Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, David Hollander, Yuna Hollander, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau

Additional Tags:

Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Speaks Russian, Established Relationship, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Relationship Reveal, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Relationship Timeline Reveal

Language:

English

Series:

Part 9 of a little more romeo, a little more juliet

Collections:

Read & Loved Heated Rivalry Fics, Read & Loved Media Fics, Zulie's Best of Heated Rivalry, RainyBugs_Hollanov_Yay!

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-01 Completed: 2026-05-29 Words: 15,837 Chapters: 7/7

we had to make our own sunshine

Notes

I said May 1, I meant May 1 (technically it's 10:32pm on the 30th, but whatever)

i'm putting this note here because if i put it at the end, it'll just follow every chapter and I need it here.

so: This chapter should be read along side parts 10 and 11, or David and Yuna's POVs or else it will probably feel lacking. Don't come complaining in the comments that parts are missing, narratively this made the most sense without rewriting the same 10k from four different perspectives.

Also, I'm uploading all three only a few hours apart, so it's a three for one special. see you in the morning for Yuna and David's thoughts!

Chapter 1: like a shark!

May 2018

The phone call to his parents got delayed as long as possible. He wanted to tell his parents about Ilya. He wanted to tell them about the love of his life, invite them into their house and have lunch with his entire family at the dinner table in his and Ilya’s Boston home. He had talked through every anxiety spiral and worst-best-case-senerio, first with his therapist, then with his husband. 

But admitting to his parents that he had been lying to them for a decade was not anywhere in the realm of easy. Ilya had been a rock through this, letting Shane pace their home stressed out and letting his worst fears fill the air just so they had somewhere to go that wasn’t in loops in his head, holding him close after and whispering comforting things in Russian. It had come up over the years and Ilya had always followed his lead. There had been one admission years ago, after a particularly disastrous phone call with Yuna; while he would always follow his husband’s lead when it came to Shane’s parents, Ilya was worried about being the ‘bad guy’ to them. That he would have to choose between making a good impression and protecting Shane from hurtful words - intentional or not. Ilya knew Shane’s parents loved him, Shane knew it too. But Ilya Rozanov was always a touchy subject, even after being on the same team and winning cups together. The Hollanders thought he was an asshole - all three of them, even if Shane said asshole like it rhymed with I love you. After the summer and announcing the Irina foundation, Yuna and David had started coming around to him. As much as Ilya wanted to be liked by his in-laws, and as much as they were catastrophizing, his vows to Shane came first. I will protect you. You and me against everyone else. I love you, you will always have me.

“The playoffs start next week. You want to have your parents over for dinner, to tell them, you need to call them now.” Ilya had woken to a cold bed, not unusual when they had practice, but Shane was staring at the blender like it could make a smoothie if he glared at it hard enough. His phone was sitting open on the counter, the contact Mom pulled up, and Ilya knew what was happening. He wrapped his arms around Shane’s stomach and peppered kisses to the back of his neck. “It will be okay, solnyshko. And if it is not, I will be a good husband and distract you. And then you can be angry at Las Vegas for standing between Bears and Stanley Cup.” 

“I know, Ilya, I’m just anticipating every bad thing. Once I text them, that’s it.”

“Most likely scenario?” he asks, trying to redirect Shane’s worry.

His husband sighs and leans back into him, “They’re upset I lied, but they love me. They might have to take the time to warm up to you, but they just want me to be happy and you make me happy.”

Ilya kisses his neck, “Worst scenario?”

“We have to flee to Iceland and never see any of our friends again.” Ilya chuckles into his skin.

“Best scenario?”

“They love you so much they disown me.”

“Be serious.”

The tension in Shane’s shoulders melts, “I am. Best, realistic case, no matter how upset they are, they forgive us and love you.”

“I am very charming.”

“I know.”

“It will be ok, solnyshko, they love you. There’s nothing we can do about the shock, but I will feed them and it will be ok. Ok?”

Shane picks up his phone and starts typing.

Shane: Will you come over the day before the first playoff game? Maybe for dinner? There’s someone I want to introduce you to.

—

The day came and Ilya was sure the entire house had been cleaned top to bottom too many times. If he could leave the kitchen, he would, but he just had to let Shane pace with the rag and spray bottle. Instead he’s stuck making sure dinner is perfect and sneaking Bukashka bits of unseasoned beef he’d set aside to feed her without Shane noticing. Not that he could say a word, Ilya knows he sneaks their cat ‘healthy’ treats between meals. 

