up relatively fast since when Troy glanced back it was gone and was replaced with something more akin to resignation and acceptance.

Now on day two of Shane Hollander’s race-to-the-playoffs bootcamp, all Troy can think about is doing exactly what Ilya told him not to. Calling him and begging to be released from this torture. Luca, Zane, and himself were the only people mildly surviving, but that was probably owed to having done their time being first liners and also being wingers to the scariest 1^st and 2^nd overall draft pick power couple in existence. But there was somehow a difference between 18 minutes of ice time and well, whatever the hell this counted as.

Troy did not yearn for Toronto. Being a friend and unwitting accomplice to a serial rapist that was also a racist, homophobic, and misogynistic asshole for one, amongst many, truly, many other reasons. But he had truly never trained this hard in his life. And right now he was yearning, maybe a little bit, for being a part of a team that was not this insane. Since as he and Luca were leaning against the boards and their sticks for the second day in a row, he contemplated pulling out his phone. But he told himself could resist for right now as his forearms were noodles and he still had more drills to go.

On the third day however, Troy decided that he had passed the imaginary deadline Ilya had set them. Therefore, he had permission to send him a text. So, after he had gotten home, showered, and flopped on to his and Harris’ shared bed, he pulled his phone out and drafted a text.

“It isn’t day two. But I am wanting you back already Cap,” the message read when he finally sent it.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the late chapter this week! I will most likely be shifting the schedule to updates on Thursday or Friday since that works better with my work schedule. I had it mostly done and my wonderful betas looked at it, but my brain just could not get it into AO3 due to being busy and also nervous how people would react to it. I know people have conflicting feelings on Troy being formerly other kinds of bigoted, but given they're hockey players I find it unrealistic that they would be homophobic and not also racist and misogynistic. So I have written Troy and Dallas this way. In any case, I hope you enjoyed and this author is powered by kudos and comments, so they are always appreciated!

Chapter 3: Day Seven: Wyatt Hayes

Chapter Summary

It's been a week and it's Wyatt's turn to text

Chapter Notes

I loved writing this one, please bear with my comic nerdiness on this one. Yes I did pick a time appropriate comic for this and yes I think Wyatt would be into the classics and specifically The Thing because he's a WALL. Anyways, enjoy!

Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander were pains in his ass. And that was before they were all on the same team. Now, instead of dealing with them four times a year plus whatever playoffs his team made—even though he didn’t really play playoffs or even start until the Centaurs—he now had to deal with them all year round, their picture perfects goals and all.

But truthfully, honestly, and hand on his CGC graded Amazing Fantasy issue #15, he loves them both to death. First, he came to truly care about Ilya after he had been welcomed into a locker room that was actually fun, had real camaraderie, and wasn’t made up of total shitbags for teammates. Then he came to care about Shane after he had joined the team. The barbecue after Shane officially joined, Wyatt had seen his captain and friend truly relax. Ilya had been more settled since the ring had joined the Russian orthodox cross around his neck, not that anyone really noticed but him at first. It was like Ilya had be on a choppy sea, always just slightly off kilter, and he had finally hit land. Seeing and properly meeting Shane Hollander, the hockey legend and Ilya Rozanov’s husband, it made sense. They circled each other like twin neutron stars, as if the gravity of each other made the collision and entanglement of their bodies inevitable. It was awe inspiring really, to see that pull in someone else. Others had describe himself and Lisa that way, their Hill spheres. So he understood, at least on some level.

It became clearer after the first part of training camp had finished. Since of course Shane Hollander still insisted on proving his place even though he was a modern legend with three Stanley cups to his name. Shane approached him as the roster settled and only the players that would be on for most games were at camp.

Wyatt, unfortunately, fell into quite a few goalie stereotypes, so when he got on the ice before most of the team, as he was liable to do most days, Shane glided onto the ice and toward him. Wyatt was stretching and already knee deep in his brain. His mind analyzing the latest The Thing: the Next Big Thing issue. The panels floating by in his mind’s eye, recounting the story up until this latest issue and thinking about where it could go from here, as he made sure his muscles were warmed up enough to butterfly. So, when the built figure stopped in front of him, it took him a moment to recognize there was anyone there. He looked up to see the slightly shorter man in front of him, coughed slightly, the panels dissipating, being replaced with the muffled sound of his most recent earworm, and stood up to greet him, “Good morning?” Wyatt offered tentatively.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Wyatt asked. No one was out yet, and he could guess at maybe twenty or so things that Shane could ask him, but he had learned early on about fifteen of those guesses were wrong, three were unlikely, and he really didn’t want to decide on a coinflip in front of one of the most talented players of his generation what the man actually wanted, so asking was the best way out of this situation.

Shane cleared his own throat and nodded, though it seemed more for himself and comfort than for Wyatt, “Yes, I want to ask a favor. An extended favor if I’m honest,” he replied.

Wyatt’s eyebrows raised underneath his helmet, surprise showing clearly on his face but luckily it was quite literally mostly masked, “Give it to me straight, or well….” he started to say but trailed off realizing his mistake?

Shane snorted, what kind of sounded like a covered scoff, fighting what seemed like a smile off his face, “Yeah, still not used to that being real, or public,” he whispered quietly as he looked off to the side.

Focusing back in, he looked at Wyatt again, “I would like to have you here during optional skates when I am at them.”

