Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry, Svetlana Vetrova, Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau

Additional Tags:

ilya rozanov has been obsessed since day one, chirping as a form of flirting, shane lets loose, Your Honor They Love Each Other, Social Media Fic, but not too heavy handed, Shane Hollander gets a touch of Hudson Williams, 80s music as a character, interviews chirps and people going wild, Some angst, lots of humour, Happy Ending Always, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Hayden Pike Friendship

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-11 Updated: 2026-04-27 Words: 70,468 Chapters: 14/?

Just Guys Being Dudes

Summary

Ilya and Shane get outed via instagram live… as friends. The world reacts as their friendship becomes the most talked about thing in the hockey world.

Being openly friends affords them more freedoms to be together, but all the more easy to lose it all.

AKA

Shane has a touch of Hudson Williams to him

Chapter 1: The Event

Chapter Notes

I mixed up the books and tv show so there’s the voyageurs vs the raiders, you’re gonna have to live with it

”Happy game day!” Cliff says to his camera, front facing camera on his face as he approached Rozanov’s door. “Roz sometimes needs a wake up call, so come with me to kick his ass out of bed.”

The number of people in his live aren’t many, but it’s in the hundreds, nearing a thousand after the mention of Rozanov. This wasn’t the first time Cliff had taken the fans on a trip to wake up Roz on game day, but usually it was when they had an away game.

Rozanov had said he was having a quiet night the night before, so he most likely didn’t have a girl over, Ilya was pretty free with that information when he did.

Cliff put the key in Ilya’s apartment door, calling out his name as he entered. “Roz time to wake up!”

Cliff didn’t immediately see him, scanning the quiet apartment until he saw feet dangling over the arm of the sofa. Cliff flipped the camera from front facing to the back camera as he made his way into the living room properly, and around the sofa.

“Wakey wakey Roz, it’s game day - oh what the fuck!” The initial gentle teasing tone he turned into a surprised shout as his eyes landed on Shane Fucking Hollander sprawled out on Ilya’s couch.

The previously dozing Hollander started at the shout, his eyes blinking open and landing almost immediately on Cliff, and then dropping down to his phone.

“I’m on insta live.” Cliff said, giving the bitter rival context for the shitstorm that was about to unfold. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Hollander brought his hands up to rub his face, the movement turning into a stretch that popped probably every joint in his body. “Well I was sleeping, probably a dumb idea to sleep on a sofa the night before a game, but then again, it’s only Boston.”

*****

Shane had taken the brief moment he took to rub his face and stretch to think; he’d been caught at Ilya’s place. They’d been caught. Surely this was it. Except, Shane had been napping on the sofa. He was fully dressed. They had plausible deniability here. More than plausible.

If Marlow had been an hour earlier he would have walked in on them in the most explicitly compromising position possible, if he’d been half an hour earlier Shane would have been showering, but thanks to whatever powers that be, he had walked in on Shane’s post-shower accidental nap.

“Well I was asleep, probably a dumb idea to sleep on a sofa the night before a game, but then again, it’s only Boston.” Shane lowered the hands from his face to shoot a smirk at Marlow.

The fear was still there, eating away at his stomach, making him want to shake and collapse and hide and throw up. But he’d put on a mask his entire life, this was just the final gauntlet.

Marlow didn’t seem to know what to say, his face was smart enough to rearrange into offense, but words didn’t seem to be able to follow just yet.

Shane rearrange his features to give the impression he’d only just remembered as he said “wait, why the fuck are you live?”

As though that wasn’t hanging over every one of his thoughts like a neon warning sign.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Marlow said instead of responding to the question Shane desperately needed the answer to.

“I’ll go get Rozanov.” Shane suggested, rising up off the sofa.

He was overthinking how he walked, did he look too familiar in this apartment? Did he seem too tight and nervous? Did he walk stiffly? How will people interpret that? Why the fuck was Marlow live?

Shane could hear the sounds of Ilya’s shower running in his en suite, and was thankful the bathroom door wasn’t visible from the living room as he slipped into the room.

Ilya’s perfect naked body was in full view as he stepped out of the shower, shooting Shane a flirty smile as he noticed him. “Is not too late for you to join me in the shower.”

“Marlow is here.” Shane said it simply, tightly. If he broke here, he wouldn’t be able to go back out there and face Marlow. “He’s live on instagram.”

“Fuck.” Ilya’s expression dropped in a second. Gone was the hungry look in his eye, with it the smile he reserved for Shane alone. “What did he see?”

“Nothing, I was sleeping on the sofa when he came in.”

A small flicker of a smile on Ilya’s face. “I wore you out.”

“Ilya.”

“Yes, sorry, fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I will get dressed, you go make breakfast.”

“Go make breakfast?” Shane couldn’t parse that their morning plans were apparently still in place.

Ilya placed his hands on Shane’s face, locking their eyes together. “Da, you go make breakfast like it is most normal thing in world. I will join you. And we tell world we have been friends for many years. It will be okay.”

It made sense, it was pretty much their only option at this point. Sell the story of a secret friendship. But Shane’s heart was beating so loud and his brain was somehow running overtime but completely blanking out.

“Shane.” The hands on his face slipped into his hair, giving it a light tug. “We will do very good at pretending to be friends. We already are. Is not even big lie.”

“Why the fuck is Marlow on a live breaking into your place?”

Ilya smiled his cocky, egotistical, smirk. “He does this sometimes, maybe twice. Bringing me into live makes it very popular, see, because everyone loves me, and cares very little about him, da?”

Ilya’s self assuredness, his quintessential love of himself, sparked a sense of familiarity and ease within Shane. He knew how to be around Ilya, he could do this.

“There he is.” Ilya said, pressing a quick kiss to Shane’s lips before pushing him toward the door.

Shane walked back through the living room with an attempt of casual familiarity. He was Shane Hollander, secret friend of Ilya Rozanov. Of course he’s been at his place before, always sleeps on the couch, maybe they chirp each other. Easy.

“So where’s Roz?” Marlow asks.

Shane continues past Marlow toward the kitchen, “Getting dressed, he was in the shower, hence why he didn’t hear you scream when you saw me.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t scream.” Marlow follows him to the kitchen.

Shane looks down at Marlow’s phone pointedly. “You can lie to yourself but we all know.” He gestured between himself and Marlow’s phone and tried not to think about how many people were watching.

Marlow glanced down at his phone and scowled, “hey no, you guys are meant to be on my side.”

Okay so there was something positive about him in the chat, the public weren’t immediately trying to destroy his life, they didn’t instantly realise how fucking in love Shane was with Ilya.

“Goood morning!” Ilya appeared from his room, dressed in a form fitting Boston top and loose sweats slung low.

Shane turned away, and started getting the omelette ingredients out of the fridge. Ilya couldn’t have dressed in anything that wouldn’t make Shane want to devour him, so the best option was not to look at all.

“Holly, I heard we had a break in!” Ilya strode in with all the ease of someone who didn’t give a fuck.

Shane scowled at the new nickname he’d apparently acquired. Ilya came to join him on his side of the breakfast bar, with Marlow sitting on the other side of it on a bar stool.

“Marly, meet Holly, Holly meet Marly. I believe you two have met before, da? Marly broke your collarbone.”

“Shit Roz.” Marlow groaned. “Did you have to bring that up?”

“Oh what, you thought I forgot?” Shane scoffed at him.

There was an awkward pause, Shane could see Marlow wanted to apologise but also couldn’t with his live still going, not in front of all the Boston fans, and most likely some Montreal fans by now. But then a change of topic could only really be the elephant in the room: why the fuck was Shane Hollander sleeping on Ilya Rozanov’s couch?

“Hello world,” Ilya leaned toward Marlow’s phone. “I hear you now know our little secret. Shane Hollander, is my stalker. He follow me home, broke in, sleep on my couch. Is very sad.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Shane elbowed him hard in the side.

“Ow fuck, Jesus.” Ilya clutched his side. “See people, Hollander is very well behaved in ice, but off ice, very violent.”

“I miss when your English was bad.” Shane said, loud enough to be picked up by the phone.

Shane had started chopping the veg he was adding to the omelette. Very happy to have his eyes and hands occupied.

“He is so mean to me. See rivalry alive and well!” Ilya laughed, practically pointing at the elephant.

“Yeah can I get some clarification? As in, any?”

Shane glanced up at Marlow, and saw that he was giving Ilya a look. He had written on a post-it the had been on the counter.

Just explain so the fans don’t speculate

Marlow saw Shane noticing, put the post it down to add

That why didn’t end live

And Shane understood it. If he’s ended it when he saw Shane on the sofa the speculation would have been intense, uncontrolled, but this way, Marlow was giving them a chance to control the narrative.

“Okay okay” Ilya held up his hands. “Hollander is like my best friend, have known him long time. First hockey player I met when I came here. First time we meet, 2008 I think?”

“Yeah.” Shane said, definitely casually. “Weren’t friends then though. You were an asshole.”

Marlow snorted. “Well that hasn’t changed so what did?”

Shane found himself shooting Marlow an amused smile. “Nothing. Forced proximity.”

“What golden boy is being too nice to say, is that I ask him about Montreal and Boston, and why are we rivals. I didn’t really know. He told me they gonna make us rivals and because I am rebel, I say fuck that.”

There was a long pause as Shane scrambled the eggs in a bowl.

“Is that it?” Marlow said. “You’re friends because Roz said so?”

Shane thought about it, and honestly, yes. Ilya had made the first move, almost every step of the way.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Pretty much. You know what Rozie is like.” Calling him Rozie was a dig at being called Holly, see how he liked it. “We only hang out when we play each other, grab dinner or something.”

“You make dinner because you eat like rabbit.” Ilya was wandering around the kitchen, if Marlow hadn’t been here he’d be kissing Shane’s neck, but instead he was having to throw his excess energy into moving around.

“I make dinner because you only know how to make tuna melts.” Shane snipped back.

“Tuna melts are fucking good!”

This was familiar territory, arguing about food, arguing with Ilya’s insults, arguing in general. They could do this and seem like friends who kind of hated each other.

“You are lucky, Marly, if you had come 20 minutes later you would have heard Holly singing bad 80s music.”

Fuckssake. Shane was going to kill him. Like actually murder him.

Marlow actually laughed at that. “Shane Hollander likes 80s music? The money I would pay to see that.”

Ilya grinned and leaned over the breakfast counter. “Pay me money, Marly, and I will film it for you next time.”

“You will do no such thing.” Shane called from where he was now adding light oil to a pan. “Because it’s not true.”

Ilya laughed, his merry, snarky laugh. The laugh that was a mixture of genuine mirth and joy of being an asshole.

“I don’t know if I believe you, Holly.” Marlow said, a slight laugh in his voice too.

Shane shot him a look over his shoulder.

“Hollander.” He corrected hastily.

Shane said nothing. Focussing on his task until Ilya accidentally knocked the fork he’d been beating the eggs with, splattering egg everywhere.

“Ilya!” Shane shouted. Exasperated as he stared at the mess.

Ilya rolls his eyes and goes to grab a cloth. “Oh my god Holly, no one died, is fine I clean it up.”

The egg mixture was only splattered here and there and Ilya was quick at wiping it away, but Shane’s nerves were barely contained, it felt like any small thing would break the relaxed facade he had on. Well, as relaxed as Shane Hollander could ever pretend to be.

“Okay. Okay. There’s a lot of questions in the chat.” Marlow says, looking at his phone.

Ilya tsked and shook his head. “Holly only does interviews if he gets paid. His mother is his manager, very tough. Gets him doing Rolex and shit.”

Shane smiled at the way Ilya was able to give them an out, “what he said. Talk to my manager.”

“Her name is Yuna, very nice lady. But you must pay Holly lots of money. More than you can afford Marly.”

Marlow still looked slightly weirded out by the interaction, but caught eyes once again with Ilya and seemed to come to a decision.

“Okay fine, answer one question, you called Hollander your best friend. What the fuck man? I thought we were tight!”

Shane couldn’t help but smirk but kept quiet as he poured the omelette mixture into the pan.

“Marly! There is no need to be jealous, I have many friends.” Ilya waved off the complaint. “I said it for poor Shane, I am his only friend.”

Shane scowled this time, and was incapable of staying quiet. “Ilya, you’re not even my best friend, Hayden is. You rank somewhere after Scott Hunter.”

Now Ilya made an outraged noise behind him, “I tell everyone he is my best friend and he does this to me? After Scott Hunter? Hunter is literally the only player you’ve ever tried to fight, and I rank after him? I guess you’re friends because you’re both boring.”

The words were interlaced with colourful Russian insults that Shane only recognised a handful of. He ignored Ilya in favour of opening the cupboard with all the plates and other crockery in it.

“Marlow, you having some?” He asked, two plates in one hand, his other han resting on a third.

Marlow blinked at him, as though he hadn’t thought about the fact that Shane had been cooking during the last 20 minutes or so.

“Yes!’ Ilya decided for him. “Marlow will eat with us, goodbye raiders! Thank you for joining us, we’ll see you all later when you watch us beat Montreal!”

“In your dreams!” Shane said just before Marlow hit the end live button.

The pause once the live was over seemed louder and more awkward than any of the previous ones. Shane dutifully doled out the omelette onto three plates, his hands shaking.

“So what the fuck Ilya?” Marlow said once he’d put his phone down.

“Is like we said.” Ilya sighed, “we became friends summer before rookie season. Just like, nervous kids going to school for first time? Wanted to have a friend.”

Shane carried two plates to the breakfast bar, then turned around and got his. He moved mechanically, grab fork, stab omelette, raise omelette to mouth, chew, swallow, repeat.

“Shane.” Ilya said lowly, drawing his attention.

Marlow was also looking at him oddly but said nothing as he ate his food.

“Shane it’s fine, no need to freak out. Worst is over.” What Ilya was trying to say is that no one knew they were together. But that wasn’t the only issue.

“There’s going to be so many questions, Ilya.” Shane would just have to live with Marlow hearing his minor meltdown. “My team, fuck, my team are going to wonder why the fuck they found out from a Raider’s instagram live that we’re friends! Wonder why I hung out with you the night before a game! They’re going to be so pissed.”

All Shane wanted was for Ilya to comfort him, to place his hands on his face and caress his hair and kiss him and tell him it would be okay, but there was fucking Marlow eating his fucking omelette.

“Wow, your team sounds like assholes.” Marlow said with food in his mouth.

Shane shot him a glare.

Marlow hastily swallowed to add, “I kind of mean it though. Like yeah, it’s a shock, but I know it’s not going to change how Roz treats Montreal on the ice. We’re still going to win like we always do.”

The last bit was said with a hint of chirp. Like an offering, an outreached hand ready to grasp Shane’s, to shake him, open his eyes.

Because he was right. This had no bearing on his play. It was no one’s fucking business. Except now everyone knew.

“How many people were watching?” Shane managed to grit out.

Marlow glanced at Ilya, who nodded at him. “We surpassed 50k.”

Shane couldn’t picture how many people that realistically was. Their stadiums could fit just under 20k people in them. There was a chance that everyone who came to the game tonight had been watching.

Who was Shane kidding? Even if they didn’t see it live, it was definitely out there. Recorded, uploaded, played on instagram, youtube, ESPN probably. Eventually.

Shane managed a few more mouthfuls as Marlow and Ilya made light conversation, politely not saying anything about Shane’s obvious mood. Shane pushed the rest of his omelette onto Ilya’s plate and began washing up.

“Shane, leave it, I can do it later.” Ilya came to stand at his side, his hand turning off the tap. His other hand did not come to land on his hip and give it a squeeze, his lips did not brush Shane’s head, they were just to men, standing slightly apart.

It took his remaining will not to touch him. Not lean against him. Not to verbalise all the other things he was thinking.

“I have to go.” He said. “Better to deal with this now.”

Ilya let him pass but Marlow stood up as he walked around the breakfast bar.

“Hollander, I just wanted to apologise. For the hitting you too hard that time, and for this too. I guess I’ve got a pretty bad track record with you, but Roz is one of my best friends and I mean that. I owe you, okay?”

It felt like he was trying to say something without saying it, something Shane couldn’t think about right now.

“Thanks, Marlow.” Shane held out a hand for him to shake.

Marlow grasped it, “Cliff, please.”

Shane just nodded and gave a tight smile. “Cliff.”

****

Cliff watched Ilya watch Shane leave. And expression he had never seen on the Russian’s face, and not one he could place. Maybe it was concern, or worry.

“So, you’re on washing up duty, yes?” Ilya said lightly.

“Roz.” Cliff sighed.

“I believe, since you rudely interrupt breakfast, is your turn to wash up.” Ilya continued, moving back to the breakfast bar.

“Rozanov.” Cliff said more firmly.

Ilya glanced around the kitchen. “Is not too much to do, just pan and plates.

“Ilya.” Cliff’s voice was firm, brokering no further distraction. He had never called Ilya by his first name.

Ilya stopped, his back to Cliff, waiting for him to say words he desperately didn’t want to hear.

“Is Hollander Jane?” And there it was, the names very few people on this planet could ever say. “Because if he is, you two need to be more careful.”

“Marly -”

“Don’t bother, Ilya. I’m not going to ask you to spill everything. It’s your business. It’s Hollander’s business. I know it’s my fault this even happened, and I am so sorry. I will do whatever I can to help. I know a lot more than the public, hell, I’m possibly the only one who knows that when you’re smiling at your phone you’re messaging the mysterious Jane. But there will still be speculation. You need to decide how much I can know, how much the team can know, and how much the world can know.”

There was a loud pause while Ilya unstuck his tongue. Cliff watched his shoulders, the tension there as he thought about what to say, and Cliff let him take his time. Maybe stole another bite of breakfast while he waited.

“Thank you, Cliff.” He said eventually, his back still to Cliff “you are good friend.”

“I’m your best fucking friend.” Cliff said.

Ilya turned around, llip quirked into a smile. “Yeah, you are.”

***

Shane got back to his hotel fine, up in the lift without anyone looking at him like he was a massive fucking traitor. A liar. He made it all the way to his room where Hayden was chilling on his bed.

“Hey buddy,” Hayden greeted him with a suggestive grin, “where were you all night?”

“Ilya Rozanov’s place.” Shane told him. No point beating round the bush.

Hayd frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get Hayd, it’s true.” Shane moved to sit on his unslept-in-bed, his chest tight, holding all his breath in. “It’ll be out there soon anyway.”

“Hey, hey, buddy, I don’t know what’s going on but you need to breathe for me.” Hayden moved off his bed to crouch in front of Shane. “Whatever’s happened, we can get through it.”

“I was caught,” Shane gasped, “at Ilya Rozanov’s house.”

Hayden’s brow furrowed, and then his eyes widened. “Shane, is Ilya… Boston Lily?”

Shane was fucking this up. He needed to tell Hayden that he was just friends with Ilya, that they’d be filmed hanging out, that it wasn’t what he was thinking.

Instead Shane cried. Hayden pulled him forward until his face rest against his shoulder, and soon he was soothing Shane the same way Shane had heard him comfort his girls.

Eventually Shane pulled back, his still wet but the tightness had lessened.

“So what happened?” Hayden asked. “Was something… explicit leaked?”

“No, no thank God. Cliff Marlow was doing a live and came over to Ilya’s, I was on the couch, Ilya was in the shower. We played it off like we’ve just been friends for years, but I don’t know how well it… came across."

“So nothing will hint at you two being… involved?” Hayden said, mouth twisting at the word ‘involved.’ “Sorry, I sound like a dick. It’s not because you’re gay. You know that.”

Shane just shook his head. The team had known he was gay for a while now, for the most part, as long as he didn’t bring it up no one cared. JJ wanted to hook him up, as did Hayden, but otherwise? It wasn’t mentioned.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to watch it?” Hayden reached over to his bed where his phone was. “I’ll bet that’s already out there.”

“Oh god.” Shane groaned and leaned forward.

Hayden clapped him on the back, “go shower, I'll review and report back.”

Shane nodded and stood up. He could follow directions, stopping to plug his phone in to charge before he moved toward the bathroom.

“Shane,” Hayd called before Shane got to the bathroom, “thank you for telling me. I’ll have your back, no matter what.”

“Thanks man. and I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner.”

Hayden paused for a moment, before saying, “don’t be, man, I get it.”

****

Post shower gave Shane a lot more clarity. He’d already showered once today, washing away Ilya’s release, this time he was washing away the anxiety. The fear.

Returning to the bedroom he could his own voice, tinny as it came through the speaker on Hayd’s phone. Then there was Cliff and Ilya, their voices only stopped when Hayden noticed him and paused it.

“It’s not as bad as you think.” Was the first thing he said. “You played it off really well. The weirdest part is seeing you and Ilya be so… comfortable around each other.”

“What are people saying?” Shane finally found the courage to ask.

“Mostly shocked, a lot of positive actually, some negative, some negative that I can’t tell if it’s meant as a joke or not.” Hayden closed his phone. “Can I ask… have you two always been…? Or is the ‘since rookies’ a joke?”

“No, that was correct. We’ve not always been together, together. Monogamous. But we’ve been… fooling around since rookie year.”

“Holy shit.” Hayden shook his head. “And it’s definitely Rozanov you want?”

Shane finally let himself smile a little. “Yeah.”

He explained everything to Hayden. Not in explicit detail, but a rough timeline. Why Ilya, why it could never be anyone else. And Hayden listened to it, he held back his distaste of Ilya when he could, he placed a comforting hand on Shane’s shoulder.

“Let me know what I can do, and I will do my best.” he said after Shane finished his tale. “Even if you have terrible taste in men.”

The thing Shane had been dreading was now the only thing left to do. He unplugged his phone and powered it back on. He had been lucky, in a way, that it had died at some point during the night. But now it was fully charged again.

It buzzed over and over again once it turned on, with messages, missed calls, @‘s and mentions.

Lily
We need to talk

Lily
Have continued plans

Shane replied to Ilya first, trying to picture how he was coping right now. Probably better than Shane was. No, definitely better than Shane was.

Jane
Contingency plans

Lily
Yes, whatever the fuck

Lily
He knows you’re Jane

Jane
Hayd knows you’re Lily

Lily
Fuck

Jane
He watched it, said we played it off well

Lily
But he still guessed from video

Jane
No that was my fault

Jane
I all but told him when I got in

Jane
But Marlow still guessed

Lily
Cliff knows me a lot better than fans

Jane
Fuck

Lily
Fuck

Lily
I still see you after game?

Jane
No

Jane
Maybe

Jane
I want to

Lily
okay

Shane’s other messages were from his agent, Rose, some individual messages from his teammates, and of course the group chat. To the first two he sent off generic messages, he ignored the direct ones from teammates, and instead started writing a message into the groupchat.

The boys swayed from surprise to outright angry. None of them had anything positive to say. Hayden hadn’t sent a message at all into the chat yet, which Shane supposed maybe Hayden was waiting to see what Shane had to say about it.

Hollander
Hey, I know this is probably a shock to many of you
And I can tell a lot of you are upset by it, all I can say is
Grow up
We play a sport, a sport we’re damn good at
who I spend my time with off the ice shouldn’t matter
It doesn’t affect the game
So get your heads screwed on right
and use all this energy to destroy the raiders tonight

“Holy shit, Shane, where did that come from?” Hayden gaped from where he stared at his phone screen.

“Just something Marlow said to me earlier.” Shane definitely felt anxiety about the text, but at the same time, he was tired. He was so tired of always trying to be the most affable Canadian player to grace Hockey.

Hayden eyed Shane, “oh great, we’re taking advice from Raiders now?”

“When I was near panicking this morning thinking about how much you guys might hate me, and Cliff Marlow, the man who took me out of the game for 6 weeks, was confused as to why my team would care since he didn’t see an issue with it? Yeah, I took some advice from a Raider.”

Hayden was quiet for a moment, both of their phones buzzing with more Voyager messages. “Yeah, man. Yeah okay.”

Comeau
Our heads screwed on right?
C’est des conneries!
You are the one making petit dejeuner with the enemy

Drapeau
Sorry cap but who you spend your time with does matter
Rozanov is not
He is
Merde

Pike
You all need to do as the cap says
Grow up

Boiziau
And I suppose you knew the whole time?
You tryna tell me Hollander didn’t lie to you
each time he went to go see his Russian?

Hayden scowled down at his phone, glanced up at Shane, a determination set in his brow.

Pike
Yeah, actually, I did know
I just didn’t think it fucking mattered
Because it doesn’t stop us beating them any less
Play the game
Keep your opinions to yourself

“Hayd.” Shane didn’t know what else to say, it was all so fucked. But Hayden had just lied for him, and defended him.

Their phones continued to buzz for a bit but once they stopped replying the messages stopped. Shane assumed the situation was still being talked about, but had just moved off the groupchat. Maybe they had a second group chat that he wasn’t in. Who knew at this point.

It was then that a call came through from Shane’s mother. He didn’t want to have this conversation again. He’d done it too many times today, and it would only continue.

He let the call ring out, then sent her a message.

Shane
Hey mom
I’m fine
I need to head to pre-game stuff
But I’ll talk to you later okay?

There were others, his coach, for one. Only a text, no call.

Theriault
You have anything to say to me?

Shane stared at it for a bit, there was nothing the league could do. It wasn’t against any rules to be friends with the opposition, trades would be impossible under those circumstances. And since Shane was still feeling bitchy he replied:

Hollander
No

****

Pregame was tense. The locker room was tense. Theriault was standoffish but not outrightly hostile. Hayden stuck by his side chatting about Jackie and the kids as though it were any other day, for which Shane was eternally grateful.

The others chatted to each other, some normal chatter, but too many were throwing Shane looks mixed with obvious whispers. He didn’t know what to say to make it all blow over, and the longer his team looked at him with suspicion, the more it would affect their game play.

“Hollander!” Theriault called. “With me.”

Everyone eyed him as he crossed the locker room to go with their coach. There’s no way he could get in real trouble, his agent had already made sure he knew that. But he still felt like he was being taken to the principal's office.

“They want you mic’d for this game, this is Lynn, she’s going to get you sorted.” Theriault said before leaving.

Shane shook her hand with a media smile and held patiently still as a mic was attached to him, Lynn taking a moment to check it all worked.

“Holly! Long time, no see!” Ilya came stomping down the hallway in his skates, “I too, am getting mic.”

“Sorry, Mr Hollander, there’s an issue with this battery pack, I’ll be right back.” Lynn said, unplugging the pack from the mic, and looking Shane in the eye added, “it’s not recording currently. I will let you know when it is.”

And then she left the room.

“Wow, do you think even she’s guessed.” Shane said to Ilya, his stomach tightening.

“No, moya yaichnaya skorlupa, I think she is just kind.” My eggshell

Shane turned to look at him, he seemed fine. Comfortable. Maybe a little… sad? Concerned?

“How were your team?”

Ilya shrugged. “Like Marlow said, some were shocked, some didn’t care, some thought it was very funny. St Simon laughed a lot, said classic Roz.”

The silence that followed let Shane know Ilya probably already knew what the Voyageurs response was. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit his own team treated him like shit.

“Different vibe in the Montreal locker room.” Was all Shane said.

“Fucksake.” Ilya hissed, “Idiots, moya lyubimy.”

“Sorry about that!” Lynn reappeared, setting Shane’s mic up quickly. ”You’re all good to go, we can hear you from now, there’s a general rule that they’ll only publish what gets said on or around the ice but it is recording from now. Mr Rozanov, you’re up next.”

Shane made to leave, when Ilya called to him “Goodluck tonight Holly, I bet you have more fans in the crowd tonight than before!”

It was weak, in terms of chirps, but it served its purpose, to let Shane know that there were more opinions than just his teams. That it was quite possible Bostonians loved a secret, rebellious, friendship.

Reentering the locker room had every eye turned on him, and Shane dug deep for that earlier cavalier attitude. He’d told them to grow up, now he had to tell them to play nice.

“Okay Voyageurs! I am mic’d up for this game! Be on whatever behaviour you can live with being on the internet forever. I’m already fucked so let’s get out there and destroy the Raiders. I have some beef with Marlow I need to work out.”

Hayden, loyally, laughed at that, and surprisingly, so did a few of the others. JJ, who hadn’t said anything to Shane yet today, even quirked a smile.

“So let’s get out there and remind Boston why they hate to see us coming!”

The team dutifully cheered, JJ standing up and raising his hands to incite a bigger cheer which obligingly roared. They stomped out toward the ice and Shane felt some of that tightness begin to lift.

Comeau stopped by him briefly to say, “I don’t know if Rozanov is rubbing of on you, but I actually quite like this don’t give a fuck cap.”

Shane couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. “Shut the fuck up, Coms.”

Comeau grinned and shot out onto the ice. Shane, as captain, was the last on for his team. He braced himself, took a deep breath of that icy air, and rushed out to the sounds of cheers from the away crowd.

Boston was deep enemy territory, but they almost always had at least a handful of fans at away games, and today was no different. Skating out there and seeing the tens of thousands of fans viscerally reminded him of how many had watched him cook two of the raiders breakfast this morning.

Ilya and Shane were in the face off, because of course, the fans screaming incoherently. Shane couldn’t tell if they were happy, sad, angry, excited, or just screaming.

“Wanna make a deal, Hollander?”

“A deal?” Shane asked.

“Da, betting is not allowed.” Shane fought the urge to roll his eyes, “But we could make deal. If I win, I post Holly singing bad 80s music.”

“Sweet Jesus, Rozanov” Shane fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. “And I get to post something equally as embarrassing when you lose?”

Ilya laughed, “I have never done anything embarrassing."

“One word, Rozanov, dvadtsatogo avgusta.”

Ilya’s smile dropped. “Fuck, no -”

The puck dropped. Shane won the faceoff.

He knew Ilya wouldn’t post something he truly objected too, probably. Most likely. But he couldn’t risk it, so he had to win. But he’d also shown Ilya his hand, now Ilya knew what he would post if he won, so Ilya would be even more invested in winning.

The game felt normal. Roaring fans, his teammates sweating and cursing, and chasing that glorious puck. But there were some differences.

Differences like being overly aware of his mic when his teammates spoke to him. Differences like it seeming like the Raiders didn’t know what to say to him when they fought over the puck. Differences, like feeling like he needed to prove himself, and he could tell Ilya felt the same.

Whatever effort their teams were putting in was diminished in the light of the way Shane and Ilya played. They played like men possessed, their sole attention on the puck, the small black disc informing every single one of their moves.

Shane, not normally an overly aggressive player, did take the opportunity to hip check Marlow when it presented itself, the sound of a curse and booming laugh following him as he skated away.

A fight broke out at one point, to the cheers of the crowd who always thirsted for blood. Shane watched the fight for a moment as Comeau dove in to join, when an arm landed over his shoulder.

Shane turned his head to see Ilya smiling down at him. Shane rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Ilya’s waist.

“You don’t feel like joining this fight?” Shane asked lightly.

“Me?” Ilya raised his eyebrows. “I’m a lover not a fighter. I’m keeping you out of the fight, I know what you’re like.”

Shane snorted. “Oh, in that case I’m sure the raiders are very thankful you’re holding me back.”

Ilya nodded sagely. “I do what I can to protect my boys. It’s a captain thing, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Don’t make me fight you.” Shane warned him, whilst he didn’t fight, he couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a slight temptation to drop a glove today. He’d had a fucking day.

Ilya just threw his head back and laughed, a genuine one. The one Shane loved that made him want to kiss him. That made him want to make him laugh even more.

The Raiders were up by two, to the Voyageurs one, which of course made Ilya more unbearable on the ice. The chirps were getting more and more intense anytime they were close to one another on the ice.

“Not going too well, hey pretty boy?” Ilya smirked the next time they faced off.

“I am pretty, I was born pretty, I stay pretty.” Shane found himself biting back at Ilya, who couldn’t help the genuine smile that split his face.

And Shane shivered at the hungry look in Ilya’s eye.

Ilya won the face off, racing off with it toward the Voyageur goal, Shane hot on his heels. Comeau checked Ilya into the boards, but the puck was skittered over to St Simon who rounded behind the goal with it. Hayden got in there and they fought over it.

By this point Ilya had freed himself from Comeau and was moving to intercept the puck, when Hayden sent it down the rink. Shane raced after it, catching up with it in time to make for a breakaway.

And then an opportunity presented itself, something Shane had practiced alone purely to understand how to do it. Purely for progression. And now being put into play to piss off Ilya in his own stadium.

Shane scored using Ilya’s signature deke, twist, score, and wink. Said wink was of course aimed at Ilya, who hand been skating hard on Shane’s heels. He was too far away to hear what Ilya was saying, but he knew he’d hear from the man himself later, if not from the mic’d clip being posted later.

One more goal and they’d be neck and neck. Shane sat on the bench as the second line raced across the ice. Next to him, Hayden clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude, that goal was fantastic, how long have you been waiting to use his own move against him?”

Shane huffed a laugh. “I thought today was as good a day as any.”

It seemed pissing off Rozanov was they way back into his teams good graces, as many gave him a pat on the helmet and compliments on his goal. The stadium full of fans were definitely not as appreciative at the way they booed and screamed at the Voyageurs.

The score hadn’t changed since Shane gotten on the bench. There had been many good attempts from both sides, but the score stubbornly didn’t budge. For the first time, Shane was almost hoping for overtime. This was the first game in a long time he found himself laughing, enjoying the scrum and fight of it, relishing in the small bit of freedom he and Ilya had managed to carve.

But they didn’t go into OT. The score ended 3:2 to the Raiders.

The Voyageurs were down, and the Raiders were cheering with their home crowd, but Shane wasn’t as disheartened as he usually was after a loss. He’d played a good goddamn game, both of Montreal’s goals had been his.

It was only at the end of the handshake line that he was reminded of the terms of his deal.

“Hello Holly, which video shall I pick? I have so many of you singing bad 80s.” Ilya grinned, their hands still clasped together.

Shane’s face twisted for a moment, before sliding into a Rozanov inspired smirk. “You know what, Rozie? I’ll let you have this, since it must be so hard to have your signature move be perfected by someone else.”

Ilya went to say something, then bit his lip before eventually saying, “later, we will talk later.”

Pleasurable anticipation curled in Shane’s stomach. “Later it is.”

Chapter End Notes

If you’re reading my aftg fic and waiting on an update, no you’re not x

Also not me accidentally naming this fic the same as another I wrote for a diff fandom like 10 years ago

Chapter 2: Freedom

Chapter Summary

Socials and receipts

Chapter Notes

Pls drop your fic recs in the comment, I’m in a severe drought rn BUT if you’re not already, go read ‘something you can build’ by some1_around

The good mood of the Raider’s locker room was palpable. After a potential shitstorm of a morning, a win in their own city was needed, and Ilya had provided. The game itself had been electric, he had played beautifully, his team had played beautifully. And he let them all know as they trudged in. 

“Gorgeous, all of you!” He shouted. “I love you all! Beautiful motherfuckers! 

Around him players laughed as they started to strip off. He went toward where he had met Lynn earlier to finally be rid of his mic. 

That had been the only issue with the game. He kept forgetting he was mic’d up, and seeing Shane play as he played? He could only hope he hadn’t said too much. 

Shane calling himself pretty? Shane performing HIS move and then winking directly at him? These were things Ilya’s heart, mind, and cock could not take. Watching Shane loosen up a bit made Ilya want to kiss him right there on the ice. Made him want to whisper dirty things to him as he pushed him against the boards. 

Fuck. 

LeClaire joined once Ilya was rid of his mic to tell him he was doing the presser today. It wasn’t a surprise, especially after a day like today. 

LeClaire hadn’t seemed to be all that surprised when Ilya had seen him at the before the game. He gave Ilya a brief talking to about team image but otherwise hadn’t cared. 

Once he’d changed, he was put in front of the press, who were chomping at the bit to ask him questions. 

“Mr Rozanov! Mr Rozanov! How long have you and Shane Hollander been friends?” 

“Since summer before our rookie season.” Ilya answered, but didn’t add anymore. He and Shane hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t had the chance to be alone to do so. To get their stories straight. 

“Why did you keep it a secret?” 

Ilya struggled to find the words, the English words, the words that wouldn’t reveal them, the easy explanation. Eventually he said, “It was easier.”  

There was a pause as they clearly expected him to add more. When he didn’t someone else jumped in. 

“Why was it easier to keep secret a perfectly normal friendship -”

”Do you have any questions about hockey?” Ilya finally cut in. “I don’t know if you noticed, but we just won the game.” 

There was a spattering of laughter around the room, which covered the sound of a few huffs. 

“What was it like playing today, now that the world knows about your friendship?” 

Ilya rolled the words around in his head, and decided he liked the question. “It was nice. It felt like… Like weight was lifted. I have always liked playing against Hollander, it’s hard being top player. Playing against someone who knows the sport as well as you do is like nothing else.” 

Clearly not the response they were looking for based on the expressions of some of the reported, but what did Ilya care? It was true.  

“How did it feel when Shane Hollander successfully performed a move you are well known for?” 

Ilya scowled, and the room laughed. “I say, get your own moves, Hollander, stop copying me.” 

The room laughed again and before another could ask a question, the media manager jumped in to insist only on hockey questions. The rest of the presser went more easily, usual questions, usual answers. 

The locker room still had his teammates getting changed. Most had showered by now, just leaving Ilya still in his hockey gear. 

“You coming out tonight, Roz?” St Simon calls, standing butt naked by his locker. 

“Of course he isn’t, he has a date with Hollander.” Marlow winked at Ilya. 

Ilya shrugged. “This is true, it will be very romantic. What was it you did on your first date with Darina? Get drunk and throw up all over her? Mm, yes, I will try this with Hollander.”

The boys started uproariously laughing as Marlow turned red. St Simon clapped Marlow on the back and ruffled his hair. 

“Okay, first of all, fuck you,” Marlow was a little offended, but he was also laughing. “All of you.”

It was all in good fun, it was how the Raiders bonded. Ilya couldn’t remember a single day in their locker room that wasn’t filled with laughter and chirping. Even in his rookie season, when the lineup was slightly different, laughter had always followed the Raiders. 

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Hollander, man.” Connors laughed. “Fucken A.” 

Ilya just smiled. Proud of his team, for winning, for taking his friendship with Shane in their stride, for being themselves. 

****

Raiderordie

Words cannot express the state of shock I have been walking around in all day

Massholeraiders

Girl same, my coworkers don’t know hockey and I have no way of explaining what I’m currently going through

Voyageurgirl24

Shane, I love you, but are you okay?? Rozanov???

Rozanov81___

‘Best friends’ bitch no one believes that, y’all are gay just admit it

Raidersfan_123

NGL I’m so disappointed like wtf is this bullshit HE’S A VOYAGEUR

Puckmeoutside

the casual way they are with each other they really are friends i cannot

Netthepuckalready

imo they should trade Rozanov for being a traitor like wtf #turfhim

Hollanovtruther

GUYS IM NOT OKAY

Hollanovtruther

THEYRE SO IN LOVE #lovewins #theyresogay

Boyaquariumenjoyer

Hollander was asleep on his couch girl but stay delusional!

Pikeslesbians

I am unwell. I am unable to enunciate my feelings. No one speak to me. 

SaintlySimonunggg

Oh to be a fly on every wall - the locker rooms, Rozanov’s flat, the coach, the plane 

Pucksidepenalty

Imagine being at the game tonight. I have never felt envy so potent

Juicy02481

Shane Hollander pulling an Ilya Rozanov and then winking at him has done things to me that no man ever has

Mrsmarlow_hockey

I NEED to know what Rozanov said when Hollander did that

Voyageursscoop

Hollander and Rozanov with their arms around each other during the fight is my new lockscreen

Rozanovslop

Your honor they’re in love

Discussion: rivals to friends not lovers

User/ jetlaggednblagged

So I feel it’s super important to remain respectful that these guys are in the public eye but are athletes who just play a sport and are entitled to their privacy. 

Cliff Marlow should be penalised or sanctioned or something for invading Ilya Rozanovs space without his consent. 

Regardless of whether or not Rozanov and Hollander are a couple (even though they’re obviously not and the people who desperate to say otherwise need to get a fucking life and touch some grass) or just friends, they were forced to acknowledge it publically before they were ready 

279 comments 

Rewindplayback

Okay sure but you have to admit it’s hella sus to be so secretive if it’s only a friendship. Players are friends across all teams, no one would care. Except clearly they’re hiding something larger 

Sinbinhoney

I think the public reaction as to why they kept their friendship hidden speaks for itself tbh 

NHLmicd

Our most requested Mic’d video is finally here!

Hockeyhips

Im sorry Hollander I wasn’t aware of your game 

• I am pretty, I was born pretty, I stay pretty. 

Shane_can_get_it

I need this on a shirt YESTERDAY HELLO???

• I am pretty, I was born pretty, I stay pretty. 

Madi_loves_hockey

@ilyarozanov when are we getting that video we were promised?

Goldstarpuckbunny

Does anyone know what Hollander said in Russian before the first puck drop?

Roz_fan_81

I’m always ALWAYS glad for a raiders win, but @ShaneHollanderOffcial I need to know what you were going to post of Rozanov

Girliesandpucks

Shane Hollander was feeling bonita after Rozanov called him pretty boy

Hollyandrozie

If Shane had dropped his first glove fighting Rozanov the day they got outed as best friends I would have ascended

__hockeyboys__

Is it just me or is the ‘we’ll talk later’ bit extremely loaded

Hockeybeast67

You people need to stop, it’s just guys chirping, stop trying to force your fucking agenda on everyone 

Personalpuckbunny

Ngl Rozanov acting the way he has in these clips has given me the ick 🤮🤮

Pucktuah

I no idea these boys had jokes like that 

Shanehollandaise

ive never been more emotional over male bonding than i am about these two hockey players

****

When Shane arrived at Ilya’s house he was nervous. There was definitely something freeing about being able to interact with Ilya more directly out in the world, but it was also new, unchartered territory for them. And they still had something to hide. 

“You haven’t posted anything yet.” Shane said when Ilya answered the door. 

Ilya stood to the side and let him in. “Yes I have this problem.” 

“Oh?” Shane said as he entered. 

“It seems I can’t keep my hands off you. Is hard finding something to post that won’t out us.” Ilya sighed, his eyes roving over Sahne’s body. “And in every video, you look like me like you love me.” 

Shane couldn’t help but smile. He was okay with that. He was perfectly okay with Ilya having nothing embarrassing to post of him, and perfectly okay with Ilya being unable to keep his hands off him. 

“Oh well, guess there’s nothing to be done.” 

Ilya smiled softly. “Don’t worry, ulitka, I will find something.” 

Shane couldn’t place the word. “Ulitka?” 

“Is snail. Because you are coming out of your shell.” 

Shane raised his eyebrows “Oh, very poetic.” 

They both stared at each other for just a moment. Swept up in enjoying each other, and the moment. God, Shane loved him so much it hurt. 

“We could go out for dinner.” Shane suggested. “It wouldn’t be weird now.” 

Ilya tilted his head and he looked Shane up and down. “The things I want to do to you, Hollander, will not be acceptable in a restaurant.” 

Shane swallowed. “We need to talk.” 

“We can talk later.” Ilya said as he stalked toward Shane. 

Shane nodded, already tilting his body to receive Ilya. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

Ilya’s lips met his and Shane melted against him. They’d gone much longer than a day without touching each other before, but this day in particular was a tough one and Shane had been aching to have Ilya touch him all day. 

“God, I love you.” Ilya murmured against his lips, his voice thick with emotion. 

And Shane completely understood. There was a new verve to their relationship, a new freedom, a new thing they’d never had access to before. New avenues for how their lives together could be and neither had really processed it. And now here it was. 

“I need you.” Shane gasped against Ilya, “I need you forever.” 

“You have me.” Ilya promised as he began guiding them to the bedroom. “forever.” 

****

Later, in bed, they talked. There wasn’t much to be done, nothing they could change. The hope was that the public would move on and they would continue as they had been, just left paranoid. Less cautious. 

Despite the stress of the day, it had gone very well, according to both their PR teams and to Ilya’s own analysis of the social sphere. Shane was insanely jealous of how well the Raiders took their friendship. 