“Mreow,” she’s looking up at him. He doesn’t know how a cat manages to shuffle their feet, but their menace manages to look impatient from the ground. Her too big eyes watching him stir the pot on the stove. Ilya puts his hands on his hips.

“You’re a greedy little bastard, aren’t you?” He dangles a piece of meat above her until she stands on her hind feet to swat at it. He lowers it so she can grab it, “Don’t tell your father I’m spoiling your appetite. But I think we all deserve some treats today.”

Satisfied with her treat, she takes off, probably to tattle, Ilya thinks. Shane stalks past less than a minute later, grumbling to himself. He’s carrying a vacuum in one hand, chord dragging behind him. Ilya turns the stove to low and follows, catching his husband in a few feet and crushing him in a hug from behind.

“You’re overthinking, lyubimyy,” he presses a kiss behind Shane’s ear. “The whole house is clean, I promise.”

“If I don’t stop moving, I’ll overthink even more,” counters Shane.

“Like shark!” 

“What?” The confusion is enough for Shane’s body to still.

“Sharks, solnyshko, they will die if they stop swimming," Ilya explains. "From documentary we watched."

“I’m not a shark, Ilya.”

“No, you are my Shanya,” says Ilya, peppering more kisses to the side of his face. “And my Shanya needs to come and sit and look pretty while his handsome husband finishes dinner.”

—

He’s not pacing in front of the windows looking out to their driveway, he’s not. Shane just happens to walk by every couple of minutes–or seconds–to check for his parent’s rental car. When they do arrive, he walks back to the kitchen where Ilya is setting the table, abruptly turns around again and walks back to the door. He determines this is enough time for his parents to make it to the door without giving away that he was watching or leaving them outside too long. 

Nervously, he leads them to the kitchen, striding ahead to stand next to his husband and introduce him. Shane guides Ilya a few steps forward by the small of his back. The pressure grounding for both of them, “Mom, Dad, this is Ilya. Rozanov, but you knew that already. He’s my… um, we’re together. He’s who I wanted to introduce you to. Should– can we sit down, please?”

He makes it through dinner, barely. He drops the nine years they’ve been together with minimal damage. The shock of when they had their first kiss dissipates easier than expected. He wonders how they’re going to drop the marriage bomb without blowing up the tense stalemate they’ve found themselves in. Ilya clears the table, Shane following behind carrying the rest. He just needs to step away for a minute, recalibrate. Ilya puts the dishes in the sink, freeing his hands to pull Shane in for a hug. 

“It’s ok, dorogoy. Everything is going fine, yes?”

Shane’s voice is muffled, “For now.”

“For now, and in future,” Ilya corrects. “Grab vodka to bring to table.”

—

“There’s something else we need to tell you,” starts Shane once his dad has poured them all a drink, “and I think you’re going to freak out a little.”

“You’re not pregnant are you?” David asks.

Shane has to kick Ilya when he snorts, “Sorry, sorry.”

“Oh my god, no, Dad, no one’s pregnant. That’s not–”

Ilya yelps, disrupting the conversation, “Blyat! That little–” Shane reaches down to catch what Ilya can’t. He squishes Bukashka into his arms so she can’t go anywhere. 

“Calm down,” he says, cradling her away from his husband. 

“She bit me!” Ilya retorts, “She is a little menace.”

“Ilya…” The man in question reaches out for the puffball, but Shane stands and steps away, shielding the kitten from his husband, “Nyet, she’s just playing.”

Shane eyes his husband warily when he also stands and reaches out, but lets Ilya take her, “She is asshole, enjoys biting me for reaction.”

“Who is this?” Yuna asks, cutting into the domestic bubble. Shane looks over at her, heart hammering suddenly.

“Bukashka,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “We found her in the yard a few months ago.”

“Boo– I’m sorry,” Yuna tries to repeat the name.

“Bukashka,” Shane corrects, “or Bug, or Bushka. Or Ilya calls her Krokha, which means runt.”

“She is a runt, Shane, look at her,” Ilya holds the kitten up. “Her eyes are too big and her head is too small and her tail is too long. She is runt, krokha.”

Without warning, his mom stands, “Excuse me for a minute,” she says and walks away. The click of the front door echos. Shane’s eyes stay trained in that direction, swallowing hard around the sudden lump in his throat. He’s not sure what the final straw was. Warmth seeps into his skin where Ilya’s hand has found his neck, grounding him in the moment. Right, he doesn’t need to spiral, but he does need to follow his mom. He expected a big reaction; raised voices, arguing. The quiet excuse me and silence was a gut-punch to Shane’s expectations and carefully prepared evening.