Wyatt looked the ceiling of the building in thought. Not really unreasonable, really reasonable if he was honest. His main question was, “Why me?” he asked, pulling his eyes down to meet Shane’s.

Shane’s shoulders relaxed a little and he spoke automatically as if he had practiced it, “You are one of the best goalies in the league. I think you had the best save percentage against me last season. Any extra practice time I can get with you will make going against others in games that much easier,” he replied, “I would hope I could do the same for you.”

Wyatt took in a deep breath, he held it for a moment, breathed out with a count in his head trying not to freak out that The Shane Hollander knew the stat he totally wasn’t the most humble about from last season, and then spoke, “I can do that. But there are still some days I am going to need for myself or community work.”

“Perfectly understandable. Can we check our schedules sometime in the next week?” Shane said, acknowledging the response with a nod.

Wyatt nodded back, “Yes, but remind me because I will forget.”

The rink slowly begun filling up with all the players, including Ilya as they started skating out onto the ice. Throughout practice Wyatt watched them, any awkwardness that people would think they have simply isn’t present. Wiebe tried them out on a power play drill and they barreled down on him in tandem as if there was a string connecting their skates. They were the pouring of water from one container to another, not missing a single drop. The puck went tape to tape seamlessly, then got past him as he was momentarily incapacitated by watching their chemistry.

Ilya rushed over to Shane after the goal and spiked a shoulder into him with a smirk. Their eyes meet, smiles spreading across their faces, and they had a silent conversation like no one else has ever existed, let alone exists in the same room as them. Wiebe cleared his throat loudly and the couple realize they were on a different plane of existence and quickly skated back to take their positions again.

Chemistry, while glimpsed from anyone paying even a modicum of attention to All Stars 2017, was eventually explained by the fact they had been spending summers training together since that year. The couple learned, after a few practices, not to get caught staring longingly at each other so much they get lost in it. But the love and connection did not go away. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it, they got placed on different lines. Boodram, Rozanov, and Barrett on first line. Young, Hollander, and Haas on the second. So Wyatt has to deal with them separately most of the time, but at least he isn’t facing them during games anymore.

The optional skate training goes well. It starts out with just himself and Shane. He had done this before with Ilya a few times, but those were far and few between. With Shane it was structured, planned, and routine. After the first couple months of it passed, optional skate situated itself into just another practice he went to. Shane was good about reminding him, and Wyatt actually used his phone calendar for its intended purpose. Shane eventually invited Luca Haas as well and Wyatt had never been more thankful he was a goalie in his entire life. He knew the level Shane and Ilya were at, them being generational talents and all, he had seen enough players and been through enough practices to know. But watching it contrasted with another highly elite, first round pick player in Luca—who struggled, even for his level of proficiency—really put it into perspective.

Observing Stanley Cup winning forwards up close and personal, in addition to watching their tape for literal years, on top of witnessing both of their semi private training days, had prepared Wyatt a little more than the other players for what The Shane Hollander taking over meant. Or maybe seeing Calder nominated Luca Haas collapse face first on the ice his first day training with Hollander prepared him for what he was about to witness. So, when Barrett and Boodram announced that Shane will be taking on helping with drills while Ilya is on IR, his eyes immediately went to Haas, who looked like he was a Victorian haunted by their dead lover before he was able to conceal that look and glanced toward Shane. Who, for his part, looked completely normal. But the undercurrent of ice cool focus and precision leaked from his body and chilled the air around him, which caused a shiver up Wyatt’s spine. And somehow no one else seemed to notice. Whether by luck or misfortune, it seemed like only Luca, himself, and the conspicuously absent Ilya, had any idea of what would hit them.

And hit them it did.

After one week of seeing his teammates in various states of distress, Wyatt sent a text, “How’s injury reserve Rozanov?”

And he quickly sent a followup, “Because honestly I would like to know how it is to be one of the few forwards in Ottawa right now not dying of Hollander induced muscle aches.”

“Not to imply you usually aren’t. I don’t know what you two do”

“AND I DON’T WANT TO KNOW” he adds quickly in all caps, right before Lisa saves him from digging himself a deeper hole, by snatching away his phone.

Chapter End Notes

Wyatt Hayes my ADHD guy!! This characterization of Wyatt is inspired by Vibes Are Not Data by Glitter City with my own spin as someone who has AuDHD. The late chapter is just due to routine depression stuff unfortunately. My betas were great about getting this to me on time but I couldn't get myself to do more of the final edits. In any case, I hope it was enjoyable this was one of my favorite chapters to write and I definitely drafted it the fastest. This author is powered by kudos and comments, so they are always appreciated!

Chapter 4: Day Fourteen: Luca Haas

Chapter Summary

It's barely been turned from the thirteenth to the fourteenth day and it is Luca's turn

Chapter Notes

We don't get a lot of info on Haas so I took some liberties here, have fun!

It was one thing to dream about meeting your heroes, it was a completely different thing to get drafted and have their careers be long enough to play with them on the same team. Luca Haas was currently existing in the latter timeline. He thought his luck had been used up when he was first drafted to the same team that Ilya Rozanov had just moved to in free agency. He seriously, thought it was gone when he got to play on the same team as Ilya Rozanov after a short minors career. He then was absolutely sure that his luck was officially depleted when he got to go on a playoff run with Ilya Rozanov.