“The Voyageurs will get there.” He said, thunking his head back on the headboard. “They already were by the end of the game, sort of. I think it was just a shock, but now I’ve shown I can still bring it on the ice.” 

Ilya scowled and sucked his teeth. “It shouldn’t fucking matter! There was no question of whether you were the best player on their team, everyone knows this. Is bullshit.” 

There was no other option than to kiss him for that. Slow and all encompassing. There was nothing besides them, this bed, and their kiss. 

“Fuck Hollander,” Ilya pressed his forehead to Shane’s. “When is your plane?” 

“It’s early tomorrow. I probably shouldn’t sleep here.” Shane said with very little conviction. 

“But Pike is your roommate, no?” Ilya pressed kisses along Shane’s neck. “And now he knows.” 

Shane tilted his neck as he enjoyed Ilya’s ministrations, until he remembered. “And so does Marlow.” 

Ilya sighed and pressed his torso up so he was no longer lying on Shane. “I don’t know what Cliff knows.” 

“I don’t want to have to talk about it right now.” Shane admitted.

He was enjoying this hazy bubble they were existing in. A bubble that felt safe for the first time in a long time. Like they had just pulled off the biggest con, though Ilya said there some people who were reading more into their relationship, it was mostly just shock, positive comments, and only a handful calling either of them traitors. 

“There is not much to talk about. We are friends. The new will move on, people will get over it. And I will get to have you.” Ilya murmured, his voice low. “I don’t care about any of it, as long as I get you.”

Shane reached up to caress Ilya’s cheek. “If you’d told teenage me that Ilya Rozanov was a big romantic I never would have believed you.” 

Ilya dropped his head to Shane’s shoulder. “If you told teenage me this too, I would not have believed it. I didn’t believe in romance until I fell in love.” 

Until he met me. Shane thought to himself, seeing as he was the only person Ilya had ever fallen in love with. 

They dressed briefly to eat some food, tuna melts a la Ilya, of course. And Ilya handed the remote over to Shane, who immediately flipped on any news coverage of their game. 

“You know, Tony, I never expected this. And I don’t think anyone who woke up this morning could have predicted this!” 

“You’re right Greg, but both men clearly came to today’s game with something to prove. They both played incredibly well tonight, Hollander’s goal in the third period using Rozanov’s classic move? Just incredible.” 

“I agree to an extent, Tony, but you have to concede that both men played differently than they usually would. Rozanov ignoring the fight to hold onto Hollander? There was no need for that! Hollander never fights.” 

Shane was chewing his thumb as he watched, annoyance and anxiety chewing him up inside, when his phone buzzed with a notification. 

Rose

Your boyfriend is dead to me

Shane frowned at it. “Ilya.” 

“Hmm?” Ilya glanced up from his phone. “Da, moya lyubov?” 

“What did you do to Rose?” 

Ilya’s wicked answering grin had Shane rubbing his face in dread. 

“I found a video to post!” Ilya seemed entirely too happy with himself. “It was you and Rose singing the Africa song.” 

“You posted me and Rose singing Africa by Toto. While we were drunk.” Shane didn’t even know how to react. 

That had been the night Rose and Ilya had met, Rose had flown into Montreal to shoot during the summer, and Ilya had been staying at the cottage. So Rose was invited over, as was Svetlana. Svetlana had flown in to join them for the weekend. They had dinner. They drank wine. They bonded. 

And Rose and Shane had gotten very drunk and sung Africa. Drunkenly, badly, chaotically. 

“Ilya.” Shane groaned. “No one will literally ever let me live this down.” 

“But you sing so well!” Ilya’s hand landed on Shane’s shoulder to squeeze and rubbed. “Rose not so much.”

“Yeah that’s probably why she wants to kill you.” Shane said into his hands. 

Shane didn’t need to see the video again. He had seen it before. Laughed at it with Rose before, in fact. 

The morning after, the four of them hungover to high heaven, and Ilya had shown them the video over their late lunch. Rose had laughed so hard. Shane had felt the one of the many moments of lightness, of joy and contentment, that he had felt since giving into his sexuality, to his love for Ilya. 

“Should I take it down? It was only one that didn’t have you looking at me like you wanted to have my babies.” There was a slight tone of concern in Ilya’s voice, regret seeping in. 

Part of Shane wanted to be angry, wanted to snap at Ilya. How could he not show him the video first? But then, another part of him knew Ilya. trust him. Knew that Ilya had thoroughly vetted each video he looked at before posting. And today? Today Shane was letting go. He was being free. 

Shane couldn’t help it, he huffed a laugh at that. “No, no it’s probably fine. Just be aware, she will get you back.” 

And she did, no more than 2 minutes later Ilya burst out laughing, immediately shoving his phone screen in Shane’s face. 

RoseLandry_

Two can play at that game ❤️ @ilyarozanov

Attached was a video of Shane and Ilya, sitting on deck chairs in the sun. They both wore sunglasses, and both were bobbing their heads in time with the music. It was the same day Shane had sung drunkenly with Rose, but earlier, less drunk. 

Ilya sat up, singing along with the intro of Eye of the Tiger, his face serious as he bobbed his head in time to the music. Behind him, Shane was also bobbing his head but unable to keep a straight face. 

Ilya in the video stood up, hips now swaying staccato to the beat “It’s the eye of the tiger!” 

Video-Shane joined in, standing, hips swaying “It’s the thrill of the fight!” 

They both turned to look at each other, heads still bobbing in time with the music “Rising up to the challenge of our rival!” 

The two continued to sing along, enthusiastically. Behind them you could see Svetlana laughing and recording too. Behind the camera, Rose’s voice could occasionally be heard cheering them on. 

They weren’t as drunk as they got in the video of Rose and Shane, but they definitely weren’t sober as they danced around Shane’s patio, sun starting to dip lower in the Canadian summer. 

Shane hung his head in his hands. This day had spiraled hard out of control. How had so much happened in one day? Just one day and the way he was perceived by the world had been spun on its head, his relationships with Ilya, with Rose, with his team, bared in a new light. 

The real Ilya was grinning like crazy, “See I told you, I don’t do embarrassing things!” 

Shane had to admit that even though Ilya was dancing around, singing an 80s song himself, he somehow looked effortlessly cool. The calm, cool, confident guy who got away with being loud and a bit kooky. 

“That’s easy for you to say, I’ve had three separate people put videos of me online today.” Shane hunched over, mumbling into his knees. 

Ilya’s arm came to rest over Shane’s shoulder, lips pressed against the side of his head. Once. Twice. 

“Ulitka, is okay.” Ilya pressed another kiss into Shane’s hair. 

Shane focused on the sound of Ilya’s voice, the lilt. “Reusing petnames now?” 

“It’s very fitting right now, I think I will keep it.” Ilya said against the shell of his ear, making him shiver. 

His phone started buzzing again, messages coming through. He had notifications turned off for social media. He rarely posted anything himself, his agent had hired a media intern who stuck to posting game updates and schedules. 

“I’m just.” Shane paused. “Processing.” 

“Shane, moya serdtse, I am so proud of you.” Ilya hummed against him. My heart. “You have dealt with so much today, but today is almost over. Things will settle down. We can slip back into… ach I don’t know the word.” 

“Anonimity.” Shane said. “Unknown… peace.” 

“Da, we can do that.” Ilya kissed him again. “Though we will never be unknown. But after today, we can just go back to hockey. People will forget. They’ll care less.” 

The words warmed something inside of Shane, pushing out the pounding in his head. But that was Ilya, from day one he had pushed Shane out of his head. True, it began with sex, but even then, those precious moments not thinking, and just feeling, had been vital. 

I’m so proud of you. 

I actually quite like this I don’t give a fuck cap. 

Holy shit, Shane, where did that come from

Shane had done so much today, so many new things, he had become ulitka. The snail coming out of his shell. 

He sat up, received a loud kiss on the cheek from Ilya, and pulled out his phone. 

Shanehollanderofficial

Feel kinda like I’m being attacked on all sides. 

The likes, replies, reactions started coming in immediately. Shane waited a moment before adding. 

Shanehollanderofficial

@Pike_hockey is now my official best friend seeing as he’s the only one who hasn’t posted anything embarrassing about me. 

Seconds later his the three closest friends he had replied. 

Pike_hockey

@shanehollander yet

Roselandry__

@shanehollander Boo hoo, I’m the one who got dragged into this UNNECESSARILY

Ilyarozanov

@shanehollander I am thinking you have bad taste in friends

Shane swore under his breath, but laughed too. It was a weird release, being open, having friends post lightly embarrassing videos, chirping each other online. He hadn’t had something like this since… Since he was a teenager. Long before he was in draft contention, when he was just a kid who loved hockey. 

The social sphere of course went haywire for the third time that day. Shane wasn’t tracking it, he’d asked his PR team to only keep him apprised if anything went too far, and that his intern could like comments but not reply. 

And finally, he assured them this was a one day thing. One day of crossing lines, one day of not caring, one day of freedom. 

They sat and continued to watch the tv, Shane got to see the Ilya’s post game interview, he finally watched Marlow’s live himself. All the while, Ilya kept him apprised of his favourite things people online were saying. 

He occasionally made annoyed or disgusted noises but he didn't share what he was reading with Shane, and would just move onto the next funny thing. 

Discussion: Shane Hollander Gate

User/ uncasualfan

Okay so I know we’re all reeling, I certainly am. But I thought I’d just share my thoughts

• Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov have been friends since before their rookie season
• This was uncovered by Cliff Marlow during a live in which he walked in on Hollander at Rozanov’s house
• They claimed they only hung out when they played games against each other
• BUT
• the videos both Rozanov and FUCKING ROSE LANDRY posted clearly show them at Hollander’s Ottowa cottage, see below picutres from the ESPY video. 
• Videos and the mic’d game show them so comfortable with each other
• clearly very close

Feel free to add other bits because there’s just so much to discuss

1398 replies

Landryfandry

The way I only got into hockey because Rose dated Shane Hollander and now here I am witnessing this 

Hollandry24

Shane and Rose were the best couple! look how good they were together what happened #rane #shose #hollandry

Pucksandpups

Girl they broke up years ago because they said they were better as friends get over it

Melodyhopes

Noo Rose my love, she was my dream cast for Elle Woods in Legally Blonde The Musical, but girl please, never sing again #imsorry #iloveyoh

Pucks4lyfe

I’m so fucking sick of seeing Hollander and Rozanov on my feed, I’m a real fan who actually follows hockey for the hockey #keephockeypure

Roz_fan_81

I can say this now that they’re friends, but Shane is hot, good at hockey, and can carry a tune?? Hello?? 

Voyageursscoop

Ik we say Shane fumbled Rose, but is it possible she fumbled him??

Pucktuah

im crying because ive never seen shane hollander looks so happy

Landrypics

rose coming in with the most wholesome video of the two best hockey players in the world was not on my bingo card 

****

When they finally made their way to bed that night, Ilya held Shane in his arms and placed kisses on his forehead. He was so proud of Shane for letting loose for the first time. Properly. Possibly ever. 

When they’d spent their summer at the cottage, Shane had been free then too, but not as free as they could be. Shane had lived his whole life like that, controlled, reserved. Hiding from everyone, even from each other for a long time. There had never been someone Shane had been entirely open with until this summer. Until they laid all cards on the table. 

Ilya had never felt in control. Moving countries, getting drafted, playing games, getting drunk, going out, partying. It was all things hockey players did. Drive fast cars and win cups, do crazy shit and lose teeth until you eventually settle down with a good wife and have a bunch of kids. 

Falling in love with Shane Hollander was not part of it. Meeting him before they even got drafted, being drawn in by those Canadian manners and those fucking freckles, was not part of the plan. 

So Ilya had felt out of control for the better part of 10 years. Finally accepting that he loved Shane, that he didn’t want anyone else, anything else, but a life with him. That was freeing, but also the most control he’d ever been in. 

And now he could hold Shane against his chest after making love to him and sleep soundly. Could have more hope for the future than he’d had in a long time. 

****

Shane left Ilya early, only time for soft kisses before he left the house, Ilya still in bed already drifting back off to sleep with a quiet ‘i love you.’ 

He got back to the hotel in time for a shower and to grab his bag, as well as enough time to make it seem like he hadn’t been out all night. Again. 

It was early enough the no one really spoke as the team headed to the airport, many drifting off in their seats. Shane wasn’t one of them, his leg was bouncing near uncontrollably. 

He said he’d leave the freedom to yesterday, but maybe today could have some too? Or maybe he was just riding that high still. And that high could come crashing down and ruin everything if the truth came out fully. 

One on the plane he sat next to Hayden who immediately started drifting off again once seated. All was quiet. 

Until. 

The soft sounds of Africa by Toto started playing. Shane let out a groan, dropping his head back against the seat. Before long, half the players were singing the song, performing emphatically at him. 

And Shane had to laugh. 

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” He asked turning to JJ who sat across the aisle.

“Never.” JJ said, his smile no longer tight and angry, but joyous. 

The flight continued in much the same way, the ribbing of the team finally slipping back into something Shane was more familiar with. More comfortable with. Finally, his team was being the team he had spent the last decade with. 

It eventually died down. The boys going back to their usual routine, watching movies, scrolling socials, arguing with each other. 

Hayden had finally woken up a bit more, and was also scrolling while watching a show with Shane when he paused it. 

“Holy, have you seen this?” 

It was a statement posted to Marlow’s instagram. 

I want to address my actions yesterday. Ilya and I have been good friends for the last decade that we have played together on the Boston Raiders, but that does not excuse the blatant invasion of privacy I committed yesterday. Whilst I have been forgiven by both parties, I believe it sets a dangerous precedent for people to think it’s okay to record people in their private residences without their consent. 

I have written this statement with the assistance of my PR team. Many who support the Raiders and support me know I am more a hunk of muscle and hockey than I am an introspective thinker. I did this because I wanted to make my statement as clear as possible. 

What I did was wrong. I am blessed to be forgiven. Privacy is important.

~ Cliff Marlow

Holy shit. 

“Holy shit.” Shane said, reading the statement once, twice. “I mean, he did apologise, that was true.” 

Reading the words a third time they finally sunk in. Fully. It was beautiful, for a hockey player. Shane would never have even thought to want a public acknowledgement, let alone apology. 

Hayden groaned. “If they keep this up I’m going to start thinking the Raiders aren’t so bad.” 

And to that, Shane couldn’t agree more

Shane Hollander

@ilyarozanov I think you just dropped down another place 

MiffCarlow

Fuck yeah!

Chapter End Notes

Okay so the aftg to hr pipeline is real BUT

Omgcp walked so hr could run I need to you know that

Before with had Kip and Scott we had Bitty and Jack
Before we had Ilya and Shane we had Nursey and Dex

The only reason I can add hockey shit into my fics is becuase of the word Ngozi put into Omg, Check Please! I beg y’all go check it out even if it’s been 10 years <3

Chapter 3: #stopasianhate

Chapter Summary

More interviews, more freedom, more laughter

Chapter Notes

Thank you all for the rec’s! This chapter taking so long is actually your fault for sending me things to read if you think about it

I merged some of Hudsons and Connor’s answers in this interview, because some of them I fully couldn’t imagine Shane saying but Ilya would etc

Pucktuah 

Friends, countrymen, raiders, lend me your ears

Pucktuah

I think we all collectively have been in shock for approx 24 hours

Pucktuah

We are not crashing out enough

Juicy02481

I think I’ve lost the ability to crash out

Saintlysimonunggg

I’ve lost the ability to speak

Mrsmarlowhockey

I’m actually so genuinely touched by Cliff Marlow’s statement, I literally cried. In the actual literal way. 

Mrsmarlowhockey

I think what’s so important about him addressing it is that there’s going to be so much more of a spotlight on Rozanov and Hollander now, trying to catch them out and about

Rozanovslop

You mean catching them on a date

Boyaquariumenjoyer

Oh my god girl be so for real rn

Voyageurgirl24

No one is talking about the game :((

Raiderordie

No babe, we’re talking about the game, we’re talking about the deal, we’re talking about the chirps

Puckmeoutside

I’m fundamentally not over the i’m pretty statement

Goldstarpuckbunny

So dvadsatogo avgusta means August 20th - I need to know what happened on August 20th

Pikeslesbians

Was that the weekend Rose Landry was visiting? 

Madi_loves_hockey

People keep mentioning Rose Landry being there, and no one is mentioning fucking Svetlana MF Vetrova being there

Hollandry24

Do we think Shane and Rose are back together and ilya and svetlana are together and it was actually a couples weekend?

Shanehollandaise

no<3

Pucktuah

no<3

Hollanovtruther

no<3

Landryfandry

Rose Landry was at a shoot on August 20th! Finally I’m able to contribute as a Rose Landry fan in the hockey world lol

Voyageursscoop

Is it just me or is Shane really stiff with his own teammates in the micd?

Pikeslesbians

Except Hayden Pike

Voyageursscoop

Except Hayden Pike

Hockeyhips

Maybe it was because he was micd? I know people watch their language when theyre being recorded

Roz_fan_81

Its a captain thing you wouldn’t get it - ilya rozanov you have my whole heart

Girlsandpucks

Are we not gonna address the blatant lies of im a lover not a fighter

Shane_can_get_it

Omg Boiziau just posted the voyageurs singing Africa at shane on the plane

Voyageursscoop

Omgomgomgomg

Hockeyhips

Look how red he is!!!! 

****

Scott Hunter’s thumb hovered over the post button. If he sent it, he would only be inviting more chirps from the guys, especially from Rozanov and Hollander. 

The live, which everyone had seen regardless of how opposed they were to invasions of privacy, had possibly been the most surreal moments of Scott’s life. Followed by the videos Rozanov and fucking Rose fucking Landry. It was like seeing your teachers out of school. The super focussed, highly motivated teacher Shane, and the sarcastic, witty, kinda mean teacher Ilya, out of school just shooting the shit. Hanging out with a movie star. 

Scott didn’t know who to be more shocked by, Shane Hollander laughing, singing, drunk of all things. Or Ilya Rozanov, smiling instead of smirking, being almost domestic. 

Guys had friends on different teams. It was normal, to be expected. Scott had friends on different teams. And at least half had messaged him about the Hollander/Rozanov reveal, his team group chat had been pinging non-stop with thoughts, speculations, and funny fan tweets. 

And Kip had sent him the clip of Hollander and Rozanov calling him old every single time it came up on his feed, with ‘makes me laugh every time’ and ‘god it’s just so funny’ tacked on. 

And if he posted his pretty tame tweet, he would only be inviting further insults. He decided not to. It was one joke, he’d let it go for now. 

****

Things did calm down, Ilya was right, smugly so, as he told Shane over the phone multiple times since their last game. In the weeks that had passed the news cycle moved on quickly and the fans soon followed. Of course, there was still the occasional post but there were many players across many teams, and thus always something else to talk about. 

When Boston had played other teams he did get chirps in the form of the tamer illusions to his future singing and dancing career, to outright homophobic inferences. It was to be expected, really. Hockey players were always desperate for new chirp material, and the homophobic stuff wasn’t genuine accusations, just hockey players being shitheads. 

“So, does that mean we can go to dinner when you fly in for our Montreal game?” Shane asked him over the phone a few weeks later. 

Ilya hummed. “Mr Hollander, are you trying to take me on a date?” 

Shane made a choked sound that made Ilya wish they were face timing. There was nothing more satisfying than eliciting those sweet reactions out of Shane. 

“God you can’t just call someone that.” Shane muttered. 

God, Ilya wished Shane was there. “Your name?” 

Shane tsked on the other end, and noise that had Ilya trying to bite his smile away. 

“You know what I fucking meant Rozanov.” 

“Mr Rozanov to you.” Ilya could picture the effect his words were having on his boyfriend. 

The way his eyes would be hazy and sharp all at once, the way his skin would become so sensitive, the way he’d drop to his knees if told to. Just how Ilya liked him. 

And as Ilya predicted Shane made that gorgeous noise again. 

“You’re avoiding the question.” Shane said, his voice failing at being light. “I think it would be nice. It would feel like we could finally be a bit normal.” 

Ilya took his mind out of the gutter and decided to stop torturing him. Dinner would be nice. 

“Then yes, you can take me on a nice normal date, Shane. You can buy me dinner, walk me home, I might even stay the night.” 

Shane laughed on the other end. “On the first date? Harlot.”

“I don’t know this word.” But he could figure out pretty well what Shane was implying, and well, he wasn’t wrong. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Shane laughed, his soft beautiful laugh. 

Ilya stretched out, his muscles sore and tight from the workout he’d been doing when Shane called. “So where are you taking me for dinner, Mr Hollander?” 

“Ilya,” he groaned. 

“I don’t know why this is getting to you so much, moy list.” My leaf. 

Shane ignored him. “I don’t know. Somewhere nice, still private, not too fancy. Somewhere no one will bat an eye at us.” 

He could picture it, the two of them sitting in a cozy restaurant. The food is good but not some fancy bullshit with the massive plates with almost no food. No, they’d go somewhere that Shane could still order his rabbit food but Ilya could carb load. They could talk, and laugh, maybe share some wine if Shane was letting go a little. 

Ilya paused, waiting for Shane to go on, and when he didn’t he said, “you know Montreal better than me, how the fuck am I meant to know where to go?” 

“Well, it’s not like I can take you where I went with Rose.” Shane huffed and despite the time that had passed, and the fact that Ilya liked Rose, he still had a flare of jealousy. “I only go to kid friendly places with Hayden.” 

“Ask your mom, moya golodnaya gusenitsa.” Ilya suggested. “She will know.” 

“And what does that mean?” Shane sighed fondly down the phone. 

Ilya frowned. “That your mother will have a good recommendation, because she always does?”

Shane’s laugh, distorted by the phone but still beautiful to Ilya’s ears, sounded. “Nyet, moya lyubov. What was the pet name?” 

“Ah, da, I called you my hungry caterpillar.” Ilya smiled at his own cleverness. “Because you are making dinner plans, and only eat salad.” 

“Oh haha, very clever.” His voice was sarcastic but Ilya could practically see his smile. 

In fact, when Ilya closed his eyes, he could perfectly imagine Shane’s face, the way he would be lounged right now as he spoke with Ilya. What Ilya wouldn’t give to be with him right now.

“What are you wearing?” Ilya said instead of everything else that would just make his heart hurt. 

Shane’s warm laugh came through the phone only light distorted, “well Mr Rozanov…”

**** 

Two weeks before the Montreal game the interview request came in from a Montreal based news outlet through their agent.

It wasn’t a specifically hockey based interview, there would be multiple questions, all would be shown to Shane and Ilya before the day for them to veto anything they didn’t like. 

And best of all, it gave Ilya an excuse to fly into Montreal 3 days early. 

It was an easy yes for Ilya, get paid to answer some questions he had control of and get to see Shane early. Win win. Shane was, of course, less calm about it. 

“Have you looked at the questions yet?” He asked Ilya for the dozenth time. 

“I had brief look, seems fine.” Ilya had to admit he was getting tired of answering the same question. 

Despite being on yet another phone call instead of FaceTime, Ilya could tell Shane was pacing. “So there’s none you want to get rid of?”

“No, why? Are there questions you don’t like?” 

Despite the lack of hunger, Ilya was rummaging through his cupboards staring at the bare contents and wishing he had something other than Shane’s gross snacks in the cupboard. 

“I’m not sure,” Shane sighed, “there’s one that feels like we could too easily slip up and say something.”

“Then ask for it not to be asked.” He loved Shane, he did, but he didn’t fully understand why this was a point of contention. 

“But won’t that seem suspicious to them?” Shane continued to fret. 

“You are overthinking.” Ilya sighed. “We can say no to the interview.”

He didn’t want to offer this, he wanted to see Shane early. But without the interview he didn’t have a good enough reason to fly to Montreal 3 days early. To abandon the team flight would be noticed, questioned, for anything less than a legitimate reason, especially from the captain. 

“No!” Shane didn’t quite shout, more yelped in alarm. “No, I want to do it. I want to see you.” 

“I want to see you too.” Ilya stopped rooting through the cupboards. 

Missing Shane was like missing a limb. 

Despite the fact they had only accepted their very real emotions and relationship a year or so ago, Ilya had always felt Shane’s distance. There was a reason he’d never been able to quit Shane. 

“We’ll do the interview.” Shane promised. “For love.”

And like that Ilya’s chest was less tight. “Da, for love.” 

****

Roz 

Who wants to get laid in Montreal? 

Marlow 

…. 

You offering? 

Roz

You wish Marly

No, I am staying at Holly’s but management is insisting I have hotel room. So whoever shares with me gets a free room game night ;))

Sainty 

Damn you and Holly really are joined at the hip 

Roz

I fly up early because we have interview together 

So I stay there 

Is easier 

Marly

Becomes friends with Hollander 

Immediately starts riding his coattails to get interviews 

Roz 

Don’t be jealous 

If the camera wanted to see your face I’d do interview with you 

But you are ugly 

And boring 

Marly

😒😒😒

Carmichael 

So you’re really going to ditch us game night for Hollander? 

Roz

I will go out if we win 

Sainty 

If

Marly 

If 

Carmichael 

If 

Connie 

If 

Hammersmith 

If 

Roz 

Fuuuuuuuck 

When 

I said when 

💯 

Doza 

I’ll take your room 

Connie 

Get innnn 

Hammersmith 

Eyyyyy

Marly 

Yeah so you can jerk off in peace 

Roz 

Room goes to Doza 

Marly

Hey wait no

****

Shane waited at the airport like he had the previous summer and waited for Ilya to arrive. This time if they were spotted, so what? Publicly friends, and friends picked each other up from the airport. 

It was exhilarating. And terrifying. And Shane was definitely overthinking it. 

He had been waiting impatiently for the last 20 minutes. Surely Ilya would be here any second. Flight was supposed to land at 9:15, add an extra 30 for deplaning and baggage control? 

The clock on the dash read 10:00. 

But that didn’t mean anything. A delayed flight was in fact normal. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Maybe he was taking fan pictures or dodging paparazzi.

There was also no reason to be nervous. 

And then Ilya appeared. And the spiralling stopped. 

Ilya in his Boston Raiders hoodie, sunglasses on, strolling with purpose towards Shane’s car. 

“Hello.” Ilya said when he got in the car. 

Shane smiled at him. 

Ilya looked at him expectantly. “Drive Hollander! I can’t kiss you here.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Shane took the car out of park. “Just happy to see your face.” 

“I am happy to see your face too.” Ilya said with that tone that Shane knew meant something else was coming. “I’ll be even happier when I get to see your ass.” 

Fucken called it. 

The drive was tense, the sexual tension making any other conversation nigh on impossible. Once they made it out of the car park Shane’s hand planted itself on Ilya’s thigh which only seems to make things worse. 

Which is when Shane decided to move his palm higher up. 

“Christtttt.” Ilya hissed as Shane’s hand gently squeezed him over his jeans. 

Shane smirked. It wasn’t often that he could have Ilya panting and desperate under his hands. Both because of distance. And because Ilya was usually the one that turned Shane into a puddle. 

“When we get home.” Shane started, eyes on the road, but he could feel Ilya’s eyes burning into him. “We’re gonna go to our bedroom, I’m gonna drop to my knees, and you’re going to fuck my face.” 

“Shane.” Ilya whispered like a prayer. 

“And before you come, you’re gonna throw me on the bed, take out this plug I’ve had in for the last hour, and fuck me.” The groan that Ilya made sent Shane’s pleasure into overdrive, and he had to concentrate on not accelerating too much accidentally. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ilya raising his hands to pull his own hair. “Holy fuck, Shane, fucking fuck.” 

Shane was hard himself, proud smirk at having surprised Ilya. At having elicited that reaction. The last 5 minutes of the drive were tense, but once they got to the house, Ilya followed Shane’s instructions to the letter. 

****

Arriving at the interview location involved driving through a small warehouse district where all the units were brightly painted with modern mosaics. The company interviewing them were established but young, trendier than the media Shane and Ilya were used to dealing with. 

There they were greeted by a woman in her mid twenties with colourful glasses and a clipboard so littered with notes, post-its were falling like rain from in. She didn’t seem to mind them as they fluttered to the floor. 

“Oh my god, Mr Hollander, Mr Rozanov, it’s such a pleasure to meet you!” She didn’t extend a hand to shake, but gave them both an excited nod which set her dangly earrings swaying erratically. “My name is Daria and I’m the client experience lead!” 

“Um, yeah!” Shane aimed for enthusiasm but feared he came off insincere. Which he sort of was, but that was besides the point. 

“We’ll get you two into make-up, don’t worry just a spot of powder to make sure you don’t shine. If you’re really against it, no problemo!” She grinned toothily and waved for them to follow her. “As for wardrobe, it was agreed that you would be as you are, which is fine, because you both look fantastic! We’ll just need to get you in with Jamie to clip microphones to you and then we’ll pop you on set.” 

Even though Shane had been mentally preparing for this since they’d agreed to do it, it was still a lot. It felt like somehow this was all happening too fast and oh god did he even want to be here? Why had he agreed to this? 

Commercials where he just posed with the product were one thing. God the last time he’d been on screen, on purpose, with Ilya was their incredibly awkward awards presentation. They’d pulled it off, just about. 

A hand squeezed his shoulder. Briefly, but grounding. This was why. Ilya. 

Getting their powder and their mics took less than 20 minutes, and soon they were seated on a white set. 

“So the way this is going to work, the producer, Asma, say hi Asma!” Asma gave a wave from where she was seated just behind the camera. “Asma is going to give you guys some cards to read out with the questions on. If you decide you don’t want to answer that question, just chuck the card away. There are some other things for you to react to, tweets and the like which you haven’t seen but your agent has vetted. Sometimes Asma might ask you further questions just based on your answers, if you don’t want to follow the line of enquiry, just say no, wave her off, shake your head, etc.” 

It was a lot of information, but very basic. The only issue was Shane’s nerves. Ilya, the bastard, seemed perfectly at ease in his seat. 

“Da, we understand, thank you.” 

“Yes, thank you.” Shane knew how he sounded. Slow, not listening, unengaged. But it was just how he was processing the situation, most of his mental energy was going into not bouncing his leg. 

“Perfect! We’re going to count you in and then we’ll be recording, and I want you two to introduce yourselves!” Daria gave them a thumbs up and went to stand behind Asma. 

“In three!” Called the man behind the camera. 

Shane took a deep breath. 

“Two!” 

“Remember, you don’t give a fuck anymore.” Ilya murmured quickly. 

“One!”

“Hi, I’m Shane Hollander, Captain of the Montreal Voyageurs.” Shane flashed his media smile. 

“And I am Ilya Rozanov, Captain of the superior team, the Boston Raiders.” Ilya gave his classic smirk. 

Shane sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, but Ilya’s antics settled him, in a deep kind of way that only someone he was completely comfortable with could. 

Asma reached out a hand with a card on it that Ilya took. 

“Okay, first question.” Ilya’s eyes flickered over the card. “What moment did you become friends?” 

“Oh we’re jumping straight in.” Shane said, surprised. They had received the questions, but not the order. “It was the mmc shoot right?”

“Da, I think I remember the exact moment too.” Ilya nodded. Shane controlled his breathing, his valiant effort not to go bright red at thought of the real relationship they had discovered that day. “They were making us look at each other, going for angry rivals, but we could not help but laugh.” 

“They had to call it a day because we could not keep it together.” Shane smiled at the memory. 

Ilya sat up straight, gasping slightly. “Oh, I have photographic evidence.”

“You what?” Shane’s head whipped over the Ilya so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. 

“Yes, when I saw this question I reached out to the people we worked with back then and they still had the… the… bloopers?” 

“Can I see? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of the ones that didn’t make it to the campaign.” 

Ilya moved to take his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the photo on his phone. And there was Shane and Ilya, just teenage boys, midlaughter as they looked at one another. 

Shane took Ilya’s phone from his hand and just stared at the photo. Why the fuck did Ilya spring this on him in front of cameras? He wanted to fucking cry. 

“God, we’re so young.” Shane had to move them on or else he really would do something he’d regret. “Okay next question?” 

Asma reached forward to pass another card and this time Shane took it. 

“What is your favourite memory of each other?” 

Shane had no way of answering that without outing them. They had never done anything that could be constituted as just guys hanging out. In fact, most of it wasn’t even like a normal relationship. 

“Probably that weekend we all come to the cottage.” Ilya said. “Me, Sveta, Rose, and of course, Shane at his Ottawa cottage. It was possibly the most normal weekend I’ve ever had.” Ilya’s answer was said with ease, casual, like this was a regular occurrence and there was nothing of note really about it. “No hockey, no cameras, just good food, good people, and bad music.”

His answer got a little chuckle out of the assembled crew behind the music.It was a good answer, normal, just a group of friends hanging out. Would it look weird if Shane stole his answer? 

“For me uhhh,” Shane wracked his brain. “You know what, that All Stars that we were on the same team. It was so fun to play together for a change.” 

Ilya tsked and rolled his eyes. “Of course you have hockey answer.” 

“Well we don’t do much else.” 

“I give thoughtful answer about friendship and being normal, and you give hockey answer.” 

Shane made an exasperated sound. “It’s the truth! You remember that weekend, tell me it wasn’t fucking fun.” 

Ilya’s eyes sparkled, catching Shane’s inference of other things from that weekend. “Of course was fun, Hollander, that’s the point of All Stars.” 

Behind the camera Daria was grinning like a mad woman, scribbling notes on her clipboard with intensity. Asma caught Shane’s eye, and seemed to catch the need for a topic change and so handed over the next card. 

“Give us your best impression of each other.” 

There were two parts of Shane about this, a strong half that said, ‘oh god no it’ll be so embarrassing’ and another, weaker, part of him that thought he could do a half decent Ilya Rozanov impression.

“Da, I am Ilya Rozanov, I am very annoying, Scott hunter is so old, Hollander is so boring, Hollander, get on -“ Shane abruptly cut himself off before he finished that phrase. 

“This is not good impression, I do not sound like this.” Ilya stepped in just in time to potentially make it seem like he interrupted Shane. 

Ilya had his serious Slav expression on his face that made Shane laugh at him all the more, especially as he could see that Ilya was trying not to laugh. It was in the way his lip trembled slightly and how he refused to glance at Shane and instead stared down the camera. 

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you do me.” Shane challenged. He didn’t even realise what he said until Ilya roared with laughter. “Oh god that sounded so bad.”

Ilya saved him for having to sit in that moment too long. “I don’t even think I can try Canadian accent. I already have accent. I am already speaking a different language okay, I do enough.” 

Shane said smugly, though his face was still beet red. “I can speak French without an accent.” 

“Shut the fuck up Hollander, not everyone can be perfect golden boy who is good at many things.” 

“You sound so mean when you compliment people.” Shane said, bemused. 

Behind the camera, the crew were tittering. Daria’s smile was impossibly wide while Asma was having to bite her lip not to smile. 

“Shane, do you know any Russian?” Asma asked. “You said something to Rozanov during your mic’d game in Russian.” 

This wasn’t a preapproved question, but they had been warned that they might get asked follow ups. 

Shane saw no harm in the question so answered truthly. “Ilya has taught me some Russian.” 

“What has he taught you?”

Before he could even drum up an answer Ilya jumped in. 

“Hollander, you can’t repeat what I’ve taught you,” he said intensely, “do you remember what it means?”

Ilya had sat up straight, hand stretching across to land on Shane’s knee to get his attention. Shane stared at Ilya for a moment as he processed the hand on his knee, and then eventually his words.

“Oh. Oh yeah no I can’t repeat any of that.” Shane said realising what Ilya had taught him to say was ‘Hollander get on your knees’ and ‘I love you.’ The exact phrase he’d almost said when imitating Ilya. 

There were the pet names too, but those were just for Shane. And he had no way of explaining why he knew what hungry caterpillar, snail, or any of the other weird words Ilya called him.

Ilya, for the first time, was slightly red. Shane had to drag his eyes away to not marvel at the endearingly flushed Ilya. The hand withdrew from his knee and instead went to cover Ilya’s face.

“Next question?” Shane asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. 

“What is your favourite 80s song?” 

Shane fought back the urge to roll his eyes, ever since the videos Rose and Ilya had put up he had seen fan edits of him to 80s songs, had countless tweets, threads, @s of him asking about the 80s. He’d even had his teammates show him edited photos of him to be in 80s attire.

“Okay I feel like being pigeonholed a bit. I don’t only listen to 80s music, I listen to a wide variety of genres and decades.” 

“Da this is true,” Ilya said sagely, “he also listens to 70s music” 

“Ilya, I swear to god.” But he couldn’t help the way he was smiling too. 

Ilya turned to look at him, eyes flat. “I’m being helpful.” 

Shane looked directly into the camera lens. “This man has never been helpful in his life.” 

“This is hurtful, Hollander, truly.” Ilya shook his head, hand on his heart. 

Asma was failing to stifle her laugh as she asked, “Okay how about you tell us why you like 80s music?” 

“Oh that’s easy, my dad. Every drive we took as a kid we were listening to 80s music, and when you live in Canada, those drives can be pretty long. He used to drive me to and from practice a lot too, so I guess there’s just a lot of nostalgia there.” 

Shane could remember those long car rides with his dad like they were yesterday, yet they all seemed to merge into one. His dad’s voice was better than his, and he’d sing along with every song. They didn’t have to talk, they didn’t have to do anything but sing and watch the scenery go by. 

Shane glanced at Ilya, “Nothing to add?” 

Ilya shook his head. “No, David is the best dad I’ve ever had.” 

“You’ve met him one time.” Shane said dryly. 

“Yes, and next time, I will ask David and Yuna to adopt me.” Ilya said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I think they will say yes, I am the better son.” 

Shane’s face was making expressions without his express permission, and he could only hope the internet could be normal about this. “This is my nightmare.” 

They answered a few more questions like this, mostly teasing each other with their answers, occasionally drawing laughs out of the crew in the room. That helped make Shane relax a bit more, if the crew had been stoic and straight faced he’d probably treat this more like his commercials. 

“Okay, next we have some tweets and threads for you to react to!” Asma picked up a new pile of cards. “First one goes to Ilya about Shane.” 

Ilya gave a whoop, clapping his hands together. “Give them to me, make them raunchy, make them feral, make them hungry.” 

“I don’t really go on twitter that much, our last game day aside.” The room gave a smaller laugh at that. “But my team, my friends, Ilya, they’ll send me some things. And uhhh, you guys get pretty graphic on there.” 

Ilya received the next card then swore softly under his breath. “Okay, let me do right voice for this.” 

“Ooooo my name is Shane Hollander and im super hot and im the starting center for the back to back stanley cup champions and i got to kiss rose landry and see ilya rozanov shirtless…. Girl fuck you” Ilya’s accent was still very prominent, but he did very well at getting into the attitude of the poster. 

“Uhh, yeah i have done all of those things.” Shane chuckled. “It’s a life, I’m living it. Sorry.” 

Both Ilya and Shane dissolved into laughter as soon as Shane finished speaking. Shane bending forward in his seat, hand falling on Ilya’s knee. Ilya nudged him off, gently, making it seem like friends pushing each other.

“You are not sorry, Hollander.” 

Shane winked at the camera. “No, I’m not.” 

“Ilya rozanov i wanna shrink you to the size of a gummy bear and swallow you whole.” 

Ilya looked down the lens, quirked an eyebrow and said, “why you gotta shrink me to swallow me?”

Shane sighed heavily and rolled his eyes at that one. 

“Sometimes i just start crying when i see someone as sexy as shane hollander like there r genuine tears running down my cheeks rn”

“Which cheeks?” Shane asked with a completely straight face, causing Ilya to cackle with joy. 

Whatever mood had hit him, had hit the whole room. Everyone was in a state of hysteria both in front of and behind the camera, many of the crew stifling their laughs on whatever they could, but Shane was sure a lot would be making it into the video regardless. 

“Shane!” Ilya said, delighted. “You cannot say these things! Everyone will know you’re just as much of a slut as me!” 

“Excuse you.” Shane held out his hand in a stop gesture, “it was a genuine question.” 

“Ilya rozanovs ass is so FAT its taking up the whole screen” 

Both Ilya and Shane laughed at that, and Shane wished he could let the people know how much he agreed. 

The laughter was the silent type, half wheezing, bending over, heads thrown back. Shane’s hand was back to gripping Ilya’s knee, but Ilya’s hand had found its way to Shane’s shoulder. 

“How does it feel to be double-cheeked up?” Asma asked. 

Ilya cocked his head, unfamiliar with the term. 

“It weighs him down.” Shane said, straight faced once more, then noticing Ilya's questioning eyes on him he continued, “I’m not telling you what double-cheeked up means.”

Then Shane paused, and without really thinking it through, said, “hey, listen up, Raiders, this is the only time I’ll ever apologise to you about anything.” 

All eyes and ears were on him, you could hear a pin drop. Even Ilya watched him intently, waiting to find out what he had to say. 

“I taught Ilya the phrase ‘dickmatise,’ I am sorry. I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you since I did that.” He was addressing the camera like it was a youtube apology video. “I have also taught him what feral means, and I taught him crying screaming throwing up. I’m sorry. There’s many more phrases I have taught him, and sent him back out into the world, unleashed, even.”

There was an assistant behind the camera who was gaping at Shane, eyes wide, mouth dropped open, cheeks red, as she stared at Shane in shock. 

Ilya gasped. “Oh wait, you have used double-cheeked. But I know full phrase, double-checked up and nowhere to go. I remember this phrase.” 

“Okay you made it sound like I said that, which I did not.” Shane said firmly. “I did not.” 

Asma, with a glint in her eye that made Shane nervous, grinned and said, “for someone who doesn't use twitter, Mr Hollander, you sure do know a lot of slang.” 

Shane opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “So, Ilya will send me things and say, ‘what does this mean?’” He said that last bit in his Ilya impression. “And for some ungodly reason, I tell him.” 

Asma continued to look him dead in the eye from behind the camera. “That doesn’t explain how you know the meanings in the first place.” 

“Next tweet!” Shane insisted, bright red. 

And they moved on. They were all various degrees of unhinged and horny, but Shane’s responses became a little more tame, not by much, and Ilya had no such qualms. 

The whole room was having to contain their laughter, and Shane half hoped the content was unusable. But he couldn’t help but continue, he couldn’t bring himself to bring an end to this. 

He loved to laugh. He laughed with his teammates, he laughed with the Pikes, he laughed with other hockey players. But he was always holding himself back in a way that he didn’t, and just couldn’t, around Ilya. 

“Final one!” Asma said, handing Ilya the card. 

“Shane Hollander you are so perfect to me and i will fight anyone who doesn’t agree #stopasianhate” 

Shane couldn’t help it, he wheezed. The ending was so unexpected. Ilya hid his face behind the card as he laughed too, because what the fuck? 

It took him a moment to get it together and answer “Wow they said stop Asian hate? Thank you for uhhh… you have cured Ssian hate. I don’t think there’s no more hate. For them asians. I think you’ve fixed it, single handedly. I don’t even know if you’re Asian or not but I think racisms gone.” 

“I mean, they are not wrong.” Ilya said slowly, coming out from behind the card. 

Shane nodded, remembering his media training at last. “Of course, I agree.” 

They both took a deep breath, ready to wrap up the interview, when Shane felt compelled to add more. 

“On that matter, you know, the Voyageurs have always been great to me. Boston, our antagonism has only ever been about the game. My race has never come into it, the chirps and insults have always just been that. Chirping. Never about race, never about sexuality, never about gender.” 

Beside him Ilya nodded. “Yes, we are rivals because we are the best. Not every team can claim to have never said homophobic or sexist slurs and call them chirps, but for as long as I’ve been at Boston, this has been a rule.” 

Shane looked directly down the camera lens. “Slurs aren’t chirps. Racism isn’t there for you to fall back on when your gameplay can’t speak for itself.” 

The hysteria had vanished from the room, the assistants, the producers, directors, interns, camera operators, sound techs, all of them looked at Shane and Ilya was something Shane could only describe as deepfound respect. 

“There is no place for it in our game.” Ilya said, firm and serious. 