“Mne nuzhno... Mne nuzhno poyti za ney,” Shane whispers. “Eto ne mozhet zakonchit'sya tak.”

“Eto yeshcho ne konets, Shanya. Khorosho? Vso budet v poryadke. Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya comforts, voice low. Shane just nods, eyes taking on a glassy quality, unfocused in the direction of the front door. “Idi, ya zdes' budu v poryadke — s tvoim papoy.”

With the push, Shane walks off to follow his mom. Ilya strokes a hand down Bushka’s back and sits, arranging her in his lap. He’s not sure what to say, if he should even be the one to start the conversation, but David Hollander breezes right past his defenses. Keeping most of the surprise off his face when his father-in-law reveals that he already knew–or suspected–they were married. He’s easy to talk to and Ilya is grateful for all of his preconceived notions for how the night would go to wash down the drain. 

When Shane returns with a certain look on his face and eyes rimmed red, it’s a no-brainer to allow himself to fall into orbit and follow Shane to their bedroom, leaving his parents to themselves. Ilya shuts and locks the door behind him while Shane sits on the edge of the bed, staring at him. The gravitational pull that has always been Ilya’s weakness draws him closer until he’s standing in front of his husband and Shane has his arms around his middle, face buried in his crotch. Ilya strokes a hand through his hair, waiting, every few seconds running his hand from head, down Shane’s spine, and back up.

A shuttering breath interrupts the steady pattern coming from the man below him, and Ilya pauses in his ministrations, resting his hand where it’s come to a stop on Shane’s head. His husband pulls back and looks up at him, “I told her we got married. She asked if I thought it through.” 

Ilya lets out a tiny snort, “And?” he asks softly.

“I started talking and I couldn’t stop. It all just poured out of me, I’m not sure of everything I said. I know I just unloaded everything, I just wanted her to finally listen.” Shane leans forward to rest his forehead on Ilya’s stomach, letting out a big sigh, “I think it’ll be ok. Maybe.”

They stay there for a few more minutes until Shane’s skin itches, Ilya distracts him by telling him about his conversation with David while he changes into softer clothes. Fuck it, he’s overstimulated and upset. They’ve gotten through (hopefully) the hardest part, so if Shane wants to wear his husband’s clothes in his own home, he’s going to do it. If he has any hope of making it through the next few hours, he needs to be comfortable, and maybe, maybe, it’s a little bit of a claim. A part of him wants–needs–to show off Ilya in this way, wearing his clothes in front of his parents, as proof that this is real. He’s opened up this part of his life to them, he’s eased them into it the best he can, now he’s going to prove that letting them in wasn’t a mistake.

Shane splashes water onto his face, scrubbing the evidence of his brief breakdown as best he can. Ilya is waiting by their bedroom door, one final barrier between them and the rest of the world. He holds Shane’s face between his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks gently. Ilya presses a kiss to each closed eye, the tip of Shane’s nose, over both cheeks, then finally presses their lips together. Shane parts his mouth, kissing back, pouring as much gratitude and affection into the kiss as possible. Ilya pulls back in the end, resting their foreheads together.

“Odna satana, remember?” Shane nods.

Ilya can hear low voices coming from the living room when they get close, so he pushes Shane towards his parents with a look and stops in the kitchen to start on the dishes. He wants to give the Hollanders a few minutes of privacy. Shane needs it, he thinks, to take a moment with them without Ilya hovering. 

When Ilya does join them, he stops in the hallway before he can be seen, listening to Shane tell his parents that it’s always been Ilya. Shane looks up before anyone else notices that he’s there, before he’s even in sight, because that’s how in tune he is to Ilya. The soft smile beckons Ilya over to Shane’s side where he presses a kiss to his lips and sits down, hand on Shane’s thigh.

“I was just telling them you like my freckles,” says Shane. Ilya rolls his eyes.

“Shanya, whole world knows I like your freckles.”

“Not the whole world, just our friends,” Shane counters, “and now my parents.” He turns back to them, “He likes to tease me about googling ‘how to tell if someone is flirting with me’.”

“You googled it too?” Yuna asks.

“I don’t tease you,” Ilya counters before Shane can answer, “Why would I tease you about this? I am very lucky you did because then I did not have to tell you.”

“Shut up.” Shane turns to his parents, “He’s a liar. He teases me about it all the time.”

“No, no, do not listen to him. He is liar.” It works to lighten the mood a little. Shane is about to keep the light argument going, but he notices something.