But then Rozanov and Hollander were outed during those same playoffs. And Montreal made the most idiotic decision of their entire storied history: letting The Shane Hollander go. The player that held more franchise records than anyone else, the player that lead them to two back to back cups and another one a few years later just for good measure, the player that won the Conn Smythe during those runs. As if his legacy wasn’t already cemented as one of the best Voyagers of all time, if not The very best AND one of the best players of his generation, if not of all time, so his luck really had to have run out by now.

Maybe it was Luca’s own queer bias’ showing but he could not fathom being front office and ever letting a player like The Shane Hollander go. It would go down as probably the stupidest decision in Montreal hockey history for sure. Not to mention that he was going to a team that also had his husband—arguably the only other player that could hold a candle to Shane—evidenced by their literal years long rivalry since being drafted. They had essentially doomed the entire eastern conference, if not the entire league to creating a dynasty so dominant it would haunt this entire period of hockey. They might as well just call it the Hollander-Rozanov (Sacred Band of Thebes Ottawa?) Dynasty Era at this point.

Luca watched tape to calm his nerves and he was doing a lot of that lately, when the news broke. Harris posted the pictures of the signing to the Centaurs’ Instagram and that... was when it really started to sink in that this was his reality. That this would be his reality for at least the next season. All while, the tape playing in front of him was of that very same Shane Hollander during his first cup run.

Luca thought it was absolutely astounding that his luck still had not been drained when he heard the announcement Shane was taking over temporarily and that he had coincidentally been doing extra training with him. The alternate captain had offered the additional time after training camp. He had done well, or better than well, in the OHL and Shane saw something in him beyond his first season with the team and his pre-MLH professional career. So, he knew what was coming as soon as Boodram and Barrett had announced it. The minor look of abject horror on his face was enough to clue in at least LaPointe, Holmberg and Young before he managed to conceal it a second later so the rest of the team didn’t see it. That didn’t spare him of the texts that blew up the Padawans chat after everyone had been dismissed that day. Or the pat on the back Hazy gave him along with a resigned smile on the way to the parking lot.

Before all of that though, Luca had had the continuing good fortune to have Ilya pull him off to the side after he saw Shane talking with him about Shane’s offer to come to additional training, and starstruck look that followed on the rookie’s face. That look had translated to silence though and Shane gave him playful elbow to the side saying “You don’t have to say yes right now, but I thought I'd offer,” and he had stayed blissfully silent.

During a break in between drills and scrimmage for that day Ilya waved him over to the bench and leaned on the boards, “You do not have to say yes,” he said in a gentle but knowing tone. Ilya didn’t know he also had a picture of Shane above his bed too, but in hindsight it was probably easy enough to guess.

Luca sputtered in response, trying to form a reply, but before he could get one out Ilya leaned closer so he truly was inaudible to everyone else, “He thinks you have a lot of talent and drive, which I agree but...” he said with a knowing sigh, “My husband can be very intense. I wanted to at least warn you.”

Luca did his best to hide the confusion present on his face but Ilya just shook his head with a smile, hands holding the boards for stabilization as he became a human acute angle before moving to the side and heading towards the tunnel. He gave a wave without looking back, “Do not say I did not warn you,” leaving Luca with his own thoughts and imagination at to what exactly that could mean.

Three days later when he actually went to the invited optional practice day, Luca found out exactly what Ilya had meant. They started off easy, a casual couple mile run on the treadmill idly chatting. Then to weighted exercises that focused on leg stamina and stick control, Shane being kind enough to give him a modified set while Shane did his normal routine which seemed like a lot already. After three sets of even his modified version Luca’s head was spinning, his legs were on fire and his lungs burned. They had also done stabilization in between the weighted sets so his knees felt like they were gonna give out. Shane simply clapped him on the back and pushed a gatorade in his hands, “Alright, finally time to skate.” And that statement alone sent the room spinning again. They were doing on ice drills on top of this?! It was an optional day, they had conditioning tomorrow. This wasn’t conditioning?! Luca was left so stunned, he had to sprint to keep up with Shane to get to the locker room.

Pads, skates, and practice uniforms on, they finally got out onto the ice. Luca had downed the gatorade, ate a cookie, and downed another water bottle by some miracle. On the ice Hazy greeted them as Shane was pulling out blocks and various cones. Luca did his best to follow what Shane had planned. Stick handling, edge practice, moving around mock defenders to get specific shots. But everything was starting to mix together. His head was becoming clouded with exhaustion and it didn’t even seem like they had even made it to the halfway point yet. Shane was explaining the last drill they had on the docket when Hazy tapped him with his goalie stick, a smirk peering through the mask as he looked to Shane, “How hard did you go on the poor kid? He looks like he’s going to fall over already,” Wyatt chirped at Shane, lifting his chin to the man.

Shane rolled his eyes, “I gave him a beginner version of my easy day.” All Luca could do was stare at the boards at the far end of the rink in between space separating both of them. He desperately wanted to reach out for the post and steady himself but he decided against it even though the breath in his lungs had left him and his spirit tried to escape with it. Easy day?!

“Beginner version as in the one you were doing at 16 and nearly winning all of worlds juniors,” Hazy replied back.