Shane flashed his media smile on again. “I’ve been Shane Hollander.” 

“And I’ve been Ilya Rozanov.” Ilya followed him into the outro. 

Once the camera cut, the room gave them a brief round of applause. Asma and Daria chatted animatedly as they approached the hockey players. They were still on set, having that mics removed. 

“That was fan-tas-tic!” Daria said with the enthusiasm of a thousand suns. “Goodness, knowing you two are friends and seeing it are just two completely different things.” 

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to cut around the laughter, but I actually think I like the idea of the viewers hearing it?” Asma said, half to herself than to Shane and Ilya. 

Daria handed Ilya a card that had contact information on it. “Mr Rozanov, could you please send me the photo you showed Mr Hollander? I’d like to put it in the video with your permission?” 

“Yes, of course.” Ilya smiled genially. 

“Before you go, is there anything you want us to cut? I’m aware it got a bit…” 

Shane huffed a small laugh. “Yeah it did. But no, I think we’re all good with it.” 

There was a knot in his stomach, and his brain was begging that they just cancel the whole thing. But his heart was happy, and Shane could only think of one other instance that he let his heart decide anything, and that was hockey. His heart could have Ilya and hockey, his gut and mind would just have to handle the rest. 

The interview wouldn’t drop for another few days, Daria had let them know. They didn’t know the exact date but they wanted to get it out as soon as possible, preferably before or on their game day for max engagement. 

“I don’t know if I can handle the fans seeing it before the game.” Shane said to Ilya on the drive home. “I don’t know what came over me, I said so much crazy shit.”

“It was best interview of yours I’ve ever seen.” Ilya said from the passenger seat. “I loved seeing you let go.” 

“I was only meant to do one day of freedom.” Shane insisted. 

Ilya took a moment to think before he responded. He knew Shane well enough to know the reasons why, but then again, Shane probably needed to verbalise them himself. “Why?” 

Shane sighed heavily. “Becuase.” 

Ilya waited patiently for Shane to continue, and when he didn’t, prompted, “becauuuuse?” 

“You know.” Shane said. 

“I do, but I think you need to process verbally, so speak Hollander.” 

Shane reached a hand out to squeeze Ilya’s knee. “Okay okay. I like this feeling, I like getting to speak more openly. I love that I can look at you, talk to you, and no one freak out. Well, a lot of people freak out but in a way that’s okay. Because we’re public friends now and that means we can just exist for a bit.” 

“But?” 

“But I’m also aware that I have a public image. A very modest public image, and I just said ‘which cheeks’ and ‘dickmatise’ on a camera, on a video that everyone will be able to see. Brands might pull away from me, people will blame you or think this is your influence, which it sort of is.” 

“But?” Ilya prodded again. 

“But it feels so good to relax.” Shane sighed, hands flexing on the steering wheel. “It feels so insanely good to not care for a little bit.” 

“But?” Ilya asked again, just in case. 

Shane chuckled. “I think we’ve run out of buts. The long and short of it is that I’m happy but scared but that’s okay.” 

“Great, let’s eat.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Home first. Then I’ve booked that place my mom suggested.” 

Ilya smiled. They could have tonight, they’d play together the day after, and he’d fly out the day after that. Their time together coming to an end too swiftly, as it always did. But for now, he had tonight. 

Chapter End Notes

I assume most of you don’t read the random fans handles, I usually don’t, but I think I popped off with pucktuah

Chapter 4: Dinner Dates &lt;3

Chapter Summary

Dinner, game day and in laws

Chapter Notes

The interview was announced the morning of game day. Right when Ilya and Shane were making their morning coffees, pressing soft kisses against foreheads, hands brushing hips, eyes taking the sight of one another. 

They didn’t see the email that forewarned the announcement. They didn’t even see the announcement posted. They both suddenly had phones vibrating across the countertops. 

Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov answer questions and read your tweets!

Full video drops tomorrow at 13:00!

Shane glanced at his team group chat briefly, but it was silent. His messages were directly from Hayden and JJ, his mom, Rose. 

Ilya snorted from where he was leaning against the island, reading his own messages. Mostly from the very active Boston groupchat. 

At Shane’s questioning look he said, “The boys want to do watch party of the interview on the flight to New York.” 

And for the first time, Shane was glad his team weren’t responding like Ilya’s were because he couldn’t imagine having to watch his teammates react to the interview in real time. But then again, there was a small, but prominent, part of him that was jealous. 

“Have they landed yet?” Shane asked. 

“In about 20 minutes.” Ilya replied, tapping away on his phone. “I will meet them at hotel before game. Can’t spend all day with the enemy.” 

Shane logically knew this was the right move to make, but all he wanted was to do nothing with Ilya today. So much of their time together was spent doing things, hockey, each other, and not a lot of nothing. 

“Voyageurs are meeting at noon for a skate, so I’ll leave when you do.” 

Ilya looked at Shane thoughtfully. “You will drop me off?”

The original plan had been for Ilya to call a car to drop him off, but the timings fit. Shane could drop Ilya off with his teammates on the way to the stadium. At this point, what was the harm? The Raiders knew Ilya was staying with Shane, both last night and the next. 

Shane considered it. It still made him nervous to be so blatantly out and about with each other. Even if the Raiders themselves were fine with it, he could imagine Raiders management might not be too happy with Ilya flaunting spending time with the enemy. Then again, he was only dropping him off, he probably wouldn’t even see the Raiders. 

And this way they got more time together. At this stage in Shane’s life, that’s all he wanted. It felt like there was so much wasted time between them. Because of the NHL, because they were professional male athletes in a homophobic landscape, because of Russia, and because of Shane’s inability to be honest with himself. 

“Yeah, I’ll drop you off.” Shane said, reaching out to tug on Ilya’s hip. 

Ilya happily moved into his space, wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist. “Spasiba, moy shofer.” 

Shane narrowed his eyes, “did you just call me your chauffeur?” 

“Da, very good!” Ilya beamed, pressing a kiss to Shane’s forehead, nose, and cheeks. 

“It sounds the same, Ilya.” Shane said with affectionate annoyance. “And if you call me that again you can walk.” 

Ilya just chuckled and continued to press kisses onto Shane’s skin until he finally made his way to his lips. 

Because Shane is Shane, they pulled in to the hotel earlier than they meant to, just as the busload of hockey players were disembarking. They had their final kiss in the house, but now Ilya couldn’t even dither slightly. 

He climbed out of the car, immediately noticed by Cliff, and subsequently by everyone else. 

Shane rolled his window down as Ilya walked around the car. His team were already chirping as Ilya came to stand by Shane’s window.

“I will see you soon.” Ilya promised, his face already schooled into something more distant. “When I beat you.” 

“Goodluck, you’ll need it.” Shane responded in kind. Then, as Ilya walked away toward his team, he called out. “Have a good day at school sweetie, be nice to the other boys!” 

The Raiders dissolved into laughter as Ilya raised a hand to flip Shane off, even Coach LeClaire had a smile on his face. Shane watched for a moment as Ilya joined his team, he knew he should just drive away. Ilya threw one last look over his shoulder, and Shane put the car in drive. 

****

When Shane entered the locker room, the only people who took any note were JJ and Hayden. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, something akin to the annoyance they had had with him when his friendship with Ilya first came to light. Or maybe raucous chirping that had followed. 

Instead no one paid him any mind, bar Hayden and JJ. 

“Yo man, that photo of you and Rozanov is so weird.” Hayden said, in reference to the thumbnail of the interview. “It still feels Twilight Zone to look at it.” 

“Mon Dieu, we are not talking about the more important part! His outfit, who dressed you because we know you didn’t dress yourself.” JJ interrupted, clapping his hand down on Hayden’s shoulder. 

Shane gave a small laugh. “I know how to dress myself, I just have no reason to dress up for you.” 

“Ah, but you dress for Rozanov? My heart, Hollander! You break it.” JJ clutched at his chest. 

Hayden joined in with the antics, pressing his hand against his forehead like a damsel in distress. “Oh Rozanov! Let me show off my beefy biceps for you!” 

“Okay okay.” Shane held up his hands. “I’ll dress up for you guys too, if you want. All you had to do is ask.” 

There was a harsh, mean, laugh behind them that drew Shane’s attention, Cloutier, third line right wing, half-dressed. Realising he’d drawn their attention he raised his hands in supplication. 

Shane began to turn back around, ready to let it go, when Hayden said in a flat voice, “Got something to say, Cluey?” 

Cloutier, realising he was drawing more attention, gave an awkward chuckle. “Nah man, it’s all good.” 

Hayden gave the smile he gave to the parents of the kids his kids didn’t like, “Good.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at Hayden as they turned back to their lockers. Hayden waved him off with a ‘I’ll fill you in later’ gesture. It was most likely to do with his now public friendship with Ilya, which Shane had honestly thought had died out as a source of contention. 

He went over the maybe five sentences he’d shared with his friends and couldn’t identify anything overtly offensive among them. But that was fine, he could handle Cloutier. 

Practice was light, so as to not overtire them before the game, it was more a warm up than anything. And strategy session. Coach Theriault kept it mostly short and sweet, they’d played Boston plenty of times, their line up hadn’t had any drastic changes recently. 

Once they were dismissed, a voice called out over the ice, “you say it’s like every other time, but it’s not really is it?” 

Shane, blissfully unaware it was directed at him, continued off the ice. Hayden and JJ right behind him. 

“Ignore them.” JJ muttered. 

“Hmm?” Shane shot JJ a questioning look as they made their way down the tunnel. “Ignore who?” 

JJ and Hayden shared a look. “Nevermind.” 

Shane sat on the bench by his locker and began discarding his kit. “Oh, was that aimed at me? How is it not like every other time?” 

Other teammates were piling in, stripping off, chatting away. 

“Shane.” Hayden said. “Rozanov.” 

Shane sighed, it felt so playground to have these issues. “Okay, listen up! I’ll keep this brief. If you have an issue with my friendship with Roz, keep it to yourself. It’s new to you, but it’s not new to me. As I’ve said before, we’ve been friends since day one. We were friends when he got drafted first, we were friends when I got rookie of the year, we were friends for every Stanley either of us have won. I not only have every intention of decimating Boston on the ice tonight, but am actively looking forward to it.” 

Most of the team gave him a smile, a jeer, a laugh. But there were a few, Cloutier among them, who rolled their eyes, gave each other knowing looks, kept quiet. 

It sat uncomfortably in Shane, but what else could he do? Beg them to treat him as they used to? It was tempting, but at the same time, there was too much rage, too much resentment, to ever beg for the bare minimum. 

“Sorry you had to do that.” JJ said. “I know I wasn’t the best about it, before.” 

Shane gave him a little nudge. “You came around.” 

“Oui, mon Capitaine.” Nudging him back. “Still fucking weird though.” 

Shane huffed. “Yeah well, there’s a reason we kept it secret.” 

“Is it just that? That people would think it’s weird?” The way JJ said it sat uncomfortably in Shane. In a way he couldn’t quite name, or maybe didn’t want to. 

“No, there were many reasons. The league was really into the rivalry, we live so far apart, we barely see each other. In the beginning I don’t think we really thought the friendship would last. But every time we played, we’d catch up. The next thing we knew, we were checking in on each other, celebrating each other’s wins. Then before we knew it, we were talking about things that had nothing to do with hockey, and suddenly realised, oh, this is my best friend.” 

“Your best friend?” Hayden raised his eyebrows at Shane. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.” 

“One of them.” Shane conceded. 

The three of them headed to grab lunch before their game, Jackie was planning on coming by with the kids too. It was nice, normal. JJ’s own partner joined them too, and Shane couldn’t help but imagine a day where he could invite Ilya. 

****

The Raiders were set to have a team lunch together at the hotel restaurant, all of them sat along two long tables absolutely teeming with food. Ilya sat with Cliff, Sainty, Connie, and Hammersmith. 

“I have to be honest Roz, I always thought you were the hot one. But what has Hollander been eating? He has bulked up.” Cliff said with a mouthful of food. 

“There’s rumours about him.” Connors said, then seemingly realised he was speaking to Ilya. “Oh shit, I forgot you two are friends now.” 

“What rumours?” Ilya asked, and judging by the way Sainty and Hammersmith leaned away from him, his face was thunderous. 

“Just shit guys say.” Connors tried to wave him off. “It’s all talk.” 

“Then talk.” 

Cliff clapped a hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “Okay, Roz, you’re going all Russian mafia on poor Connie.” 

Ilya forced himself to smile. “I am just joking, Connie.” 

“Yeah, somehow that’s more terrifying.” Connors eyed Ilya up and down. “Look, nothing against the guy. Just heard some rumours that not all is well in the Montreal locker room.” 

Ilya scowled. “Stupid motherfuckers. They are not happy that we are friends.” 

Connor opened his mouth, but hesitated. “It’s… it’s not that. Or it’s not just that.” 

A cold fear slid down the back of Ilya’s neck. He took a moment to organise his face, make it confused. Tilting his head he asked, “Oh?” 

Just one word, casual enough. Just a friend confused for another friend’s team, nothing more to it. Except, of course, this was Ilya’s greatest fear. Shane was already out to the Voyageurs, had been for the past year, so surely that hadn’t spread? Surely, that wasn’t the problem. 

“Just heard that one or two of them don’t think that Hollander should have the C.” Connors finally admitted. 

Ilya blinked. Cliff blinked. Even Hammersmith blinked. 

“That is stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Ilya said bluntly. “Who the fuck else would be good captain? Hollander is only reason their shitty team have any cups.” 

They sat in a brief silence. 

Then Hammersmith piped up. “It's still so weird to hear you defend him.” 

“Nah,” Cliff shook his head, “Roz always knew Hollander was goated. He still hates Montreal, but you gotta respect Hollander as player. Dude is insane.” 

Hammersmith and Connors gave assenting grunts. Ilya decided the topic needed to change before he said something he shouldn’t, but his brain just couldn’t think of a topic that wasn’t to do with Shane. All he could think about was their interview, their three amazing days together, their dinner, their last night together tonight. 

“So what can we expect from that interview?” Cliff finally brokered. 

And Ilya’s chest eased. “Oh you are not ready. You think you know Holly? You do not know Holly.” 

“Are the Voyageurs going to do a watch party too?” 

Ilya decided to play completely dumb. “How the fuck would I know? I am not in boring Montreal chat.” 

The conversation moved on, and Ilya relaxed. He knew Connie meant nothing by it. If it was in the days before they knew, Ilya probably still would have chatted shit about the voyageurs but stood up for Shane. But there would be less nervousness on Connie’s part, he would have just told him outright what the rumours were. 

Or the tea, according to Shane. 

Ilya didn’t want to have distance with his teammates. He loved Boston, he loved the Raiders. And he loved that the most important part of his life was now out there, at least somewhat. 

And he loved hockey. And however much he loved Shane, he loved beating him more. 

****

The arena was about half full during warmups. Busier than most warmups, but not bustling with fans. Shane was on all fours on the ice, stretching his legs out when the music started. 

He didn’t quite notice at first, until Ilya skated to the blue line and called his name. Once he got Shane’s attention he pointed upwards. Only then did Shane recognise the opening notes of Eye of the Tiger playing over the shitty arena speakers. 

Shane hung his head and laughed. He needed to find out who ran the Montreal arena programme, because he was going to commit a murder. 

“Dance with me, Hollander!” Ilya called, already moving about to the music. 

Shane thought about it. Did he want to? Yes and no. For so many reasons. Countless reasons on both sides, warring in his head for dominance. 

Shut up, brain. Let’s see what heart wants to do. 

Heart wanted to dance. 

Shane got up and copied Ilya’s dance moves, it took only seconds for the crowd to notice. Soon the was laughter and cheering, and then most surprisingly, they started singing. 

Not a full arena, but still hundreds of people singing Eye of Tiger as Shane and Ilya laughed, and danced. 

They stayed on their halves of the ice, but they moved about. Their ice dancing skills not great, but they knew how to move on the ice. 

Shane skated by the boards, facing the fans who were sat right up against the plexiglass. They were singing and cheering and dancing with him. He raised his hands up, encouraging them to be louder, to take up space, to show their joy. 

On the other half of the ice, Ilya was doing the same. They met again along the blue line, laughing. 

The song began to wind down, and so did their dance. It was only then that Shane noticed Hayden and Cliff leaning against the barrier on either side of the blue line, seemingly comparing notes. 

“I think… I think we’re being gossiped about.” Shane nodded his head to the two of them. 

Ilya turned and considered them for a moment. “At least it’s not behind our back.” 

Shane snorted. “Wow, small wins I guess.” 

“An appetiser before my big win tonight.” Ilya winked at him. 

Shane’s good humoured expression dropped. “I’ve never been more tempted to start a fight before a game.” 

Ilya’s face lit up in delight. “Shall we?” 

Of course Ilya would be delighted by causing more of a stir by fighting before a game had even started. 

Shane skated backwards, but he was laughing. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Hollander!” Theriault snapped, drawing Shane’s attention. “With your team, some time today would be nice.” 

Shane looked back at Ilya who was giving his meanest, most unimpressed look at the Voyageur bench. 

Shane smiled, and skated back to his warmups. Cluey gave him a wide berth plus a few scathing looks, but otherwise Shane received a few friendly chirps. 

JJ skated past him mimicking a ballerina, Hayden looped circles around him singing vague lalalalas. Berkes and Schneider had fist bumped him when he’d danced by then earlier, and were now singing under their breath. 

It wasn’t all bad. 

No, this would be a good game, and Shane was determined to win. 

**** 

The atmosphere in the locker room after the game was electric. The Voyageurs had won, Shane scoring 2 of 3 goals, and Drapeau having only let 1 in for Boston. 

“Next time!” He was saying. “Next I’ll get us a shutout!” 

The locker room cheered, buzzing with the thrill of the win. It was Hayden who started it, but soon the whole locker room had taken up the lyrics to Eye of the Tiger. 

“God, don’t tell me we have to play this whenever we play Boston.” JJ groaned. 

“I don’t make the rules,” Hayden grinned, “I just enforce them.” 

Half the team booed, the other half cheered. Shane found himself chuckling too, this was the team he loved. This was the team he dedicated 10 years to. 

“First round on me tonight!” Comeau shouted. 

“Some of us had children, Coms!” 

“Some of us are children!” Southerfield laughed, nudging the rookies. 

“You guys have fun tonight." Shane called to the room. “Have a round on me, yeah?” 

He received a bunch of booing from the assembled team. Loudest of all from JJ. 

“Aw what cap? You have to come!” JJ complained. “Oh wait, let me guess, last night with Rozanov?” 

Hayden saved Shane from answering by clapping his hands down on Shane’s shoulders. 

“He’s taking me to meet the in-laws.” Hayden said proudly. “Marlow is Rozanov’s team bestie, that makes him my bestie in-law.” 

The logic took a moment for Shane’s brain to wrap around before he finally realised what he was saying. “Jesus, is that what you and Marlow were talking about earlier?” 

“Yep! It’s very important that I know his bestie is treating my bestie right.” Hayden said, with the tone of someone trying to convey something more. 

Shane sighed, innately aware he was not getting out of this. What was his life? One live video weeks ago had led to dinner with Marlow, no, Cliff and Hayden. A dinner he never would have even guessed at in his wildest dreams

Chapter End Notes

I’ve read so many good fics recently, thank you all again for rec’ing so many!

Anyway I planned to finish this and upload it sooner but I had a 10 hour tattoo that I thought I would be able to chill with (And for the most part I could) but loooord it got spicy at the end there

And it made me want to write a fic about Ilya telling Shane he fundamentally wouldn’t be able to hack getting a tattoo

Chapter 5: Oops flashback

Chapter Summary

The dinner date the night before

Chapter Notes

The dinner date that was meant to be between Chapters 3 and 4 and somehow wasn’t included, so this is a flashback short interlude to tide you over before the bestie in law dinner date, the watch party, and the internet

I have no idea how it got left out

The door to the restaurant had a thick curtain separating the cold Montreal air from the warmth of the patrons within. Ilya followed Shane in, who was clearly still nervous about the whole thing. His hands clenching and unclenching even as his face portrayed impassivity. 

Ilya had been doing a pretty good job at chatting complete and utter rubbish to keep him distracted. Marlow has been thinking about cooking classes, a) because despite being a professional athlete he still lives off of fast food, and b) to meet and attract girls. St Simon was debating changing out the tape he uses for a new brand but was worried about superstition. Those kinds of things. Boring and irrelevant, perfect for Hollander brain. 

Shane had done well to half follow along, adding invigorating commentary like ‘huh’ and ‘yeah.’ 

“Shane.” Ilya said as the maitre de walked them through the tables to a more secluded one in the corner. 

“Yeah?” Shane replied, eyes darting to all the other patrons, many of whom were admittedly at the very least noticing them. 

None had pulled their phones out, so at least there was that. 

“Never become a commentator.” Ilya told him. 

They had reached their table now, both men moving to sit opposite each other. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Tsk, language, this is a nice restaurant." Ilya shook his head at Shane, then turning to the maitre de added. “I’m sorry about him, hockey players, absolute animals.” 

The maitre de failed at suppressing their smile. “It’s quite alright sirs. Your host for this evening will be along shortly with the wine menu.” 

The maitre de left them to it, Shane glaring at Ilya across the table. At least he wasn’t eyeing up the place like a smuggler at an airport anymore. 

“Commentating would be bad career for you.” Ilya continued. “Huh’ ‘sure’ ‘yeah’ these are not interesting things to hear.” 

Shane’s lip lifted slightly in a half smile. “Sorry, I was listening.” 

“I know, but commentators aren’t paid to listen.” 

This time that elicited a real smile. “Okay okay, I get the point. Besides, I don’t want to be a commentator. I’ll probably go into coaching when I retire.” 

Ilya raised his eyebrows even though it shouldn’t be a surprise that Shane already had plans in place. And of course he’d want to coach. It made perfect sense.

Before he could respond the host came to their table. 

“Good evening gentleman,” she began in a low, smooth voice. She handed them the wine lists and began to go over the wines available. 

Once she finished, Ilya took her suggestion of a Pinot Noir, as well as the recommended entrees that paired well with it. Shane, on the other hand, gave him a flat look. 

“We have a game tomorrow.” 

The host's expression betrayed nothing, except a small twitch of the lip. 

“Da, we do.” Ilya agreed. “I have played on worse hangovers, and won.” 

Shane let it go and ordered a ginger ale and his own entrees. The host didn’t have a notepad with her, just removed the wine menus and gave them the a la carte menu. 

“So, coaching?” Ilya asked. 

The prompting was small, but it got Shane talking, finally. Ilya’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched Shane become more animated. Not painfully, not achingly, just noticeably. Each mannerism of Shane’s became a call and response with his heart, Shane looked up and left, his head tilting right, as he thought about how to phrase something? Ilya’s heart beat. Shane’s hands moved more erratically as he became more passionate? Ilya’s heart beat. 

Then Shane broke off. His previously animated expression dropped completely and he sent furtive glances side to side. 

In a low voice he said, “you’re looking at me like you love me.” 

Ilya smiled softly. “I do love you.” 

“Ilya.” Shane’s eyes pleaded with him. 

They were interrupted with the arrival of Ilya’s wine, followed by their orders being taken. Once the host left there was an awkward silence. Ilya sipped at his wine, Shane looking determinedly anywhere but Ilya. 

“I’m sorry.” Shane whispered, looking out over the restaurant. 

No one was looking their way currently, Ilya noted, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t, or wouldn’t. 

“Is okay.” Ilya conceded. “I will try to control my face.” 

Shane opened his mouth and took a breath like he wanted to say something, but ultimately let it go. They sat in silence. 

“They haven’t given a release date for the interview yet have they?” Shane finally said 

“No.” Ilya replied. 

More silence. 

“I’m nervous about how the team will respond.” 

“Shocking.” Ilya knew as soon as it left his mouth that he was being too much of an asshole. Especially when Shane’s eyes shuttered for a moment with real hurt. “Fuck I’m sorry, that was not when I meant.” 

Shane said nothing. 

“No, please, Shane.” Ilya leaned across the table, hands on the tablecloth instead of holding Shane’s. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being asshole. Tell me what’s going on in your head. Please.” 

Shane finally looked at him, and sighed. “God we suck at this.” 

That got a chuckle from Ilya. “Turns out the real reason we stayed indoors is because we don’t know how to behave in public.” 

And Shane gave him a real smile. Not a lovey dovey smile, just a genuine curl of the lip. 

“I’m worried about the interview because of how badly they reacted to the live.” He said simply. “And before you say it, I know it was a shock that time. Unexpected for literally everyone involved. And that once they wrapped their mind around it they got over it.” 

Ilya stared at him. “No I wasn’t going to say any of that, fuck those guys. If they can’t handle you at your best, your funniest, your most relaxed, they are not deserving to know you at all, let alone call you captain, let alone sharing the ice with you. Fuck them.” 

The vitriol he felt for the Voyageurs was new. Obviously he didn’t like them to begin with, seeing as they were rivals and all. But Shane’s stories has always struck him as sad, mostly because he could hear how Shane was holding himself back. He’d always believed that if Shane just let go a little, things would be better for him. 

And he did still believe that, but not in the same way. Because the Voyageurs had taken the gift that was a free and happy Shane and made it complicated and personal for some unknown reason. 

So the animosity he felt for them had quadrupled in recent weeks. 

Shane was smiling at him. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me for this.” Ilya waved him off, still annoyed. 

Their food arrived and they began eating in companionable silence. The food was good, Yuna had good recommendations, which was only to be expected. 

“You know what I realised?” Shane said, his voice low again, but conspiratorial. 

“What did you realise?” Ilya said, forcing the words moya lyubov not to come out. 

“This is our first actual date.” 

The words hit Ilya like a bus. “No!” 

He sat up straight, his voice loud, carrying across the restaurant and drawing looks. 

Shane openly laughed at him. 

“Stop laughing, this is not true!” Ilya demanded. 

Because surely they’d been on a date. They loved each other, they’d made future plans with each other, it had been a decade! 

“Okay then, prove it.” Shane challenged, laughter still written on his face. 

Ilya thought. And thought. 

“What are we classing as ‘a date?’” 

Shane shot him a dry look. “Well that’s my point, I don’t think anything we’ve done counts as a date.” 

“What about summer at the cottage? You asked me, I said yes, this is date!” 

“Keep your voice down!” Shane hissed. 

“Okay okay.” Ilya held his hands up. “But can you tell me I’m wrong?” 

Shane considered. “That was… a couples trip.” 

Ilya gave him a flat look. “And when we invited our friends? Is that not double date?” 

“Are Rose and Svetlana dating?” 

“They could be, I respect their privacy in this matter.” He replied with hands up. 

“You’re so full of shit.” 

“Okay, if you are so determined, this can be our first date Hollander. Very romantic, well done.” 

They finished their meal bitching about other teams, swinging wildly between salacious gossip and eviscerating their gameplay. 

The host couldn’t help her laughter when she came to collect their plates and overheard Shane’s impassioned speech about the way Tampa were currently playing. 

Ilya had turned his head to share a fond look with her. 

They left her a generous tip and made their way back to the car. Ilya felt almost giddy with how natural this felt. Dinner date and a stroll in the early evening, they’d get home and Ilya would have another glass of wine which Shane would give a judging eye, but then they’d curl up on the sofa and Shane would want to watch something hockey related and Ilya would tell him about the PWHL game. They’d watch it together, try not to fall asleep because it’s late and eventually Ilya would drag Shane to bed, and he’d be all sleepy as he stumbled through the house with Ilya guiding him. And they’d go to bed holding each other. 

If Ilya could, he’d spend every day for the rest of his life like this. 

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the shortest chapter yet, it wasn’t meant to be in it’s own category but we move

Chapter 6: Plane Rides and Tweets

Chapter Summary

Dinner with the bestie in laws, social media, and of course, one (1) watch party

Chapter Notes

Hockeyhips

Holy shiiiiit holy shit holy shit???

Puckmeoutside

They are genuinely the most attractive men in all the nhl 

Pikeslesbians

It is a cruel and unusual punishment to let us know about the interview and not immediately release it 

Pikeslesbians

Like what do you mean I have to wait 24 hours

Hollanovtruther

The hand on the knee 

Cameron345

I fully believed I was a normal fan until today 

Rozanovslop

I am looking respectfully 

Mrsmarlowhockey

How am I meant to be normal about this 

Pucktuah

Wdym I have to wait 24hrs after seeing this image 

Landryfandry

Not my dad asking why I’m suddenly so interested in watching the game 

Hollanovtruther

Hello?? I said. The hand. On. The. Knee. 

Luludelulu

Omg I saw them at dinner the other day it must have been when they shot this 

Rozanov81___

Why are we only learning about this now???

Luludelulu

It’s called a reasonable expectation of privacy babes 

Kayceemcee

Not me tuning in for a game for the first time in my life 

Madi_loves_hockey

THE DANCING 

SaintlySimonunggg

NOT THEM RECREATING THE DANCE 

14Gennnn

why am i getting hockey on my feed 

Kennajonesss

Can someone tell me what’s happening?  

Shane_can_get_it

Yall hollanov have breached containment 

Justinhello

What’s the big deal about hockey players being friends??? 

Netthepuckalready

Oh great now my feed is gonna be flooded with a bunch of fake fans 

Boizikeander

Boziau and Pike dancing around Hollander is SENDING me 

Sinbinhoney

Is it gatekeeping or is it reasonable to tell them this isn’t their space? 

Pucktuah

I’m gnawing on my arm like a vulture waiting for this interview to drop 

Personalpuckbunny

God hockey breaching containment now means there’s even more queers infecting my feed 

Girlsandpucks

Follow me for the breakdown on all things hockey, all things gossip, and why the Hollander/Rozanov friendship is so insane! 

Hollyandrozie

The power of gay love is bringing interest back to hockey 

- Melodyhopes

  There’s so many reasons why this is problematic 1/11

Shanehollandaise

I don’t know what to talk about first, the interview, the warm-ups, the game, the alleged dinner - these boys I swear 

Hollandry24

Even if the dinner rumours are true that doesn’t mean anything, as they’ve said multiple times now, they’ve been friends for a decade 

Raiderordie

I am seated, I am waiting patiently, I am not rewatching every compilation of hollanov interaction over the past decade 

Hollanderslop

Let me lick and bite those biceps Shane Hollander 

Massholeraiders

Ilya’s arm around Shane 😭😭

Shilyahollanov

I would literally die for them

Mrsmarlow

Their faces their gorgeous faces ugh fucking fuck me oh my god

Pucktuah

The way we’re all analysing this thumbnail has me nervous about what we’re gonna do with that interview

****

A few hours after the Boston V Montreal game found Cliff and Hayden sat at Shane’s dining table, drinking wine, and chatting up a storm. Shane had no idea how it had happened. One moment the four of them were standing silently in Shane’s house, both Hayden and Cliff had brought a bottle of wine, Shane had started cooking (paprika chicken, salad, and rice) and Ilya had hovered. 

“I brought wine!” Cliff had said cheerfully, presenting his bottle of red to Ilya and breaking the awkward silence.

“I also brought wine.” Hayden held up his bottle of red. 

“Yes, we noticed.” Ilya said dryly, taking the bottle from Hayden too. 

There was a stilted pause as Ilya set the bottles on the counter and set about retrieving the wine glasses. He took four out of the cupboard. Shane focussed on the food that was cooking. Luckily he had a rice cooker, the salad was made and waiting in the bowl, it was jus the chicken. 

“Just like old times.” Cliff joked. “Maybe I should go live.” 

“I will kill you.” Shane levelled a flat stare at him. 

Cliff raised his eyebrows at Shane before laughing. “You need to bring that energy to the ice, Hollander.” 

“I did bring that energy to the ice.” Shane muttered under his breath. 

Cliff snorted. “Oh, that love tap? Thought it was a breeze.” 

“Marly, stop antagonising my boyfriend.” Ilya said, smiling and pouring the wine. Starting with Cliff’s bottle, of course. “That’s my job.” 

Shane’s breath caught in his throat, his face flushing without his say so. He tried to focus on cooking and pretending like this was a totally normal experience and not so far out of the realm of anything he’d thought possible. Okay, that was a little dramatic. But he genuinely never would have thought he’d be having dinner with Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, and Cliff Marlow as his guests. 

“Shane, you’re so red!” Hayden said, delighted. 

Cliff’s face turned into what could be described as someone hearing the most exciting gossip. “So you guys are like, official.” 

“We’re not out.” Shane said firmly. “But we are together.” 

Hayden was beaming. “Who knows?” 

“You two, the Hollanders.” Ilya said. “Sveta and Rose.” 

“Short list.” Cliff frowned. “Surely that sucks?”

“Is safest.” Ilya shrugged, but there was tension in his shoulders. 

Shane knew that while he felt safest in the shadows, Ilya was someone who lived his life outloud. He’d never shied away from who he was before, he was loud and arrogant and confident. Despite all the reasons, Shane still felt he shouldered the blame for their hiding. 

It was ridiculous, because hockey, and the world, and Russia, were the main reasons. But part of him thought that maybe Ilya would be perfectly happy to come out today, and it was only his insecurities that stopped them. 

“If not for that live, would you have told us?” Hayden asked, a slight frown on his face. 

Shane purposefully didn’t look at him. How did you tell your best friend, ‘hey I’ve been lying to you for a decade and I fully would have continued to lie to you if given the choice!’

“That’s a no.” Cliff said into the silence that followed. 

“Was not because of you.” Ilya told him plainly. “Was because of safety.” 

“But Hunter is out now, the league will have to be more accepting. Especially two of its most decorated players in history.” Hayden argued.

“Hunter doesn’t have to worry about his boyfriend being sent back to Russia.” Shane snapped.

It was like all the air got sucked from the room. Shane could feel the eyes on him, feel the way he’d killed any semblance of a good vibe. He made it weird and uncomfortable. It was awkward now, because of him. 

“Oh fuck.” Cliff said softly. 

 “Sorry.” Shane sighed.

“No.” Hayden interrupted. “No, you’re right to say it. We were being obtuse.” 

“Is obtuse meaning stupid and slow?” Ilya directed his question at Shane. “Because if so, I agree.” 

Hayden scowled, but Cliff laughed, used to Ilya’s attitude. 

“Why don’t we go sit at the table, get acquainted properly, and leave you two to chef it up?” Cliff suggested, already picking up his wine. 

“Dining room is this way.” Hayden said, leading Cliff away from the kitchen. 

The second they were out of sight, Ilya was pressed against Shane’s back. Hands on his hips, kisses pressed to the top of his head. Shane let himself relax against Ilya, forcefully ejecting the tension from his body. 

“Are you okay?” Ilya murmured into his hair. 

Shane released a slow breath. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. I just don’t know how to do this.” 

“Me too, moya lyubov.” He pressed another kiss to Shane’s head. “But we will learn. Is practice for when we don’t have to worry anymore.” 

Shane gave a humourless laugh, “you think I’ll ever not worry?” 

“You don’t worry when I have you moaning on my-”

Shane pushed him away for that. “Okay okay, off with you. Food is almost done.” 

Shane and Ilya brought the plates into the dining room to find Cliff and Hayden chatting away like old friends. They barely even paused as food was placed in front of them, discussing Sex and The City of all things. 

“My ex-girlfriend said I’m a Samantha, what does that mean?” Cliff was asking seriously. 

“One sec,” Hayden replied, typing away on his phone. “Okay Jackie says you’re confident and sexually liberated. However, I say she’s also career driven and refuses to conform.” 

“Oooh, I like that.” Cliff nodded, bringing his wine glass to his lips. “Cause my ex said it like it was a bad thing.” 

“I think that says more about her than it does about you.” Hayden said, glanced at his phone, and added, “Jackie agrees. In fact Jackie has some choice words about your girlfriend.” 

“Ex-girlfriend.” Cliff corrected him firmly. 

“This is the most surreal night of my life.” Shane muttered as he placed the plates down. 

They ate with a companionable chatter, light, steering clear of the topic of them, and instead spoke about normal things, hockey, Pike’s kids, did Cliff want kids? Yes, one day, gotta find the right girl first. Holy shit did you see that they discontinued my favourite stick tape? Fuck my life. 

Without even realising it, it became normal. Suddenly Shane wasn’t there with Rozanov, Marlow, and Pike, he was there with Ilya, Cliff, and Hayden. It reminded him of when he was at school and spoke to other sporty kids, Jake from football, Kayden from track, Aimee from basketball. 

Cliff had been the biggest wildcard, going into tonight. Shane knew very little about him, other than his hockey stats and that he was the person Ilya was closest to on his team. But even then, Shane and Ilya didn’t spend a lot of time talking about their friends. 

But he ended up being the easiest part of the night. 

Hayden and Ilya were on good behaviour but the animosity was still there. An undercurrent that cut through their comments to one another, Shane couldn’t tell how much was in good humour, if any. 

And Shane couldn’t even blame one of them for it, they both made small jibes at one another throughout the evening. 

“Damn, you tryna start up a new rivalry?” Cliff joked after one snarky remark. 

Ilya had scoffed. “Pike is not good enough player to be considered my rival.” 

“Okay, fuck you.” Hayden said, sloshing his wine in his glass. 

“Do not spill that.” Shane warned. “And play nice, both of you.” 

But really, the star of the night wasn’t Ilya and Shane’s relationship, it wasn’t Hayden and Ilya’s mutual distaste, nor was it Cliff and Shane’s burgeoning new relationship. It was the almost instant connection between Cliff and Hayden. Once they got past the whole rival teams thing, they got on like a house on fire. 

Cliff and Hayden left later than any of them had originally planned. They were sent off with ‘thanks for coming’ and ‘see you tomorrow’s.’ Shane and Ilya were too tired to do more than clean up and curl up together in bed. They’d have time in the morning for anything more, for tonight they had full bellies and full hearts. 

Miffcarlow

Bestie of my bestie is my bestie?

[photo of Cliff and Hayden posing with wine glasses]

Pike_hockey

Bestie-in-laws!

[photo of Cliff and Hayden chatting animatedly, in the background Ilya is visible rolling his eyes]

Ilyarozanov

[video of Cliff and Hayden comparing notes on Ilya and Shane. 

Hayden: Shane regularly comes to practice 2 to 3 hours early

Cliff: Roz does that! But usually he stays 3 hours later

Hayden: Once we were on a roadie, and we’re at a bar, I look over, Shane is reading a biography on Gretzky

Cliff: We were at a bar and I lose sight of Roz, I think he’s hooking up right? No, he was watching the Voyageur vs Admiral game. He kept saying he was just checking the score, but he just watched the whole thing in the men’s room

Hayden: Shane will watch back the tape of the game we just played the second we get off the ice

Cliff: Roz does that too! 

Across the table from them, Shane is visible downing his glass of wine, then reaching for the bottle to pour himself another large glass]

Shanehollanderofficial

Introducing @miffcarlow and @pike_hockey was a mistake :( 

****

Ilya watched Cliff set up the watch party. There was a few TVs on the plane that they'd be using. Cliff had done the leg work in organising how this would go. 

Ilya reclined in his seat, messaging Shane while the others set up. Sainty was handing out the snacks he’d bought the day before, Carmichael was organising who sat where. They were taking this weirdly seriously. 

Jane

Hayden is over with Jackie and JJ

Lily

You are not watching interview?

Jane

Oh that’s why they’re here

Lily

Was obvious i fear

“Okay it’s time!” Cliff bellowed down the plane. “Take your seats, grab your snacks, let’s watch this fucken thing!” 

Cliff came to fall into the seat next to Ilya, tapping away on his phone, his laptop balanced on his knee. 

On the tv screens the thumbnail for the video appeared, posted 0 minutes ago. In the corner you could see the screens that were linked, half a dozen on the plane, then near the bottom it read: Pike

”Pike is watching?” Ilya asked Cliff. 

“Hmm? Yeah, we decided yesterday. We’re going to Facetime too.” 

Then on Cliff’s laptop in front of them, Hayden Pike’s face appeared. His face was doing that weird fish lens thing of someone too close to the camera until he backed away. 

“We got it!” Pike crowed, moving the camera away from his face and placing it on Shane’s coffee table. Now, Boiziau, Jackie, and Shane were visible too, seated on the living couch that Ilya had fucked Shane on that very morning. 

Ilya’s phone dinged. 

Jane

Hayden just told me

Why did we let them meet

I can barely handle the idea of everyone seeing the interview

Let alone hearing it in real time

Lily

You do not have to

Jane

It’s fine

Lily

Don’t do it if you do not want

Shane stopped replying, on the screen Ilya could see him smiling at something Jackie was saying to him. He was pretending to be calm. Liar. 

“Okay, pressing play in 3, 2, 1!” 

“Hello I’m Shane Hollander, Captain of the Montreal Voyageurs.” 

Boiziau and the Pikes cheered. 

“And I am Ilya Rozanov, Captain of the superior team, the Boston Raiders.” 

The Raiders cheered, louder. Obnoxiously. 

“Not according to last night!” Pike hollered. 

On screen Ilya and Shane spoke about first becoming friends at the MMC shoot, their faces smiling at the memory. And then Ilya took out the photo, and Shane’s face turned so tender. Ilya tried to breathe evenly, to him he could see how they leaned into one another, could everyone else? 

The photo appeared on screen. Two teenage boys looking at each other with a sparkle of mirth in their eyes, their lips tilted up with obvious laughter. The creases around their eyes, the flash of teeth. 

“Awww, baby Roz!” Cliff laughed. 

There were a few general ribs from his teammates around the plane, cooing at a young Rozanov. 

“Remember how arrogant he was?” Sainty called. 

“Was?” Connors scoffed. “He still is!”

Ilya ignored them, watching Cliff’s laptop screen as Jackie Pike awww’d loudly and ruffled Shane’s hair. Boiziau and Pike making similar comments to Shane that Ilya's team was making about him. 

The interview was moving onto their favourite memories of one another, their gentle banter back and forth. His team watched somewhat quietly, but Cliff nudged him anytime he thought Shane and Ilya were hinting at things to do with their relationship. 

“Give us your best impression of each other” The interview continued on, the team watching with baited breath. 

“Da, I am Ilya Rozanov, I am very annoying, Scott Hunter is so old, Hollander is so boring, Hollander, get on -”

Cliff had to pause the video. The boys were cackling, all of them trying their own Ilya impressions. Ilya, for his part, was staring at the facetime where Shane was hiding his face. 

He hadn’t noticed it the first time around, what Shane had almost said. Ilya felt himself shaking with silent laughter as he saw facetime-Shane peak through his fingers. Then Ilya was full belly laughing, that would have had to have been edited out if he’d said the whole thing. He could only imagine the reaction if anyone had heard ‘Hollander get on your knees.’ 

Cliff, next to him, was trying out his Rozanov. Badly. “I play hockey, I am captain, I am asshole.” 

“This is worse accent than Hollander!” Ilya said, outraged. 

“Wait, hear mine!” Connors called. “Da, ich bin ein hockey player!” 

“That’s German dipshit.” Carmichael swatted Connors over the back of the head. 

Pike called out to Cliff to replay it. Which he did. Three times. 

Shane’s flush had died down by the time they finally resumed playing the interview. Watched as Ilya on screen denounced Shane’s impression, watched as Shane said the fateful words. 

“Oh yeah! I’d like to see you do me!” 

The loudest, most boisterous laughs from all the players on the plane. Next to him, Cliff was wheezing with laughter, his hand slapping down on Ilya’s knee over and over. 

“Oh god that sounded bad.” Shane's instant regret was mostly lost to the sounds of laughter. 

On Cliff’s laptop, Jackie Pike hand her hand on her heart as she laughed, gave Shane a kiss on the head, saying something to him that the mic didn’t pic up. Boiziau was giving Shane an odd look, humour still on his face, but also something like curiosity. 

Cliff and Pike were somehow making eye contact through the laptop, communicating telepathically as they caught eyes and had a special laugh to themselves. Because they knew something no one else did. 

They watched as Ilya refused to imitate Shane, as Shane bragged about speaking French accentless. 

“Shut the fuck up Hollander, not everyone can be perfect golden boy who is good at many things.” 