“Is that…” he points to the pictures still in Yuna’s lap that he hadn’t noticed before. She looks down in surprise, like she had forgotten about it.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m sorry, I just…” she picks the picture up, unsure if  she should hand it back or not, “I saw it and wanted a closer look.”

“That’s ok. Hold on.” Shane stands and walks back into the hallway, retrieving the rest of the pictures. They’d copied a few of the same pictures they had up in their cottage, bringing them to hang in Boston once they knew they didn’t have to hide from their team. No one else makes it far enough into the house to see them, so Shane brings over the other four frames. Ilya takes the stack from him when he rejoins them, and hands the top one to Yuna.

“Oh!” It’s the picture from their draft of them side-by-side, holding up their Boston and Montreal jerseys. 

“First kiss,” Ilya explains. Then he hands over the behind-the-scenes picture from their commercial and says, “First date.”

David takes that one, setting it on top of the one from 2014. Shane bites his lip while he watches his parents take it in. He hands over the next one, from when he’d been traded to Boston. It’s one of those frames that holds two pictures. The top one is of Shane and Ilya side by side in the Bear’s locker room, wearing their matching jerseys. The second picture, on the bottom, is the same picture, except Shane is wearing the ROZANOV 81 and Ilya is wearing Shane’s HOLLANDER 24. 

The picture Ilya hands them next is from the year before when they won the cup. It has another two pictures in it; one of the team on the ice, surrounding the cup, and one of just Shane and Ilya hoisting the cup in the locker room, kissing passionately.

“Wow, these are…” David holds the frame of them in their jerseys gingerly. Yuna can’t take her eyes off the one of their cup win.

“You’re so young in these,” she says, voice choked with emotion. “You… Winning the cup together must have been…”

“Yes, it was,” agrees Shane. “It was the best feeling in the world. Definitely tied for the day we got married.” 

The air in the room shifts, everyone remembering the reason they were all there. Shane clears his throat and Ilya holds out the last frame, “Here, these are from wedding. And from first summer in Montreal.”

Yuna takes the frame with trembling hands. She traces the polaroid in the top corner, the boys standing in what appears to be a courthouse, Ilya kissing Shane’s cheek and both are badly holding back laughter with the biggest smiles on their faces. The rest are all taken on different days, but all feature one or both of them. 

“I like that one,” David murmurs over her shoulder, pointing at one on the left. Ilya’s curls are the only thing visible from under Shane’s hoodie, where the blonde has obviously crawled into it to smush his face against their son’s neck. Shane had an arm wrapped around him and he’s grinning at the camera.

Yuna points to another one, turning the frame so Shane can see what she’s pointing to, “What’s the story here?”

Ilya starts laughing and telling the story, complete with exaggerated hand gestures. He’s captivated his audience, so Shane leans into his side, content to let his husband do the talking for a minute. He tunes back in to hear his mom say, “I’m glad you have some pictures. Is there… Are there any I can get a copy of? To put in the cottage.”

Shane blinks at her, processing the request, “I think so. Not the polaroids, but the others should be easy enough.”

“Really?” The surprise on his mom’s face aches, so he just nods.

“It’ll be a few years until you can show them off, but yeah, we can get some printed.”

Yuna sets aside the frames and stands. Shane looks up at her, but can’t do much as he’s pulled to his feet and into a hug.

“I love you,” she says in his ear. He wraps his arms around her and tucks his head down into her shoulder.

“I love you too, Mom.” Yuna pulls back and takes one step to the side. Before she can haul his husband up, Ilya is on his feet, eyes wide with confusion. All she does is pull him in for a hug too, which, after a quick glance to Shane, he returns.

“I love you too, Ilya.” It’s sincere, full of emotion, and it makes Ilya blink back a few tears, “Welcome to the family.”

Chapter 2: Ilya Hollander #2 Boring Canadian

Chapter Notes

We're jumping ahead a whole year and skipping the summer and beginning of the new season. This work is focusing a lot more on the big things and the already established relationships we have. I've got a work for all my deleted scenes/one-shots/scrapped story lines, so those will still make it into this series at some point, but right now I'm focused on moving our plot along. (terribly sorry to the several set ups there are, but patience plz)

will i ever write the hot steamy sex they have? probably not. can you count on me to write weird ass domestic we've-been-together-for-a-decade sex? absolutely.

also we needs more fics about ilya finally becoming a canadian and reacting to those feelings.

February 2019

Ilya has never been so glad to be out with an injury right before All-Stars. He’d been cursing his fractured wrist for the last month since he sustained the injury, but now it was coming in handy. 