Shane only replied with a flat, “Yes. But more well structured and with the advancements in exercise science since then.”

Wyatt looked to Luca and shook his head, “Well you’re in it now kid. Don’t forget to use the vibration plate and do dynamics at home after you shower.”

Shane promptly pushed out of the crease and lined up at the starting line for the drill, Luca following reluctantly. His skates already felt like lead weights, but he wanted to get through at least one circuit before throwing the towel in and planting his face on the ice.

Watching Shane sprint off of the line, performing cross unders and flipping to backwards skating to get behind the crease with insane speed, promptly making Hazy narrowly catch what would be a backdoor goal, reminded Luca exactly why this season was going to be an incredible experience and also why Shane was a three time Stanley cup winner.

Shane sprayed Luca with snow as he came to a screeching stop in front of the rookie that wasn’t a rookie anymore, giving him a nod to get going, “Alright, your turn Haas.”

Luca did his best to copy the veteran though with much less grace, slower, and an easier block for Hazy. He stopped in front of Shane still panting and knees aching, and the other man was performing puck juggling idly like nothing they had done all day remotely affected him. The puck hit the ice with a clap and he looked to Luca, “Alright, a good place to start. You’re going to need to be more aggressive but you also won’t be all alone since you will have LaPointe and I.” Luca giving a small nod in response, attempting to breath through his nose again.

“Let’s try some stick handling next,” he said skating off to one of the two lines of cones he had set up. This drill Luca was at least familiar with. They ran through it a few times, making sure to get good speed and force around each one and then letting off a shot towards Hazy at the end. Who was muttering something about the most recent Marvel series not living up to expectations while catching or blocking their shots with ease even though they came right after another.

The drills continued for awhile, each taxing in their own right, not only on his body but also his brain, taking more concentration than the off ice condition they had done earlier in the day. This whole practice was beginning to wear him down to the bone. Luca managed to survive two full rounds of the five part circuit and part way into the third when his body decided he was done. He tripped, fell forwards, and slid across the ice, eventually stopped by the post with Hazy looking down at him.

“Done for the day there kid?” he asked with a chuckle.

Luca just nodded, pushed off his helmet, flipped over and sighed into the ice. He felt a gentle glove hand pat on his hair. A spray of snow covering him followed and he knew Shane had stopped in front of the crease. Luca could hear the rustling of pads and practice uniforms but all he really wanted to feel in that moment was the cool hard ice since he felt like his entire body was alight, he was going to be insanely sore tomorrow and it was going to be conditioning day. He let out another sigh and wished the rink would open up and swallow him whole before facing The Shane Hollander because he couldn’t even keep up for what was an ‘easy’ day already modified to be beginner friendly. But Luca felt a gentler non-net hand pat him, he dared to move his head to look up where he saw Hazy and Hollzy looking down at him with a bit more than mild concern.

“You ready to get off the ice yet Haas?” Shane asked seemingly unsure if the rookie was alive even though he had moved his head.

Luca simply gave a shrug of his shoulders, he wanted to put his face to ice again.

“I think Ilya will kill me if I let you stay on the ice while pucks are flying through the air towards Hazy,” Shane said.

Of course Shane wasn’t going to stop his drills even though Luca was absolutely burnt. The feeling of inadequacy washed over his bones and he turned his face to the ice again and sighed.

A shadow blocked out some of the arena’s lights and he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Luca, it is your first day trying to train with me. Cut yourself some slack. Get some rest tonight so you’re ready for training tomorrow and I’ll let you know when I do another optional alright?”

Luca just nodded into the ice.

“Okay let’s get you up then,” Shane said putting his hands under Luca’s armpits and dragging him up to his knees. He could feel it in his face that he looked despondent. Shane looked at him again, the man’s face an odd mix of pity and near apology. “I’m serious. I’ll let you know when I am training again and you’re always welcome to join,” he said doing his best to be reassuring and Luca just nodded as a wordless reply.

Eventually when his legs became legs again and not noodles, he was able to get up and start skating towards the bench. Luca let out a deep sigh, getting some stability beneath him. He heard two shots ring out, one from where it hit on the ice and one pinging against the post. Before his brain had the time to catch up with him, Shane appeared at his side, skating backwards in easy slaloms. Luca, of course, went to the worse possible outcome. Shane didn’t want him to come to optional practices anymore, he was disappointed in Luca’s first try, he wasn’t serious about this whole thing in the first place and this was all an elaborate ruse to make fun of him.

Shane flicked Luca on the shoulder, “Hey Haas, you still in there?” he asked with a sort of waning smile.

Luca blinked rapidly back, not realizing he had been spacing out in his head, “Uhh, yes?”

Shane let out a chuckle, “Well good because I have something I’d like to say to you.”

Luca blinked back in response.

“Alright,” Shane started, “What I wanted to say was I don’t think I phrased what I said earlier right. What I meant to say is,” he said with a sigh towards the ice and then looked back up at him, sincere seriousness pouring off of him, “You are doing really well Luca. I know this is very difficult but the reason I asked you to be here and to do this, is because I know you can reach greater heights than you’ve already gotten to.”

Luca slowly pointed a gloved finger at himself and cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, mouthing ‘me’ quietly.

Shane shook his head with a laugh, “Yes you Luca!” He slapped a hand on Luca’s shoulder, “You are doing well. Now you just have to believe it too.