“You sound so mean when you compliment people.” 

Connors stood up and lobbed a red vine at Ilya’s head. “Hey Roz! You’ve never complimented me like that!” 

“You are not good enough at hockey to be complimented like that!” Ilya shot back, to the ooo’s of their teammates.  

“Roz tells us he loves us after every game.” Cliff reminded the plane full of people. 

“It’s not the same.” St Simon sighed. 

Then Asma was asking Shane if he knew any Russian, and Ilya’s cheeks started heating up. He didn’t often blush, if asked, he never did. But he remembered that moment, remembered seeing in slow motion as Shane went to repeat his known phrases before thinking about the meaning. 

“Hollander, you can’t repeat what I’ve taught you, do you remember what it means?” 

“Oh. Oh yeah no I can’t repeat any of that.”

Cliff slammed the pause button faster than he’d ever done anything else in his life. Ilya was determinedly not looking at him, or anyone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shane’s bright red face turned away from Jackie as she practically climbed on top of him demanding answers. 

“You’re blushing, Rozanov!” Cliff crowed. “You can’t even deny it.” 

The other boys on the plan all craned their necks or stood up out of their seats to get a look. 

“Holy shit he is!” Hammersmith said, whipping his phone out. 

St Simon was silent but marveling over Ilya’s face. 

“He’s only ever that red when he’s talking to Jane!” Hammersmith decided. 

Next to him, Cliff’s nose was a hair's breath from Ilya’s cheek, Ilya’s jaw clenching in an effort to keep his poker face. 

“Wanna share with the class?” Cliff asked quietly, menacingly. 

“Ilya don’t.” Shane begged from Cliff’s laptop. 

“Is it like, Russian swear words? Cause we’ve all heard those before.” Connors asked. 

“Is not swear words.” Ilya confirmed, still staring straight ahead. 

“Ilya.” Shane warned. 

Ilya thought about it. He could decide to never tell the team, it could be fun to keep it from them. It could also be very irritating, it was something that the Raiders would obsess over for the next few months. Besides, there was a way out of this that would protect them both. 

“It is… helpful phrases.” Ilya said eventually. “In case Shane ever finds himself with a hot Russian.” 

There was a beat. On the laptop Shane hung his head. Beat. 

Boiziau was the first to start laughing. “Shane, you dog!” 

Soon everyone had something to say. The Pikes were talking over each other at Shane who had his head turned away from them biting his lip, trying not to laugh. 

Mendoza aka Doza called from toward the rear of the plane. “Teach me how to pick up hot Russian women!”

“What were the phrases? I’m tryna land me a Svetlana Vetrova!” Gibbs yelled, and received a rousing cheer of agreement in response. 

“You’ve never taught me hot Russian phrases!” Cliff smacked Ilya on the arm, Ilya slung a raised eyebrow at him and waited for Cliff to figure out what he already knew. “Oh wait it’s because, ohhh. Oh okay Rozanov, I see your game.” 

Cliff eventually took mercy on him and pressed play once more. The video continued as Shane spoke about 80s music, as the two chirped each other lightly. The boys gave gentle chuckles, louder ones when Ilya spoke about becoming the Hollanders’ favourite son. 

Ilya watched as facetime-Shane fiddles with the cushions on his sofa, expression becoming more tight the closer they got to the tweets. When it was announced on the interview, he closed his eyes, hands gripping the cushion in a vice grip. 

“Give them to me, make them raunchy, make them feral, make them hungry.”

St Simon let out a wolf whistle, which for some reason made Hammersmith give a wolf howl, which of course led to the whole plane howling. Ilya loved his idiots. 

Ilya watched as his on-screen self took a moment to read over the tweet and get into character. He tucked his hair behind his ears, expression becoming what he had hoped came across as LA valley girl. 

“Oooo my name is Shane Hollander and im super hot and im the starting center for the back to back stanley cup champions and i got to kiss rose landry and see ilya rozanov shirtless… girl fuck you!” 

Jackie Pike was screaming, Ilya couldn’t tell if she was laughing or shocked or just screaming. Maybe all of them. His teammates weren’t much better, all of them immediately copying Ilya’s mannerisms. 

“Yeah bitch, fuck you!” Feller snapped his fingers. 

“Bitch we see Roz shirtless every day!” Doza called. 

St Simon threw back, “yeah but none of us have kissed Rose Landry.” 

“Or won back to back cups.” Shane added, only heard by the handful close to Ilya and Cliff, and met with a couple oooos. 

“Uhh, yeah i have done all of those things. It’s a life, I’m living it. Sorry.”

“You are not sorry, Hollander.” 

“No, I’m not.” Shane winked. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Shane Hollander?” Pike was asking, Boiziau pretending to melt off the sofa next to him. 

“I am Living for flirty Shane!” Jackie watched the tv, rapt. “Why have I never met him before?” 

“Jackie, you’re married.” Shane grumbled. 

“That is besides the point.” 

“Ilya rozanov i wanna shrink you to the size of a gummy bear and swallow you whole.” 

“Why you gotta shrink me to swallow me?” 

The Raiders of course, gave their best. Wolf whistles, hollars, the lot. 

“My man!”

“You know that’s right!” 

“Sometimes i just start crying when i see someone as sexy as shane hollander like there r genuine tears running down my cheeks rn.” 

“Which cheeks?” 

“SHANE HOLLANDER!” Jackie Pike had jumped up off the sofa. “SHANE MOTHERFUCKING HOLLANDER!” 

“That’s my BOY!” Boiziau yelled, also jumping to his feet. 

Pike just gaped across the sofa at Shane. Shane, for his part, was failing epically at a poker face. 

“Ayo! Hollander you slick!” Doza cackled. 

“This is same Hollander who we play on the ice?” Carmichael called over. “The so called golden boy?” 

“I am thinking we don’t know Hollander very well.” Sainty chuckled. 

“Shane! You cannot say these things! Everyone will know you’re just as much of a slut as me!”

Jackie was gripping Shane’s bicep in a vice. “Shane Hollander, I am learning things about you today that I should have learnt ten years ago.” 

“Are we in Hollander’s ho era?” Connors asked. 

“Oh, we’ve been in Shane’s ho era for a long time.” Ilya found himself saying without really pausing to think. 

“Ilya!” facetime-Shane yelled. 

“He sure kept that quiet!” Carmichael shook his head in wonder. “Lord knows why, I bet that man pulls like nobody’s business.” 

“He pulled Rose Landry.” Hammersmith reminded him. 

“Rozanovs ass is so FAT it takes up the whole screen”

On-screen Ilya and Shane doubled over with laughter, and unfortunately, so was Ilya’s plane. 

“My boy got CAKE.” 

“How does it feel to be double-cheeked up?”

“It weighs him down. I’m not telling you what double cheeked up means.” 

“LOL Hollander!” Cliff called, saying the word lol rather than actually laughing. 

Hey, listen up Raiders, this is the only time I’ll ever apologise to you about anything.” 

The silence that fell over the plane was instant. On the facetime, Pike and Boiziau both sat up straight, waiting with baited breath. Shane sunk low into the sofa, hiding his face behind his hands once more. 

Ilya wanted to tell him to come out, to show his pretty face and be unashamed of himself. He wished he could be sitting beside him as they watched the interview. 

“I taught Ilya the phrase ‘dickmatise.’ I am sorry. I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you since I did that. I have also taught him what feral means, and I taught him screaming, crying, throwing up. I’m sorry.” 

Cliff paused the video, his jaw dropped open. Around them, there was pandemonium. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Hammersmith was out of his seat. 

“He would not stop saying he was screaming, crying, throwing up. About everything. For months.” Connors said. “We had to bet him he couldn’t beat us in a 3v3 and even then it took five rounds to beat him! Do you know what we had to give up on the first 4 rounds, Hollander?” 

Cliff held the laptop up, looking directly into the camera. On the screen, Shane, the little shit, was smirking. Jackie, Pike, and Boiziau were beside themselves with laughter. 

“I think that’s psychological warfare!” Boiziau was saying between wheezes of laughter. “Oh Captain, my captain!” 

Pike wiped tears from his face. “Shane, bro, that’s so fucking funny.” 

“Hollander.” Cliff said, his voice low, his tone serious. “Look at me.” 

Shane looked up at the camera on his end, eyes glinting and challenging. “Yeah, what’s up man?” 

“Hollander.” Cliff said again, the whole plane hanging on his words. “Are you responsible for ‘not my circus, not my monkeys?’” 

There was a large intake of breath by all the hockey players nearby. Ilya started to shake with silent laughter. The idiots on his team started to whisper to each other.

“Was it him?” 

“There’ll be hell to pay.” 

“No way.”

Shane blinked. “There’s no way you’re mad about that.” 

Cliff shot to his feet, gripping his laptop in a death grip. “So it was you!” 

Shane looked absolutely baffled. “I thought you’d be mad about goblin mode or something, but not my monkeys? That’s what you’re mad about?” 

“You don’t understand. He would go round yelling ‘whose fucking circus is this?’ for months. He kept calling us his monkeys. Anytime we asked him something? ‘Does this sound like my circus?’ In fact, he still fucking does!”

“I can’t imagine that was worse than dickmatise.” Shane argued. “I know first hand how annoying it was when he learned dickmatise.” 

“That’s because of mitigating factors, Hollander.” Cliff pointed out, not that Ilya knew what mitigating factors meant, but he assumed it was veiled reference to their relationship. “And you did that to yourself.”

“I taught him to say skill issue and you’re mad about not my monkeys?” Shane confirmed again. 

Ilya huffed a laugh at that, he did often tell other players it was a skill issue. Especially when he scored. But that fell in his regularly appointed assholery. 

The not my circus, not my monkeys thing. That had started as just a fun phrase, until he found out how much his teammates got annoyed by it. He had no idea why it grated on them so much. All he knew was that he enjoyed every sweet minute of it. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.” Cliff stated. 

“You broke my collarbone.” 

“… You are forgiven.” Cliff slumped back into his seat. “Okay, okay, let’s move on.” 

”Oh wait, you have used double-cheeked. But I know full phrase, double cheeked up and nowhere to go. I remember this phrase.”

“Okay you made it sound like I said that, which I didn’t. I did not.”

“No one believes that Hollander!” Boiziau yelled. 

“Yeah if anyone around here is cheeked up with nowhere to go, it’s you.” Pike agreed. 

“Or maybe not, since apparently he’s a massive slut!” Jackie said.

Things continued on like that, roars of laughter, a furiously blushing Shane, the tweets only getting funnier. Ilya’s cheeks hurt in a way they hadn’t in a long time, possibly ever.

He was happy. This was a perfect afternoon, he had his team laughing around him, he could open up about the best part of his life. The only thing missing was having Shane there in person, but he could settle for getting to watch him on Cliff’s laptop. 

Shane Hollander, you are so perfect to me and i will fight anyone who doesn’t agree #stopasianhate

“WHAT!” Boiziau yelled. 

Hearing it a second time wasn’t any less wild. Watching interview-Shane wheeze out a surprised laugh, and current Shane look just as bewildered. 

On that matter, you know, the Voyageurs have always been great to me. Boston, our antagonisms has only ever been about the game

The Raiders and handful of Voyageurs yelled out their assent. 

My race has never come into it, the chirps and insults have always just been that. Chirping. Never about race, never about sexuality, never about gender.

Yes, we are rivals because we are the best. Not every team can claim to have never said homophobic or sexist slurs and call them chirps, but for as long as I’ve been at Boston, this has been a rule.

“Hell yeah brother!”

“That’s why we goated!”

Slurs aren’t chirps. Racism isn’t there for you to fall back on when your gameplay can’t speak for itself.

There’s no place for it in our game. 

And then they signed off. Interview over. 

This elicited the loudest whoops and cheers so far. Ilya turned to watch the facetime as his teammates discussed best bits, funniest bits, craziest bits, amongst themselves. Shane was looking back at him as the Pikes and Boiziau discussed their top moments. 

“Well I feel like I’m intruding.” Cliff said quietly to him. “So how about you two take this to text.” 

Then, louder, “Pike! Say goodbye!” 

Pike and Marlow called a quick goodbyes, which included demanding a recipe off one of them, the link to where the other got their beard oil, and a promise to discuss Sex and City in more detail at a later date. 

Jane

That could have been worse

Lily

I miss you

Jane

You literally just left

I miss you too

Chapter End Notes

You know what? No thoughts, empty head rn

Enjoy my lovelies, feast!

Chapter 7: The World

Chapter Summary

More than just the chronically online react :)

Chapter Notes

Shout out to each person who pointed out when I used Lily when it should have been Jane T_T I have corrected it in post

Jean-Jacques Boiziau considered himself a fairly open minded guy. He’d known something was up with Shane long before he’d come out to the team, and honestly, he handled that revelation pretty well. 

Then the Rozanov revelation, that had taken him a moment to wrap his head around, he could be honest about that. But he had Shane’s back, always. And he could tell this was a moment to support him or their entire friendship would fall apart. 

The other guys, well, they handled the gay thing okay, and the Rozanov thing badly. Things were tense, but they were only going to get worse so long as Shane kept hiding parts of himself, and so long as the boys kept being mad at him about it. 

Because that was the thing. JJ could tell Shane was still hiding something. 

He tried not to take it personally, but compared to Cluey he was handling all the new things about Shane like a champ. He was no Hayden, but that wasn’t through lack of trying. 

That was the driving reason behind setting up the interview watch along. He figured he’d get the Pikes and Shane together and he’d be there too to prove he was a trustworthy friend. 

Facetiming the Raiders was unexpected. 

Realising he hadn’t been invited to the dinner the night before hurt. 

Seeing the open, funny, sarcastic, Shane on the interview was a gutpunch. Because JJ had met that Shane maybe a handful of times, when he let himself loose. Apparently this was the Shane that Rozanov knew all the time. 

Which is when JJ realised. 

Shane was in love with Ilya Rozanov. 

Unrequited, long suffering, love. Like full on love. With his bitter rival and best friend. 

Oh, JJ’s heart broke for him.

****

Pikeslesbians

You know, i actually love that they kept the crew laughing in

Pucktuah

Did hollanov just outfreak the cards

Rozanovslop

ilya rozanov supports us being freaks on main 

Pucktuah

Ilya really look at teenage Shane and said I can make him worse and then did

Massholeraiders

at literally no point could i predict what either one of them was going to say

Puckmeoutside

Shane Hollander spent 10 years carefully creating a public only for it to get ruined the second he got on camera with Ilya Rozanov

Madi_loves_hockey

ilya rozanov is the opposite of a media trainer, he has effectively untrained shane in one interview

Landryfandry

can we agree that shane is a lurker

Voygeursscoop

I thought I didn’t know your game with the im pretty comment but now i am official HUMBLED

Rozanovslop

Are you kidding look at this face card

Shane_can_get_it

we had a rozanov ass mention and absolutely no mention of all the clappable material hollander is hauling smdh

Roz_fan_81

Has anyone else noticed how they immediately have dropped the ‘holly and rozie’ and just call each other by their names

Roz_fan_81

Like who were they trying to fool with that

****

Jane

I think we might need to revisit the Ottawa idea

Lily

Hello good morning my love

Jane

I’m justing thinking logically 

Lily

I woke up sad because im alone in my big bed

Jane

Good morning

I also woke up alone so

Lily

Why do we need to revisit Ottawa

Jane

Im just scared its too obvious now

Lily

Was that not the plan? 

Jane

The plan was to slowly mention that we’re friends not bombard people with every intricate detail

Have you seen that people who don’t even watch hockey are now fans of us?

Lily

This can only be good thing, no?

Gay love is bringing interest to hockey

NHL will have to accept us

Jane

It just feels like so much is happening so fast

[incoming call from Lily]

****

Hockeyhips

Oh my god the photo of them as teenagers? My heart cannot handle this

Radierordie

Ilya was able to pull that photo up QUICK

Boyaquariumenjoyer

He said he reached out to mmc before the shoot because he knew he was going to mention it

Raiderordie

yeah because hes ROMANTIC

Sinbinhoney

Its soooo different from their draft photos im dying

Voyageurgirl24

There’s no way yall are believing this friendship lol its fucking PR

Goldstarpuckbunny

Shanes impression of Ilya had me DEAD

Hollanovtruther

I need someone to tell me ASAP what the rest of Shane was saying before Ilya cut him off

Rozanovslop

He cut himself off because he was going to say Hollander get on your knees

Sinbinhoney

THAT IS A WILD TAKE

Melodeyhopes

He could have been saying anything

Rozanovslop

Then why did he cut himself off

Boyaquariumenjoyer

rozanov interrupted him

87 more replies

Goldstarpuckbunny

Someone said they think shane was going to say hollander get on your knees and now I cant unthink it am i crazy or? 

Rozanovslop

Literally what else could he be about to say

ScottHunter

Why am I always catching strays from you two

Shanehollanderofficial

It wasn’t me, I was mimicking Roz, I can’t be held legally responsible

Ilyarozanov

Actually it was Shane who brought you up both times, he’s the real hater

Pucktuah

@Shanehollanderofficial what was the end of that sentence going to be? 

Shanehollanderofficial

I was going to say ‘Hollander get on with it,’ because apparently I have a tendency to waffle

Ilyarozanov

da this is true it takes you 3-5 business days to get to the point we’d be Scott Hunter’s age after one conversation if i didn’t tell you to get tf on with it

Scotthunter

i hate it here

Rozanov_81

Shane honey no one is believing that

Puckmeoutside

You know, i kinda do tho

Sinbinhoney

like tbh yeah it just seems like bad timing

Shanehollandaise

I think their relationship is built on bashing Scott Hunter

Shanehollandaise

Specifically on calling him old its not like they’re homophobic

admirals17winners

Idk remember when shane fought scott on the ice

Pucktuah

Theres is zero chance you think these two are homophobic

Admirals17winners

They’re professional athletes and one of them is russian, it’s a valid assumption

Rozanovslop

When they come out i can’t wait for you to eat your words. Fucking choke on them. 

****

Scott Hunter was having Thoughts. The whole locker room was buzzing, and whilst some were having perfectly normal conversations, the vast majority were discussing the interview. 

“Man, who knew Hollander had it in him.” Vaughney was saying, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“See I’m more shocked by Rozanov. That dude is a capital A asshole, but the guy in that interview? I could have a beer with that guy.” 

“Did you see see that Boiziau tweet that was like, mon capitaine is committing psychological warfare against Boston, or something?” 

“Dude yeah, so funny, except we also have to deal with him telling us it’s a skill issue.” 

“He said ‘damn, sucks to suck’ the last time we played. I took a shot on goal and it dinged the bar.” 

“God that guy is an asshole.” 

Scott zoned into the conversation. “You know, there was this one time you guys were duking it out with Marlow, and he came over to me and like, gestured at you guys and said ‘these are your monkeys, you deal with them!” 

“You’re not gonna try the accent?”

“Hell no.” 

He leaned in close and said in an undertone. “Have you heard what people are saying about Hollander’s impression?” 

Scott’s gut clenched. “I have, and we are not going to speculate.” 

“Oh no man, that’s not what I meant.” 

“But it was.” Scott said firmly. “I won’t pretend others won't be speculating, but regardless of its true or not, I can only imagine how terrifying that would have been if it were me when I was closeted. I’m choosing to believe Shane until further notice.” 

Sufficiently cowed, a few of the guys nodded their apologies. 

And look, Scott got it. If it was true, that was juicy gossip. And he knew his guys weren’t homophobes, they’d supported him from the second he came out. And if this were any other industry, where the fallout wouldn’t be so drastic, he could admit he would partake in the speculation. 

He could tell Kip wanted to ask him about it too. And if it had been one of their friends and The Kingfisher who’d almost let something slip about a potential partner, they’d be all over it. Discussing every which way til Sunday.

But this was hockey. This was people’s careers. Their lives. 

But despite all the shame and the guilt, Scott couldn’t stop having Thoughts. Specifically, about one All Stars many years ago, a number said in a rush. Specifically, about the lone fight Shane Hollander had ever gotten in on the ice. 

Specifically, about the thing people hadn’t commented on. How quickly they looked away from each other. Because when it was him and Kip, they’d had to look anywhere else because they knew that if they dared to look for longer than a few seconds the answers would be written all over their faces. 

He didn’t know what to think. 

But he wished them the happiness he had. 

****

Miffcarlow

@Shanehollanderofficial ik not my monkeys is your fault, and whilst i have forgiven you i am not over it. But are you to blame for him vibe checking us? 

Shanehollanderofficial

Yes :) 

Miffcarlow

Were u aware vibe checking us involves literally checking us into the boards

Shanehollanderofficial

I am now :D

ConnieConnorConnors

@Shanehollanderofficial i assume you’re responsible for him asking us for receipts 24/7

Shanehollanderofficial

Yes :)

Connieconnorconnors

I need you to know that he gets receipts conflated with the bill so when we miss a goal or fumble a pass he says ‘this is going on the bill’

Shanehollanderofficial

This only brings me more joy

Hammersmitty

@Shanehollanderofficial he changed fuck it we ball to fuck it we puck

Shanehollanderofficial

That sounds terrible

Hammersmitty

Well the fuck aware

Jeanjbhockey

Learning that mon capitaine has been waging slow psychological warfare against the Raiders by successfully brainrotting their captain has been the highlight of my week

Vaughneyyy

Except when you’re against Rozanov and he has the most cutting remark that is unfortunately also very funny

Jjboizhockey

No but thats the beauty of it, it’s a weapon against all other teams

Madi_loves_hockey

Who tf knew that seeing my hockey blorbos interact with each other online for the first time would cure my depression

Pucktuah

Patiently waiting for @shanehollanderofficial to explain these words to ilyarozanov

Ilyarozanov

@Madi_loves_hockey What if i am a hockey blorbo, how do i cure my depression?

Sinbinhoney

ILYA ROZANOV I AM GAGGED

****

Troy Barrett scrolled through his feed, which was filled almost entirely with clips of Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. He’d never had much interaction with either of them and all he really knew of them was their infamous rivalry. Which he supposed now was a friendship. 

An even more infamous friendship. The fans loved it, they couldn’t get enough of them together. Even Troy’s non-hockey obsessed acquaintances were getting Hollander and Rozanov all over their media. 

The clips he’d seen had made him laugh. Then they’d made him cry, and he couldn’t even be sure why. Maybe jealousy? Was he really so bereft of companionship that he cried from jealousy of male friendship? He couldn’t quite name it, but something about seeing Rozanov and Hollander wheeze with laughter, or say the other’s name exasperatedly, or share a look that you knew meant they knew what the other was thinking, left him hollow. 

He’d received messages from all manner of former acquaintances from former lovers to journos asking him how well he knew them, did he have any insider information, were they actually friends or was it a pr stunt, were they lovers, were they capitalising on the Scott Hunter fame by queerbaiting. 

He ignored them. 

What he couldn’t ignore was Dallas Kent. 

Dallas had been Troy’s closest friend for, well, what felt like forever. For their whole professional careers. They’d come up together, played together, won together. They’d gone through the highs and lows of elite sports together. There was history there. 

But as the years went on, Troy was becoming less and less able to justify it. His comments becoming more and more like a chafe than a balm. And when he felt hollow and breakable, Dallas knew how to shatter him. It probably wasn’t on purpose, they were friends. He didn’t mean it. 

Troy wasn’t ready yet to acknowledge it. How did you tell your oldest friend you couldn’t put up with it anymore? That you didn’t agree? That he was wrong? 

The Guardians wouldn’t stand for it. There was a code. He’d seen what happened when you broke the code, when you dared to dissent.

But he was tired. 

He was so so tired. 

****

Pikeslesbians

LOOK AT THEM

Pucksandpups

If you’d asked me a few hours ago I would have said Im a Rozanov girl through and through, the things Shane motherfucking Hollander did to me in this interview needs to be studied because WHO IS THIS MAN

HollyandRozie

Which cheeks. WHICH CHEEKS. Which Cheeks????

Melodyhopes

The way I went from crying tears of laughter to crying real tears when Shane and Ilya got real about chirps vs hate crimes. 

Madi_loves_hockey

THE WAY WE ALL KNOW WHICH TEAMS THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT 

Landryfandry

We do???

Madi_loves_hockey

Hello are you not on hockey reddit? People have things to say about Toronto rn

Voyageurgirl24

People have had things to say about Toronto for time

****

Harris’s little gay media degree having heart was possibly about to stop. This was both his dream and his nightmare. Look, Harris didn’t want to become a social media manager to post bland updates and other corporate non-sense. He wanted to make a brand come to life, he wanted people to be entertained and endeared, and he could admit it, he wouldn’t mind a minor scandal. 

Whatever was going on with Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, it was giving unmanaged. 

Unmanaged, endearing, entertaining, drama. 

It was his dream. 

They must have agents, and managers, and a whole slew of people who could oversee their public personas. In fact, For about a decade they’d both had fairly consistent personas, reputations, vibes in general. 

Ilya Rozanov: Arrogant, incredible player, harsh, brutal, efficient. A bit of an asshole but his team adored him. It gave you a sense of the man the world didn’t get to see. His interviews were peppered with callouts, insults, and smirks. He was hot, incredibly so, and known as a ladies man through and through. 

Shane Hollander: Humble, deft, graceful and quick, talented beyond reason, intelligent. His hockey knowledge surpassed more than the most well educated journalist who’d dedicated their lives and a few novels to hockey. His interviews were curated, real but calm. He was also gorgeous, the kind of beauty that always felt unobtainable, ethereal. 

Pretty simple, no? 

But now the data was skewed. It didn’t make sense anymore. 

Ilya Rozanov: Arrogant asshole who - who befriended another teenage boy because they couldn’t stop giggling? Rude, and brutal, and - and danced to 80s music? 

Shane Hollander: Humble, sweet, - devilishly handsome slut? Curated, calm, media trained - wheezing with laughter, crude jokes, and snarky? 

And to top it all off they were friends. Best of friends. With evidence to back it up. 

Harris had begun this all when he saw the live. He’d actually, embarrassingly, been watching Cliff Marlow’s live when Shane Hollander was discovered on Ilya Rozanov’s Boston penthouse apartment sofa. The scream he’d let out had startled his dogs and caused his mother to come running. 

He’d seen the videos Rozanov and Rose Landry had posted. He’d seen the statement Marlow had put out. He’d lavished in the excitement. 

And he thought that would be it. 

The interview was only the beginning, he could sense it. He could also see the trainwreck happening in slow motion. It felt like the trolley problem only he wasn’t even at the helm, he couldn’t change the course of anything. 

He was a useless bystander.

Unless?

****

Ilyarozanov

@madi_loves_hockey What if i am a hockey blorbo, how do i cure my depression?

Hockeyhips

Hi @ilyarozanov i cant tell if you were joking or not but i thought id just say that music really helped me

Camispammm

therapy helped me! It can take a few tries to find the right one :)

Giiiirrrlmkay

im an artist but having a hobby outside of my career helped me!

H0774nd3r

i find cleaning really meditative

Emilymadders

family - chosen or otherwise <3

****

Jane

I just feel like im taking you away from the team you love

and they love you

Lily

you are not

i am choosing you

i am choosing us, i am choosing this

Jane

but that’s what I mean

You are uprooting your life because of me

and i just sit pretty in Canada

Lily

I have uprooted my life before

is okay

and yes

you are very pretty

Jane

It’s a saying

What I mean is

[incoming call from Jane]

****

Crowell sat in his office. He’d just had yet another meeting about the Rozanov/Hollander situation. For all the supposed good they did for hockey, they sure knew how to ruin every carefully laid plan. 

The rivalry was perfect. It was natural even. Did Crowell particularly care if they were secret friends? No. Did he care that they openly, snidely, condescendingly, called out the supposed ‘pressure’ they’d received from the league to maintain said rivalry? Yes. 

How was he, or anyone else, to know they’d decided to be friends. 

He hadn’t necessarily believed the rivalry, but he hadn’t disbelieved it. He assumed the antagonism was normal, fucking natural, for two elite players on famously animous teams. And if they didn’t hate each other, then they probably didn’t stop to think about each other. 

But they’d made it through the livestream fiasco. Hurrah, Rozanov and Hollander were the best of friends, booey for them. 

There was some level of scrutiny on the league but no major fallout. 

All was well. 

The media moved on. The fans moved on. Crowell sighed a breath of relief and waited for the next cheating scandal, or drunken disorderly. As long as it wasn’t a bar brawl, they’d had enough of those. 

And then the interview dropped. 

Surely Crowell should be kept apprised of such things. The league was his, and by extension, its players. The many meetings he’d had about the progressing situation, had, unfortunately, highlighted the lack of oversight in such matters. Players had the ability to take any damn interview, presser, advertising gig they damn well pleased. 

Ridiculous. 

So now, due to the incompetence of some predecessor of his, he was now blindsided. 

And from the speculations of fans, old and new, all over various social media platforms, he was potentially facing another Scott Hunter situation. 

One Scott Hunter was enough. The man had blindsided everyone, the league, the fans, even his own teammates, with the stunt he pulled. The publicity of the act was what had saved him. 

And now it seemed Rozanov and Hollander were trying it too. 

Maybe. 

Hollander, he could see being of that persuasion. There were rumblings around Montreal that Crowell hadn’t paid much attention to until now. Foolish. He’d been preoccupied by the baseless rumblings about Kent. 

But he’d been back and forth with Theriault a couple times but was of course, not legally allowed to ask it outright. And Theriault could have no idea, or could be trying to protect his own hide. Crowell would have to strategise about how to approach the man. 

Rozanov on the other hand, well, it was just unlikely. He’d had a good Russian upbringing, and whilst Crowell thought the Russians were a bit savage, he could appreciate that they bred good hockey players. The savagery was good on the ice. 

Not to mention the rumours, well, rumours wasn’t a good word for it, it was a well known fact that Rozanov liked to sample the local puck bunny population almost everywhere he went. 

It seemed ridiculous. But he would have said the same a year ago if someone had asked him about Scott Bloody Hunter. 

Crowell needed contingency plans based on each possible direction this could head. As well as have someone draft an email about professionalism and representing the league even when not officially, representing the league. 

It was late, and Crowell needed a strong drink. 

****

Mrsmarlowhockey

@miffcarlow you said the bestie of my bestie is my bestie, is that not Shane? 

Miffcarlow

wdym

Mrsmarlowhockey

omg hi. So the bestie (Shane) of my bestie (Ilya) is my bestie (shane again) - it should be the bestie of my bestie’s bestie is my bestie aka the bestie (hayden) of my bestie’s (Ilya’s) bestie (shane) is my bestie (hayden again)

Miffcarlow

Im confused but ur probably right 

Parlowinlaws

Forget the Hollanov, give me the Parlow

H0774nd3r

The fact you went with Parlow when we could have had Mike smh

Parlowinlaws

No <3

Shane_can_get_it 

Okay I’m crying because we all remember when fucking Marlow (affectionate) obliterated Shane and Ilya just stared at him and didn’t leave the ice even though people were telling him to go and then he was clearly calling after him i- 

Hockeyhips

Well now im crying

Rozanovslop

Can you imagine seeing your secret boyf have his bell rung like that 

Boyaquariumenjoyer

Yall can we please respect their private lives, whether its a relationship or not im so tired of the toxicity of fans 

Pucktuah

Regardless of whether they’re friends or more, i cant imagine witnessing that and being expected to perform well at my job after that

****

Ilya stood alone in his Boston flat. He’d just goodnight to Shane, and once they’d hung up the call, the loneliness settled in. He had it all, the career, the team, the cups, the friends, the cars, everything. He even had the most incredible partner in the world. 

Then why did he feel so empty? 

Chapter End Notes

Anyway I’ve never seen sex and the city, that scene was based on that scene in B99

 

:) ;) :D B) <3 >:( :@ :3 $_$ ToT U_U <— all the emojis Ilya uses on a daily basis imo, and yes he does them analog style

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Summary

Some more angst, apologies, things are gonna be a lil tense but I try to keep some light moments in there too

Chapter Notes

Cliff knew when something was up with Roz. It wasn’t necessarily something he thought about and noticed, more that his subconscious recognised Roz was off, so enacted Roz Protocol 3. Totally separate of conscious thought. 

All this to say Roz was being his usual self, but different. Cliff couldn’t pinpoint how, exactly. Practice went as usual, he played like a demon and ribbed his teammates in between scrims. They had a pretend fight on the ice where they both dropped their gloves and tried to pull each other’s jerseys off until LeClaire corralled them into focussing again, both of them sweating and laughing. Sainty rolling his eyes, Connie booing and demanding a real fight. 

But something was off with Roz. 

And Cliff couldn’t tell if it was just a feeling he had or not. 

“Roz!” He called as they got changed. “Lunch?” 

Roz nodded absentmindedly, “Sure.” 

And that was a red flag. Right? Maybe. Cliff was also maybe reading into it. 

They ended up at a small cafe overlooking the water, sitting outside despite the chill in the air. Roz was quietly munching away on his sandwich which had more meat than bread. Was quiet the sign Cliff had noticed? But he hadn’t been quiet in practice. 

“What is wrong with you?” Ilya finally grumbled. “You are looking at me like I kicked puppy.” 

“Like a kicked puppy.” Cliff corrected automatically. 

“No, you are not sad. You are confused and,” he waved his hand Cliff’s face. “Making faces.” 

Cliff considered his next words, which he almost never did. He never usually worried about what he said. “Oh shit.” He said in realisation. “I’m gonna have to watch what I say.” 

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Mmm?” 

“So I don’t… bring up your relationship in a way that would be… noticed.” 

Ilya blinked at him. “Very subtle, good job.” 

Subtle wouldn’t be a word Cliff would have thought Ilya would know regardless of his native language, but he could sum that up to the Hollander Effect. 

“That’s not why I’m being weird. Something is up with you man, and I am not good enough at” he waved his hand vaguely, to encapsulate his meaning without the words. “To not just be blunt about it.” 

Roz looked away from him, out over the water. “Is hard, being far away.” 

Understanding flooded through Cliff, he missed Hollander. Of course. That made sense. “Long distance man, I couldn’t even begin to try it.” 

He waited for Roz to add more, but he didn’t. Just continued to watch the water. Ilya didn’t often need much prodding which was one of the things Cliff liked about him. Usually they could talk and talk, often about absolutely nothing, laughing and arguing in equal parts. 

“I know this is new, and different, but c’mon man, you’ve heard me tell you all the gory parts of my relationships. Fights, misunderstandings, romantic gestures, failed romantic gestures.” He goaded. “You can talk to me about it.” 

Ilya shot him a dry smile that didn’t quite light up his whole face. “You are good friend, Marly.” 

“I am your best fucking friend.” 

Ilya rolled his eyes, a small, smug smile gracing his lips. “You are still bitter I call Hollander my best friend.” 

“No.” Cliff said in a tone that indicated yes. 

And look, they all knew Svetlana was Ilya’s best friend, but it was fun to argue nonetheless. 

Cliff took another huge bite of his sandwich, at this point, it would be gone in another two mouthfuls. Which was impressive given its size. But he was an athlete, and athletes were meant to eat monstrously. 

“Can I tell you something without… judgement.” Roz said the word like it wasn’t quiet the right one but close enough. 

“I just found out you’ve been dicking Hol- er - Holly down for almost ten years. As long as it’s not an egregious crime I think we can agree there’s nothing you can do that I’ll judge you for.” 

“Judge is not correct word.” he sighed. “More like, be mad? Upset?” 

“Ah yeah, I promise not to be mad.” Cliff paused. “Maybe. Just tell me what you did, if you fucked with my stick tape again I’m going to be mad.” 

“No,” Ilya laughed. “Is nothing like that.” 

The silence stretched on for a moment, Cliff desperate to hurry Ilya but was somewhat self aware enough - or Rozanov-aware enough to wait for him to say whatever it was he needed saying. 

“We have been apart for many years.” Rozanov said eventually. “I don’t think I can do it for much longer.” 

Cliff’s brain burned with the information. What was Roz saying? “Are you breaking up?” 

Roz sent him a look so bone chilling that Cliff immediately made a mental note to never even joke about the idea. “Never.” 

“So if you’re not - oh.” And then it hit Cliff. Hit him like a tidal wave, cold and sobering. He wished it wasn’t the case, but there was disappointment there, stronger than other emotions. “You’re leaving.” 

Roz didn’t look at him. He looked out over the water instead. “I don’t know. Probably. Maybe. We’ve been discussing it for long time.” 

“But you love Boston.” Was all Cliff could think to say. And then what he couldn’t say, but you love this team, you love playing with us, with me. 

When Ilya turned to him, the look in his eye broke Cliff’s heart. “I love him more.” 

Ilya Rozanov’s voice broke when he said it and Cliff felt like he was in a movie. This was love. Real love. Intense, burn the world, screw the consequences, love. The love that he was too afraid to even think about wanting let alone having. 

“Fuck.” Was his eloquent response. 

Cliff felt like he was getting broken up with, in fact, it felt worse than his breakups. He’d never dated a woman longer than 6 months, never brought someone home. But he and Roz? They’d played together for nearly a decade. They’d been friends since the get. They were brothers. 

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath like his mama taught him. The anger, the rage, the heartbreak, it all goes into hockey Cliff, save the love for everything else. He’d been an enforcer his whole career, a fighter. What had started as youthful rage and turned into protecting his own. His teammates he loved on and off the ice. On it, the bloody fists defending his boys, and off of it, the loveable knucklehead. 

He needed to take the heartache out of it. Roz had just cracked his heart open in front of him, let him see part of that inner world he’d been hiding his whole life. His heart, his softness. 

“I’m happy for you.” Cliff said, opening his eyes. “You deserve to be happy.” 

Roz huffed a laugh but Cliff interrupted him before he could say something self-deprecating or deflect. 

“No, look at me Rozanov.” Cliff demanded. “You are my best friend. You are an incredible player, an incredible captain, and an incredible friend. I want only the best for you. I demand it. So if going to Montreal will make you happy -” 

“Fuck no!” Roz cut him off with a bark of a laugh, despite the wetness in his eye. “No, Marly, I would go to Ottawa." 

“Ottawa.” Cliff considered it. “Hmm.” 

“I know.” Roz sighed, knowing exactly where Cliff’s mind was going. 

“You won’t win anymore cups.” He said, aware he sounded like an asshole. 

“I know.” 

“Their rebuild isn’t going well.” 

“I know.” 

“Their coach doesn’t know what he’s doing.” 

“I know.” 

“And their -” 

“Marly. I know.” Ilya cut in again, sharply. “Trust me, I know.” 

Cliff let out a long, slow breath. “But you’d do it anyway.” 

“I would do anything at this point.” Roz agreed, resigned but not sad. Not bitter. “I’d give it all up, for him. My career, hockey, Boston, everything. I’ve already given up Russia.” 

And that last sentence hit Cliff like a train this time. Today was full of revelations. Of course he’d have to give up his home country. His parents were buried there, his living relatives were all there, more than likely he had friends there. 

Cliff didn’t visit his hometown much, but if he was told tomorrow he could never go back. It wasn’t something he could really conceive. His childhood home, his grandmother’s grave, the little church his sister got married in, the same church she christened her babies in. 

“Fuck dude.” Cliff said. 

“Russia isn’t evil place.” Ilya said softly. “There is government, there is laws, and then there is people. The people have very different views, many would wish me dead. Others would see me as hero.” 

“I know complicated.” Cliff murmured. America wasn’t exactly the land of the free they’d all been raised to believe. “It’s not like if you came out here it would all be sunshine and roses.” 

“Shane is still scared.” Ilya confessed, his voice tight like he had to say it but felt like he was betraying Shane by doing so. “He thinks too much, messes with his head.” 

“You’re not immune to that.” Cliff added. 

“Is different.” Ilya waved off Cliff’s comment, dismissing it. “Is like little animal in the headlights.” 

“Deer caught in headlights.” 

“Eh, more like rabbit.” Ilya said with a soft smile. 

“And what’s he willing to give up?” Cliff found himself asking. It wasn’t even something he really considered until the words were out of his mouth. 

And look, he liked Shane. He loved their love. He liked who Ilya was around Shane, who he could be around him. And Hollander was obviously an incredible hockey player, he was well known for his dedication and his kindness. Taking the time to train up rookies, no big ego that got in the way of being a decent person. All of those good things. 

But Cliff’s best friend was about to blow up his life for him, he wanted to make damn sure they were both willing to do anything for each other. 

Ilya was silent for a while and Cliff let him be. He’d asked a big question. 

“A year ago neither of us were willing to give up anything, we didn’t know we could.” He said eventually. “But is not so simple to keep score of who is giving up what. We are both giving up safety by choosing each other. We could get found out at any time, we almost did.” 

And that one hit like a bullet. Of course Cliff knew he’d almost outed them. He’d addressed it with himself, with each of them. Fucking fuck. He really could have destroyed their lives in that moment and they would have been completely unprepared. 

And this was them preparing. Moving closer to each other, having back up plans and committing to this. To them. Over hockey, despite hockey. 

Which, knowing what Cliff Marlow knew of Shane Hollander, was a big fucking deal. 

“And now.” Ilya made a noise Cliff could only describe as Slavic distaste for the limitations of the English language. “We are not knowing how to do this. We want to be together. We want to play hockey. Is both very new relationship and very old one. Either way one of us will have to give up things.” 

“You’ve already given up Russia.” Cliff pointed out. 

“That is not Shane’s fault. That is Russia’s fault.” Ilya bit back. “Canada was our solution for citizenship, and if I am to be Canadian I should play on Canadian team.” 

And Cliff hated that it made sense. “I don’t want you to go.” 

Ilya laughed. This was a sad laugh. “I am not dying, Marly.” 

Cliff laughed too. “Okay okay. So this is for certain then? You’re leaving, when? This season? Next?” 

“No, is not certain.” Ilya scowled. “I said, Shane is doing too much thinking. Now that everyone knows we are friends he’s worried how me moving to Canada would look.” 

“What? I mean. Actually that’s fair.” Cliff’s mouth ran faster than his brain, but now he could see where Hollander was coming from. “With the way the internet has been clocking you two.” 

“Clocking?” 

“Oh your boyfriend didn’t teach you that one?” Cliff said bitterly. “It means the fans are reading a lot into your interactions, your words, your mannerisms, and are making the correct assumption you two are actually together.” 

“Mmm yes.” Roz rolled his eyes. “Is because we ‘breached containment.’” 

Cliff snorted. “I actually heard Pickman talking about ticket sales going up since -”

They moved onto more neutral topics, Roz definitely in a better mood than he had been previously. A weight lifted not entirely from his shoulders, but he’d gotten to talk about it. One of Cliff’s many girlfriends had taught him how talking about something could help even if it didn’t fix. 

But now he knew the problem. Ilya Rozanov was yearning. 

****

Ilya felt lighter. Talking to Marlow had helped. He could believe that, he could convince himself of that. A problem shared was a problem… something. Was less problem. Yuna and David said it all the time. 

Then why did it feel like he was lying? 

He wasn’t. Their question mark of a future was an eternally stressful presence in both their lives. The imminent culmination of the stressful decisions was creating more cracks and fissures. This was all true. 

And he could make himself believe that was what was causing the hollowness in his chest. His heart still beat for Shane, he still loved and lusted, he could laugh and enjoy. But there was something dulling the edges of everything. 

Like a candle flickering out as soon as he -

But it was just the pain of missing Shane. It was the distance, the secrecy, the hiding. It was the stress and weight of decisions. It was just the current situation, once they got through it, it would be better. 

It would be. 

****

Harris Drover hit send. 

Or he was going to. Definitely. It wasn’t crazy what he was doing, was it? People did this all the time, shoot their shots. But like, professionally. An elevator pitch his film student ex-boyfriend had called it. 

He guessed it wasn’t the act itself that felt a little crazy. It wasn’t the frankly incredible proposal he’d written. 

No. 

It was who he had decided to send the proposal to. Research had told him who each player was represented by, interestingly months before their friendship was even public, Ilya Rozanov had fired his Russian agent and was now represented by Shane Hollander’s agent, Farah Habib. And Harris was purposefully NOT jumping to conclusions about that. 