Shane gave a small ruffle of Luca’s hair once Luca’s butt hit the bench and then went back out onto the ice to finish up the drills. Hazy doing a mix of blocking, catching, and missing shots thrown his way. Luca watched with rapt attention. Analyzing the ankle angle, the edge control, and the stick handling that Shane demonstrated with every drill. But truly, his brain was so worn out from the entire day that he didn’t even notice the additional body in street clothes that sat next to him wordlessly. It was only when Shane had skated by with extreme speed past the bench to the opposite side of the rink that he finally caught a glimpse of the person beside him and basically jumped up in surprise. To which Ilya laughed hysterically at. Shane caught the interaction, simply rolled his eyes and went back to his drills.

Once Ilya had mostly calmed down from dying of laughter, a chirp made its way from his mouth, “I am ninja now? So sneaky you did not even notice me right beside you?”

Luca dropped his head and sighed in exacerbation. He was so tired he couldn’t even think, let alone give a chirp back to Rozanov.

“You could not make it through on ice drills in addition to gym work out?” Ilya said, the current of playfulness replaced with a question that sounded a lot less like genuine curiosity and a lot more like near statement of fact.

“Yes,” Luca replied, leaning forward on the boards and his stick, tracking Shane and Wyatt idly.

“I get it. I did not make it through first time either,” Luca’s head practically whipped to look at Ilya, “Though I think I did last longer than you for my first time.”

“So you..” Luca started.

“Yes,” Ilya replied, his head turning so his eyes met Luca’s, “how else would I know to warn you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Luca couldn’t have really argue with that.

So, after processing that Shane was taking over for minimum of the next two weeks, Luca truly thanked the universe and whatever luck he had left, that he had been attending Shane’s additional optional practices. He knew what was in store for the team. They were already knee deep in the season and holding down a playoff spot too, the top seed no less. The team truly showed no signs of slowing down besides giving their captain some time off to get back to peak health again. All of these factors swirled in Luca’s head when he realized he had only seen early and mid-season training. Trying to imagine what this was going to look like might actually be nightmare inducing. He dared a glance to Shane who looked unphased by the announcement, giving a polite wave to the room, and let Boodram and Barrett do the talking. Nothing to give away the absolute monster that they would be unleashing upon the team. That Shane Hollander ‘normal’ was pretty much everyone else’s insane push. That the combination of skill, endurance, and break neck speed would send people to ice baths, saunas, and even garbage cans before you could say “Fuck the Voyagers”. And honestly, fuck them for refining an already generational second overall draft pick into a monster of a player with the crazed routine to back it up game, after game, after game.

Luca knew he would be able to handle a lot of it. Hell, even most of it. But the second week of Hollander boot camp in between home games was starting get to even him. There wasn’t enough icy hot in the entire country of Canada to soothe the balm of ache that had settled deep in his bones. The seemingly unending practice combined with the additional ice time due to their line going from second ‘first’ line to first line first line meant Luca was fighting for his fucking life. Additional training with Hollzy that was one thing. Hollzy making them all do that insane amount of exercise was also one thing. Consistent twenty minutes of ice time was yet again one thing. But all of them together was an entirely different beast.

So, in the dead of the night, midnight, Luca dangerously ventured a text.

“Captain, when are you coming back?”

Chapter End Notes

Luca is a very interesting foil in his similarity to Shane (and I have a fic in the works about that) so I though having him as the penultimate would be interesting. I hope you enjoyed! Thanks as always to my wonderful betas and my body doubles for helping me get the chapter out. This author is powered by kudos and comments, so they are always appreciated!

Chapter 5: Plus One: Ilya Rozanov

Chapter Summary

Ilya finally comes back off of IR

Chapter Notes

Ilya Rozanov loves his husband, but more importantly he understands him too.

Ilya Rozanov glimpsed at the boy that came before the man known as Shane Hollander. Two handshakes and a short conversation told him everything he needed to know. It started out as him thinking he was getting sized up as competition, but by the end he knew he was being sized up in a different way. He had seen more versions of Shane Hollander than almost anyone, bar the man’s parents of course. He knew all of it. He knew the softness, the nervousness, just as well as he knew the concentration, the fight on the forecheck, all as he intimately as he knew the back of his own hand. He had held, and still holds Shane Hollander’s heart in his hands. The same way his husband had, and has his. Mutually assured destruction, the Tuna Meltdown symbolized that perfectly. Maybe because these two seemingly contrasting versions of his love had always been in front of him in concert: the alley then prospect cup, hooking up then playing games, and everything in between, was why how Shane acted on the Centaurs did not surprise him.

It took Shane time to adjust. He experienced a whirlwind of change that came in the form of a summer between moving, the wedding, getting to know a new team and barn, that once they got back to the normal feel of a hockey pre-season and season, Shane settled into himself again. Yes, the new team and new stadium were adjustments, but if there was one thing that Shane knew, it was hockey. The time on the ice, the gym training, and the drills carving in muscle memory, Ilya could tell it let Shane inhabit his bones again. And it was beautiful. Ilya was getting to see more of his husband than he ever had.

He had seen parts of it, flashes even. The 2017 All Stars when they were on the same team, summers spent at the cottage doing drills/working out together, and the times they had flirted with danger and reserved a rink or two for a whole day during the off season after they officially got together. It was a different experience now though, being on the same team, permanently. Following one another around the stadium, being on the ice together outside of the high energy of games, playing together on special teams at the behest of Weibe and the agony of Hayes. Ilya felt like he was falling in love all over again in a different way. Shane had always been beautiful on the ice. An angel of death: strong, violent, deadly, yet with an underlying grace, power, and awe-inspiring beauty that made him nearly impossible to look away from. Seeing it so often and on his side this time, made his body do inconvenient things for a professional work place and Shane chastised him for it. How could he help it though? His husband was a fucking beautician, and God could he not get enough of it.

Spending time with the team outside of practice only made it worse. He got to hold Shane in a semi-public setting. No more hiding in houses or in plain sight careful not to touch in an overtly affectionate way. He could do whatever he wanted within reason—Shane would most likely never approve of them getting to fuck on center ice, but a man could dream—so he did whatever he wanted, within reason. He sat on Shane’s lap at Boodram’s first BBQ of the season. Sauntered up with a chilled beer and their conversation about what PDA was he was okay with in his back pocket. He reached across Shane’s space to set the can on the table next to his husband, used his free hand to turn Shane’s head, stealing a slightly heated kiss, and then plopped down on his husband’s lap like it was exactly where he wanted to be, because it fucking was. Shane was not particularly phased as they had talked in depth about what they were both okay with and specifically what Ilya wanted to do now that his husband was within arm’s reach more often than he was not, so Shane simply continued on with the conversation. He was talking to Wyatt and a few other people about something pertaining to Toronto, but Ilya wasn’t really paying attention to that, he was minding the circle’s reaction. Thankfully, after the initial shock from their teammates due to Ilya’s change in demeanor in comparison to last season’s BBQs and his eager, open affection with Shane, Ilya’s presence mostly faded into the backdrop of the conversation and continued on as normal. Ilya got to be on top of his husband, holding him close and anchoring him, and the simple act of being able to do this made his heart simultaneously flip flop and put him at ease.

Ilya had been having a good season, a great one even. Finally, fucking finally getting to play with his husband and with a team that was once again a well oiled and continuously moving machine. So, frankly Ilya was pissed. He was pissed at himself, he was pissed at the universe, he was pissed at Buffalo, and he was pissed that Weibe and Hollander had ganged up on him when he found out he was going on IR.

He hated being on IR, not only because it was his inaugural season of playing with his husband but also because it meant sitting at home doing nothing which was absolutely worse than continuing to play with the pain of tendonitis, and no, he was not being fucking unreasonable about this. Yet here he was sitting at home doing nothing. He stared at the ceiling like it was somehow going to get him to heal faster. Then his lovely husband came into view above him, “We’re going to talk about who is temporarily going to wear the C and help run drills. You should come with so you get a say in it too.”

Ilya groaned and rolled over towards the cushions and back of the couch, “Go without me. I am IR, I cannot do anything let alone make a decision for the team.”

He couldn’t see it but he knew Shane rolled his eyes, “Ilya, stop being dramatic, we need to be there soon.”

Ilya continued to speak into the fabric, “What is there to decide? It will be you.”

“You can’t seriously know that! Bood could easily take up the mantle,” Shane replied.

“He could, but he will not. You will be captain temporarily and you will make them all suffer doing post-All Star drills,” Ilya retorts.

A scoff escapes Shane, but the lightness his voice gives way to something more uneasy, “I get I was captain for a long time but you can’t seriously expect them to want me to be captain for them too.”

Ilya moves his head to the side so he can glare up at his husband, “You cannot seriously be this dense. Of course they do. You already have an A in your first season plus you were captain for the Voyagers for nearly your entire career.”

Shane shifts uncomfortably, his thumbs finding their way into his pockets, “Do you really think they trust me that much already?”

Ilya slides off of the couch and stands up, putting his arms around Shane pulling his husband into a gentle hug, “Of course moy lyubov. You would not have been made A if they did not trust you.”

Shane relaxes into the hug and Ilya can feel the stress unspooling. The pressure would still be there, but it wouldn’t be the same. They both knew this. Ilya just hoped Shane truly felt it.

They get to the meeting nearly late by Shane’s standards, i.e. only a handful of minutes early. They join circle already formed and enter into quiet conversation that quickly gave way to the actual discussion at hand. Ilya let the conversation pass around him. He was mostly here to support Shane, he was not lying when he said he knew they would make Shane captain temporarily. He was the natural choice. Boodram had been the Centaurs’ captain for many years but he did not have much playoff experience. Barrett was a good teammate, good alternate, and had some playoff run experience, but he was not someone that truly wanted primary leadership responsibility. And Hollander not only had playoff run experience, but regular season push to the playoffs experience, he was used to captain level responsibility and had held that position for years before signing with the Centaurs. He was the natural choice. Weibe was notably not the one that brought up the possibility, Boodram and Barrett brought it up with some of the other coaches approving of the idea too. After continued hashing out they all agreed on making Shane temporary captain. When it had finally wound down and it was mainly Shane, Zane, Troy, Weibe, and Ilya himself is when he finally dropped the mask of professionalism, laughing openly at the situation Boodram and Barrett had inadvertently put the team in. Shane was certainly the best choice out of everyone to help with drills and hold the C. But it did in fact, damn them to his gorgeous and crazy husband’s practices. He made eye contact with Wiebe, who was shaking his head behind Boodram and Barrett and knew that Wiebe would do any saving of the team on this, perhaps they would appreciate his more relaxed coaching style and Ilya’s more relaxed captaining style after being exposed to the intensity known as Shane Hollander. It was not a bad intensity or even a destructive one, it was simply different than all these men were used to. Even if they could guess what it took to whip the much inferior players on the Voyagers into shape, they were still likely underestimating his husband.