But he wasn’t sending it to Yuna Hollander, Shane’s manager. He wasn’t sending it to Farah Habib, their agent. He wasn’t sending it directly the Shane Hollander, known type-a personality. 

No. 

Harris was sending it directly to Ilya Rozanov. 

His thinking here was. Well. He didn’t have a great reason. Partly he had to admit he was intimidated by contacting known powerhouses Yuna Hollander and Farah Habib. He’d seen Shane’s many many advertising campaigns, he’d heard the whispers about how the devil works hard but Yuna Hollander worked harder. 

There were also Shane’s contracts, the ones Farah Habib had negotiated herself with no mercy. If she could she would personally make sure any team he landed on hit the salary cap just by looking at him. 

So yeah, he put respect on their damn names. 

He should probably stop thinking of Shane Hollander in first name terms however, not very professional. 

So yeah, Harris wasn’t brave enough to send the proposal straight to the manager or the agent. Shane Hollander very much gave the impression he didn’t check his socials or his emails himself, or at least, not regularly. 

That left Ilya Rozanov. The wildcard in all of this. 

Harris didn’t stop to consider again, he just hit send. 

He stared at what he’d done, it was stupid. Embarrassingly so. It would more than likely get ignored, because who tf was he to slip into a professional athlete's dms? Not in that way. Oh god what had he done. 

The panic was rising until suddenly the little ‘sent’ turned into ‘delivered’ turned into ‘seen.’ 

And then, 

Ilya Rozanov

What is your dogs name?

****

Shane didn’t know where he currently stood with at least half the guys on his team. JJ and Hayden, he knew where they stood. Cluey, he unfortunately also knew where he stood. Firmly against. The rest? He couldn’t get a good gauge. 

Comeau and Drapeau he thought were closer to his side than not. But he couldn’t be sure. 

The thing was, no one had mentioned the interview. JJ told him later that apparently none of them had watched it, but Hayden thought that at least some of them had but were pretending they hadn’t. 

Which was fine. Shane didn’t expect them to interact with every ad campaign or whatever that he did. Especially interviews, he’d been interviewed countless times for hockey specific things, he’d also given speeches at various functions, and never expected the guys to keep up with all of it. 

But he guessed that maybe they’d have some sort of interest due to the whole Rozanov of it. Especially considering how they’d responded to Roz initially. 

Maybe this time it was because he was able to be a bit more himself than he usually let people see. 

Maybe this time, he’d been hoping to get to open up a bit more. 

But that’s clearly not what the Voyageurs wanted. 

Well, if Shane couldn’t be himself with them, he could at the very least be their captain. Their game tonight was against New York, and he liked New York. They were good guys for the most part. Especially as they all seemed to be completely fine with Scott, if not outwardly supportive. 

And a week later, they’d be playing Boston again. The way Shane missed Ilya was fully reminiscent of a drug. He craved him. Craved his voice, his body, his hands. God those incredible hands. And in recent years, he’d craved his conversation, his laughter, his presence. 

He missed the cottage, he missed knowing Ilya was nearby if not immediately in arms reach. 

“Hollander! Stop day dreaming!” Hayden called. 

Shane blinked, realising he was holding his shinguard in his hands and not putting it on. “Sorry guys, was busy thinking about how hard we’re going to embarrass New York tonight.” 

The boys cheered, and Shane could pretend everything was normal. That there wasn’t an unmentioned chasm forming. 

****

Scott breathed hard, panting over centre ice. Another loss to the Voyageurs, and just like that time however long ago, Shane Hollander drifted over to him. 

“Here to start another fight?” Scott huffed. 

Hollander gave a responding laugh, “shall we, for old times sake?” 

Scott rose out of his crouch to turn and looked over at Hollander, who stood with a lazy smile Scott could almost call Rozanov-esque. An odd burst of affection bloomed in Scott’s chest. 

“What was it you said to me last time?” Scott mused. “Go home, you’re 45 years old?” 

Now Shane really did grin, gliding even closer to Scott. He was completely unashamed, one might even say proud of himself. 

“Hmm, yes I did. And I’m totally sorry by the way.” Hollander said without an ounce of regret. “I really do admire that they let senior citizens out on the ice.” 

“Okay, fuck you.” Scott said, reaching out and pulling Shane into a friendly headlock. 

Friendly because Hollander was laughing. Scott unclipped Hollander's helmet to really get in there and ruffle his hair. 

“Hunter!” Hollander said between bouts of laughter. 

“Now, now, Hollander, have you never heard about respecting your elders?” Scott chided him. 

Scott could see Carter and Pike gliding by, driving by to check out the situation. At Hollander’s laughter the tension in their shoulders left. Carter rolling his eyes and clapping Pike on the shoulder. 

Scott could hear Vaughey say, “close one there, ey?” 

“I could take you.” Pike said in response. 

“Okay, okay.” Hollander laughed. “I’m very sorry Mr Hunter, sir.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, rook.” Scott said, letting him go finally and starting to skate away. 

“Rook!” Shane called out, voice full of offense. 

And Scott wasn’t sure what compelled him to say it, but he said, “some of us are heading to a bar later. The Kingfisher. I can text you the details, if you want?” 

Hollander looked stunned, and then seemed equally surprised when he said, “uh, sure.” 

****

Skip5eva

Omg Scott and Hollander getting into a playful tussle KILLED ME

Hollafan

CAN ANYONE LIPREAD

Shane_can_get_it

i am obsessed with the way you can hear Shane’s laughter on the broadcast i just wish you could hear what they were sayingggg

Pucktuah

I am feral for Shane Hollander befriending the best players in the league

Hunterslovers

Its giving brothers

Mrsmarlowhockey

god now im desperate to know what their original fight was about

admirals1483

Do we think Hunter and Hollander have ever hooked up? 

****

Jane

I’m going to a bar with Scott Hunter

Lily

Ew

why

to discuss how to be more boring?

Jane

haha very funny

i think its a gay bar

Lily

you should go

Jane

I am

I’m just nervous

Lily

take 1 shot when you get there to settle nerves

have one beer for rest of the night

take pike with you

Shane smiled at his phone. His heart warm, his breathing settling. Just talking to Ilya helped settle him in ways that nothing in his life ever had. 

Hunter had already texted him the bar’s address, which he’d of course googled. The Kingfisher, definitely a gay bar. But Scott had said Carter Vaughn was going, and the world knew he was friendly with Hunter so him being there wouldn’t be odd. It wouldn’t be noticed in any specific kinda way. 

“Hollzy, you know Hunter’s taken, right?” Cluetier joked as he unlaced his skates. 

Shane, on instinct, let out a huff of a laugh. “Yeah man.” 

Hayden, next to him, was staring at Cluetier with wide eyes. “Yeah, shockingly, gay men can be friends. I guess you wouldn’t get it, seeing as you are incapable of seeing women as anything other than something to fuck.”

Cluetier jumped to his feet, and Hayden did the same. The tension in the locker room rising exponentially. 

“Okay guys, enough!” Shane said, coming to his feet too, he was ignored. 

“Why you always so quick to defend him, huh Pike? He been keeping you satisfied while your wife pops out babies?” Cluetier spat at him. 

“Woah what the fuck!” JJ whirled around. 

“How dare you?” Pike threatened, taking a step toward Cluetier. His face wore an expression Shane rarely saw. Pure murderous rage. 

“That’s enough.” Shane called, his voice dropping in timbre. Low. Threatening. “We are a team, no more pot shots, I don’t want to hear it. Hit the showers, cool off, and fucking put it to rest.” 

Hayden did as Shane said, and after a moment, so did Cluetier. The other guys all dutifully looked away and got changed. It took a few moments but eventually chatter started back up again. 

JJ squeezed Shane’s shoulder and gave him a look of solidarity. 

God, after all that, Shane definitely needed a drink. Maybe he would actually take Ilya’s advice and do a shot. 

And you know what? Fuck everyone. He could go to goddamn gay bar if he wanted to. And he would. 

Once JJ and Hayden were done, he’d invite them with him

Chapter End Notes

This was late because I got inspired by a later scene that i am so so excited to get to. I’ve been writing this fic so far like teehee. The scene I just wrote? Kicking my legs and giggling.

But it’s not for a while. So sorry for the teaser.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Summary

Night out at the Kingfisher :)

Chapter Notes

I’m so excited for where this fic is heading :)) I love seeing y’all in the comments trying to figure it out but none of you have ittttt

Kip Grady was already 3 shots, one margarita, and actively drinking a sex on the beach by the time the hockey boys rocked up. The Kingfisher was accidentally now the host of several hockey players on a regular basis, which was fine because they were hot. In that rugged lumberjack way. 

They’d had some complaints about the invasion of the straights until they’d received a bollacking in the form of ‘we should be encouraging professional athletes to be supportive of queer players not barring them for our spaces’ from the majority of the patrons. 

All said, Scott’s teammates were good allies. Especially once Kip's friendship group had initiated the ‘adopt a hockey player’ initiative. Aka, find common ground and slowly ingratiate them in queer culture until they realise we’re all just people. 

Kip had intended to adopt Scott as his hockey player but apparently he didn’t count because ‘he’s already gay’ and ‘you're in a relationship.’ 

So Kip had yet to adopt a hockey player, that was, until Shane Hollander walked through the door. 

He knew who Hollander was, he’d been watching hockey with his dad on and off for years, and now he dated Stanley Cup winner Scott Hunter. So yeah, Kip knew who Hollander was. And he’d always made Kip curious. 

1. Because he was hot as fuck
2. Like insane levels of hot
3. Because he’d gotten into a fight with Scott
4. Because Scott refused to tell him what the fight was about

So curious was almost an understatement. 

And then the whole Rozanov whirlwind, and interviews, and oh my god the old man jokes. Sprinkle in some rumours and speculation and altogether that led to a very curious Kip. 

He had not been expecting Scott to have a playfight with him on the ice. 

Nor had he expected Scott to tell him he’d invited Shane Hollander to the Kingfisher, but there he was. Walking through the door, flanked by Pike and Boiziau. 

The three Voyageurs entered with all the confidence of newborn lambs, confused but they’ve got spirit. Scott was already heading over to them, genial smile on his face and Cater Vaughn, his own little lamb, ambling on beside him. 

“Hollander! Pike, Boiziau, glad you guys could make it.” Scott was saying as Kip sauntered up. 

Both Pike and Boiziau offered a thumbs up and polite smile in return, respectively. Hollander had no such qualms. “Surprised to be invited, especially after embarrassing you so much on the ice.” 

Pike and Boiziau gave Hollander twin looks of horror and shock at his words, but Vaughny just threw his head back and cackled. Even Scott allowed a small, annoyed smile. 

Before the conversation could linger on hockey, Kip jumped in. “Kip Grady, Scott’s boyfriend.” 

The Voyageurs each shook his hand, and Kip noted, with no weirdness to it. Like they met professional hockey player’s gay lovers regularly. They each grabbed his hand and smiled at him, warmly. 

“Hollander, it’s nice to meet you. I’m adopting you.” Kip smiled, swaying slightly. 

“Excuse me?” Shane blinked at Kip, his polite Canadian smile stuck in place. 

Scott snorted and rolled his eyes as Vaughny jumped in, “it’s tradition here at The Kingfisher. All hockey players get adopted by a patron. It seems Kip has chosen you, Hollander.” 

“Aha,” Hollander gave a nervous laugh. “What does being adopted involve?” 

Kip held out a hand, “come find out.” 

The first thing Kip did was show him around and give him a brief history of the pub. Next, he introduced the barstaff. Pike and Boiziau were soon adopted by two of Kip’s friends and the next thing they all knew the Voyageurs were being taught how to give blowjobs. 

Okay technically, they were being taught how to take blowjobs. Three shots were lined up on the bar and the big strong hockey players stood with their hands clasped behind their backs staring down at the three shots lined up on the bar. 

Carter, Scott, and a few other assorted Admirals, plus Kip, Maria, Elena, and a few other assorted Kingfisher patrons, all stood around watching. Cheering. Heckling. Laughing. 

“It’s quite simple.” Kip explained, placing his own shot on the counter and then holding his hands behind his back. “No hands, you gotta take your shot. Obviously, the best way to that is -” 

Kip leaned over, placed his mouth around the entire rim of the shot glass, got a good grip on it, and then stood up and flicked his head back, draining the shot of tequila down his open throat. 

“And there you go!” He grinned, taking the glass out of his mouth and placing it on the bar. 

The Voyageurs looked at him with a range of impressed, fearful, curious, and determined. The Admirals behind them were shuffling about and chuckling with an alcohol laced giggle. 

“We’ve all done it!” Carter called gleefully. “I did it second try!”

“I’m ready.” Hollander said, decided. “Boys?” 

Hayden Pike looked like he had no idea how he ended up here. “Watching Jackie do this ten years ago is what led to us going home together. Let’s fucking do this.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Lou, a punk inspired lesbian and adopter of Hayden Pike, called. “Do it for your wife!” 

Boiziau groaned. “Let’s get it over with.” 

As one Pike and Boiziau leaned over, Pike was the first to get his mouth around the glass. Pike tried to go to fast and ended up spilling it before he could flip his head up, cursing as he caught the glass before it fell to the floor. 

Boiziau was still struggling to get the right angle to get his mouth over the glass well enough to hold it in his mouth and pulled back to swear at it. 

“Fucking how??” He asked as the watchers laughed. 

This was when Hollander, smirking at watching his friends, showed them how it was done. He leaned over and in one smooth motion got the glass in his mouth and like a model tipped his head back to drain the liquid down his throat. The cords of his neck letting them all know he was swallowing it. 

Kip’s mouth dropped open. That was the second hottest thing he’d ever seen, the first was when Scott, after 3 attempts, had managed to perfect the move. There was a pause, one of shock, surprise, and arousal, then the Admirals were hooting and hollering, applause and catcalls breaking out from the assembled patrons. 

Boiziau and Pike stared at Hollander like they’d never seen him before as he placed the glass down on the table, tongue poking out to lick his lips. 

“That was gross.” He finally said. “Never choosing sambucca again.” 

Boiziau scowled. “Ew, why would you choose sambucca?” 

“I don’t like tequila.” Shane replied like it was obvious. 

“There are so many options for shots.” Pike said, shaking his head at Hollander. 

“How about this, you two can judge me when you can do the trick.” Hollander shot back. 

Buoyed by the ‘ooo’s of the crowd, Boiziau and Pike got to work, this time with Hollander heckling and giving advice in equal parts.  

****

Svetlana Vetrova was scrolling her instagram when she came across Carter Vaughn’s video of Shane taking a very, very slutty shot. She sent it off to Ilyusha. He would absolutely love it, and also be tortured by it, it was perfect. 

Then she told her driver change of plans, she wasn’t heading back to her hotel just yet. Ten minutes later she was pulling up to The Kingfisher. 

Her being in New York was happenstance, happy happenstance, but happenstance nonetheless. And walking through the doors she couldn’t be happier with her circumstances. 

Shane Hollander, uptight, demure, awkward little Shane that her darling Ilyusha was absolutely smitten with, was drunk. Currently yelling over the music to Carter Vaughn and Matti Jalo. 

Shane noticed her almost immediately, doing a double take when he saw who had come through the door. His eyes widening and a beaming grin that was pure sunshine gracing his lips. 

“Lana!” He yelled over the music, throwing his arms wide open. 

Svetlana found herself matching his grin at his warm welcome and running over to leap into his arms like he was Ilya. She crashed into him and gave him a tight hug, what she did not expect was for him to lift her up and spin her. 

It was such an Ilya move it made her laugh. 

“Shane!” She laughed. “You are drunk.” 

Shane put her down but did not release her from his embrace. “Mmm maybe.”

Svetlana put her hands on his face and pulled him in for some cheek kisses. Once she’d finally been allowed to meet Shane, they’d hit it off right away. Of course, the goddess that is Rose Landry being present had helped. The four of them clicked like it was group that had always meant to exist. 

“What are you doing here?” Shane asked her. 

“I’m in New York for work, I was on my way to my hotel when I saw your slutty slutty shots on Vaughn’s instagram and thought I’d come over and make Lily jealous.” She told him honestly, using Ilya’s fake name to avoid accidentally inferring anything between him and Shane. “You have to come dance with me.” 

“I am no good at dancing, ask Rose.” Shane shook his head at her, but he didn’t look panicked. He looked like that perfect level of drunk where everything was nicely hazy. 

Svetlana was known to be a stubborn woman. She also prided herself on getting what she wanted. And right now, she wanted to dance with Shane Hollander and make Ilyusha die of jealousy. 

“I will teach you.” She pulled out of their embrace. 

She took his hand and pulled him to an open space in the bar, sending a wink at Vaughn and Jalo, who were watching the interaction with keen interest. Shane allowed himself to be pulled along. 

She faced him at first, got on her toes to whisper in his ear, “just pretend I am Lily.” 

The music playing was not typical club style dance music, and Svetlana suspected that was a large contributing factor to Shane agreeing to dance with her. It was an old song, Cry to Me by Solomon Burke. It was slow, but it was sensual. 

Shane stood there, facing Svetlana with his arm around her waist. She moved against him, swaying gently, 

“He’s gonna be so mad.” Shane murmured. 

And she had to laugh. Then Shane was moving, swaying his hips with hers. She hitched a leg up on his hip, his hand coming to hold her knee automatically. Svetlana smiled at him, then lent into a deep backbend. Folding basically in half before slowing rolling back up. 

She was dancing on him more than they were dancing together. Dipping into another backbend with a lazy, coy, smile. 

They danced for a while, before Svetlana finally pulled away from him. “I need a drink!” 

Shane gave her a half bow, more of a tip of the head and towed her to the bar. At the bar was Scott Hunter and the man he’d kissed on TV. The man, who was also ridiculously hot, was also incredibly drunk. 

She let Shane order as she held her hand out. “Scott Hunter, I am a fan.” 

Hunter, ever the well mannered captain, took her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, this is my partner, Kip.” 

Kip was even more drunk than Hollander, bordering on sloppy, but seemingly happy and in good spirits. “You are gorgeous! Shane, is this your girlfriend?” 

Shane whipped his head around, both Svetlana and Shane staring at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter. 

“No.” Shane said as he tried to stop laughing. “No, ah, she’s beautiful, but no.” 

“His Lily would kill me.” Svetlana patted Shane’s arm. 

“So, there’s a Lily?” Kip prodded. “Is she your girlfriend?” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Shane said firmly, and truthfully. 

Vaughn and Jalo joined them at the bar, ordering their own drinks as Shane and Svetlana’s arrived. Shane had ordered for her, but she took a trusting sip anyway and was delightfully surprised. 

“Ah, the good Russian Vodka! Shane darling, you know my drink order.” Svetlana said, her hand over her heart. 

“You’re Russian?” Jalo said. 

“Could you not tell by the accent?” Kip gave a drunken laugh. 

Shane rolled his eyes, “my apologies, I have not introduced my guest properly. Everyone, this is Svetlana Vetrova, daughter of Sergei Vetrov and childhood best friend of Ilya Rozanov.” 

“Oh your Rozanov’s girl!” Vaughn said, clicking his fingers in recognition. 

“I am no one’s girl.” She said sweetly. 

“Sergei Vetrov is your father?” Jalo's jaw dropped open. “Holy shit.”  

Svetlana smiled the smile she always smiled in this situation. It wasn’t uncomfortable, she was used to it. She was proud of her father and all that he’d achieved. That didn’t mean it didn’t get a little tiring. 

“Da.” She waved her hand. “I am here to see Shane, and make Ilyusha jealous that he is stuck in boring Toronto tonight.” 

Shane laughed and slung an arm over her shoulder, it was easy, comfortable. She was used to being surrounded by hockey players, had been her whole life. And Shane treated her more like one of the boys than he did his own team. 

“God, you cannot imagine the shock when we found out you and Rozanov were friends.” Jalo told Shane. “It was all the locker room could talk about for like three weeks.” 

“Fucking Marlow.” Shane swore with an easy smile. 

“If he wasn’t so hot, I’d be more angry at him.” Svetlana said. 

“He’s single.’ Shane slid a grin her way. She winked back at him. 

“Shane, if you're setting up the hot single women you inexplicably hang around with, could you tell Rose Landry I’m single?” Jalo said in a tone that was meant to be jokey but also partially serious.  

“What do you mean, inexplicably?” Kip said, words not very clear. “Shane Hollander is fucking hot.” 

“This is true.” Svetlana nodded. “He is the hottest hockey player no contest.” 

“I am?” Shane tilted his head. “I’m going to tell Ilya you said that.” 

She snorted. “I’ve told him that myself many times.” 

Shane grinned at her and pulled her into a hug, which she reciprocated. Drunk Shane was a treat, a rare, golden treat. Ilya was going to be so so jealous.

”You’re wrong though.” He whispered in her ear. 

They broke away with another knowing laugh shared between them.  

“This is such a weird night.” Scott said from where he was leaning against the bar. “A good night, but so weird.” 

Boiziau and Pike appeared out of the crowd as he said this, both looking rumpled and drunk. Pike had splashes of alcohol down his top that Svetlana knew was from his failed attempts at the slutty shots from earlier. They both also had rainbow flags face painted onto their cheeks. 

“You’re telling me.” Boiziau said, “I have never seen our Shane dance like that.” 

“I don’t think I have ever danced like that.” Shane admitted. 

“I have that effect on men.” Svetlana smirked, tongue darting out to run along her lip. 

She wasn’t planning on getting laid tonight, but she enjoyed how the straight men present all followed her tongue with her eyes. 

The conversation moved on, and she soon started giving Shane water to stop him getting too drunk. Ilya had told her he can suddenly panic when he doesn’t have complete control of a situation, and a night out in a gay bar was definitely a situation where Shane Hollander would feel out of control. 

In fact, Shane had only managed two glasses of water before things would take a turn. 

“I didn’t believe in ho-era Shane until I saw him take that shot.” Vaughn was saying. “I mean, Shane Hollander?” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “I’m not a ho. The interview was… misinterpreted.” 

“Uh, sure, we all saw you and Svetlana dancing.” Jalo added. 

Shane took a moment to consider. “I’m a monogamous ho. I’m a ho for one person at a time.” 

“If that’s the case, why are you so adamant Lily isn’t your girlfriend, but you and Svetlana are determined to make her jealous tonight?” Kip said with a glint in his eye. 

“Oh my god, Lily?” Boiziau gasped, his drink slopping in his cup. “Boston Lily? I completely forgot about Boston Lily.” 

Svetlana felt the tension enter Shane’s body from where he stood next to her, heard the sharp inhale. Saw the way Pike’s eyes widened and stared at Boiziau in panic. 

“But wait.” Boiziau continued, his head tilting to the side as the cogs began to turn in his head. “I thought she was a cover for -”

Pike slammed his hand over Boiziau mouth. “Okay that’s enough of that!” 

“Boiziau, these are inside thoughts.” Svetlana said sweetly, threateningly. 

Boiziau, drunk and unaware of the trap he’d just stepped in, just looked confused behind Pike’s hand. Next to her, Shane was still tense, his breathing carefully controlled in a way that let Svetlana understand it was actually panic. Fuck. 

“Okay, clearly there’s things we’re not supposed to know about Lily.” Scott said diplomatically. “We won’t ask questions. How about we disperse and get hammered?” 

Pike grabbed Boiziau by the arm and pulled him away immediately, probably to do damage control on Shane’s behalf. Svetlana knew Pike and Marlow knew, but she didn’t think anyone else did. 

Luckily, Vaughn and Jalo just looked confused over what had just occurred. Unfortunately, Hunter seemed to have some sort of a clue, and Kip mostly just looked drunk. 

“Let’s go get some air.” Svetlana grabbed Shane’s hand, aware of how it would look to have Shane Hollander be led out of a bar by Svetlana, especially after the dancing they’d been doing. 

Shane followed easily. Leaving out the front entrance into the blissfully cold New York, Svetlana directed him into the alley nearby, which was thankfully not as gross as she expected it to be. 

“Do you want me to call Lily?” She asked. 

Shane shook his head. “I’m fine, I just, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

Svetlana watched him clearly not be fine, but she didn’t know what to do in this situation. She knew how to pull Ilyusha out of his head, how to raise his spirits when he was low, but she didn’t know how to get someone to not panic. Ilya didn’t panic, Sasha didn’t panic, she didn’t panic. Not like Shane panics. 

They were interrupted by Kip appearing with two glasses of water. “Here, this might help.” 

Shane took his, taking a long drink of it. “Fuck.” 

“You don’t need to say anything.” Kip continued, alcohol loosening his tongue, but his eyes had cleared a lot. Something had sobered him. “I assume Svetlana knows, and Pike, but probably no one else here.” 

Shane stared at him, eyes pleading. It looked like he knew where Kip was going and was begging for him not to say it. 

“You had the same look Scott used to get.” Kip said sadly with a soft sigh. “Is Lily a man?” 

Shane looked like his strings had been cut, he was breathing heavily but unable to deny it for some reason. Svetlana had no idea what to do. How to help. How to fix this. She shouldn’t have come, this wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t. 

Kip reached out and pulled Shane into a tight hug. A hug that Shane collapsed into, as though he was finally letting something go. It was something Svetlana understood, but would never understand. Svetlana kept an eye on the entrance of the alleyway, but they were completely alone. 

“It’s okay.” Kip was saying to Shane. “I’ve adopted you, remember? I’ve got you.” 

Svetlana couldn’t leave, this moment was for them and she felt like she was intruding, but she had to stay. She had to keep an eye out, watch their backs. 

“I was Lily, not that long ago.” Kip comforted Shane. “I’m not telling you when or how to come out. But your friends will want to be a part of that, they want to know you.” 

“They know. My team knows I'm…” He cleared his throat, unable to say it even here. “Not about Lily though. They don’t know about Lily.”  

“Oh, Shane.” Kip sighed, caressing Shane’s hair. 

“There’s a reason.” Shane whispered. “There’s a reason I only brought Hayden and JJ tonight.”

Kip pulled back and held Shane’s jaw in his hand. “If you can bring JJ here, then maybe it’s time to trust him before he puts it together himself. You trust him. You know him.” 

Shane nodded. “I do, but it’s not just my secret. Lily is…” 

Shane glanced at Svetlana. 

“Lily is a well known friend of mine and Rose’s.” Svetlana provided. “His name is known.” 

 Kip sighed. “Ah I see, someone famous.” 

“Don’t tell him that, it will go to his head.” Svetlana found herself saying, trying to bring some levity to the situation. 

“Well, me and Scott are always here for you Shane, you hear me?” Kip told him as they pulled apart. “If you wanna double date or just vent on the phone. Anything. Get my number from Scott because I don’t think I remember it right now.” 

Shane and Svetlana both gave small laughs at that. Kip headed back in the bar, Svetlana left Shane outside for a moment while she went in to retrieve Pike and Boiziau. It was time they all went to bed. 

She put them all in a cab back to their hotel before calling her own. She wanted to call Ilya, but Shane was most likely going to soon if he hadn’t already. 

Instead she went back to her own hotel, showered off the evening, that despite the ending, had still been a good one. She scrolled through her various social medias, sharing her favourite videos and photos from the night on her stories. 

Her favourite photo, a photo that one of the Hockey boys had airdropped to her, of her and Shane both laughing, clutching onto each other’s arms, was posted onto the grid. She captioned it, 

Moy Bratik

***

Shane woke up with a headache and an upset stomach. There was water by his bed and an aspirin. He had vague memories of Hayden laying them out for him last night saying, ‘trust me, you’ll want it.’ 

And he did. He popped the aspirin and downed the glass of water. Now to find his phone. Hayden, no, JJ had been the one to plug all their phones in before heading back to his room. The question was where. 

He rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom, and gave into the temptation for a shower before finding his phone. Brushing his teeth and showering improved his mood tenfold, and the nausea receded. 

This was one of the many reasons he didn’t drink. Shane had gotten drunk so few times he could count them on one hand. Granted this was time number five, the next time would move him onto a second hand. 

The sound of a phone vibrating drew him back to the bedroom. Hayden was passed out completely in his bed, and next to him was both his and Shane’s phone. 

Lily

The caller ID read when Shane unplugged his phone. 

“Morning.” Shane rasped into the phone. 

“You are cruel.” Ilya said on the other end. “How could you do this to me?”

“Ilya, I just woke up, I’m having the worst hangover of my life, be nice to me.” 

“Oh moy lyubimy,” Ilya sighed on the other end of the phone. “I will save my betrayal for later. Have you had water?” 

“Water, aspirin, shower.” Shane confirmed. “I don’t even remember all of last night. I remember… Lana showing up.” 

Ilya scoffed on the other end. “Yes, and I’m mad about that too.” 

“Too? What else did I do?” Shane groaned. 

“You did slutty slutty shots.” Ilya said petulantly. “Everyone has seen, Vaughny posted it on every social he has.” 

And the memory hit Shane like a truck. He’d felt fine attempting it because he was doing it with Hayden and JJ, except they sucked at it. They couldn’t do the trick, embarrassingly uncoordinated. 

But Shane could. He could fit his lips over the glass easily, and he could tilt his head back and open his throat for the alcohol to run down like he’d done it a thousand times. Because he had with something bigger that tasted 100x better. 

“Fuck Shane, was so hot.” Ilya groaned on the other end. “You will have to do for me.” 

“I’m never drinking again.” Shane vowed. 

“Do it with water, I don’t care.” 

And despite the hangover, and the embarrassment, Shane smiled. Because Ilya could alway made Shane smile. 

“When did you learn to dance?” Ilya demanded, ploughing on. 

“I didn’t and I don’t.” Shane argued. “Last night was…” 

“Was hot and sexy.” Ilya supplied. “With my Sveta. You say no threesomes and then you dance all sexy on my best friend with benefits?” 

“Not enjoying the present tense there.” Shane hummed, moving to sit in his bed.. 

“Pah! Current best friend, ex benefits.” Ilya grumbled. “Is illegal. It is a crime, what you do.” 

“I was channeling you.” Shane said. “I remembered what it was like to see you dance with people, thought about how it felt when you grab my hips.” 

Ilya’s breathing sharpened on the other end. Shane allowed himself a smile, ran his tongue over his lips and said, “and I thought about how mad it would make you.” 

There was silence for a moment. “No no, Hollander, I am the menace in this relationship. Is me. I am the one who posts sexy videos and then comes home to you hot and wanting.” 

“Are you saying you’re hot and wanting right now?” Shane said quietly, glancing over to the completely passed out, dead to the world, Hayden in the bed next to him. 

“Always, moy lyubimy.” Ilya sighed. “I cannot be mad at you. You have given me excellent material to work with.” 

Shane flushed at that. Despite knowing Ilya fantasized about him, despite fantasizing about Ilya himself, he still could blush about it. 

“So you had a good night?” Ilya asked. “You had your shot, and then your beer? And you have hangover? Pfft.” 

“No, I ended up having about three shots because Hayd and JJ demanded I teach them the trick. They both just about did it in the end.” Shane smiled, the memories coming back to him. “Then I think I was drinking vodka and ginger ale.” 

“Aw, it is us.” Ilya smiled down the phone. 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Sure.” 

“So my Shane got drunk. Without me.” Then Ilya gasped. “With Scott Hunter!” 

“Shut up, you like Scott Hunter.” Shane said, to rile Ilya up even more. 

“This is a lie. He is old and boring.” 

“He wasn’t boring last night.” Shane laughed for a moment, to rile Ilya up even more, until the memory hit him. “Oh god.” 

JJ was going to figure out who Lily was. Kip knew Lily was a man. Scott at least suspected. Vaughny and Jalo were there too, they at least knew something weird was up. Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck-

“Shane.” Ilya’s voice crackled down the phone. “Sweetheart. Breathe.” 

Shane gasped. Ragged, harsh. But he could do it again. He could breathe. “They know. They all know.” 

“Who? Who knows? What happened?” 

“Lily. We were joking about Lily and JJ started to figure it out.” Shane gasped into his phone. “And Scott clearly knew something was up so Lana took me outside and then Kip came out and then he said he knew Lily was a man and I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t say anything because I was drunk and he just knew. He saw my face and he knew. He could see it on my face.” 

It was then that Shane realised Ilya was softly said his name, and ‘breathe’ intermittently. He was still listening, but he was trying to gently coax Shane back. 

“Okay, Kotik, is all okay.” 

“It’s not.” Shane whispered. 

“We’ll make it through, no matter what happens.” 

“I'm being serious.” Shane couldn’t see how Ilya could be so calm right now. Everything was falling apart and he knew Ilya was just trying to soothe him, but how was he not panicking? 

”I am serious. If we hide forever, or tell the world right now, I am with you. I will quit hockey or fight to stay. Whatever you want.” He said it so simply, so - not unbothered, because he did care - but rather, he said it like he meant it. Like he was okay with whatever scenario happened. 

And it broke Shane’s heart, because he knew he was the problem. Ilya would do anything for him, but fear had Shane in a chokehold and he just couldn’t. 

Brokenly, he whispered, “It shouldn't be only my decision.” 

Down the other end of the phone, Ilya said, “I mean… I'm yours, yes? To protect that, I will do anything.” 

“You’re mine.” Shane said, heart beating wildly. He was so in love with this man it hurt. 

“Yes.” Ilya replied with a smile in his voice. 

“Oh my god, I love you so much.” Shane said, voice thick with emotion. 

“I love you too.” 

Ilya got Shane back to a calmer state, Shane was able to tell him more calmly what had happened. Post panic he was able to think about the situation more clearly. It wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it had been, but it still wasn’t ideal. 

“Kip understands discretion." Ilya soothed, again. “Better than anyone.” 

“I didn’t tell him not to tell Scott.” Shane realised. 

“Ah yes, and Scott Hunter would definitely out you.” Ilya said dryly. 

Now that Shane wasn’t panicking, he could hear the words and just get annoyed. “Shut up. Don’t even joke about that.” 

Hayden finally started stirring next to him, groaning and swearing as he woke up. His hand fumbled for the aspiring and water next to him, he downed both as soon as he sat up. 

“Fuck me.” Hayden groaned. 

Shane glanced over, and said into the phone, “hey, Hayden is waking up.” 

Hayden looked at him blearily, “is this Rozanov?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Tell Pike to go away.” Ilya grumbled on the other end. 

“I will not be telling him that.” Shane said fondly.  

Hayden scowled. “Is he being mean again?” 

“Yeah.” Shane said, just as fondly as before. 

“I’m too hungover for this.” Hayden said, flopping back down on the bed. “God what even was last night? You were really feeling it.” 

“I was, until I wasn’t.” Shane muttered. “Hence why I don’t drink.” 

“Yeah, what happened at the end there again?” Hayden rubbed his temples as his brain struggled through his hangover. 

“Put me on speaker.” Ilya demanded. 

Shane debated not doing that, but decided it was better than being the messenger so acquiesced. “You’re on speaker now.” 

“Pike, how much do you trust Boiziau?” Ilya said immediately. 

Shane sucked in a breath as Hayden sat back up, confused frown on his face until realisation hit. 

“Oh shit, you guys are gonna tell him?” 

Hayden’s eyes bored into Shane’s, but Shane was just as shocked by the apparent situation. 

“I think so. Maybe.” Ilya said on the other end of the phone. “It will depend on you.” 

“Me?” Hayden’s eyes bugged out of his head. 

“Shane is too - he is not able to.” Ilya huffed. “I need someone else who knows Boiziau to let me know, is he trustable?” 

“Trustworthy.” Shane said absently. 

“I -” Hayden suddenly looked panicked. “yeah?” 

“I need you to be certain, Pike.” Ilya said sternly. 

“God, I don’t know.” He spluttered. “This is a lot of pressure to put on somebody!” 

The ridiculousness of it all hit Shane and suddenly he was laughing. Uncontrollably. It was just so stupid. “Imagine how we’ve felt for the last ten years!” 

Hayden and Ilya were silent for a moment, and then suddenly they were both laughing too. Not quite as hard as Shane was, but they were all laughing together. 

“I’m going to say yes.” Hayden said eventually. “He’s always been one of your defenders, your friends. The Rozanov of it all might be a surprise, but I think he can handle it. And if not, he owes me for keeping his secret about - well. Anyway, if he’s not okay with it I have ways of keeping his mouth shut.” 

Shane was silent for a beat. Grateful for having the most incredible best friend and had no idea how to express it. Or cope with it. 

“Shane?” Ilya asked. “Do you want to tell Boiziau?” 

Shane took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah okay, let’s do it.” 

“Now?” Hayden’s face made another complicated series of expressions. 

“Better to do it now, I think.” Ilya said lightly. 

“I’ll put it off otherwise.” Shane agreed. 

Hayden scrambled off the bed, fell over briefly, then got back to his feet. “I’ll go get him. That’s okay right? Are we doing it in here or getting coffee?” 

“Here.” Shane said immediately, he wasn’t about to say it in public where he could be overheard. Especially if JJ had a big reaction. Ha, if. When JJ had a big reaction. “And yeah, go get him.” 

Hayden slipped into presentable looking clothes, but didn't even stop to wash his face before he left the room. The rainbow smudged but present on his face. 

“Do you want me to be on the phone?” Ilya asked. 

“No, I’d like it to be just us three.” Shane said, then hastily added, “if that’s okay?” 

“My love, of course it’s okay.” Ilya soothed. “I’m so happy that you’re letting more people in.” 

Shane barked a laugh. “It’s not by choice! This is a necessity. This is because it’ll be worse if he figures it out himself.” 

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then a sigh. 

“Okay, Shane.” He said eventually. “I will see you soon, okay?” 

Shane smiled. “I can’t wait.” 

Ilya’s warm chuckle sounded and released some of the tension in Shane’s body. “So needy.” 

His stomach tightened, and allowing himself to be honest, he admitted, “Yeah.” 

Ilya’s breath hitched. Then he groaned. “I love it when you don’t fight how much you want me.” 

Shane bit his lip. “Well, how about I hang up, you rewatch those videos from last night, and think about how I might recreate them for you next week?” 

“Fuck.” Ilya moaned. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” 

Shane’s smile grew. “I love you too.” 

They hung up, Shane feeling light after his conversation with Ilya. God, what a 24hrs he’d had. 

There was a knock at the door and the lightness started to drift away, oh god what had he just agreed to? He took another grounding breath, and focussed on the lightness Ilya gave him. 

“Hey bud.” Hayden said as he entered the room, JJ behind him. 

“What’s going on?” JJ said, half awake and definitely just as hungover as Shane and Hayden were. 

Shane took another breath. “I want to tell you about Lily.” 

Chapter End Notes

Svetlana and Shane’s dance scene heavily inspired by the film Dirty Dancing. I just like to torture Ilya :)

Dw Shane and Ilya will be reuniting next chapter, I’m sure only good things will happen and no one will be rude or annoying :)

Chapter 10: Do I look like I give af??

Chapter Summary

The good, the bad, the horny

Chapter Notes

Apple Gs for this being so late. I had planned to upload on Sunday but SOMEONE decided to not work for a few hours which was my only window to do so as I’ve been doing a lot of international travel this week. Complete with visa issues, government phone calls, and boldly reading a plane crash fic while on a plane.

Enjoy this 10k chapter as - I’m forgetting the word. Recompense? A gift?? As a sorry? What’s the worrrrrd

JJ was honestly still drunk when Hayden knocked on his door, and very disorientated. Patrice had thrown a pillow, and then the tissue box on the bedside table, and then eventually had just hit JJ to wake him up. 

“Boizy!” Patrice snapped. “Reveille-toi, putain.” 

Hayden was shout-whispering through the door, “JJ! JJ! Hey, JJ, wake up!” 

JJ pulled the door open with what he expected was the look of death by the way Hayden took a step backwards. Hayden didn’t exactly look much better, his hair was a mess, there was still a smudged rainbow on his cheek. 

“What.” JJ asked flatly. 

Now that he was standing, his stomach was roiling unhappily, nausea in its pit and heart burn beginning to bubble its way up his chest. Give it a few years and drinking just won’t be worth the progressively worse hangovers he was getting. 

“Come with me.” Hayden said, turned away and walked down the hall. 

“What? Hayden!” JJ called after him, still very confused about what was happening. 

“Fuck off, Boizy!” Patrice snapped from his bed. 

Hayden also turned around and shushed him. The waved his hand in a come with motion. “Just trust me man.” 

JJ grumbled but decided it was probably easier to just follow Hayden than it was to not. He’d already helped them get to bed the night before, he’d helped get them water, and aspirin, and he’d plugged their phones in because he’s a nice fucking guy. And now Hayden Pike had the audacity to wake him up somewhere in the realm of too fucking early? 

They stopped when Hayden knocked on his own hotel room door before entering with a not-quite-casual, “Hey bud.” 

Shane was sitting on the edge of the bed, showered and clean looking. But not quite as lively as he usually was. JJ had seen him hungover twice in their time together on the team, but this was the first time he’d seen Shane let loose as much as he had the night before. That was, until the end. What had happened there? His memories were fuzzy at best. 

“What’s going on?” He asked tiredly. 

He watched as Shane steeled himself for a moment, before saying, “I want to tell you about Lily.” 

JJ’s alcohol soaked brain took a moment to comprehend those words. Lily… Boston Lily. Shane’s only regular hook-up. Except, wait, no that had been a cover for him to hang out with Rozanov hadn’t it? Shane had never said but JJ could put two and two together. 

“You mean Rozanov, right?” He said. 

He watched as Shane and Hayden shared a look. Shane ran a hand through his hair, and JJ decided he was a bit too hungover to be thinking right now. He moved to sit on the bed opposite Shane as it seemed this was going to take a while. 

“I mean, yes.” Shane agreed. “Ilya is Lily.” 

There was a heavy pause, both Hayden and Shane watching JJ carefully. But for the life of him, he could not figure out why. 

“Yeah. I got that. Figured that one out myself.” JJ gave a thumbs up. 

Shane rubbed his face with his hands. “I am not explaining this well.” 

“I figured it out pretty quick.” Hayden grumbled. “Maybe just say it?” 

Ohhhh. Oh. Okay. No, JJ got it now. Shane was trying to admit his crush on Rozanov. Oh boy, yeah, JJ could see how this would be tough. It was hard to admit to yourself when you loved someone who didn’t love you back. But if he was coming to JJ, and Hayden, about it, maybe he was finally trying to move on. 

“It’s okay.” He said softly, reaching his hand out and patting Shane's knee. “I think I know. I figured it out a little while ago.” 

Shane gaped at him. “You did?” 

“You did?!” Hayden echoed, sounding, insultingly, surprised. 

“I know you well, bud. I only saw it ‘cause I know you.” He said, trying to pour kindness and empathy into his voice. “You’re in love with Rozanov.” 

“I -” Shane choked himself off. “Well. Yeah, I am.” 

His cheeks flushed despite his sickly pallor, and a small smile pulled at his lips. He looked sort of, relieved? JJ could see how getting that off your chest could feel relieving, but then, Shane also looked on the happier side of relieved. 

“And you’re okay with it?” Shane smiled at him with those big hopeful eyes. 

“I mean, yeah?” JJ replied. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“It’s not a big deal?” Hayden repeated, slowly. 

“I mean, it sucks, and I’m sorry you’re going through it.” He added, remembering tact was a thing he should have. “But don’t worry, I’m here for you buddy. You wanna commiserate? Binge eat ice-cream, or sorbet I guess for you? I'm here. You wanna try and move on, I got you too, I know this gay personal trainer, very nutrition focussed you’d like him.” 

“What?” Shane stared at him like he had three heads. 

“I’m just saying man. Whatever you need, Hayden and I are here for you.” 

“Oh my god.” Hayden suddenly burst out from behind him. “Oh my god he thinks it’s unrequited!” 

Hayden dissolved into laughter, rude, cackling laughter. JJ cricked a muscle in his neck with how fast he whipped his head around. It just wasn’t computing. 

“I’m telling Cliff immediately.” Hayden continued. “I am telling him immediately, that’s so fucking funny.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Shane jumped up. “He’ll tell Ilya and neither will never let me live this down, for the love of God do not tell him.” 

Shane leapt for Hayden who darted out the way. The ensuing chase and scuffle was short lived before they both remembered they were very hungover and big movements made them feel worse. They ended up on the bed JJ was sitting on the edge of, Shane lying across Hayden, trapping his arms. 

“You can’t.” Shane groaned, “tell him.” 

“Attendre.” JJ finally found his voice. “Pause. Hold the fuck up.” 

He stared down at the both of them, they stared up at him. 

“It’s not unrequited?” 

Now Shane’s face was blushing in earnest. “No. We’re together.” 

The three of them stared at each other for a moment as JJ rewrote all he’d assumed about their relationship. As he recontextualised everything that had happened since the friendship leek. 

JJ blew out a breath and lay backwards, both Hayden and Shane ending up as his cushioning. Though it was mostly legs, so a bit too muscly to be cushions. 

“Ben la- .” JJ cut himself off. He couldn’t really imagine what this meant. 

Did it mean anything? He’d know Shane was gay for a while now, and that hadn’t changed anything.  Rozanov was not high on JJ’s list of preferred people. He’d just about made it up the list of acquaintances. 

Here’s what his thoughts of Rozanov had consisted of up until recently:

• Rozanov was an asshole, he chirped, he snickered, he smirked
• Rozanov was an incredible player and horrible to play against
• Rozanov was about as brutal as most hockey players on the ice
• Rozanov was Shane’s long term rival

That summed up what he knew about Rozanov. Ilya Rozanov in four statements made up the majority of any thoughts JJ had about the man. Just those four things and well, he barely knew the man so he didn’t need to know more. 

Except now there were additions: 

• Rozanov smiled and laughed differently around Shane
• Rozanov danced and sang along to Shane’s terrible music taste
• Rozanov was playful and maybe even a little funny
• Rozanov was, apparently, Shane's boyfriend. 

“How long?” JJ eventually asked. 

“A long time.” Shane sighed, sounding resigned. “On and off for years until eventually we couldn’t pretend we didn’t have feelings anymore.” 

JJ opened his mouth, then closed it, and repeated the process maybe three times before Shane sighed harshly. “Just ask whatever it is you need to ask.” 

“What’s it like… playing against him?” JJ said politically, though he was sure they could tell what he was really asking.

It was Hayden who answered, “once you know, you can see that it’s all just foreplay. It’s actually disturbing once you’re in the know. Me and Cliff send each other our thoughts and prayers before each game now.” 

There was a thump and an ‘oof’ that let JJ know Shane had given Hayden a thump for that answer. 

“I play better against him,” Shane said, “I’ve checked the stats.” Of course he had. “He’s my favourite person to play against. He’s incredible on the ice and I don’t know what happens but I play my best hockey against him. I want to win, I want to impress him, I want to beat him. Everything is locked in. It’s the same for him too. We enjoy fighting for that win.” 

He said the last bit with a bit of heat, smug and satisfied. 

“Like I said,” Hayden wheezed. “Foreplay.” 

JJ was jostled off as Shane moved to attack Hayden again. He got up off the bed as they continued to tussle, but his mind was preoccupied. 

What did this mean for the Voyageurs? For the Raiders? For the league? If they were telling people were they moving toward coming out? They lived in different cities and saw each other maybe a few times a year for a day or so. No relationship could survive that. 

“Why did you tell me?” He asked. “Why now?” 

They stopped their playfight, Hayden looking pretty green around the gills. Shane flopped back and stared at the ceiling rather than look at JJ. 

“Because I was scared you were going to figure it out anyway.” He said, his voice low and steady. “It was Ilya’s idea to tell you, to stop me panicking.” 

“So you wouldn’t have told me if you weren’t drunk and scared?” JJ said, perhaps with more heat than he intended. 

Hayden moved to stand in between the two of them. “He wouldn’t have told me if he hadn’t been caught by Marlow.” 

“That’s not better.” JJ snapped. He didn’t know where this anger was coming from. 

It just felt like suddenly he was on the outside looking in again. Hayden and Shane had always been closer with each other, with JJ drifting on the fringes. But even then, there was always a degree of separation with Shane. 

When Shane came out to the team it was a lightbulb moment for JJ. Of course Shane had been a bit removed, he wasn’t living freely, truthfully. But now he could! And JJ had been waiting for Shane to open up, to be whatever true self he had been hiding. 

But he didn’t. 

If anything he shut down more. 

Then after the initial Rozanov friendship was revealed, there was a spark JJ had never seen before. Suddenly he was seeing the Shane he’d always suspected was there, but he was watching from a distance. Only bolstered by the interview they did together. JJ didn’t know that Shane. The Shane who flirted, and made crude jokes. His chirps were suddenly actual chirps, not the half cooked things he normally threw at people. 

It was like when he was with the team, he was trying to imitate their social culture, but couldn’t. It was muted, a pale comparison that dimmed his own personality. 

“Look, JJ -” Shane stood up too and moved toward him. 

JJ stopped him by holding up his hands at him. It wasn’t a stay away from me. It wasn’t a rejection. It was a please let me think. 

But Shane flinched regardless. His wide brown eyes flooded with heartbreak, at least, that’s how it looked to JJ. But he needed a moment. He needed to process. 

He turned around and faced the wall. 

Rozanov was the reason JJ had ever seen the real Shane. And that Shane, the Shane dancing around, singing 80s music, making sarky comments, that Shane was happy. 

Shane never would have gone to the Kingfisher before, never would have invited Hayden and JJ with him. Shane was trying to let him in. And that was because of Rozanov.

So JJ could get the fuck over himself. And his butt hurt. And his jealousy. 

“JJ, you don’t have to accept them.” Hayden said, his voice in that rare threatening low. “But you will keep their secret so help me God. Don’t forget there are things I know about you.” 

JJ whirled around, his eyes wide. Of course he would never out Shane, and that anger reared again at the assumption, the accusation, that he would. 

But to threaten his secret? 

“Va chier, I would never.” JJ spat at him. “And fuck you for thinking otherwise.” 

Hayden’s stormy face cleared slightly, but was too full of protective ego that he couldn’t back down yet. “Well it’s not like you’re handling this well.” 

“I’m thinking.” JJ snapped. “You dropped a pretty big bomb on me guys, I’m allowed to think about this.” 

“There isn’t anything to think about.” Hayden bit back. “Do you support your friend or not?” 

“Of course I do!” JJ yelled at him. 

“Guys, please, not so loud.” Shane’s eyes darted around as though he could see the words seeping through the walls. 

“Then what is there possibly to think about?” Hayden whisper-shouted back.

“That apparently I don’t fucking know him at all!” JJ’s eyes moved from Hayden to Shane. “That you’ve never let me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Shane said, his face and his voice so defeated that it took all the wind out of JJ’s sails. 

JJ pushed Hayden out the way and before either could say or do anything, he pulled Shane into the biggest, tightest hug. Shane froze in his arms, JJ could feel the way he locked up, but he held on for just a moment more. Just before he let go, Shane relaxed into the hug, his arms coming up to wrap around JJ too. 

“I’m sorry.” Shane said again, tightening the hug.  

“Shut the fuck up.” JJ said. “I’m angry, and I’m jealous, but that’s a me problem. I understand why it had to be like this. I’m the one who's sorry.” 

“Well fuck guys.” And then Hayden’s arms were wrapping around the two of them too. 

They stayed like that for a moment before finally breaking away. It felt awkward, stifled. No, stilted. That’s how it felt. JJ didn’t know where to go from here. 

“Jealous?” Hayden asked, voice lightly mocking. Probing. 

JJ rolled his eyes, but put his big boy pants on and got vulnerable. “You two have always been so tight. Then Rozanov comes along and apparently knows this side of Shane no one else does. It feels like I got demoted from 3rd wheel to 4th. 5th actually, because Marlow really came outta nowhere.” 

“It’s not like that.” Shane said, reaching out to place his hand on JJ’s arm. 

“Yeah I get that now.” JJ huffed. “A whole secret boyfriend. And you’ve been seeing Lily for years.” Now that was something JJ hadn’t really considered. “Holy shit, the whole time?” 

Shane just smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“I would.” JJ said. “Shane, I would.” 

But Shane had stopped sharing it seemed, as he just laughed at JJ and lay back on his bed. He was shaking slightly, either from the adrenaline or the hangover. Maybe both. 

“I’m glad you know.” He sighed. “God I feel so sick.” 

Hayden cooed at him. “Aw, baby’s first hangover.” 

“It’s not my first hangover.” Shane grumbled half-heartedly. They all knew it wasn’t his first hangover, but it was probably his first in many years. 

JJ flopped onto the bed next to Shane and a moment later Hayden lay down too. The three of them lay semi on top of one another, drifting off already now that the anger had died out. 

“We have a maybe an hour or so before we gotta check out.” JJ mumbled, getting comfy. “Let’s take a nap.” 

Hayden had already begun snoring. As JJ drifted off he heard the gentle hum of a phone ringing. 

“Hey.” Shane rumbled down the phone. “Yeah, baby, it went fine. Mmhmmm. Yeah. I love you too. No, I’m awake. Ilya? Thank you.” 

***

Gloriashusbandvaughn

My lord and saviour bless carter vaughn this night for taking that video

Pucktuah

Who did we sacrifice to get Hollander doing blowie shots? 

Voyageurgirl24

Hollander and his Slutty Slutty Shots 🥵🥵

Hollandry24

OKay but why is he so good at them? 

Hockeyhips

👀 👀 👀 

Boiziyeow

JJ just staring at the shot glass and saying How??? Has me dying 💀💀💀

Voyageurgirl24

JJ Boiziau is a sweet summer child we must protect

Pikeslesbians

Someone yelling at Pike to do the shot for his wife skull skull

Hockeyhips

I have not physically or emotionally recovered from watching Shane do those shots. Keep me in your thoughts during this trying time

Sinbinhoney

Sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph hot face

Pucks4lyfe

That’s actually disgusting 🤮 

Personalpuckbunny

WHO WAS SHANE HOLLANDER DANCING WITH AT KINGFISHER????

Boyaquariumenjoyer

Only an absolute beast like Hollander could pull a woman at a gay club LOL

Hockey_newz

Shane Hollander was seen leaving hand in hand with a mysterious woman from infamous gay bar in New York

Puckofftheice

Who is Svetlana Vetrova and could she be the key behind the unbelievable Hollander-Rozanov friendship? 

Netthepuckalready

How is a grown man acting like that skull emoji

Rozanovslop

Shane took one look at these tragic straight men and said let me show you how its fucking done

admiralsadmirer

Vaughny bb you showed us Hollzys but wheres urs 👅 💦 

Shane_can_get_it

What I wouldn’t give to be grinding all up on that man like Svetlana Vetrova is

Landryfandry

What I wouldn’t give to have Svetlana Vetrova grind all up on me like Shane Hollander does

Madi_loves_hockey

Svetlana called Shane her brother in her Instagram post - is she married to Ilya??? 

Voyageursscoop

I’m so confused by who is fucking who send help 

Goldstarpuckbunny

You KNOW Hollander gets down nasty 

Mrsmarlowhockey

Pike and Boizy with rainbows on their cheeks is everything to me rn don’t talk to me 

Gezza1133

What is so hard about keeping that shit to yourself??? 

****

A day or so before the Boston game Shane found out they were flying in on the day of the Boston game, and flying out early the next day with a strict curfew. It felt… targeted. 

His team had barely spoken to him on the flight after New York. It wasn’t the worst thing, as he’d been nursing a hangover, as had Hayden and JJ. But after a while he realised it wasn’t quite the usual quiet that accompanied flights and hungover hockey players. It was when he heard the sound of the video of him doing shots coming from someone’s followed by a disgusted noise. Then a hushed conversation. He couldn’t hear the words, but he could hear the tone. 

Shane wasn’t sure if it was specifically because of his ‘friendship’ with Ilya or because of the accidental extra attention his night out in New York had brought. Maybe both. Maybe Theirault, or even all the way from Crowell, but he was to behave himself and play his game and go to bed. 

“This is fucking bullshit.” Ilya snapped when Shane told him on the phone. “I miss you. I miss that pretty mouth. I had plans for you, Hollander.” 

“How bad could a punishment for breaking curfew possibly be?” Shane wondered. “I’ll happily pay a fine. They wouldn’t bench me, right?” 

“Not if they plan on winning any games this season.” Ilya snipped. 

“We’ll figure something out.” 

“I want to fuck you.” Ilya whined. “I miss those pretty noises, I miss you begging. Fuck, I miss the way you beg for it.” 

“I want that too.” Shane found himself admitting, closing his eyes and imagining it. “I want to feel you on top of me, inside me. It’s been too long without you.” 

“I’ll pay whatever fucking fines.” Ilya pleaded. “I need you.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Shane promised. 

****

Hayden could tell Shane was tense, and he had a pretty good idea why. JJ kept shooting him looks but it wasn’t like they could do anything about the situation. Could they? It would take some brainstorming. 

JJ’s main method of distraction was to try and keep Shane distracted. 

“Mon capitaine, have you seen this artwork of you and Svetlana? Someone drew you two dancing.” JJ shoved his phone in Shane’s face. 

“I’ve just been getting thirsty gifs of Shane on my feed.” Hayden grumbled. “I love you man but there’s only so many slow mo shots of you putting us to shame I can take.” 

That did get a huff of laughter from Shane. He shook himself as if physically moving to rid himself of the bad mood. He only did that when he was really in his head, so not a great sign. 

Unfortunately, their comments drew the attention of others. “Hollzy, I’m just saying man. You’re not really trying to hide it, are you? Out there bragging about being a manwhore, doing gay ass shots with the gayest team in the country.” 

Hayden felt the unfortunately now familiar anger rise in him. There had been nothing in the group chat about what had happened in New York. The sheer amount of content that had been produced that one night was staggering, clips of Hayden, JJ, and Shane drinking, dancing, singing, together, with Admirals, with bar patrons. Hayden barely remembered most of it. 

There was no chance the Voyageurs hadn’t seen it. The fact that it hadn’t made it to the group chat all but confirmed the existence of a second one. A worse one. And Hayden couldn’t decide whether he’d rather continue in ignorance or know what was being said about them. 

“What’s your point?” Shane said in a tone that frankly surprised Hayden. 

“Look, I didn’t sign up for the Scott Hunter experience.” Cluetier said, sneering. “I’m here to play hockey.” 

“Then I suggest you learn how to play hockey.” Shane replied. Face; unbothered, tone; uncaring. 

The unexpected catty comment had Hayden choking on his spit, JJ on Shane’s other side coughed hard, a small curse slipping his lips. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Cluetier stepped forward. 

“What’s yours?” Shane snapped back. “I won this team two fucking Stanley Cups, one you weren’t here for, and the second you played less than 2 minutes of, Cluetier. So before you go throwing insults, remember it’s my skill, my ability, and my notoriety, that gets this team to the top.” 

Cluetier’s eyes widened in anger, the dark rage in his eyes mean and disconcerting. But Hayden didn’t know what to say, or what to do. He’d never seen Shane like this, it wasn’t game-fuelled rivalry, it wasn’t annoyance, or cattiness. It was something else. 

“And if they knew what you really were? Do you think everyone would still praise you? Does your little Russian friend even know you’re a -” 

Cluetier cut himself off from finishing his sentence, muttering a curse to himself. 

Then Shane laughed. A bark more than anything, it echoed in the now tensely quiet changing room. 

“A what, Cluetier? ‘A gay’ isn’t grammatically correct. So does Rozanov know I’m a what?” 

Cluetier scowled at Shane but didn’t say anything. He kept glaring through. Shane stepped back with a humourless huff. 

“Fucking coward.” Shane spat. “Yeah, he knows. He’s the first person I told. I told him before I told my fucking parents. And you know what he did? He laughed, and said ‘who the fuck cares?’ He never made me feel scared to tell him, and he never made me feel less than for being gay. Because unlike you, he does actually only care about the game. And he knows I have more talent on my worst day than you’ll ever have. I’m going to the hall of fame, you’re going to be forgotten.” 

With that Shane came back to his stall to finish getting ready. Hayden’s jaw was on the fucking ground, whipping his head around to share a look with JJ, and out of the corner of his eye, Hayden could see the rest of the team sharing surreptitious looks. 

Cluetier threw his helmet at his own stall, swearing to himself. Theriault chose that moment to enter, witnessing Cluetier’s hissy fit and noticing the tension. 

“What’s going on in here?”

“Hollander’s on his fucking period or some shit.” Cluetier said. “Acting like a little bitch.” 

Eyes turned to Shane, who ignored them and continued getting ready. Theriault waited a moment and when nothing more was forthcoming gave them a brief warning about getting their shit together before leaving again. 

Hayden had a bad feeling about all of this. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and vented to someone who really understood the position he was in. He didn’t even want advice or anything, he just wanted to get it out there. Scream into the void as it were. 

All too soon it was time to head out. The usual pregame chatter hadn’t managed to pick up at all, there were some murmured conversations but nothing more than a “you got spare tape?” Or “can you pass me my glove?” 

And then they were getting ready to head out into the ice with no speech, no cheers, nothing to rile them up to play against Boston. 

JJ glanced at Shane, then at Hayden, over and over. But Hayden didn’t know what to do either. Shane clearly wasn’t in the mood to motivate right now. And even though it had only been Cluetier, the others had just watched. But then again, so had Hayden and JJ. 

Hayden had never understood the phrase watching a car crash happen in slow motion until now. Because now he could see that this was heading nowhere fast, but he was powerless to stop it. 

Everyone headed onto the ice, Hayden and JJ near the back of the queue with Shane. The usual run out onto the ice was pretty smooth but today there was a lot of stopping and starting, holding up the line in a way that Hayden at first thought meant someone had tripped. 

But it kept happening, and surely the whole team wasn’t stacking it as soon as they got out there? 

It wasn’t until he got to the ice that he also almost stumbled, shock racing through his body. 

Because every single Boston Raider had pride tape on their sticks. Every last one of them, from the captain all the way to the reserve goalie. 

And worst of all, Ilya Rozanov was skating like a shark that could smell blood in the water. A predator ready to play with its prey before it made the kill. 

Ilya Rozanov did not want this kill to be easy, he did not want it to be painless. He wanted to make these grown men cry and beg for forgiveness. 

Hayden almost wanted to wave the white flag now. 

JJ was gaping nearby, and Shane had to put a hand on Hayden’s shoulder to get him moving. 

“How did he know?” Shane said softly, mostly to himself. 

And that’s when Hayden realised this was his fault. 

****

Cliff texted back and forth with Hayden Pike on occasion since their first meeting. Usually when they were dealing with a pining star forward and they needed someone who got it. 

But then somehow it also included tv show recommendations, which wine brand was both tasty and classy, or even just a quick how’s it going? 

The dozen or so texts that came through to his phone as the Raiders were getting ready were not those kinds of messages. 

It was a vent. 

Not a vent about their two lovesick best friends, but a vent about a piece of shit, sad excuse for a teammate not to mention hockey player. 

If you’d asked Cliff a few months ago who Marcus Cluetier was he would have been hard pressed to remember. Ever since he’d befriended not one but two Voyageurs he unfortunately now knew who this sack of shit was. 

And now he was ready to kill him. 

Genuinely, he felt the violence rising in him and he gripped his stick almost too hard. To avoid actually breaking his stick he ripped off all the tape he’d just so carefully applied. 

He huffed out two angry breaths. His mama always said to breathe. 

She’d also said to put all of that anger into hockey, but this was hockey, and if he wasn’t careful he really was going to go out onto the ice and commit at least one felony. 

Another deep breath. 

Fuck he was going to have to retape his stick. 

And then he remembered the roll of tape he still had in the back of his stall. Used once last year and not since. But there was currently no rule against using it not on a pride night. 

So silently, angrily, meticulously, he took the tape out and began wrapping his stick. 

Of course the guys noticed, but they all glanced at their captain to be the one to ask. 

And Ilya did also look confused. Which meant Shane hadn’t told him. 

So Cliff waited for Ilya to say something. 

Ilya came to stand near him, “any particular reason, Marly? Or are you hoping Hunter will invite you to do slutty slutty shots?” 

Whatever the usual name for the shot trick was had been overwritten by ‘Shane Hollander’s slutty slutty shots.’ The fans, and even the non-hockey fans, had decided. 

Cliff glanced up at his captain and held his gaze for a moment. Let Ilya see the seriousness of his expression, let him know this was no game today. 

Then to the whole room he said, “a friend of mine. A good friend of mine, he’s gay, and today he’s had to put up with a lot of shit he shouldn't have to. People who should have had his back didn’t. So I just wanted to let him know that I do.” 

Some of the guys shrugged, some nodded, some shook their heads empathically. A few tsks but that was it. They continued getting ready. 

Then Ilya held his hand out for the tape. Cliff looked at him, question clear in his eyes, is this okay? Are you sure? 

“Let’s make sure your friend knows he has many friends, da?” Ilya said, his voice soft but a blink-and-you-miss-it threat was there too. 

From there it snowballed, first St Simon rooted his own pride tape out of his stall and started taping his stick. Cliff’s roll ran out after Hammersmith, so Connors had to start begging off of 3 other guys and only just about managed a full rainbow on his stick. Carmichael had to borrow some colourful K-tape from the physio to complete his rainbow. 

But they made it work, the whole team. They didn’t even know who this was for, but these guys were willing to support their friend, and without realising it, support their captain.

When LeClaire came in he blinked for a moment, then shook his head and moved on. Didn’t mention it, didn’t ask. 

Ilya stood up for his pregame speech, a dark expression on his face. Usually his speeches were loud, obnoxious, boisterous. Not today. 

“Raiders, I have not been more proud of you.” He said seriously. “We are the best fucking team in North America, in the whole fucking world. Because we have everybody’s back.” 

Cliff noticed more than one of them stand up a bit straighter, raise their heads and square their shoulders. 

“But tonight is about more than supporting an unknown friend. Today we play Montreal. People have begun to think I play nice now, that there is no more bad blood between Boston and Montreal. Is that the case, my friends?”

It was in that moment, as the boys roared their ‘no’s and their boos, that Cliff realised how easily Rozanov could have a cult. 

“No it fucking is not! Today we will remind them why they burn my effigies! Today we will remind them why they curse my name and curse yours too! Today, we will do more than beat them, today we will fucking destroy them!”

The boys roared, thirsty for blood. Buoyed by Rozanov’s clear and passionate hatred for Montreal. 

And hand clamped down on Cliff’s shoulder as the boys continued to hoot and holler, queueing up to rush the ice. 

“Who.” Ilya demanded, his expression thunderous. 

“Cluetier.” Cliff replied, not an ounce of trepidation about giving the name. 

“Cluetier.” Ilya said, venom dripping from his words. 

And then, a small smile curled on Ilya’s lips. A smile that sent genuine fear through Cliff. Fear quickly followed by sick satisfaction. 

“He’s gonna pay.” Cliff said with the same smile curling his lip too. 

****

The game was a bloodbath. The Raiders picked up on Ilya and Cliff’s brutal checks on Cluetier, nothing too bad, all legal. But Cluetier was going to be feeling it tomorrow. More than feeling it, he’d be going home limping and licking his wounds. Especially after Doza managed to sneak in a high stick that maybe wasn’t all that legal but also wasn’t called. 

Ilya kept himself from dropping his gloves so he could stay on the ice, so he could make sure the point difference was drastic and poignant. 

Pre-game, as they were skating around in warm ups St Simon had been pulled over for a rink side interview, when he was asked about the pride tape he gave this response, 

“One of the boys started wrapping his stick first. When Capitaine asked about it, he told us a friend needed some support. Cap didn’t even hesitate, he began taping his stick too. And all the boys decided to join in on it. So, whoever you are out there, I’m sorry the people who were meant to be there for you weren’t, but now you can say there’s a whole NHL team who have your back.” 

It was the truth. But only a handful knew the whole truth, knew that this was warfare against the Voyageurs. 

For some reason Shane wasn’t given much ice time, when Ilya tried to catch his eye he was too busy scowling at the ice, or gripping his stick. Ilya was getting frustrated, he liked to play against Shane, he actively looked forward to it. 

They did end up in one face off together but suddenly Ilya couldn’t think of anything to say. Nothing would make it alright. Nothing that could be said in the few seconds before the puck dropped could help him. Shane won it, and off of it scored the Voyageurs lone goal of the game. 

Ilya was angry, incandescently angry, but now he was starting to worry he’d just made things worse. He got to show Shane he had people on his side, but he may have just made the divide all the more stark. 

He and Marly were put on press together. Both stood half dressed in the hallway outside the locker room, sweaty and tired. The high from the win was overshadowed by the rage at the opposite team. 

“Rozanov! Care to comment on the Pride tape?” 

“We play New York soon, I am wanting invite to the bar. Hollander is not allowed to go viral without me.” Ilya said with a wink. “I will put him to shame, maybe invite Rose Landry. Dance with his best friend, see how he like it.” 

There was a scattered laughter at his comment. Reporters scribbling away and mics being pushed more and more into his face. But they wanted something more, they wanted the truth. A truth he couldn’t give. 

“No, no, real talk. Is what Sainty said, a friend of Boston needed support, and so we gave it.” 

“It’s more than that.” Marly jumped in. “The friend is one of mine. I was just going to tape up to show my support, but when Roz saw me doing it he asked what was up. When I told him the story, he didn’t even hesitate and started taping up too. Soon all the guys were fighting over the last scraps of pride tape we had. I truly could not ask for a better team.” 

Cameras flashed but the questions moved onto more hockey related questions. They asked a few here and there about the game, about their almost shut out win, about specific plays and players. 

“Rozanov! Why do you think Hollander barely played this game?” 

“I do not know, all I can say is thank you to whoever made that stupid decision. Pretty much guaranteed our win. Letting Hollander on the ice at all is what saved them from the embarrassment of a shut out.” 

Ilya had meant to sound jokey, snarky, his usual asshole self. But it definitely came off angry. Angry that his favourite opponent wasn’t there to play with him.  Which he supposed was true. 

A few more hockey questions followed, as well as a few more questions around pride, and representation, and distractions, which were shut down by the PR manager. Once his interview was done, he changed out quickly, and went to go find Shane to enact plan ‘Get Shane Hollander Naked in my Bed.’

****

Shane was essentially pulled from the game. Theriault caught wind of what had gone down in the locker room and decided Shane was too distracted to play ‘effectively.’. That he needed to get his head on straight. Emphasis on straight, he supposed. 

He couldn’t get him out of media though, that had been preapproved a while ago. 

Shane’s coach stood in front of him, tight expression on his face. “Can I trust you to do media?” 

Shane gave him a stoic look. “Yeah, you can trust me to do media.” And then as he walked toward the presser room, he threw over his shoulder, “you can also trust me to play hockey next time. If you wanna win.” 

He was out of the room before the fallout for that hit. Moments later he was standing in the hallway with a dozen or so reporters shoving mics and cameras in his face. 

“Hollander! Hollander! Did you know what Boston was going to do tonight?” 

“In regards to hockey? Only in the way that I know what any hockey team is going to do. They came out with more aggression than we were expecting and we just couldn’t quite match it today.” 

“But what about the pride tape?” 

“I heard it was to support a friend of a player.” He answered simply, shoving down how he felt being the friend in question. He’d seen St Simon give his interview, tried not to watch with too much interest. 

“Do you think it was an unnecessary distraction that negatively impacted the Voyageurs game tonight?” 

“No, I think me being on the bench negatively impacted the Voyageurs’ game tonight.” Shane said, not even attempting to hide his annoyance. “If any of my guys were distracted by what tape the other team used then we have bigger problems. We’ve played pride nights before, donned the tape ourselves. I only wish Boston had let us in on it, let their friend know they have a whole lot more than one NHL team on their side.” 

“Shane! Why were you on the bench for most of tonight’s game? Boston and Montreal have a historic rivalry going back years, why would you not come out fighting? Are you hiding an injury?” 

“I’m not injured. They were trying something new tonight, it didn’t work.” Shane said bluntly, peevishly, his eyes moving to find another reporter already. 

“Hollander! You were filmed at Scott Hunter’s gay bar last week, this week Boston came out with the pride tape, do you think there’s a trend of teams not focussing on the game?” 

“No.” Shane said. 

The reporters all stared at him waiting for more. He stared them down. 

“Can you elaborate on that?” 

“I went out with friends after the game. In my personal time, in my personal life. It has nothing to do with the game and is frankly none of your business.” Shane was being the rudest he’d ever been on camera, but he’d had a tough fucking day. “I can’t comment on what the Raiders do beyond saying good for them. Clearly it didn’t impact their game because they fucking won.” 

The reporters looked like they really didn’t know what to say. This was not a Shane Hollander they’d met before. This wasn’t a Shane Hollander Shane had really been before. Except at his most angsty teen. 

“Do you have any actual questions about hockey or are we done here?” 

“We’re done here.” Theriault called from behind him. Shane knew he was in for an earful as soon as the cameras were no longer pointed at them. 

Shane shrugged and walked back to the away team locker room. Most of the guys were showered so Shane went to take his shower alone. By the time he was done, the guys were changed and heading out. 

No one spoke to him. 

****

Ilya had decided to wait for Shane outside the away team locker room. Cliff by his side acting very much as an enforcer as the Voyageurs emerged. Many dark and angry looks were thrown his way. By the time they got there though, many of the Voyageurs had already changed and left, so it was really only the stragglers. 

Ilya just smiled. He couldn’t quite manage sweet but menacing would be an accurate description. 

Pike and Boiziau were the last two out before Shane. Cliff instantly grinning at his apparent new best friend. 

“Pike!” 

“Marlow!” Pike replied with a wild grin on his face. “You absolute mad man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marlow replied with a wink. 

Boiziau just stood to the side awkwardly, looking confused and unsure. Ilya ignored him as irrelevant for now. 

“Where’s Shane?” Ilya asked. 

Pike and Boiziau made unhappy expressions, their faces screwing up in sync. Ilya knew there would be complications, for what he had done, for what Shane had done, but having confirmation twisted his stomach. 

“Getting chewed out by Coach.” Boiziau said. 

“For what we did?” Cliff sucked his teeth, making a slightly regretful noise. 

“No, for what he did.” Pike sighed. 

“The thing with -” Cliff cut himself off, glancing down the empty hallway. “Before the game.” 

“More for what he said after the game.” Pike cocked his head. “Did you watch his post game interview?” 

Neither of them had, so Pike pulled it up on his phone. Ilya watched in horror as a Shane he’d never seen before stoically, coldly, answered questions. Giving attitude like a sullen teenager. 

He’d seen Shane angry before, he was often the cause of it. He’d seen Shane say things he didn’t mean, he’d seen Shane scowl and pout, he’d seen Shane get genuinely irate with him. They’d crossed a broad spectrum of getting under each other’s skin from playful to falling out.

But he’d never seen this Shane. This Shane looked defeated and tired. And definitely angry. 

“Fuck.” Ilya hissed under his breath. “Where is he?” 

It wasn’t even a conscious thought, his body just started moving toward the locker room door. Cliff’s hand grabbed him around his bicep. Firm, no give about it. 

“Roz, you know you can’t.” He said in a low voice. 

“You’ll make it worse.” Pike said, his voice annoyingly sympathetic. Like he knew how it felt. 

Boiziau was watching the whole scene uncomfortably. Glancing down the hallway periodically as though expecting someone to appear and tell them off. 

Ilya huffed and slumped against the wall. There was an awkward pause, people shuffled their feet and didn’t really look at one another. 

“Jesus Christ, talk about something.” Ilya snapped. 

His bad mood was reflective of whatever Shane was going through right now. He still didn’t know what had gone down in the locker room before the game. Only that it was probably homophobic and involved Cluetier. 

“So, I was thinking I’ll order food over to mine for dinner. Just us guys. Nothing big, nothing wild, and we’ll try and get you back before your stupidly early curfew.” 

“Honestly, fuck curfew at this point.” Pike said. 

Boiziau blanched a bit. “Sorry, we’re going out?” 

“Not out out, Boiziau.” Cliff said, the friendly demeanour he usually had for Pike dissipating rapidly. “But now that you’re on the in, you gotta help keep it on the DL.” 

“Sure. Fine, that’s not the problem.” 

“I’ll pay your fucking fine if that is problem for you.” Ilya drawled. 

Boiziau scowled at him but before he could reply Shane appeared out of the locker room. He came to a stop, the scowl on his face faltering as he saw the collection of people waiting for him. 

His hair was still wet. It stuck up in random directions where he’d rushed a towel over his head. Ilya wanted to put his hands in it, wanted to pull Shane to his chest and bury him there. 

“Let’s go.” Ilya said, turning on his heel to march away, mostly to stop himself from pulling Shane to him. 

The others quickly fell in line. Marlow was chatting to Pike about whatever the fuck, all Ilya could focus on was Shane standing behind his left shoulder. Bumping it every so often as they walked. 

His hand twitched toward him. Instead he moved it to rake through his hair. He felt like an addict with his drug of choice tantalisingly close and he had no intention of getting clean. 

The Voyageurs were loading into their bus to the hotel as they made their way out of the building. No words were said, but they could all feel the tension. The eyes following them. The disgust behind them. 

Marly and Pike valiantly kept up their conversation, even Boiziau jumping in to try and make it look like they really didn’t give a shit and were having a great time. 

Ilya slid into the passenger seat of Marly’s car, they’d carpooled earlier with the intention of kidnapping 3 Voyageurs. 

They drove through the streets, Cliff giving Pike and Boiziau a run down of possible food delivery options, and which video game he was going to dominate them in. 

Shane and Ilya stayed silent. Ilya had a few things he wanted to say to Shane but none of them were discussions he wanted in front of others. 

He was sure the others could feel the tension between him and Shane, the sexual tension that was undeniable. But also similar to unresolved conflict, a talk that had to happen that could go good or badly. 

They pulled up the driveway of Ilya’s place, and he was out of the car before they fully pulled to a stop. By the time he’d gotten out and pulled open Shane’s door he could hear Marly saying, “not you, Pike.” 

Shane allowed himself to be pulled out of the car as Pike asked behind him, “what? Why?” 

“This is Roz’s place, we’re dropping them off here and I’m taking you to mine for a play date.” Marly explained. “We’re gonna - hey cmon! On my car?” 

Marly was upset because the second Ilya had gotten Shane out of the car he crashed their lips together. The force of which had Shane stumbled against the car, pressed against it. 

The drive was private enough and really Ilya couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. There was a privacy hedge behind them and the car blocked them from the building beyond. 

“Jesus!” Boiziau yelped. He had scooted over to the window seat and now was getting a front row seat to the show. 

Ilya pulled away from Shane, who looked blissfully hazy. “Hello.” 

“Hi.” Shane breathed, finally looking more like his Shane again. 

“Get our bags from the trunk.” Shane peeled away to do just that. “Okay goodbye boys, have fun at uncle Marly’s.” 

And with that Ilya closed the door, Shane stood with his and Ilya’s bags on each shoulder. Cliff’s car started pulling away as soon as all doors were closed. 

They moved in silence until they were safely inside then Shane dropped their bags and wrapped himself safely in Ilya’s arms. It was just a hug, but it felt more intimate than some of the things they’d done with less clothes. 

This was a hug for comfort. This was Shane telling Ilya he felt safe here to be vulnerable, to drop the facade. 

“What happened?” Ilya murmured gently into Shane’s hair, pressing kisses to it. 

“Marlow didn’t tell you?” Shane grumbled. 

“Shane, please.” Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane tighter, begging to know what had happened. 

“Can you fuck me first?” Shane asked, head still resting against Ilya’s chest. 

Ilya briefly wondered if Shane could feel the way his heart rate spiked at his words. 

“Moy lyubov.” Ilya started, ready to ignore his own horniness to care for Shane emotionally. 

“Please.” Shane pulled back, brown eyes wide and pleading. “Please Ilya, I need you close. I want to forget about everything for a bit. I want to just be us.” 

And because Ilya was physically and fundamentally unable to deny Shane anything, he said, “I can do that.” 

He lowered his head back to Shane’s. Kissing him softly for now and gently pushing him back toward the bedroom. Shane didn’t trip, didn’t stumble, just trusted Ilya to get them to the bed. 

The only times they broke apart was to get rid of a new item of clothing. And because Shane was adorably, arousingly, himself, it meant there were small piles of folded clothes that led to the bedroom. 

“What do you want, my love?” Ilya said as he laid Shane out on the bed, pliant and hazy. 

“You.” Shane said simply. “I want you and me and this.” 

So Ilya gave him what he asked for in possibly the most tender, loving, and intimate embrace they’d ever shared. It started out slow and sensual, but as they became more desperate for each other and for their climax, it didn’t become any less intense and loving. 

Ilya had made love to Shane before, as opposed to fucking him, but this time he felt almost overwhelmed by how much he loved him. By how much they loved each other. 

“I love you.” Shane gasped in his ear as he came. He chanted it like a prayer. “I love you I love you I love you.” 

Ilya followed him over the edge. “Shane.” 

They stayed holding each other for as long as possible for their sweaty skin became cold and clammy, and the feeling of both of their releases became sticky and horrible. 

Ilya went to get a cloth and covered them both with the duvet once they were acceptably cleaned up. Neither had any intention of getting dressed just yet. 

“I missed you.” Ilya sighed into Shane’s chest, from where he lay curled into Shane’s side. 

“I missed you too. So fucking much.” Shane said with a depth of emotion that reminded Ilya why he’d be so angry earlier. 

“Will you tell me now?” 

Shane sighed and rolled them so they were facing each other. And then he told him. All of it. Not just what had happened that night in the locker room, but just how existing with his team had been for the last year since he’d come out to them. 

And all Ilya could do was listen. Because he couldn’t be there, he couldn’t fight his battles, he couldn’t change things for him. 

“Shane, I’m so proud of you.” He said when Shane had finished, pulling Shane across the bed so hold him again. 

Shane huffed a laugh against him. “Proud of what? Nothing I’ve said or done has accomplished anything.” 

“I’m proud of you for surviving it. For letting your friends in. For still being incredible.” Ilya said with kisses to Shane’s face as he went. “For standing up for yourself.” 

“It didn’t feel like standing up for myself.” Shane admitted. “It felt like lashing out.” 

“What does this mean?” Ilya asked, knowing Shane would never judge him for it. 

“Lashing out is like, hmm. When you do something as a reaction with no thought. But mean.” Shane explained. The other benefit of asking Shane to explain English was that it paused whatever spiral he was in. 

“Ah okay. Yes I understand.” Ilya mused, thinking of all the times in the early days that they had lashed out at one another. 

“Some of it felt good. Some of it felt really good to say.” Shane smiled slightly, but then it dimmed. “But it also just fucking hurts.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Ilya said, wishing he could change it. 

“I don’t know what happened with the press.” He continued, hesitated before continuing. “Seeing you all with the tape on. It felt so good but also really just hit home how much my team hates me. Because they would never tape up for me, specifically. And then I was essentially fucking benched.” 

“It makes no sense.” Ilya seethed, his anger simmering and very much alive. “You have a proven track record against us, you play like a demon. It’s very sexy.” 

Shane ignored him. “By the time we got to the press I just, I just didn’t have it in me to care anymore. I just stopped. No anxiety, no anger. It was pure apathy. They could tell me they knew I was gay and I was getting fired and I probably would have said stared at them and said okay.’” 

Ilya hummed. “Apathy is not caring?” 

“Basically, yeah. It's like having no motivation, no emotion or concern.” Shane explained, then in a smaller voice, “I didn’t like it.” 

“No, kotik. You are not meant to feel nothing.” Ilya soothed the best could, petting Shane, giving him soft kisses. 

Shane sighed and buried his face deeper into the nook between Ilya’s neck and shoulder. 

“And what did your coach say?” 

Ilya could feel Shane smile against his skin. “I’m not really sure, I didn’t really listen.” 

“Shane Hollander!” Ilya admonished, his tone making Shane shake with silent laughter. 

“He said something about image, something about teamwork, something about how being captain means rising above it.” Shane said, his tone inferring the ‘blah blah blah’. “I was barely listening, wasn’t even really looking at him. I was looking just slightly to the right. I used to get in trouble at school because I didn’t like looking my teachers in the eyes, and then they’d get really angry that I was looking just off centre. Called my mom in and you can guess how that went for them.” 

Ilya smiled, big and full of adoration for his boyfriend. “Hollander, are you telling me you were secret trouble maker?” 

Shane pulled back. “No, I’m telling you I was an accidental trouble maker. From then on I specifically looked people in the eye whenever I was talking to them and then got in trouble for weirding people out. Apparently I didn’t blink enough when making eye contact, and my eyes were very intense or something.” 

“And how did mama Yuna take that?” 

Shane grinned at him, finally looking more like himself. “Not well.” 

“It makes sense.” Ilya mused. “Those pretty eyes are trouble for me too.” 

“Oh yeah?” Shane asked coyly. 

“Oh yes, those pretty eyes, those gorgeous freckles, and that cute blushy face.” Ilya lets a finger trace along Shane’s jaw, and that’s all it takes for Shane to surge forward and kiss him again. 

An hour or so later his phone rings. He and Shane are splayed across the bed, sated, sweaty, and exhausted. 

“Marly, hello.” Ilya answers. 

“I’m gonna assume you’re not in the middle of anything.” Cliff began. “It’s getting near to curfew time. Are you gonna swing by for food or are we sending them home?” 

Shane smiled lazily into the sheets. “He really does sound like the uncle who’s babysitting.” 

“Do you care about curfew?” Shane shook his head. “Do you want food?” Shane considered for a moment, then nodded. 

“We’ll get dressed and head over.” Ilya told Cliff. 

“Holy shit have they been fucking this whole time?” Boiziau’s voice, quiet because he wasn’t talking directly into the phone, still carried through on Ilya’s speaker. 

And he could admit to himself that it made him a little smug that they could fuck for hours. Shane was too satisfied to blush too much, or potentially even notice. He just smiled where he lay sprawled out on his front. 

“We’ll be there in ten.” Ilya said. “Ish.” 

He hung up the phone and stared at the relaxed, happy Shane in the bed next to him. 

“Keep looking at me and we won’t be there in ten minutes.” 

“I said ish.” Ilya replied, moving down the bed to take Shane into his mouth. 

****

20 minutes later they pulled up outside Marlow’s place and made their way inside. They found the three of them playing Mario Kart with almost as much intensity as they played hockey. 

“There’s pizza on the table!” Marlow called to them as they walked in. 

“There’s a giardiniera for you Shane!” Hayden added, assuaging Shane’s anxiety before it could form. 

As Shane was perusing the food options, Ilya came to stand right behind him, an arm slipping around his hips and Ilya’s chin coming to rest on his shoulder. 

“Get me a slice of each.” Ilya murmurs. 

Shane did as directed, piling their food onto one plate as Ilya hadn’t bothered to bring one over. “Want some of the salad too?” 

“Obviously not.” 

“It wasn’t really a question.” 

“Then why ask?” 

“I was hoping you’d make the right choice.” Shane twisted his head to smile at Ilya, a twinkle in his eye. 

Ilya dropped a kiss to his shoulder. “Silly ulitka, I make only bad choices.” 

Shane’s eyes glinted like he knew Ilya was going to say that, which he probably did. They had become somewhat predictable in their banter. Ilya couldn’t wait to make the same jokes for the rest of their lives, watching as Shane swung between amused and exasperated as the years wore on. 

“God you two are all over each other.” Hayden muttered. “You weren’t like this last time.” 

Both Ilya and Shane turned to scowl at him. “Last time we’d had 3 days alone before we had to deal with company.” 

“Last time it hadn’t been weeks since we saw each other.” Shane said at the same time. 

“Jesus, if you two need a few days lead in before you can be decent around people warn a guy next time.” Marlow griped good naturedly, but Shane still flushed. 

“I had a tough day.” Shane said, moving to sit with his feet up on the L section of the big U shaped sofa. 

Ilya didn’t come with him to the sofas, instead he disappeared into the kitchen, calling out after a minute, “Marly! I told you to get ginger ale!”