The first text to arrive was Boodram’s. He had expected this. Ilya knew how to run drills, he had been tough at Boston but this team was different, and as much as he hated to admit it, he had mellowed out. They didn’t need the most bro-y version of him. The one that many had come to expect of him. But especially now as they had settled a little bit into “being the queerest MLH team in the league” and Ilya had done his best through depression and not having his medium distance boyfriend all the time, to curate a good locker room. He had maybe gone a little lax on them.

The next text to arrive was Barrett’s. He had lasted a bit longer. Then again he had been on a team that was usually in the top half of the conference standings, much to Ilya’s disdain. But the fact his first line partners and other alternate captains had reached out first, did in fact, bruise his ego a little bit. He had expected better from them as they had been able to keep up with Ilya for most of last season to make a playoff run.

After the first week, a text came through and it was from someone he hadn’t quite expected, Hayes. He laughed at the quadruple text, glad Hazy had realized his mistake early and eventually had his phone taken away by his much more intelligent wife Lisa. Yet something was starting to itch under his skin. His husband was skilled yes, but it was not justifying this reaction.

By the time Haas’ text finally came through, Ilya knew what he was going to do. He would not have his lovely, insane, intense, husband slandered like this. That said, he would also not stand to be slandered by his own teammates.

If he was to look back though, the second day on IR was really when he made up his mind, before the texts had even begun to trickle in.

Shane had come home with a certain look in his eye. The cool he usually got on the face off dot, he loved it and frankly wanted to lick it of his wonderful husband’s face.

Shane must have been able to feel that too because he put a hand on Ilya’s chest as he approached. “You know resting means no sex too.”

“You think I am incapable of getting you off hands free?” he challenged with a smirk.

Shane just rolled his eyes in response, “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

Ilya shrugged his shoulders, “You love it.”

“I do,” Shane responded in kind, “But that is not what I want to talk to you about.”

Ilya quirked an eyebrow up at that, “And what exactly did you have in mind Captain?” he replied, purposefully dropping his Canadian accent and dipping back to where he was comfortable. What he knew would drive Shane up a wall, Ilya being relaxed and at ease.

Shane shoved him playfully with the same hand keeping him at distance, “Stop being so distracting. I really do want to tell you something.”

Ilya nodded in reply, gesturing with his head to get on with it then. If he wouldn't even take the bait of playfulness he really have something he wanted to say-

“They think even you can’t do my drills and practice regimen,” Shane said, cutting Ilya’s train of thought off.

Ilya blinked and then a shit eating grin of wide proportions broke across the dawn of his face. A mock gasp escaped him, “Oh? Do they now?” 

“Yes,” Shane replied quickly, “They say, yell, or shout through exhausted breathes that not even the Great Ilya Rozanov, first overall draft pick and Stanley cup winner, could do The Shane Hollander’s drills,” he says in a sarcastic tone even though Ilya could tell Shane was relaying what had been said nearly word for word. He knew his dramatic team, maybe he was rubbing off on them a bit too much, or maybe hockey players not so secretly loved to be drama queens as much as they not so secretly loved to be gossips.

“They do know we have spent the last four summers together yes?” Ilya asks.

“I am pretty sure we mentioned it a few times,” Shane replies.

The grin softened into a smirk, “Well, maybe they should think before they speak then,” Ilya said, leaning across to bridge the gap between them and entangling them into a soft kiss.

So, that is how Ilya finds himself standing at his locker one day before he is scheduled to come back, pulling on his underlayers. A surprised squeak comes from behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see a very surprised Luca Haas standing in the entrance to the outer room for their street clothes.

“You are back early Captain,” Luca manages to get out.

Ilya clicks his tongue, “Not Captain again yet Luca. Do not let Shane hear you say that,” he says with a playful shush and finger to his lips.

If Luca questions him coming back a day early, he doesn’t let it be obvious besides the initial surprise. They suit up in relative silence with only Rozanov’s pre-practice playlist from a JBL portable speaker somewhere in the locker room and the shuffling their equipment providing background noise.

When they step out onto the ice together, Shane has already been warming up for some time. A glorious sheen of sweat covers his visible skin and some of his hair is already beginning to stick to where it’s closer to the helmet. The rest of the team is still awhile out from stepping onto the ice to join them, but it doesn’t bother the three of them and they go about doing skating drills to warm up.

Shane’s schedule had always been the same even on pre-game warm ups: skate, stick handling, shooting. The only difference was the length of activity. Condensed only the most important for pre-game. Long and drawn out for skills heavy days to burn the muscle memory into broken down tissue, or to strengthen the myelin sheath Shane always said. Or like today, average length, but still intense and focused for a push day. Shane Hollander never did anything he wanted half way. He threw himself into it wholeheartedly and expected the people who joined him to do the same. It was what made Ilya fall in love with him in the first place.