“I did get ginger ale! It’s in the cupboard above the coffee machine!”

“The cupboard? I told you to keep it in the fridge!”

“Since when do you drink ginger ale anyway? There’s coke in the fridge!”

Shane couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips. His heart thumping madly at the ordeal of being loved, of being known, of being thought of. It reminded him of the tuna melt day, in a sad sort of way. Ilya had bought him ginger ale then too. It was painful, but they’d made it eventually. 

“Jesus Christ, you have that man whipped.” Hayden gaped at Shane and his small smile turned smug. 

“Shane pretty much exclusively drinks ginger ale or water.” JJ clued Marlow in. 

“That’s completely not true.” Shane argued. 

“Yes, you drink slutty slutty shots!” Ilya called from the kitchen. “Without me!” 

Shane laughed, Marlow, Hayden, and JJ, all joining in to laugh at Ilya’s annoyance. And god, Shane had forgotten what it had felt like to laugh in a group without hearing double meanings, without waiting to figure out how what was said was actually a slight at him. To laugh with friends, freely. 

In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever been in a group of friends where he wasn’t hiding anything from any of them. He was currently surrounded by people who knew everything about him, and loved him anyway. 

“Shane, my guy.” Marly said, putting down his controller as the race ended. “You damn near killed Roz with that. I was the poor schmuck who was sat next to him when he saw them. The man damn near when rabid.” 

Shane’s face was fully red and burning now. Hayden and JJ were laughing all over again, at him, at Cliff, at Ilya. 

“Cruel and unusual punishment.” Ilya said, now back in the living room. 

“You should see his twitter drafts.” Marlow chuckled. “He was this fucken close to having a full online meltdown.” 

Ilya stood behind the sofa and handed Shane a ginger ale that was cold to the touch, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek as he did so. 

“It’s cold.” Shane said in surprise. 

“I put it in the freezer for a few minutes.” Ilya said simply. 

Shane stared at him. “Why?” 

“You prefer them cold.” Ilya said like it was obvious. 

Shane melted. He was so absolutely and completely in love with this man. This thoughtful, considerate, beautiful man. 

JJ whistled low. “Damn, Shane, I’m not even surprised you guys fucked for two hours straight, I wouldn’t blame you if you took him to bed right now.” 

“This is disgusting.” Marlow agreed. “I’m so jealous.” 

“I’m currently ordering Jackie’s favourite flowers and that necklace she’s been eyeing up because I am being put to shame right now.” Hayden added, nose in his phone. 

“Yes yes, is very embarrassing for all of you.” Ilya waved them off, moving around the sofa to sit next to Shane. “To be so bad at love, when I am so good at it.” 

In sync, Marlow and Hayden flipped Ilya off, neither looking up from their phones to do so, neither noticing the other. Shane caught JJ’s eye, fear starting to seep in for a moment that this could be too much for him. Too surreal. But once their eyes met, JJ shot him a grin that said ‘get a load of these guys.’ 

“Either of you want in on this round?” Marly said as he set up the next race. 

“Nah.” Ilya said as he shoved pizza into his mouth. 

Shane considered it, “you know what? Yeah.” 

JJ and Hayden both locked eyes with each other, then put down their beers, slid their pizza onto the coffee table, and locked in. Marlow and Ilya both noticed the change in atmosphere from relaxed gaming to intense competition. 

“What am I missing?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” JJ said sweetly. 

“Just press start.” Hayden said in the same tone. 

Marlow turned to Shane, who shrugged innocently. Marlow narrowed his eyes. Shane smiled. 

See, the thing is, Shane could enter a flow state with some games. Mario Kart was one of those games. He knew each race course like he’d driven those roads his whole life, every short cut that was worth taking, which Kart to wheel he should pair. 

And worst of all, he knew how to keep hold of which items to best utilise their destructiveness. All in all, he was a ringer. 

It took only a few minutes for Marlow to be swearing at his screen, at JJ and Hayden for not warning him, but for Shane he couldn’t even be mad. He was just impressed. 

Ilya was laughing each time Shane waited until the most chaotic moment to release a shell, or a bomb, or a squid. 

“You’re evil, moy lyubov.” Ilya whispered to him. “I like it.” 

Shane valiantly tried to not squirm, but if he was being completely honest with himself, if Ilya suggested it he would happily go right back to bed with him. 

“Yes, Roz! Keep distracting him!” Marlow said, desperately smashing buttons. “Whisper sweet nothings!” 

“Don’t you dare.” Shane snapped, to the amusement of the room. 

Unfortunately for Shane, he saw Ilya get that look on his face. The one he got before he blew Shane while he was on the phone to Hayden. 

“Ilya.” Shane warned again, this time more of a plea. 

“I haven’t done anything, my love.” Ilya said in a tone that let Shane know he knew exactly what he was doing. Knew how much Shane got off on anticipation. “Yet.”

“Okay, we take it back.” Hayden said hurriedly. “I really don’t need to hear this.” 

“Some of us need a win, Pike.” JJ said from where he was leaning forward and moving his whole body to steer the Kart. “Rozanov, flirt like your life depends on it.” 

What followed was a very funny, but absolutely torturous night for Shane. Ilya would let him play then whisper something outrageous in his ear, more often than not causing him to swerve his kart. He could usually regain ground in the race but there was one occasion where Ilya’s comment with the addition of a hand appearing on his thigh caused him to swerve right off the rainbow road. 

He could also tell when Ilya hadn’t been quiet enough by the scandalised expressions of his friends. By the laughter of Marly, or the begging for it to end from Hayden. There was one ‘way too much information!’ from JJ that had him also swerving off the track that had them all laughing. 

It was good. His heart was happy. And it was moments like this that Shane thought, maybe he could push past all the shit. Maybe he could deal with his team, so that he could have these moments. 

Maybe everything would be alright. 

Chapter End Notes

This is nearing the end of ‘part one’ would you guys prefer it all stay in on fic with like a billion chapters or shall I do a cheeky part two??

Also idk why I created Cluetier, I read a fic where Comeau was good and I now can’t write him as fully evil so.

Chapter 11: Welcome to the Circus

Chapter Summary

A bit of a bantery filler chapter with some plot

Chapter Notes

Yall are too funny 💀 thanks to everyone who corrected my french 🇫🇷 and shout out that one person who said that Montreal did in fact want Shane to swerve off the rainbow road - that killed me

Shanehollandaise

WHO HURT MY SON

Pucktuah

That was a shit show. A bloodbath. @MontrealVoyageurs wtf was that???

Goldstarpuckbunny

Is it just me or is something up with Hollander

Landryfandry

Can someone explain to me like im a child why hollander didnt play

Massholeraiders

THATS MY TEAM GO RAIDERS 🌈🌈

Raiderordie

My boys in pride tape has me in actual tears

Hockeyhips

Do we think shane’s attitude and the raiders pride tape have something to do with each other? 

Mrsmarlowhockey

We know shane isn’t homophobic a la slutty slutty shane hollander shots and his friendship with scott hunter - so why didnt he play and whats up with him

Voyageursscoop

people on here trying to suggest that slutty slutty shots shane hollander is homophobic and thats why he didnt play be soooo frrrrrr

Pikeslesbians

So much happened at that game my head is SPINNING

Rozanov81___

Im so happy about MY team showing their rainbows today but also SO sad because something is clearly wrong with shane hollander

Raidersfan_123

#BostonRaiders you just lost a fan tonight what in the performative bullshit was that

Netthepuckalready

Is it really so hard for hockey to just be about hockey these days? 

Pucks4lyfe

So Shane Hollander didn’t play because he was throwing a bitch fit about something and the entire Boston team have joined the woke brigade? Have I got that right? 

Mrsmarlowhockey

#marlowsfriend, we love you! Everyone sound off!

1,140 replies

NYAdmirals

Another NHL team checking to add their support for #MarlowsFriend

Madi_loves_hockey

For those new to hockey, Shane Hollander has always been the nicest most media trained little Canadian boy you’ve ever seen. That man we saw tonight? We’ve never seen that man before

Hollandry24

Is there always so much tea and drama at hockey games?? This is like the second one I’ve ever watched and it literally feels like there’s always something 

Rozanovslop

@whoever said Roz was homophobic because he was Russian that one time, ahem, 🖕🖕🖕

****

Ilya woke up before anyone else, extricated himself from where he was still tangled with Shane. Luckily, he didn’t stir, just continued to doze. They were still at Marly’s place. All of them asleep in the living room, including Cliff himself. 

JJ was sprawled in a large armchair, Hayden on the opposite L of the sofa to Shane and Ilya, and Cliff had managed to fall asleep sitting upright, his head lolling back over the back of the sofa. 

Ilya surveyed the carnage, and snapped a quick photo. He sent it over to Harris to approve before he posted it. 

Hiring Harris Drover had been one of Ilya’s better decisions. Cliff wasn’t wrong when he’d said Ilya had gone a little… feral over Shane’s videos. Maybe a lot. And Harris had somehow foreseen Ilya’s crashout and told him to hold off on posting anything until he’d told Shane about Harris. 

When he’d first hired Harris, he hadn’t confirmed anything. The proposal he’d sent over had contingency plans and strategies for all avenues labelled ‘friendship’ ‘acquaintances’ ‘rivals’ and the last one ‘romantic partners.’ Each laid out clearly outlining how best to navigate the new online aspect of their relationship. 

Ilya hadn’t confirmed anything, had said he’d talk to Shane about hiring him, about which avenue they’d take. Which he was meant to do yesterday, but then yesterday had been… yesterday. Harris had sent him a bunch of supportive and sympathetic messages, plus photos of his dog. 

Harris replied very quickly. 

Harris

Omg lol this is also going to break hockey twitter

Harris

They all look so sweet like this

Harris

Except Boiziau, he looks so uncomfortable its making me uncomfortable

Harris

Lol

So Harris was a multi message kind of guy. Any message Ilya sent him was followed up by at least 4 separate ones from him, 

Ilya

Caption is going to be: curfew who?

Harris

Ilya

Ilya had spent the better part of a day telling him he simply refused to be Mr Rozanov to the sweet Canadian social media man. 

Harris

Ilya tell me those three didn’t break curfew by hanging out with you

Harris

It’s one thing to break the rules

Harris

Another to flaunt it on social media

Harris

Especially after pushing the boat out so much last night

Harris

Which I’m so incredibly proud to work for someone who cares like that

Harris

Btw

Harris 

Like what you did changed a lot for a lot of people and you don’t even realise

Harris

But I told you all this yesterday

Harris

Long and the short of it, don’t post that

Ilya

You never let me do anything fun

Harris

Fun things get you in trouble

Harris

Talk to Mr Hollander

Ilya 

Call him Shane

Harris

Not until he has said I can!!

Harris

I’m gonna go prematurely grey working for you

“What are you smiling at?” Shane said, his voice rough from sleep. 

“My cute boyfriend -” Ilya started, looking up from his phone, his mouth moving to say something flirty before his brain could even catch up. 

“Dear god please stop, we heard more than enough last night.” Pike groaned, his eyes still closed. 

“Don’t be homophobic, Pike.” Ilya said with no real bite. 

Hayden cracked an eye open to give Ilya the most disgruntled, unimpressed look he’d ever seen on the man. It was enough to bring a genuine smile to his face. 

“Mon dieu!” Boiziau woke up with a gasp and a shout. “Quelle heure est-il? Ben la tabarnak.” 

Ilya checked his phone, they were due to fly at 10:00? Or maybe 9:00. It was currently 7:26. Plenty of time. 

“Fuck!” Shane rolled off the bed. “We have to get back to the hotel. Fuck fuck fuck.” 

Hayden groaned but also got to his feet, stumbling about as he got his shoes and other bits he seemed to have left around the living room. 

“Why didn’t we set an alarm?” Shane bemoaned. 

“In all fairness, you weren’t meant to stay the night. I was going to drive you all home last night.” Ilya held his hands up. “We got, ah, lost in the sauce.” 

All three of them stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Then Pike and Boiziau turned, in perfect sync, to stare at Shane. 

“That was your fault.” Pike said. “I know that you were the one to teach him that phrase.” 

“This is less funny when we are having to deal with it.” Boiziau grumbled. 

Shane rolled his eyes and continued tying his shoe laces. 

Ilya had been watching their panic and hustle with a sense of vague amusement, until he realised he didn’t know when he’d next see Shane. This was their last scheduled game before playoffs. 

He could be seeing him soon, or they could both make it all the way to finals playing other teams in other cities until meeting for the last battle. If that happened he wouldn’t have time to see him, and barely any to call him. They’d both be living and breathing hockey for weeks at a time. 

They could end up paired against one another in the first round. Then once one of them won, the other could follow them around through playoffs. But that could also never work, because there would be no logical way to explain it away. 

The three Voyageurs had their shit together and were getting ready to head out the door when Ilya strode forward and captured Shane in a kiss. 

Ilya could live forever off the way Shane melted in his arms. The way he immediately molded himself to Ilya’s body, the way they fit together like they were created for this sole purpose. Ilya poured everything into that kiss. Hoping Shane would be able to hear it, hear the ‘I miss you,’ hear the ‘I love you,’ hear the ‘please don’t go.’ 

They pulled apart as Pike and Boiziau started hurrying them. Ilya didn’t bother listening to them, he was too busy staring into Shane’s eyes. They were slightly wet, not about to cry, but glistening with love and emotion. 

“I love you.” Ilya murmured, his thumbs brushing Shane’s cheeks. “I miss you.” 

Shane smiled and gave a small laugh. “I haven’t left yet.” 

“But I do not know when I will next see you.” Ilya watched as his words hit Shane, as he drew a sharp breath and his eyes got impossibly sad. 

“I feel like I’m watching The Notebook live.” Pike grumbled. “Guys, I know this is tough, but we really gotta go.” 

“I will not get to say goodbye to him like I want to at the hotel.” Ilya snapped, turning to glare at Pike. “I’ve already told you, I will pay your fucking fines.” 

“Ilya.” Shane chastised gently. “It’s not their fault.” 

Shane pressed a final kiss to his lips, a short but passionate press of the lips, then pulled away.  

They hustled out the door, leaving Cliff snoring on the sofa. The man having not stirred a single time they had gotten ready. They left in a flurry, slamming the door behind them, and the 6,4” hockey player continued to sleep. 

They piled into the car, four very large men in a relatively small sports car. Lucky for the three Voyageurs in his car, Ilya had very little care for traffic laws and had no fear of speed. Unfortunately for them, they seemed to be little bitches. 

“Fucking hell, Rozanov!” Pike said after a particularly fast turn. 

“You complain about being late, you complain we are taking too long, but when I try and get you back in time, you complain then too!” Ilya said, a nightmarish grin on his face. 

“Just don’t kill us, baby.” Shane found himself saying, gripping the passenger door with white knuckles. 

The car swerved slightly, and when Shane glanced at Ilya his cheeks were lightly flushing. Shane grinned, plans already forming in his mind for some mild payback. 

“Non, capitaine!” JJ called from where he was holding on for dear life. “It is not your turn to distract him! I can see it in those succubus eyes.” 

“Incubus.” Shane corrected mildly. 

Ilya scoffed. “Besides, would not work on me.” 

Shane turned in his seat to give JJ a flat look. “You can’t expect me to let him say that unchallenged.” 

“If we weren’t here you’d already be doing it wouldn’t you?” Hayden shook his head in wonder. “Do you have a death wish?” 

“If you weren’t here I’d already be giving him road head.” Shane grumbled, turning back in his seat. 

The car swerved wildly for a moment, Ilya cursing under his breath as both Hayden and JJ screamed. Shane smirked, happy to have proven his point. 

“Literally who are you?” Hayden panted, looking at Shane with wild eyes. 

“Oh please.” Shane rolled his eyes. “You’re insane if you think I would ever actually give head to someone while they were driving. I would say I’d rather die, but doing that would probably lead to us dying.” 

“Just saying that almost led to us dying!” JJ said, laughing a bewildered, humourless laugh. 

“Solnyshko, maybe no more flirting.” Ilya said with a wild smile. “Leave it to the professionals.” 

Shane scowled at Ilya, already preparing his next volley to throw at him. He took a breath, ready to throw his stupid boyfriend a line that would catch him, hook, line, and sinker. 

“Rozanov, stop issuing him challenges! You’re gonna kill us all.” Hayden moaned. 

“JJ was the one who told him to flirt like his life depended on it!” Shane bit back. “Not so fun the other way round, is it?” 

“It was a joke, Hollander!” JJ said, still laughing breathlessly. “Calisse.” 

“You are entirely too happy with yourself.” Ilya said, his fondness at odds with the speeding car and the terrified hockey players in the back. “I am obsessed with you.” 

That was all Shane needed to hear. He couldn’t help the giddy smile that split his face, didn’t even try to hide it. It grew painfully wide when he caught Ilya’s eye and saw the same crazy smile on his face. 

Hayden, finally having caught his breath, huffed a laugh. “You two are exhausting.” 

“I miss my ignorance.” JJ said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t, I’m glad you told me, but this is really not what I was expecting.” 

“We’ve had ten years of secrecy, you can deal with ten years of idiots in love.” Ilya told him, utterly unsympathetic. Happy, even. 

Hayden sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can live with my best friend being as disgustingly in love as I was when me and Jackie got together.” 

“You are both still pretty disgusting.” JJ smiled. “But that is mostly the baby sick and other fluids.” 

They settled into tamer banter. Ilya still drove the car too fast but not as crazy as he had been previously. The streets weren’t too bad, considering it was getting ready for rush hour. They’d managed to beat most of it. 

They pulled up outside the hotel, JJ and Hayden getting out the car as soon as humanly possible with muttered curses about insane Russians in sportcars. Shane didn’t move just yet. They’d had their physical goodbye, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words yet. 

“Call me, when you are alone.” Ilya said haltingly. “There were things I was meant to discuss with you but you were too distracting.” 

“Discuss?” Shane said, that seed of anxiety taking root in his stomach. 

There were too many possibilities about what Ilya could be talking about. The game? The Voyageurs? The media madness they’d been under for months now? Was there an issue in their relationship? Was there something Ilya was struggling with? 

“Stop it.” Ilya said, reaching up to give a lock of hair a tug. “All is fine. No issues, just things to talk about.” 

“That doesn’t help as much as you think it does.” 

“I hired a social media manager. He is good, stops me from posting too much online, for now.” 

Shane stared at him, desperately trying to figure out how serious Ilya was being. 

“Are you saying you’ve been completely unmanaged until now?” He asked slowly. 

It made sense, Ilya had always posted the wildest shit online, commented borderline outrageous things that would have sent the Voyageurs media managers into a tizzy. But it was also insane, because how had Boston allowed that to continue? 

“No, Boston has PR team. But I don’t need full time management.” Ilya waved him off. Shane’s eyes bugged out of his head because what? He absolutely needed full time management. “But I never really post about you before so now I need to be more careful.” 

“You don’t need full time management?” Shane let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “The things you say online have been borderline obscene, Ilya.” 

“Compared to people with leaked sex tapes or closet racists, I am fine.”  Ilya argued with an eyeroll. “Raiders let me know if I go too far and I sometimes listen.” 

“Did you say you hired someone so you don’t post about me?” Shane’s brain finally caught up to him. “You told some random person about us?” 

“No, Shane. This is why I wanted to discuss this properly and now we have no time.” Ilya thumped the steering wheel. “It is my fault, I forgot. But I promise you, this was a good decision. Call me when you get home and I will tell you all about it.” 

Shane’s heart was still thumping irregularly. He felt the knot in his stomach twisting even as his mind tried to tell him to trust Ilya. To believe that it was all fine. But until he knew all the details, this was going to haunt his mind. 

A knock at the window pulled his focus. Hayden, waiting with both their bags slung over his shoulders. Shane moved to open the door, then paused. 

“I love you.” He said, looking Ilya in the eye, making sure he said this despite how annoyed he was. “So much.” 

Ilya sighed a sad, forlorn, sigh. “I love you too. Let me know when you land.” 

“I will.” And with that Shane got out the car and walked away. 

****

They grabbed their bags from their rooms and immediately turned back around to get on the bus. They were the last to file on and had to take seats far apart from each other with the remaining spaces. Coach Theriault had mentioned as they passed him that he didn’t remember seeing them last night after the game and they’d all shrugged. 

No mention of the fines they were all likely facing, especially Shane considering he’d sworn in his interview. 

His phone had a few messages and many many ignored mentions. Most blaring though, were the multiple messages from his mother. 

Mom 

Honey I know you’re with Ilya right now but call me when you can 

Mom 

I know you were stressed and it’s ridiculous that you were effectively benched but we need to talk about how you handled it. 

Mom 

Don’t tweet or post anything until you talk to me 

Mom 

Please 

Shane loved his mother. She’d quickly learnt that if he and Ilya were in the same city he probably wouldn’t answer his phone until they were no longer in the same city. 

But she also tended to focus on the optics and how to manage a situation. Something he’d been eternally grateful for in the early days of his career when the world felt like too much and all he wanted to do was play hockey. 

These days he felt a bit more comfortable with having something to say. He felt less concerned about optics. About how he had to mold himself to fit a world that had never tried accepting someone like him. 

Besides, the please felt like an afterthought. 

So maybe he was still in his angsty phase. Maybe he hadn’t completely disengaged the apathy. Maybe he was finally having his rebellious era in his late 20s. 

“No gay bars this time, Hollander?” 

Shane looked up from his phone to see Comeau sitting across the aisle from him. His voice was neutral, bordering on teasing. 

Shane narrowed his eyes. 

Comeau held his hands up. “Genuine question.” 

“No. No gay bars this time.” Shane said woodenly. Waiting for the axe to fall, for the pin to drop, for the moment this was all a set up. 

“Cool.” 

Silence settled over them. The interaction left Shane more confused and unsettled than his interactions with Cleutier. Because what the fuck was he supposed to make of that? 

Was he being set up for a joke but answered wrong? Was Coms just waiting for the chance to make some gay comment or joke beyond Shane’s ability to imagine? 

Or… or could he genuinely be asking? 

“We were playing Mario Kart with Marlow and - uh, Rozanov.” Shane found himself adding. 

Comeau raised his eyebrows. “Ah.” 

Another beat of awkward silence. 

“All night?” 

Shane huffed an uncomfortable laugh. “Yeah. We got a bit into it.” 

Comeau gave him a smile that was more a press of the lips than anything else. “Did you win?” 

Heat crept up Shane’s face as memories of Ilya’s whispered flirtations as he desperately tried to remain unaffected. And failed. 

But alongside the flush curled a slow smug smile. “I did.” 

A real smile found its way onto Comeau’s mouth, a little bit feral like the one he had after a scrappy win. “That’s what I’m talking about, cap.” 

Shane allowed himself to enjoy this moment. He’d just had a conversation with Gilbert Comeau and nothing bad had happened. His heart was still beating pretty fast, his hands were sweaty, and his mouth was dry. But nothing bad had happened. 

Then a sobering thought hit him, is this the bar? 

Is one awkward conversation where no one was openly or even subtextually homophobic considered a win? 

“Who’d you play as?” Comeau asked, his tone light in a way that felt a bit forced. 

“Uh, Toad.” Shane answered automatically. 

JJ had been Yoshi, Marly had been King Boo, and Hayden was an insane person who changed who he played as every new grand prix. As he put it, he was waiting to find a character who ‘sparked joy.’ 

Comeau made a grunting ‘huh’ sound. And then, “I play as Donkey Kong.” 

Shane nodded but was completely unable to think of what else to say about that. He’d never been good at small talk, despite the fact all he ever seemed to say to people was deemed small talk. Small talk or info dumping about hockey were his two modes. 

“Nice.” He ended up with. 

And really he should be trying harder. This was a teammate who was willing to at least try and have a conversation with him. He tried to picture what Ilya might say and immediately dismissed that idea because Ilya would say something unhinged that Shane could never get away with saying. 

“You feeling ready for Vancouver?” Was what Shane landed on, because he honestly could not think of anything to talk about other than hockey. 

“Always, cap, always.” Comeau replied with a grin, before adding in a lower voice, “As long as we actually get you on the ice this time.” 

Shane’s face twisted into a scowl before he could school it into something neutral. Comeau raised an eyebrow and leaned over to him, dropping his voice. 

“So what was actually up with that, cap?” 

Shane blinked at him. “Up with… me not getting ice time?” 

“Yeah, are you injured?” His voice was so genuine, his confusion so evident on his face that it threw Shane for a loop. 

How was it not obvious to him? Shane had a fight with Cleutier about being proudly gay, then the opposite team shows up looking like a pride parade, and then Shane doesn’t get ice time. It was a logical, infuriating sequence of events. What else could it be? 

“No. The issue is that I’m gay, Gil.” Shane said in the same low voice. 

Comeau’s widened in shock, the expression almost comical to Shane. “What do you mean?” 

“I have a fight with Cleuy. Boston show their pride. I barely play.” Shane stated his facts simply, not willing to outright accuse Theiriault of being homophobic. He trusted Comeau’s ignorance but not his loyalty. 

“But because of that we lost.” Comeau said dumbly. 

Shane huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.” 

“They wouldn’t be that dumb, right? To willingly lose a game just to…?” What Comeau didn’t have the vocabulary for, Shane could piece together himself. 

“It’s the only reason I can think of.” Shane shrugged. “If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Maybe they were just testing the waters to see how strong of a team they have without me.” 

“So close to playoffs?” Comeau scratched his head. “There must be another reason.” 

Shane sighed. He wasn’t going to sit here and try to convince Comeau of the organisation's homophobia. If he didn’t see it then he didn’t see it. 

Not long ago, Comeau’s disbelief would have sent Shane on a tailspin that he was making it all up in his head. That there were coincidences and maybe there was a valid reason to keep him off the ice. Maybe it was all in his head. 

That Shane was buried deep. He still existed, he still could send flickers of self doubt. But it was quickly overridden by anger and a rare belief in himself. 

The conversation died out, and Shane let himself doze on the way to the airport, dreaming of the way Ilya held him the night before. 

****

• You’ve been added to Cirque du Pervers

Cliff

Istg if i get added to one more gc 

Hayden

You’re telling me, I have like 10 for the kids schools and activities alone

JJ 

Stop complaining

Ilya

French?? I am in a French group chat??

• Shane, JJ, and Hayden 🙄 reacted

Shane

Why is this happening

JJ

Because we are all bonded. Vive la fraternité! 

Cliff

Some of us aren’t quite brotherly love

• Ilya 😏reacted, Shane 😒reacted

Hayden

Did Rozanov tell you he almost got us killed on the drive to the hotel? 

Ilya

Why are you blaming me? Blame Shane!

Cliff

Do I even want to know?

Cliff

(I very much want to know tell me everything)

JJ

He did to Roz what Roz did to him the night before

Cliff

??? Outrageous sex acts???

Hayden

BUT IN A REAL CAR

Shane

Please I barely did anything

JJ

You offered to give him road head

Hayden

No he threatened to give him road head

Cliff 

Shane man you a freak 💀

Shane 

Oh my god it was a joke 

Cliff 

Nah but I heard the things Roz said to you last night 

Shane 

Yeah, things ILYA said, why am I getting the blame? 

JJ 

Like you didn’t love it - hence the gc name 

Cliff 

Wait fuck I didn’t even notice that 

Ilya 

Circus of what? 

Shane 

It says the perverts circus 

Ilya 

Which pervert, me or you?

Hayden 

Fucking both of you 

Cliff 

I always knew Roz was a freak but Hollzy you really surprised me there 

Shane 

Plane is taking off now bye 

• Ilya ☹️reacted 

Cliff 

MISS YOU PIKE 

Hayden

💔 

JJ 

Damn fuck me ig

Ilya 

No ❤️

****

JJ was back on the cheer Shane up train. This time he wasn’t trying to set him up, for obvious reasons, so that meant he had to enact a new plan for cheering up his friend. 

Before he’d just believed he was a lonely closeted gay man who’d never known the touch of a man. 

He had been thoroughly disavowed of those beliefs in one traumatic sitting. First, Shane had a boyfriend, second, that boyfriend had the filthiest mouth known to mankind. 

The few snippets JJ caught were enough to make him blush and swerve. 

So Shane wasn’t lonely, so much as moping and pining. 

And JJ couldn’t cure that. But he could be obnoxiously boisterous and friendly. 

He, Shane, and Hayden were at the rink gym, all three having been reamed out by management while everyone else was in the gym, so now they were making up for their strength and conditioning an hour after everyone else. 

Across the three of them they had accrued $20k worth of fines. Shane having a bit more of the pot for his attitude in the post game interview that was supposedly unbecoming of a captain and ‘maybe they would have to reconsider who they wanted to represent the team.’ 

Thus leaving Shane in a bad mood. 

Thus leading to JJ to try and cheer him up. 

JJ was piling weights onto Hayden’s bar, as Hayden looked at his phone. Helpful as ever. He hadn’t quite picked up on JJ’s ‘cheer up cap’ agenda. 

“Reckon Rozanov was being serious about paying our fines?” He asked, looking up from his budgeting spreadsheet. 

“Yeah, but he will mock you when you ask.” Shane warned. 

Hayden sighed. “JJ, are you going to ask?” 

JJ laughed. “Nah man, I don’t have 6 million kids to feed. I can afford my bad decisions.” 

Hayden groaned and slumped backwards onto the bench. He began his first set, JJ hovering ready to spot him if he needed. 

“We need some tunes, give me your phone.” JJ held his hand out. 

Hayden didn’t even question it, just handed it over. He hooked it up to the sound system in the gym and picked a generic playlist to play, but added in some choice songs throughout. Spread periodically. Surreptitiously. 

Then he set his own phone recording, propped up on some seldom used equipment. And then he just let it roll. They continued about their routines, half ignoring each other, bopping to the music. 

JJ and Hayden took turns spotting each other with their lifts, not going too hard today but hard enough to need someone to keep an eye. Besides, lifting was more fun when there was someone else with you, taking turns, to hype you up. Shane mostly stuck to a treadmill run and dumbbell exercises. 

But for an hour or so, the three of them just existed in the gym. After the first 20 or so minutes, Shane was able to get out of his head, and soon they were chirping each other. Laughing at and with each other. Goading each other to try heavier weights or ridiculous balance exercises. 

“Okay, split squats but -” 

Or 

“Who can hold a wall squat for the longest?” 

Or 

“Bet you can’t do a human flag.” 

It was ridiculous, and maybe not quite a proper workout. But the music was pumping and the boys were laughing. 

And Shane was the one who got closest to holding a flag, for maybe 2 seconds. But Hayden couldn’t even keep his lower body in the air and JJ could jump into the correct position and immediately start a slow decline back to the floor. 

The subtle songs JJ had added had the desired effect of making all three of them do a little shimmy as they retrieved a weight, a two step on their way to the wall, snapping their fingers with a head bob as they timed each other at a challenge. 

JJ was, in all, a genius. 

It was of course Shane who eventually made them finish their workout on a more serious note. Demanding 3 more sets from each of them before they could leave. 

“I’ll pay the fines.” Shane said apropos of nothing from where he was stretching on a mat. “You guys were there supporting me. I’ll pay them.” 

“Okay, I’d rather have Rozanov pay them than you.” Hayden gasped from under his weights. 

“Push, push, push.” JJ chanted softly as Hayden’s left side dipped slightly. 

Hayden got his bar up and JJ helped rack it. Grumbling all the while, Hayden took out his phone. JJ left him to his begging and joined Shane on the mats. 

****

Cirque du Pervers

Hayden

20k of fines 💀

Ilya

If ur gonna beg at least do it properly

Cliff

💀💀💀

Cliff

From what I overheard the other night Hollzy should be able to help you with that 👀

Ilya

This is true he begs very pretty

Hayden

🤮🤮🤮

Hayden

I did not need to know

Ilya

But not for money 🍆

Hayden 

STOP

Cliff 

Roz you should have to pay all of us for that 

Ilya 

You started it 😒

Hayden

I’m fucking finishing it

****

Shane hadn’t noticed his phone buzzing away toward the end of his gym session. If you could even call it that. 

He’d been avoiding his mom. He just didn’t want to hear what he knew she was going to say about the whole ordeal. 

And he just didn’t need to hear it. He already knew everything he’d said wrong. The words he’d said played on repeat in his mind, the ones he’d had with Cleutier, the ones he’d thrown at Therieault, and the ones he’d said to the press. 

Sometimes he imagined how he’d deescalate the situation, how he’d let the words run off like water on a duck's back, like they didn’t matter. He’d laugh and move on and play some goddamn hockey. 

Other times, Shane imagined the worst things he could have said. The things that would have hit Cleutier where it hurt. Hindsight told him the correct way to weave his words into eloquently brutal takedowns of that man’s character, his looks, his hockey ability. 

But his mom didn’t know about that. 

All she knew was that he’d acted like a spoiled child having a hissy fit in front of the press. In front of the world. 

That he was an embarrassment. 

More than he already was. 

So that was why he didn’t check his buzzing phone until they’d left the gym and gotten in the car home. 

There was a message from his mom. There was also a direct message from Ilya. And then there were 20+ from Cirque du Pervers. 

Shane couldn’t check the group chat because then Ilya would know he was on his phone and then Shane would have to call him about the man he’d apparently hired. 

That definitely knew about him and Ilya. 

And he was staving off the panic for now, but if Ilya gave him more details he would spiral. He just would. 

So he drove home without opening his messages, without talking to anyone. Back to his empty Montreal condo. 

Chapter End Notes

I got my wisdom tooth removed and assumed that meant I’d have a bunch of down time to write and instead I just became the most miserable cow to ever exist and slept for a week straight.

Additionally my brain is cooking up two more fics but I am dedicated to finishing this one first

I will also probs be doing 5.6billion chapter fic instead of multi fics. For ease of life and it was also the general consensus

Chapter 12: You’re hired

Chapter Summary

Some angst and some Harris

Chapter Notes

Once again apologies for the late chapter, I had to rewrite it cause I wasn’t happy with it. Still 100% but it’ll doooo

Yuna Hollander made the 2 hour drive to Montreal and she was trying not to be annoyed by it. She loved her son, more than anything else in the world. There was not a soul alive who could claim Yuna Hollander did not love her son. 

But she also knew her son. She knew he oscillated wildly between confrontation and avoidance. Avoidance more often than confrontation, but the confrontation side almost always was preceded by intense anxiety. 

Currently her son was avoiding her. 

Because he had decided in his head what she was going to say and was gearing up to confront her. Go on the immediate defensive. He’d most likely already had several conversations in his head with Yuna, analysing every possible thing she could say so he could have a response ready. 

If Yuna was being honest with herself, which David had forced her to be this morning over their coffee, she was doing the same thing. She was preparing for Shane’s defensiveness herself, having conversations in her head and planning out how she could nip it in the bud. 

The long drawn out arguments of his teen years had not reared their ugly heads in a long time. Mostly because Shane was an adult now and David had forced her to concede that he was capable of making his own decisions. 

Because Yuna had learned her lesson, she knocked on the door. Shane didn’t take long to answer, when he did he still had that hollow grumpy expression he’d had during his post game interview. He wore baggy sweats and a hoodie Yuna was fairly certain was Ilya’s. 

“Mom.” Shane frowned, which Yuna didn’t take personally as he looked tired and confused more than annoyed. 

“I’m not upset with you.” Yuna began with, playing her first move to head off anything he might have prepared. “Do you want coffee?” 

Shane blinked but stepped to the side to let her in. She walked past him to the kitchen, which was immaculate as always. Almost in a sad way. Their home in Ottawa was tidy, but there was always the World’s Greatest Dad mug on the counter, the chicken shaped egg holder, the little mice decals David and Shane had stuck on random tiles when Shane was 7. 

Lived in. A home. 

Shane’s condo did not feel like that. 

“Mom, why are you here?” Shane sighed, following her in. 

“Because you’ve been ignoring me.” She said, setting up the coffee machine to make a cappuccino. 

“Mom, I’m a grown man, you can’t just drop by every time I don’t immediately reply to your messages.” Shane replied in a practiced way that let Yuna know this was one of the phrases he’d had prepared. 

“I know that honey,” Yuna replied diplomatically, moving her own pre-prepared response like a pawn. “But something is clearly wrong.” 

“Look I know I handled the media badly okay. I know.” Shane snapped, showing his hand too soon. “You don’t need to tell me, I know exactly what I could have said differently.” 

“I’m not here about what you said, I’m here because I want to know why you said it.” Yuna turned to face him fully, giving him her best ‘I mean what I’m saying’ expression because Shane had a tendency to hear something else. “What I saw was that my boy was hurting and I didn’t know why. As a mom, that kills me. I know I can’t make the world safe and kind for you, but I can be here when the shit hits the fan.” 

“Mom.” Shane’s voice was tight, tight in a way that made Yuna want to bundle up her son like when he was small and just hold him. 

“I can admit,” She continued with a soft smile, “with a lot of help from your father, that my first instinct was, ‘what is he saying?’ Because it was so unlike you. Then my second thought was, ‘something happened.’ And my third thought was ‘who do I need to kill?’” 

That last one brought out a laugh from Shane. He took a deep, sniffling, breath and wiped at his eyes. His eyes turned up to the ceiling, whether to avoid looking at her or to try and stop the tears she didn’t know. 

“I don’t want to complain.” He said eventually. “I’m so tired of everything being so shit. I want to be happy, I want to enjoy playing, I want to-” He cut himself off with a furious expression. “I want to feel like I’m not the problem.” 

“Oh Shane, honey, you’re not.” Yuna moved forward to pull her son to her, despite his height. 

“You don’t even know what happened.” He mumbled against her. 

She didn’t, but she could put some pieces together. Yuna could see the pieces: Boston’s Pride tape, Shane not playing, Shane’s interview. It didn’t take much to make a connection. But what she couldn’t guess at was the inciting incident, and her mother’s worry was running rampant. Was he injured? Was he hurt? Emotionally or physically? Had someone said something, or done something? 

Yuna was no stranger to people bullying her son. Being a quiet Asian kid had led to some kids pouncing on a perceived weakness. Being the most talented kid on any hockey team had led to ostracisation, to kids finding any reason to try and tear him down. 

When Shane had joined the NHL, when he’d moved out of his parents house, to a new city, she’d known that people wouldn’t magically stop being jealous and resentful of her son. She knew that not everyone would like him. But she’d hoped he would at least let her know. 

“So tell me.” She begged with a broken heart. 

They ended up sitting on the stools by the kitchen island, coffees half drunk in front of them. Yuna had to work exceptionally hard to keep her face passive as he told her his story. The passivity was for Shane, because her outrage, her vitriol, her murderous intent, would only stress him out more. For now, at least. 

There would come a time soon where she could let him know just how much she was going to destroy that man. And then she would. 

“I just don’t know what else I can do.” Shane finished. “I don’t know how else to make them accept me.” 

“Sometimes you can’t.” Yuna said. “Sometimes you have to cut your losses.” 

“What does that mean?” Shane snapped his head up, instantly on the defensive again. 

“It means you don’t have to be friends with a bigot. It means you can’t cure the world of homophobes.” Yuna gave him a stern look, one that said ‘drop the attitude with me.’

“I’m captain.” Shane insisted. “At least for now. It is my job to promote team unity. And currently I’m the one creating the rift.” 

“Cleutier is creating the rift.” Yuna insisted. “Unity would be if your team had your back. You are not the problem. You are allowed to defend yourself.” 

“I just want things to be easier.” Shane admitted, dropping his head into his hands. 

Yuna reached over to rub his shoulders. “I know, honey, I know.” 

They sipped at their coffees, Shane emotionally raw from reliving his tale again, Yuna filled with condensed rage. Her mind was racing with all the ways she could tackle this. There weren’t a lot of options, but Shane’s name carried a lot of weight. He was an All-Star, an Olympian, a Stanley Cup Champion. There was leverage. 

“What does Ilya say about it all?” She asked. 

Shane’s face did something funny. Just like his sullen expression reminded her of his teenage years, this one reminded her of his elementary years. The face he pulled when he broke something, when he spilled something, when he ate the last biscuits or finished off the juice and put the carton back. 

Guilty. With a touch of annoyance. 

“Shane.” 

Shane huffed a big breath. “I haven’t spoken to him much since I got back.” 

“And why not?” Yuna ran over the last few days in her mind quickly. “Are you annoyed at him for the pride tape? I suppose I can understand, but he did it to support you.” 

“No, mom, it’s not that.” Shane said hurriedly. “Besides, it was actually Marlow’s idea. Which is crazy when I think about it.” 

Now Cliff Marlow was someone Yuna had many conflicting opinions about. When she’d discovered Ilya Rozanov was not the Russian miscreant he was reported to be but in fact a loveable wonderful man who was infatuated with her son, she had been surprised but was quickly won over. 

Cliff Marlow on the other hand, was just as frequently pictured drunk with a myriad of beautiful women. Just as arrogant and aggressive in his play style and general attitude as Ilya. 

And he had broken Shane’s collarbone, given him a concussion, and taken him out of playoffs. It was not something easily forgiven. Seeing her son slammed into by other hockey players who were often bigger than him, was never easy. 

She elected not to comment on him, just yet. Her son was beginning to make a habit of endearing her to Boston players. 

“I’m being stupid. I know am.” He continued. “It’s just.” 

Shane stopped, a scowl twisting his face. He turned to face away from her, glaring at the far wall, hand flexing on the counter. 

“Why does everything happen so much?” He said, voice frustrated and raw. 

“I know it’s overwhelming-” Yuna began. 

“It’s not the same! My life has been public for a long time but now there are people analysing my body language in TikToks! They slow down interviews and games to track my eyeline. I’m being watched more intensely than ever before!” 

Shane turned back to his mother, his eyes wide and wild. 

“My teammates don’t have my back, at least one of them is outwardly aggressive about it. Management is watching everything I say and do almost as much as the fans. I’m so aware of everything that comes out of my mouth but no matter what it never seems right.” 

Yuna had to stop herself interrupting the clearly needed rant, but goodness did she want to soothe him. To scrub those fears away and tell him to just be himself. That it was all going to be okay. 

Not that that was a promise she could keep. She truly had no way of knowing. 

“And then Ilya-” Shane cut himself off again, gave himself a brief moment, and continued in a quieter tone. “Ilya is so far away. And we call and we text but it’s not the same. And the time we have together is never enough. We can never just enjoy it, there’s always something to discuss or something we missed and then suddenly we’re being rushed away from each other again, before we really have the chance to just be.” 

“Shane, honey, are you and Ilya having problems?” She asked gently. “It’s completely normal for things not to be perfect all the time.” 

Shane gave a short, sharp, humourless laugh. “This relationship has never been perfect, mom. We spent 10 years trying to pretend we didn’t have feelings for each other. I just - I just thought it would be easier once we finally did.” 

Yuna wanted so badly to pat his hair and pull him against her like she did when he was a child. “Loving someone is scary. It’s the most vulnerable you can be.” 

Falling in love with David had felt wild and reckless, brave and terrifying. And there had been little to no obstacles for them, no public eye, no homophobia, no career on the line. There was the racism from hateful strangers, but it had never kept them apart. 

“Loving him isn’t the problem.” He said, his eyes growing tired. “The problem is that he hired someone to help manage his online presence, because of me.  Because he’s scared he’s going to say something too obvious.” 

“Honey, that seems like a wonderful idea.” She said softly, because honestly she should have thought of that. A dedicated social manager for both Shane and Ilya to manage their online presence was a brilliant idea. 

“He didn’t even discuss with me. There’s this person out there who I don’t even know, I don’t what they’re called, where they’re from, what their intentions are, who knows all about us.” 

Yuna frowned. “Ilya won’t tell you?” 

Shane avoided looking at her. “It’s not that.” 

“It’s not-” then the pieces arranged. “You’re not speaking to Ilya so he can continue to be punished for this. You don’t want him to tell you yet so you can continue to be angry.” 

Shane scowled. “not.. . exactly.” 

“Shane, you know exactly what you need to do.” She said firmly. “He wants to share with you, let him. It’s scary but ultimately it will ease your anxieties.” 

“And potentially create more ones.” He added sullenly. 