After completing a particularly challenging stick handling course he had set up since it was push day, Ilya circled around at the end of it. Pulling his stick up and back with his bicep, resting his hand and his stick against his chest and shoulder. He could feel his skin tingle as he got close to Shane who was leaning against the goal post, eyeing his approach with a questioning look. Ilya abruptly reached out with his free hand and used that same hand to pull against the back of his husband’s neck, dragging him into a heated kiss. Their visors smashing violently against each other, letting them get just close enough to feel the flutter of tongue. Ilya doesn’t let them linger but licks the taste of Shane off of his lips. The taste of simultaneously foreign and familiar salt causing the fire in his heart and stomach to flicker alight.

“Ilya,” Shane says darkly. Reign it in, it conveys.

He just slaloms backward, letting the stick drop between them as he goes back, a smirk spreading across his face as he lifts his chin up, “What? I am not allowed to kiss my husband when he is looking hot?”

Shane rolls his eyes dramatically and pushes off the goal post, “Fuck off Rozanov.”

Ilya’s tongue darts out and he bites his lip before turning around to skate forward. Haas coughs awkwardly having been forced to watch the entire interaction. Ilya skates up to him and puts a heavy hand on his shoulder, “One day, when you have hot MLH boyfriend, you too will understand the appeal Haasy,” he says clapping the poor man on the back and skating off, throwing a wink at his husband who meets it with an exasperated sigh and as smirk spreading across his face. Shane shakes his head and Ilya knows he achieved exactly what he wanted to.

After Hayes makes his way to the net and they finish their shooting drill with him, getting Wyatt sufficiently warmed up in the process. Shane puts the cones and obstacles on the bench as the rest of the team is filing out. They are considerably less polite about Ilya’s presence than Haas was. Various gasps, hushed swear words, and looks of surprise and confusion settling into their faces as they lay their eyes on Ilya.

“We thought you weren’t going to be back for at least another day if not longer,” someone ventures to say trailing off.

Ilya simply shrugs, “Surprise. I am back early. I was cleared with med staff and coach a few days ago, so I decided to join Hollander’s practice while I still can,” he replies giving his husband, who is right beside him, a light nudge with his elbow.

“Voluntarily?” someone chirps, which sparks scattered scoffs and chuckles.

Ilya rolls his eyes, annoyance clear on his face and body, “Yes, voluntarily. Or did you all forget I have trained with Shane during the summer since 2017?”

The lack of response and looks exchanged, shows Shane and himself clearly had not mentioned that fact enough, but before he could get a chirp out about that Wiebe comes down the tunnel to save the rest of the team from more sarcasm and dry comments of fact. Their head coach announces that Shane will once again be setting the drills for the practice today but it was most likely last one due to Ilya being released off of injury reserve. Luckily no one has the gall to groan or celebrate at the news and they all head out onto the ice to begin practice.

The complaints quickly pick up as time goes on though. Ilya for his part, chirps them all relentlessly. Clearly their temporary captain had relayed to their usual captain what things had been said during their other practices. Now not only were they getting reamed physically by Hollander’s push day, but they were also getting emotionally reamed by the seemingly unending taunts generated by Rozanov.

Somehow even on injury reserve, he had kept up conditioning and was out performing each and every one of them. Every stick handling drill done to perfection, nearly every shot made on net—much to Hazy’s dismay—and every skating exercise finished in time with his husband. And he still managed to cackle pointed comments as he practiced.

So, when they were all once again flung over every open surface, Hollander and Rozanov simply stood at center ice, barely breathing any heavier than normal. The both of them in some sort of hushed conversation chucking to themselves. It was clear then and there that there was a reason the two of them were drafted first and second overall, dragging struggling franchises back to the absolute pinnacle, and selling enough jerseys to drown said franchises in the cash.

They were always at the top, always together, and somehow it all made sense how they ended up with one another. Who else were they supposed to find when every conversation that included one had also included the other since they were fresh faced seventeen year olds? They were and are two neutron stars orbiting each other and dragging each other into the other’s respective gravity until they formed an even more massive star.

Everyone else was simply along for the ride as they were no longer terrorizing each other, but had instead become the Frankenstein's monster boogeyman of the entire league due to the stupidest bout of homophobia ever allowed to manifest. Stealing cup dreams of the next ten years from under the bed of every hopeful rookie and aging veteran. Except for the ones on the Centaurs of course, who now were, more than ever, thankful they were on their side. Really though, they were thankful that Montreal was idiotic enough to release their clutches on their best franchise player of all time to give Shane to his husband and hometown hand delivered on a silver platter. Beautiful intensity, impossible skill, and all charging them forward toward a Stanley cup.

Chapter End Notes

It is finally finished! Thank you so much for making this journey with me! It was great to do a chaptered fic for the first time and a super fun experience. Huge thank you to my betas Charmed and M_andem and Remi and Kat for the body doubling that got me to actually do my editing so this fic got out to you all! As per usual I loved writing Ilya and especially his unique perspective of being Shane's rival and lover (lol) that allowed him see and understand Shane in a different way than everyone else in this fic. This author is powered by kudos and comments, so they are always appreciated! If you want to chat with me outside of the comments find me on tumblr