“Call your boyfriend.” 

“I thought you came over to deal with my media meltdown.” 

“I came over to deal with my son ignoring me.” She could see him digging his heels in, see it behind his eyes. “Shane. He loves you more than anything in this world. Talk to him.” 

“I will.” Shane snapped. 

“Why are you putting it off?” 

“I feel like all I have these days are big conversations. I’m exhausted, I just want to not have to - to hold anything. Everything is so heavy.” 

“Okay well tell him that.” She said, and to look at Shane’s face you’d have thought she’d spoken Latin. 

He sighed and closed his eyes again, burying his face in his hands. She knew from, well, being his mother, that he needed a moment. So she let him be. She sat beside him as he processed. That she could do. 

Shane’s phone buzzed on the table, an email notification, Yuna averted her eyes as he opened it on his phone. She only looked back when her son made a choked off sob. 

“He knows me so well.” He said, his voice full of love and tears. It was adoring and sad all at once. Like Ilya knowing him and loving him was all together heartbreaking. 

“What has he done?” Yuna asked. 

“He’s made it easier for me.” He said, tilting his phone toward her. 

Yuna’s eyes scanned quickly over the screen. Her heart painfully full of love for this man who’d come into her son’s life and understood him. Who saw him. Who loved and adored him. This brilliant brilliant man. 

****

Ilya had printed, notated, scanned, and emailed Harris’ proposal over to Shane in the end. The epiphany that Shane would probably process the information in clinical black and white than an emotionally wrought phone call had hit him in the middle of the night. Waking up and immediately getting to work. 

The pages didn’t hold emotion like a conversation would. Shane could have all the information to process by himself and come to Ilya when he was ready. He highlighted parts he agreed with, and wanted Shane to take note of. He made notations in untidy scrawl next to bits he would change or outright reject. Sometimes he just put an exclamation mark that he hoped would convey ‘Harris is very smart! We should listen to him!’ 

He slept before he sent it, so that he could double check it before he sent it. It took Shane a few hours to read and acknowledge it. Eventually calling him around 6pm. 

“I’m sorry.” Shane said in lieu of a greeting. “I know I didn’t handle this well.” 

“Is okay. I also did not handle it well.” Ilya said, mentally lingering on the guilt he held for throwing Shane a curve ball right before dropping him off with his homophobic team. 

“Don’t do that.” Shane said, voice harsh. “Don’t downplay the fact that I’ve been avoiding you. I know it was shitty. I know because I hated when you did it to me, and we weren’t even a real thing then. Be mad at me.” 

“I am not mad at you.” Ilya said softly. “I didn’t like it, but I understood why. You needed a moment. I had a whole plan, to watch you do slutty shots, to fuck that gorgeous throat, and then tell you about Harris. But instead all our plans went out of the window, and then I rushed to tell you and I just made you anxious instead.” 

Shane was quiet on the other end, but Ilya could hear him breathing. Could imagine him taking the time to process. Maybe Ilya shouldn’t have mentioned the throat fucking, but that had been the original plan. 

“My mom told me off for not speaking to you.” He said eventually. “When I talked to her about it, she said to talk to you about it. But it just feels like I’m constantly having dark and heavy conversations about how horrible and stressful my life is. So I put off having another one.” 

“It is okay.” Ilya soothed. “Or, before you argue again. Is… tough. Is hard. But our relationship is very old and very new. We are learning. Together. I will try not to surprise you with things, and you will try not to put off conversations.” 

“Deal.” Shane said, his voice soft and fond in a way that pulled painfully at Ilya’s heart. 

He had thought trying to live without Shane was painful. Their longing, their yearning, their fights, the long periods of avoiding each other. 

This was a new pain. Loving him, and not being able to have him fully and openly was painful. Loving him, and Shane avoiding him when something felt difficult was painful. Loving him, and still messing up was painful. 

“So you read it.” Ilya said. 

Shane sighed on the other end. “The worst part of this is admitting you’re right.” 

Ilya laughed, that warm-now-familiar feeling spreading through his chest. The feeling only Shane had ever brought on. “Harris is very nice. You will like him. I will set up a meeting? All three of us, he will call you Mr Hollander until you manage to convince him Shane is fine.” 

“Okay.” Shane said easily. 

“His parents have a million dogs, he will show you pictures if you ask.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“He told me I wasn’t allowed to post a picture of all of us after Mario Kart because it was rubbing noses in rule breaking.” 

“It is.” Shane agreed. 

“How is what JJ posted not same thing?” 

There was a pause on the other end. “What the fuck did JJ post?”

****

Because Shane had been avoiding his boyfriend and his mother, he had missed the notification that he’d been tagged in a post by JJ. So it was only now that he saw the video. 

It wasn’t as bad as his brain had told it would be. Shane had heard Ilya say JJ had posted something about flaunting their rule breaking and after the tough couple days he’d had it flagged immediately as ‘oh no’ and ‘danger’ and ‘run for your life.’ 

But in actuality, he quite liked it. 

The opening notes of We Are Not Alone by Karla DeVito sounded before anything appeared on screen. Shane couldn’t remember if JJ had actually played the song in the gym or not, but he assumed yes. 

And it was just an edit of them messing around in the gym, the times they danced it out between sets, the comically bad attempts at doing a human flag, them laughing at each other. 

It ended with Shane and Hayden laughing with each other as they left the gym, JJ trailing behind, and when he was alone on screen, he pumped his fist in the air, mirroring the final scene of The Breakfast Club. 

Edits of them as members of the Breakfast Club were everywhere. The three of them being fined was public knowledge, and thus jokes about them being in detention were abundant. The Cirque du Pervers chat had many screenshots sharing their favourite fan takes. 

Shane had been notably absent, but Hayden and JJ had left him to it. Ilya knew why he was avoiding it. Cliff hadn’t commented on it. He had withdrawn, and no one… was mad at him? No one was commenting on him being awol? 

He fired off a few laughing reactions, plus a quick “JJ you coulda warned a guy” 

Only to be met with 

Cliff

Holzy in da chatttt

Hayden

Ooo Shane I’ve been saving these ones for you

Hayden has sent 12 images

JJ

I DID

I GOT BLANKED

The conversation continued rolling on, Shane made sure to laugh react at Hayden’s saved tweets. But he was hit with this moment of, oh, I didn’t have to explain myself. 

Shane had spent a lot of his life having to explain himself. Explaining his heritage, the difference between Chinese, Korean, and Japanese. Explaining his quirks, his routines, his unenjoyment of drinking and clubbing in general, his quietness. His lack of social skills. 

And he wished he could handle when things went well better, but having these loud, rough, hockey players not even bat an eye at yet another of his oddities, released something inside him he hadn’t even been aware he was holding.

****

Boizyeow

No but jj is actually so funny for this

Voyageurgirl94

Dying imagining Boiziau doing the dramatic fist pump as he leaves then having to run back to get his phone 

Hockeyhips

Brb editing a photo of the breakfast club with Rozanov as the Criminal, Hollander as the princess, Boiziau as the athlete, Marlow as the basket case, and Pike as the brain

Pikeslesbians

PIKE AS THE BRAIN???

Rozanovslop

Rozanov is obviously the basket case and Marlow is the criminal

Mrsmarlow

Hollander is princess but he is also the brain

Madi_loves_hockey

Idiots all of you, they’re all the athlete duh

Hockeyhusbands

Okay are they the three musketeers, the three amigos, or the three stooges, vote in the poll below! 

Shaneslut24

My fav trio <3

Pucksandpups

These hockey jocks are gonna be the death of me istg

Shane_can_get_it

THERES MY HAPPY SHANE

Boiziaubabe

The joy these three bring me is unhealthy

Hollanderswife4sure

Violently reminded that a) Shane Hollander is a jock and b) sometimes jocks can be silly goofy guys 

Gordyinthecrease

Somehow seeing three professional athletes have fun while working out is giving me gender euphoria??? I want to bottle what they have and drink it every day 

Parlow

Shane Hollander has Bambi eyes and no I will not be elaborating 

Puckhoney

Lowkey JJ Boiziau can dance??

Pucktuah 

Hayden Pike working out is not something I thought I’d find as attractive as I do but I’m hello?? I can’t even blame Jackie Pike for giving that man 4 kids

Jones1289

This is gonna sound so dumb but like, it’s healing that inner child in me who was terrified of getting in trouble. These three got fined (dumbass reasons yadayada) and seconds later post a video of them goofing off in detention ½ 

Jones1289

Like idk but maybe the world doesn’t end when you get in trouble. Maybe you’re still allowed to have fun 2/2 

****

Shane was back on the ice for their next game, and the game after that. Both roadies against teams he had no strong feelings about. Things with Cluetier were tense, but they just didn’t talk to one another. The other guys pretended like nothing was wrong and spoke to them both equally, mostly about the inane shit hockey players talk about. 

Hayden and JJ were having a harder time pretending to be fine with Cluetier than Shane was. Their ability to - well, not forgive, but forget - is apparently impossible. Maybe Shane is just used to keeping a passive face, going through life pretending things don’t bother him. The scratch of clothing tags, the wet sounds of people drinking from straws, so on and so forth. 

Hayden and JJ didn’t know what ‘passive indifference’ meant. They didn’t say anything to Cluetier, but their faces said it all. It almost made Shane laugh when he’d look up and catch one of them giving the dirtiest mean mug he’d ever seen. 

So things were fine. 

****

Harris sat in a smart but comfortable casual cardigan, his hair styled but not overly so, ready at his laptop 10 minutes before the virtual meeting was set to start. He had checked his background a dozen or so times to make sure it looked presentable but not cluttered, and even though it would be nigh on impossible, to make sure there was no explicit material randomly in his living room. 

7 minutes before the meeting started, he joined. Sitting in the empty virtual meeting room, a mug of coffee on his left, a notepad and pen on his right. A dog at his feet. 

He was doodling when the sound of another person joining the call sounded. Suddenly, Shane Hollander was staring at him from his screen, sat in a blue linen button up. They both stared at each other for a moment. 

“Hi! It’s great to meet you Mr Hollander, I’m Harris.” Harris sat up, his stomach tightening as he drew a settling breath. “Drover. Harris Drover.” 

“Uh, Shane.” Shane Hollander looked like a deer in headlights. “Please, just call me Shane.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Would you like me to call you Mr Drover?”

“Dear god, no.” 

Shane made a hand gesture that read as ‘well there you go then’ that Harris found very endearing. “Shane it is then.” 

“Ilya made it sound a lot harder to get you to call him by his name.” 

Hearing the name Ilya drop so casually from Shane Hollander, sworn enemy and arch rival, was still something Harris was wrapping his head around. Even for most hockey guys, it was surnames or nicknames that were usually based on surnames. 

“Maybe I just like you more.” Harris joked, then instantly realised that could sound like flirting. “You know, because rivalry. And Canadian. I’m Canadian, did Ilya tell you?” 

Shane stared at him for a moment, then a soft laugh accompanied by a genuine smile lit up his face. “Uh, yeah. He did. And the dogs, he mostly talks about your dogs so sorry, I actually don’t know that much about you.” 

“That’s okay!” Harris said brightly, his heart still somewhat erratic with anxiety, “I’m an open book, pretty soon you’ll probably know more about me than you care to know!” 

“Well, right back at you I guess. I’m not an open book but if you’re going to be helping us with our online… presence, you’ll probably know far too much and about us too. Moreso Ilya, he needs management more than anyone, this things he says are outrageous.” 

Harris couldn’t help but laugh. Ilya hadn’t been too bad so far, he’d been good at showing Harris things before posting them, whether it was his own posts or replies to random things he saw online. 

For the most part, Ilya was fine to comment and reply to things. There was a slight 

“My main issue with Rozanov is what he says live, can’t stop him then.” 

“Is this about the queerbaiting thing?” Shane asked dryly. 

Harris laughed, properly this time. “Yes! I can’t believe you didn’t teach him that word.” 

“It honestly, never came up before.” Shane admitted. “I don’t think anyone has accused me or him of queerbaiting before we became friends. Or since we became public friends rather.” 

“I will say, he could have handled it a lot worse.” Harris allowed, his fondness for Ilya Rozanov coming through. 

Shane grimaced. “To be honest, I think he would have handled it worse if he had already known what it meant. He probably would have kissed Marlow or something just for the drama.” 

Harris groaned, “now that would have sent me to meet my maker early.” 

The incident they were discussing had happened after one of Boston’s games earlier that week. The general buzz around the Rozanov/Hollander friendship wasn’t quite as intense but was still a prominent fixture in hockey fandom discussion. 

Questions directed at either of them in media scrums always had a couple questions about their friendship. Some playful, some accusatory, some completely unprofessional. 

This one had been a reporter asking Ilya, “Rozanov! What do you have to say about the accusations of queerbaiting?” 

Ilya had frowned, more confused than annoyed by the question. “Queerbaiting? I do not know this word.” 

“Oh well, er.” The reporter had fumbled. 

“Queer is word for lgbt people? And baiting like… bait? For fish? You are asking if I am fishing for gay people?” Ilya had raised an eyebrow so condescending that Harris had briefly wondered if he did know what queerbaiting was and was just fucking with them. 

“Well, Mr Rozanov-”

“Or baiting like rage baiting? Am I trying to anger the gays?” At this Ilya quirked his lip up. “No, I am not fishing, and I am not angering. Not on purpose.” 

“It means to make people think you might be gay.” The reporter finally explained. 

Ilya had just looked more confused. “You are saying some people think I am pretending to be maybe gay maybe not gay?” 

“Let’s move on.” The PR lady had finally, finally intervened. 

Ilya had first called Shane, who also didn’t know the term ‘queerbaiting’ so instead had turned to Harris. 

Harris had seen the interview already and had essentially been waiting for the call. Had had a good laugh before he explained properly what Ilya was being accused of. 

It was then that Ilya finally joined the call, 15 minutes after he was meant to. Shane’s face immediately twisted into a scowl. 

“What time do you call this?” 

Ilya frowned back. “Is 15:00?” 

“It’s 15:15.” Shane snipped back. 

Ilya waved him off. “Bah, is not too different. It is 3ish.” 

Shane looked like he was going to continue this snark fest so Harris decided now was a good time to get back on track. 

“Okay so now we’re all here!” He said brightly. “Let’s get this show on the road. How might I help you all today.” 

Shane and Ilya both peered at him from his computer screen. Both having identical faces wide eyed uncertainty before Shane blinked and got to business.

“I’ve only just read your proposal, but I liked section 2a-”

Harris took many notes throughout the meeting. More than he had when he’d first met with Ilya. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that Shane came prepared, more than prepared, he came with a whole game plan of his own. 

They chatted for an hour going over every detail of how they wanted to be presented. The things that were fine, the things that needed approval, the things that were an absolute no no. 

From both angles. How Shane and Ilya personally wanted to be perceived mixed with Harris’ media literacy. 

“There’s one last thing.” Shane said, jaw clenching slightly but eyes determined. 

“Hit me.” Harris said, not quite catching the way the tone had shifted. 

“I’m gay.” Shane said simply, “and Ilya and I are together.” 

Ilya gasped, and when Harris turned his eyes from a steely and determined Shane to Ilya’s square on the call, he saw a face full of wonder. His eyes glistened, his mouth had dropped open and was beginning to curl into a smile. 

“Shane.” Ilya breathed. “I thought you didn’t want to tell him?” 

Harris was frozen in surprise, not necessarily that they were together, but that they were telling him. He had placed it as a possibility with varying levels of unlikely depending on how hopeful he felt about queer representation. But to be told, outright? To be one of the few in know? 

Shane’s determined look slid into something more apprehensive. “I didn’t, initially. But you’re right, he’s great. And,” he took a steadying breath, “if Harris is going to be helping us not be so obviously in love he should probably know that we are. In love.” 

Ilya’s smile turned into the sort of dopey adoration Harris had only ever dreamed of seeing directed at him. 

“Yes, moya lyubov, we are.” 

Harris felt like he might explode. There was thinking maybe there’s something more but that’s a long shot, then there was being told they were together, and then there was being told ‘we’re so obviously in love with each other that we need help hiding it.’ 

And while it was tragic they had to hide it, it was also so romantic that they fought the odds to be together. 

“Thank you, for trusting me.” Harris’ tongue managed to finally unglue from the roof of his mouth. “It means so much to me that you felt comfortable telling me. And definitely helpful in terms of PR.” 

“I will need you to sign an NDA.” Shane said. “It’s not personal, just necessary.” 

“Absolutely.” Harris agreed readily.

“And we’re not looking to go public anytime soon.” Shane continued. “Us even being friends wasn’t supposed to be public so, yeah. Would like some help keeping that under wraps. Online.” 

“Section 3b had some good bits to get us started.” Harris nodded, thumbing through the pages on his table. “I just want you guys to know, you can share with me however much you want, and we can work together on what goes online to create whatever narrative you prefer. I’m prepared for all scenarios.” 

Ilya smiled and shot him a thumbs up,, Shane looked far more nervous but he at least offered an appreciative smile. 

They wrapped up the call, and once the screen went black Harris just sat there. His heart was thumping and he just breathed in and out. And then, a huge grin split his face, followed by a loud and happy laugh. 

Harris’ hockey heroes were in love with each other. They had hired him to manage them. His dream job mixed with a love story for the ages. 

He loved his life. 

Chapter End Notes

1. I have noticed I have spelt Cluetier’s name three different ways. Sorry. It probably won’t change

2. I can’t remember the good Comeau fics because I read them, leave a comment, and never return

3. My wisdom tooth was only local anaesthetic, but I have chronic illnesses and when my body is trying to heal something the rest of me shuts down like ye olde windows

4. Consider this the angsty calm before the storm 😌

Chapter 13: 3 Down

Chapter Summary

They play Toronto, it does not go well :(

Chapter Notes

Preemptive I’m sorry

Harris’ first major job was monitoring the socials after Ilya played New York. Within hours there were videos of almost the entire Boston and New York teams crammed into one medium sized gay bar. 

Videos of Marlow and Ilya failing their first attempt at the Slutty Slutty Shane Hollander Shot, Scott Hunter laughing maniacally in the background. 

Skip5eva

Scott Hunter laughing at a hopelessly straight Rozanov is sending meeee

Harris had to work hard to stop Ilya from replying to that tweet. He, of course, then funnelled all his frustrations into his chat with Shane and Harris. 

Muzzle Man Harris

Ilya 

Straight?! STRAIGHT??? 

Shane 

Ilya 

Ilya 

HOPELESS

I AM HOPELESSLY STRAIGHT

Harris 

Do we think he’s just jealous he couldn’t do the shot first try 

Shane 

Marlow says it took 5 tries 

Ilya 

Lies

Shane 

There’s video evidence 

Ilya 

This is homophobia

Harris 

Be so fr 

Ilya 

Fr? 

Shane 

For real 

Ilya 

Harris I am being very fr. The realest. 

On top of that there were photos and videos of Ilya dancing with men and women, usually at the same time. The video of Ilya and Marlow dancing together, both laughing as Ilya was twirled under Marlow’s arm. 

And finally, the many, many videos of Ilya singing karaoke, the song: Somebody To Love by Queen. Though he was more conducting the patrons of the Kingfisher than singing a solo. 

That was the video circulating the most. Ilya was a born showman, dancing as he sang into the mic, almost completely drowned out by the patrons and hockey players singing along. 

The memes being shared were frankly hilarious. Ilya was being heralded as the straight king of the gays by many. A title he was somehow both proud of and deeply offended by. 

If the reactions were all good, or even predominantly, maybe there could be a conversation about a slow soft launch. 

But the internet was the internet. 

And Harris’ job now consisted of him trawling through the shit as much as the good. 

”Predominently people love it.” Harris sighed. “But there’s also strong backlash. Not all of it homophobic in nature, a lot of people are just annoyed that you have a life outside of hockey. But you don’t want want to know what straight hockey is saying about this right now.” 

“Raiders PR have told me some.” Ilya admitted begrudgingly. “Had a meeting with all team. It wasn’t bad, they don’t say don’t go to gay bars, they don’t say don’t sing gay songs, they don’t say these things. They do say to be aware of how our personal lives affect careers.” 

“I’m sorry.” Harris sighed. 

“Is not your fault.” Ilya had said it softly, in a way that was meant to come across carefree but Harris didn’t think he was crazy for hearing the sadness. 

Then on the other hand, there was Shane. He was generally pretty easy to manage, he didn’t post much, usually only games scheduled and the occasional response to a friend. 

But right now the fans could tell something was off in the Montreal locker room. The cohesion wasn’t as slick as it had been previously. There was a tension on ice, in the media scrums.

Nothing as bad as when Shane had had a fight with a teammate and then been sassy with the media. But enough to be noticeable. 

That was his current background project, though he had no way of fixing it. 

But as his mama said, you can’t fix everything, sometimes you just gotta cut your losses. 

****

“We play Toronto tonight, then we have a three day break.” Shane was saying. “You’ll be going to Tampa tomorrow, wait no the day after, is it too tight to squeeze in a visit?” 

“Of course not.” Ilya said down the phone. “Please come and see me, even if it’s only for a day.” 

“You won’t be too tired?” Shane asked, knowing that trips to and from Tampa were a pain. 

“I don’t care if I’m tired, I want to be tired with you.” 

When Ilya said things like that, it made Shane want to melt. It made him understand what Ilya meant when he said he wanted to crawl inside Shane and live there. Because that’s all he wanted now, to burrow inside Ilya, safe and warm and held and loved. 

“I love you.” He found himself saying, words that once felt impossible to say now slipping easily from his lips. 

When he was younger he’d thought people who said it too much, that saying it so much surely cheapened it. But now that he was a man in love, and after so many years of fighting it, saying I love you felt euphoric. 

He was in love! And the man he loved loved him back, utterly and completely. Why shouldn’t he take every opportunity to tell him?

“I love you too.” Ilya hummed. “So much, solnyshko.” 

****

It happened in many ways and all at once. 

It happened in a myriad of moments that all led to one. 

It happened in a split second that lasted forever. 

The world splintered and fractured for one person. It didn’t happen like a gun shot, not like a big crash, or a collision. 

But instead it was invisible, silent. A point of pressure increasing increasing increasing until - 

Until it broke. 

The build up was intense and unforeseen. 

The fallout was unavoidable. 

And devastating. 

****

It went a little like this:

Cirque du pervers 

Cliff

I don’t usually make a habit of rooting for other teams

But Toronto have been pissing me off frrrrr

JJ

Am I hearing a Go Voyageurs? 

Cliff 

Let’s not get crazy

Hayden

No, no, I think you’re right

I deffo heard a Go Voyageurs Go!

Ilya

This is embarrassing

Shane

Hmmm

They’re onto something

It’s sounds a helluva lot like Let’s go Voyageurs, let’s go!

Ilya

It sounds like we’re saying it would be embarrassing to lose tonight

Cliff

It sounds like if I had to pick a winner it would be you, by the slimmest of margins

Hayden

I’ll send you both a jersey 😘

Since you’re our new biggest fans

Ilya

Don’t bother, I already have Shane’s 😏

For private use

I am definitely his biggest fan 🍆 

JJ

And with that we’re putting our phones away 

Cliff

Have you heard of this new thing called a direct message? 

Hayden

A direct message? What new fangled thing is that?

Cliff

It’s like messaging the group chat, but instead it goes to just one person

Hayden

But Cliff! Why ever would one do that?

Cliff

Well Hayden, one could use that to flirt with their boyfriend WITHOUT oversharing with the group

Shane

This coming from the people who actively facilitated me and Ilya getting to fuck after our last game

Hayden

Shane 💀

Cliff

I may be an enabler, but I am not a voyeur

Ilya

Shame you might learn something

****

For one man, it happened like this: 

Troy Barrett was getting ready to play Montreal. Next to him Dallas was bitching hard about Hollander and Pike’s current psychic link. They were moving together with insane flow recently, maybe to make up for the lack of cohesion with the rest of their team. 

Dallas’ commentary was littered with gay inferences and insults, curdling in Troy’s stomach and setting him on edge. His tongue was unable to unstick. But what would he say if he could? 

“With the way the rest of them have been playing we’ll have no trouble tonight.” Troy said eventually. Redirect, change the topic, let it end. 

Dallas snorted. “You got that right, brother.” 

The smile that split Troy’s face was genuine and he held out a fist for Dallas to bump. This part he could do. This part was easy. 

They got ready to head down the tunnel, spirits buoyed with the usual shit talking about the other team. Troy pumped his arms a couple times, his personal pregame ritual, then followed his teammates out into the ice. 

The first period was a battle from the get go. Hollander had a fire behind his eyes, a steeliness in his gaze, a determination that was a force to contend with. 

But only Pike was keeping up with him. 

Dropping back onto the bench after his shift, Troy heard Coach lamenting that link Pike and Hollander had, saw the smirk cross Yatesy’s face. 

Then during their first intermission, Dallas and Yates having a low conversation in the corner. But Troy let his eyes slide past them, let himself ignore whatever they were up too. 

The beginning of the second period was much the same as the first, brutal, lungs gasping for air, puffing out again in white clouds. 

It happened just as the first period did, until Pike caught a puck to the face. His head whipping to the side and body dropping to the ice in an instant. The force of it though to make even Troy wince. 

“Hayd!” Hollander yelled, already pivoting on the ice and heading to his fallen friend. 

Everyone else on the ice came to a stop, watching as the medics came out. Pike was conscious but bleeding. It was too much blood, surely. It was mostly being staunched by the medic’s crisp white towels that were quickly changing colour. 

Next to him, Dallas tsked. “Tough break.” 

Across the ice, Yates was graciously taking his punishment from the ref. No ounce of regret or remorse. No fight about it. 

Troy couldn’t say with certainty that it had been on purpose, but also couldn’t say with certainty that wasn’t. 

He shook it off. This was a game, and they’d just caught a lucky break. 

****

Gerard: And ohhh, Pike goes down hard. 

Kyle: That looked bad Gerry, you can see the way he dropped to the ice that that really was some hit. 

Gerard: The medics got there quick with the help of Boiziau escorting them on the ice. Pike seems to be conscious, thank goodness. And he’s up and standing. 

Kyle: You hate to see someone go down on the ice. We know that head injuries tend to bleed more, and look a whole lot scarier than they often are. We can only hope Pike is okay and it’s just a bleeder. 

Gerard: You said it Kyle, speedy recovery to Hayden Pike and hopefully he’s back on the ice soon with a nice plaster to patch him up.

*****

Cirque du Pervers

Cliff 

Fuck Pike that hit 

Did you lose a tooth? 

Break your jaw? 

Damn that looks like a lotta blood 

Ilya

Looked on purpose 

Cliff 

Tbh yeah 

Fucken Yates. 

Takes being an enforcer wayyyy to seriously 

Ilya

Thinks winning isn’t about skill but is from force

Cliff

Ur so right

Remember that high stick on Connie?

fuck

****

For Shane it happened like this:

Shane was already been stressed in the first period. The flow state only coming in fits a starts, but Shane was going to drag this team to a win kicking and screaming if he had to. 

Hayden on his wing had recently been connecting better and better. Maybe because Shane was more open, more honest. Maybe because both of them felt they had something to prove. 

If he could show them he was still their captain, still the best goddamn player they’d ever seen, maybe they’d finally get over this.. this.. 

He didn’t have a word for it. 

But maybe they’d get over it. Maybe they’d accept it. He could live with it being out of sight out of mind. 

He just wanted to play. 

Then Hayden had gone down in the second period. The puck had his him square in the jaw, and Shane didn’t know how bad it was but the sheer volume of blood being spat out his friends mouth was enough to know he wasn’t coming back on. 

Then Theriault had surveyed the bench. 

Then Theriault had said, “Cluetier, you’re in for Pike.” 

Shane had said nothing. There was nothing he could say. He was the Captain, he couldn’t argue personal differences with the man as a reason not to play.

Maybe Theriault was forcing the issue, make them work together, win together. 

Maybe Theriault just hated him. 

Maybe Theriault had no one else ready to put on and made a needs must decision. 

Regardless, Cluetier was now on Shane’s wing where Hayden should be. 

So Shane stowed his baggage, he locked it down tight. “Clue, we’re out here to win this, yeah?” 

Cluetier shot him a look, an eyeroll, scoffed, and turned away. And well, Shane didn’t really know how to interpret that.  

****

The guy they replaced Hollander's line with was not someone Troy had bothered to watch tape of. He was fine, but ultimately a body on the ice. 

And more importantly, he was not connecting with Hollander on the ice. His passes were sloppy, and he was never where he was supposed to be. When Hollander shot a glance over his shoulder looking for Pike, no one would be there. When he had the puck, he’d shoot almost blindly, with Hollander racing to change course multiple times. 

Bad news for Montreal, fantastic news for Toronto.

Toward the end of the second, Troy was battling for the puck, first with Hollander, until he managed to bat the puck away toward Dallas, who tussled with the new winger. Troy swooped in to help, only to be intercepted by Hollander. 

It was a back a forth right by the goal, infuriatingly close but not close enough. 

Troy managed to sneak the puck out and chased after it, Dallas on his left, the Voyageurs on his heels, when Berkes barrelled by them, losing an edge and slamming into the goal post, knocking it loose. 

 A stoppage was called as Berkes struggled to regain his feet for a moment, yet another medic rushing out for the Voyageurs. 

****

Kyle: Barrett with the puck and oh! Berkes seems to be in trouble there, he is not able to get up. 

Gerard: Yeah, Berkes is struggling to get to his skates there, he is in a lot of pain. Out come the medics again for the Voyageurs, it has not been a lucky day for them. 

Kyle: If you watch the reply you can see he just lost his edge coming in. 

Gerard: That silence you hear in the arena, when you see a second player go down like that it affects all fans. That’s a sign of respect from Toronto tonight. 

Kyle: Let’s see what’s happening down on the ice

****

Troy watched as the medic spoke to Berkes nearby, both gesturing to his leg. Comeau and Boiziau hovering over them. 

Hollander panted nearby, leaning on his stick to take the much needed break. Troy was in much the same way, barely even thinking about chirps as he regained his breath. 

“You look distracted Hollander.” Dallas panted, a slick smile curling on his face. “Away with the… fairies.” 

To Troy’s surprise, the replacement wing, Clu-something, snorted at that. Dallas’ smile slipped into something more malicious. 

“Get a life, Kent.” Hollander panted. 

“I do have a life, I party, I drink, I fuck women. Do you?” Dallas continued. 

Troy had heard the rumours about Hollander, especially with his recent appearance at Hunter’s gay bar. Had watched the video of him taking shots more times than he’d care to admit. 

But then Rozanov and Marlow had gone and done the same thing a few weeks later. Most of the Raiders had. And that had really been something to see. Never in a million years could Troy picture Toronto even talking to Hunter off the ice, let alone -

This time the wing laughed properly, then at Hollander’s glare said, “what? It’s funny. Always so sensitive.” 

“Keep it to yourself, Cluetier.” Hollander snapped at his own teammate. 

Cluetier sneered, “oh so I have to keep my mouth shut but you flaunt your gayness all over the fucking internet and then turn around and bitch and moan saying shhh it’s a secret. In your fucking dreams, ‘cap’ everyone knows your a fucking pansy.” 

Hollander’s mouth dropped open, and for a moment it seemed both Troy and Dallas were also rewinding the moment to just confirm - 

“Did you just fucking out him?” Comeau had appeared, drifting to a stop next to his captain. 

Cluetier’s face slid from annoyed, to a vindictive smile. “Oops.” 

For Troy, it happened in a heartbeat. There wasn’t a conscious thought, there wasn’t a decision actively made. There was just action. There was just betrayal. 

The next thing Troy knew his gloves were on the ice and his fist was flying into that smug motherfucker’s face. 

****

The first time Shane had ever been winded he’d thought he was dying. Falling hard on his back and being unable to draw in air, the panic setting in and only worsening the situation. 

He had been a child then, but the memory had never left him, when the world had stopped, his body had frozen, and his lungs couldn’t take in air. 

He never thought words would have that effect on him.

Comeau had appeared beside him, and confirmed what he’d just heard, “did you just fucking out him?” 

And Cluetier looked so smug, so vindictive, so - so unapologetic. “Oops.”

Shane had never thought he’d ever feel gratitude toward Troy Barrett, but seeing his fist take Cluetier, and everyone else, completely by surprise, was the shock Shane’s body needed to remember how to breathe again. 

JJ appeared, having skated over from Berkes and not having heard what had just happened, was ready to throw into whatever fight he saw going down until Comeau stopped him. “Don’t, he just outed cap.” 

“He what-” JJ turned from the fight to Shane, but Shane couldn’t look at him yet. 

All he could do was watch as Troy’s fists bloodied Cluetier’s face. More hockey players appeared, of both jerseys, but none joined the fight as the cause of it rippled out. 

Shane could feel eyes on him. 

His teams eyes. The opposing teams eyes. The referees who were trying to stop the fight, they were also shooting him looks. The crowd, the fans, did they know too? Did they hear? 

A hand wrapped around his bicep, JJ. “Let’s get you outta here.” 

“Why?” Shane asked. “We have a game to win.” 

“Shane.” JJ said. “You shouldn’t have to-“ 

“I’m here to play hockey. That’s what I’m going to do.” With that he turned his back on where Troy was being thrown off the ice, on where Cluetier was getting checked by a medic, and skated away.

He stopped by Berkes, strapped to a board to be wheeled off, to offer him a consolatory tap on the arm. Gave him some well wishes. Likely a broken leg, but they couldn’t be certain yet. 

It all kind of washed over him. Like he wasn’t really in his body. He drifted, automatically to where he needed to be for the faceoff. But he was the only one there. 

Kent was across the ice from Shane, following Barrett as he was kicked from the game. Boiziau and Comeau seemed to be having a heated discussion. Cluetier was being assisted off the ice after Berkes. The refs were in discussion regarding the myriad of shit that just went down. 

Three players down in total for the Voyageurs. Hayden, Berkes, Cluetier. None were likely to come back on. Berkes was probably out for the season. 

At least Toronto had lost Barrett. 

But that wouldn’t change much. Kent knew his secret now, and would definitely use it against him for the rest of the game. 

That sucks, Shane thought absently. Floating around in his head, untethered. 

****

Gerard: Comeau stops the other Voyageurs coming to their teammate’s aid. 

Kyle: Say what you will about what just happened, but that’s your teammate down there getting whaled on. 

Gerard: I was thinking the same thing, Kyle, rumours of discontent in the Montreal locker room have been following them all season and here it is, laid out plain and bare. 

Kyle: Hollander is turning his back on the fight completely. 

Gerard: now that’s cold.

***

Cirque Du Pervers

Hayden

[photo of a very red and bruising jaw and bandages]

I lived bitch

Still spitting blood but don’t think I broke a tooth thank fuck

****

Harris

Fuck Shane I’m so sorry

Both of you

This is awful

I’m talking with Yuna now, we’re going to take care of this

****

Hunter

I’m so sorry this happened to you Shane

Kip also wants to reach out if that’s okay

[shared contact: Kip]

Just let either of us know if you need anything

****

Family

Mom

When you’re ready let me know how you want to handle this

Harris, Farrah, and I are ready for anything

Dad

We’re here for you when you're ready

Take your time to process

We’ll be here

****

The game ended. The win going to Toronto, but the margin wasn’t as horrific as it could have been. Should have been. Considering. 

The team didn’t say anything as they made their way to the locker room. No one said anything to Shane, no one said anything to each other. They all showered and changed almost mechanically. 

Shane knew he should go check on Hayden, but that meant talking. That meant pretending to care about his jaw right now. Which sounded bad, because he knew he didn’t care. Not right now. 

JJ hovered near Shane but didn’t say anything. What was there to say, really. 

“Can you,” Shane said quietly, his voice coming from somewhere inside him but it didn’t feel like him. “Can you go check on Hayd for me? Tell him - just. Tell him?” 

“Yeah man, of course.” JJ said, dropping a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Whatever you need. At all, you just say the word.” 

Shane was the first to be fully dressed and ready to go. Before he got to the door, Cluetier came in. Still in his jersey and skates, blood stains and a bruising face. 

They stared at each other for a moment. 

“Congrats.” Shane said blankly. “I guess I was wrong, you won’t be forgotten. Now you’ll always be known as the guy who outed Shane Hollander.” 

With that he left. He didn’t bother with media, he didn’t bother with Theriault - who had been on the phone since the second the game ended - he didn’t bother with anything. Just got in his car and drove. 

Chapter End Notes

Yeah sorry about that gang. Im sorry Shane, and Ilya, and their loved ones cause it’s so hard to see people you love have their lives fucked up. Fuck Cluetier.

 

Love that everyone is apparently getting teeth removed rn. Speedy recovery my loves

 

Some of y’all are seeing my fic recommended out in the wild and thats??? Crazy??? Lowkey highkey hoping I see it out there too, cause thats where I get all my fic recs, is people posting snippets on like Threads or smthn. That’s how I know I’ll have made it

Chapter 14: Please Leave Your Name and Number After the Beep

Chapter Summary

The phones of various people have different messages, texts and voicemails.

Chapter Notes

[Voicemail from Mom]

Honey I know you’re going through a lot right now but please pick up the phone. Just let us know where you are at least, or that you’re safe. We don’t need to do anything, just let us know where you are. 

We can leave the decision making for later. Farah, Harris, and I, we’re working on it. There’s not much that can be done, the league is unsurprisingly vague about this kind of situation. So if you want, we can break ground on this. Be a landmark case. 

If it were up to me we’d make them regret the day they learned about hockey, make them wish they’d -

But that’s not for now. That’s for later, when you’ve recovered from the shock. 

Your father is driving over to the cottage, in case you’ve gone there. I’ll wait at home, in case you’re coming to us. Ilya wanted to fly up but I imagine you’re likely headed there. Or I hope you are, he sounded… Please call him. 

Your father and I - we love you. So so much. 

****

[Voicemail from Lily]

Shane. I - I am not knowing what to say. Is all so fucked up. Yuna says you aren’t picking up, Pike and JJ have been to your place but you are not there. They are worried. 

I am worried.

Tell me where you are and I will come to you. I will fly, I will drive, I will run to you if I must. If you need me. 

Just tell me you’re okay. 

Just tell me where you are. 

We don’t have to make any decisions, we can hide away forever if you want. I don’t care. I’d rather be a nobody with you than somebody without you. 

[pause]

[quietly] i love you so much. 

****

MV Top Dogs No Bitches

Cluetier

So what the fuck was that huh

Ramsey

What was what man

Cluetier

Not a single one of you fuckers got involved

Hung me out to dry

Just watched while Barrett got the jump on me

Drapeau

Don’t start a fight you can’t finish 

Cluetier

I didn’t say shit to Barrett

Reckon he’s a poof too?

Comeau

Honeslty Clue you fucked all of us by outing cap

Cluetier

Since when were you pro cocksucker

Comeau

I don’t care what Hollzy does with his dick

Why do you…

Drapeau

Its not about being pro or anti fag

Its because you told everyone about it

Now everyone knows we’re Scott Hunter’s Admirals 2.0

We’re gonna have to do so much pride shit now

Ramsey

So not only do we have a queer but now we also have a dogshit player who has no loyalty

That shit looks bad

Cluetier

Fuck you

Dogshit my ass

Hollander plays like everyone else is meant to follow his lead at all times

Has no idea how to adapt to other play styles

Ramsey

Why would a star centre have to adapt to some 3rd line nobody

Cluetier

Oh wow big words from a back up goalie

Bell

Is it Clue who has no loyalty or is it the 3 musky-queers

Cause those three are like dogs in heat for boston these days

Werner

LOL

Ramsey

God that gay fucken bestie in laws shit

Werner

Makes me want to vom

Drapeau

The fans like it for some unknown reason

Cluetier

So you fucks really don’t think people deserved to know

Comeau

Do they deserve to know that you cheat on your girl every roadie? 

Drapeau

Gil wtf 

Werner

LOL 

He’s not wrong Cluey

Bell

Its different tho

Comeau

How tho they’re both getting their dicks wet

Cluetier

Coz what hollzy does is fucken perverted

Comeau

At least he doesnt tell us all about it

Drapeau

Hes got u there Clue

No one needs to hear what you do with those girls

Cluetier 

Dont hate the player hate the game

Bell

Dont be mad coz Clue gets more puck bunnies than all of us

Drapeau

Some of us love our wives 

Comeau

Some of us have standards

Ramsey

Clue gets girls coz hes the only one low enough fuck a groupie puck bunny

Cluetier

Fucking puck bunnies is hot

They're so desperate for it

Werner

Theyre desperate for Hollzy theyre settling for u

Little do they know

LOL

Comeau

Look I’m just sayin its all private business. Do what ur gonna do just don’t air it out to everyone

Cluetier

Whatever cocksucker

****

[voicemail from Hayd]

Hey buddy, just tried your house and you’re not there. Called you a couple times, texted too, obviously. If you’re listening to this then you know that. 

Roz - Ilya hasn’t replied to me but Cliff said he was gonna drive over. 

Um. Gil and JJ filled me in, man. I’m so sorry. It’s awful. It’s. Yeah. 

[deep sigh]

Your parents are worried, I’m worried. As a dad I can’t imagine -

Jackie is stress cooking, she’s made a bunch of baked salmon. Your favourite. The kids are eating some now, and surprisingly the girls like it, Arthur not so much.

 So if you want to drop by, we don’t gotta talk or anything, but you can come in, have dinner. 

You can sit by yourself if you want too, we can stay out your way, or distract you with kids. They make for a good distraction sometimes, if that’s what you need. 

Jacks even made that bean salad you like. 

If you want. 

****

[voicemail from Dad]

Hey son, your mom is pretty worried. I am too. 

[sigh]

I wish I could fix this for you son. All your mom and I ever wanted was for you to be happy and healthy, I’m sorry we couldn’t make the world ready for you. 

We’ll keep trying though. We’ll make it through. 

****

[voicemail from Coach]

Hollander, I’ve got the commissioner up my ass about this. This is a real fucking mess you’ve put me in. It reflects badly on the team, reflects badly on the league, it reflects badly on me. People think we’re running a fucking clown show over here, players on the same team taking personal disputes onto the ice. There’s no place for it. 

We’re having a meeting tomorrow at 9:00 sharp. 

We were meant to have a few days off Hollander, and now I’m having to come in when I should be spending time with my family to deal with a Captain who can’t lead his team. 

It’s a joke. A fucking joke. 

****

[voicemail from Harris] 

Hey Shane. 

I don’t really know what to say, I’ve been crying for like, the last few hours. 

[gasp]

Oh my god ignore me. That’s so not your problem. 

Obviously don’t listen to this until you’re ready or at all if you don’t want to. 

I’ve um, well in accordance to what we agreed in section 4c I’ve booted you from your social media profiles. Logged everyone out actually, realised your old team was still logged in? I don’t think they did anything but yeah, was probably good to reset that anyway. 

I won’t post anything until we talk, and if you wanna go full scorched earth then lets go ya know. Yuna and Farah are probably right there with you. If you never want to address it, that’s good too. I’ll email over a few templates we came up with. Ilya said you find black and white info easier to take in. 

[uncomfortable laugh]

It wasn’t necessarily what we agreed, but I logged Ilya out too? An oversight on my part, to not have that in the original proposal. But I didn’t know you guys like I know you now. And now that I know you guys, well, I reckon Ilya would have some choice words to say. 

I know we floated the idea of being outed but. Fuck. 

None of us really took a situation like this and really thought it would happen. Like yeah it’s your worst nightmare, but you don’t expect it to actually happen. And if you do, you don’t always have a perfect strategy worked out. 

I mean, we have many worked out, and even more now that Yuna and Farrah are on it. 

But yeah, I logged Ilya out before he could post anything. He’s also not picking up but that makes sense. This is for whenever you’re ready. 

I hope you guys are okay

Uh, love you bye

****

[voicemail from Svetlana]

[angry Russian for 5 minutes straight]

Just say the word, brotik. He is dead man. 

*****

Dallas

Dude wtf was that??

You’re out for two games now 

We have fucken playoffs coming and you’re beating up Voyageurs because????