“Yes, thank you. I will do that, yes.” Shane walks into the room, a question in his eyebrow, but Ilya ignores him except to hold out a hand, beckoning him closer, “Two weeks, ok. My husband knows all these– yes, ok. Thank you. Good-bye.” He takes a deep breath, “Shane, moy lyubov, the light of my life, my beautiful, wonderful husband.”

“Ilya…” Shane doesn’t get very far with Ilya peppering kisses over his face, squishing his cheeks between the fingers on his one good hand. “Ilya, what’s going on?”

“Was government,” he explains between lavishing more kisses onto his husband’s face, “Canadian government, some department.”

“Wait, wait, Ilya, stop.” Shane manages to pull back enough to grab Ilya’s own face between his hands, “What do you mean that was the Canadian government?”

The grin on Ilya’s smushed face should be answer enough, but Shane needs to hear it, “We can make appointment for citizenship ceremony.”

Shane’s jaw drops. Ilya had taken his test and finalized everything else a month ago during the holiday break. They’d just been waiting for approval and the go-ahead to have the actual ceremony where Ilya Rozanov will be approved as the newest Canadian citizen.

“Ilya…”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Ilya!” Shane wraps his arms around Ilya’s shoulders. It was everything. The cumulation of five years, ten years of waiting, wanting, trying. “Holy shit, Ilya.”

“Yatebyalyubluyatebyalyubluyatebyalyublu,” Ilya is saying over and over again into Shane’s neck. He pulls back to kiss him, hard.

“I love you too, holy shit, fuck, Ilya.” Shane lets himself be pushed back towards their room, muscle memory keeping them from crashing into anything while unable to separate. Ilya pushes him onto the bed, crawling over him immediately and stripping him the best he can while kissing down every inch of skin he can find.

Shane makes out a few words in Russian, but most of it is muffled and then cut off entirely when Ilya swallows his dick without warning. He throws his head back with a loud moan, fingers tangling themselves in blonde curls. 

“Fuck, Ilya.” He keeps babbling, letting Ilya take him apart, one finger at a time, all while his mouth never stops moving. Shane comes, with three fingers on his prostate and his dick down his husband’s throat. Ilya pulls off, face red and eyes glassy, pushing himself up to kiss Shane. 

Shane reaches down to grab Ilya’s cock and guide it to his hole. Ilya doesn’t stop kissing him, Shane’s not entirely sure he’s noticed until the tip presses inside with a jerk of his hips. Ilya pulls back in surprise, looking down where he's now an inch into Shane. 

“Oh,” says Ilya, going back to kissing Shane and pushing his hips forward with direction instead of just humping the air like he’d been doing. Shane can’t help but let out a little laugh at his husband’s eagerness, it’s cut off with a moan as Ilya bottoms out. Instead of fucking him with abandon, the way Shane expected, he just keeps making out with Shane, hips jerking in small incraments. The pace is slow, but mostly consistent. All Shane can do is hold on and kiss back. 

The buildup is slow, the usual burning heat going mostly unnoticed. One of Ilya’s hands is roaming, pec to nipple to stomach to ass and back again, like he can’t get enough. An urge to just touch and kiss. The other braces next to Shane’s head, fingers combing through his hair. Every few kisses, he’ll move to Shane’s neck or somewhere else on his face, but he always returns to his lips. There’s a dazed look in his eyes that makes Shane smile. 

His orgasm hits him out of nowhere, causing him to moan and clench around Ilya, who makes a noise of surprise, moans, and follows Shane over the edge with his face buried in his chest and a whimper. Breathing heavily, Shane runs his hands over Ilya’s back, admiring the corded muscle with his hands and bringing Ilya back from the edge with quiet, gentle words.

“Come back to me, Ilyusha, it’s ok. I’m right here when you’re ready.” Ilya shifts, face appearing in Shane’s vision, “There you are, hi baby.”

“Hi,” he croaks.

“Hi,” Shane returns, “you ok?”

Ilya presses a kiss to his sternum, “I think so?” Shane just keeps his hands moving, “Can I stay here?”

“Of course,” answers Shane, already pushing Ilya back down to lay on him. He has at least twenty minutes until he feels gross enough to get up, so he reaches for his phone with one hand, the other still scratching his husband’s back. While Ilya rests, he texts Coach, explaining that he might have to miss the All-Star game, and subsequently one of their regular games, and why. Then he has to figure out how to schedule the ceremony, which he manages to do with little hassle and he books their flights back to Canada for the break. Finally, at least for now, is texting his parents the date of the ceremony with the follow up, keep this day free.

Shane winces, shifting uncomfortably, waking Ilya, “Hey, sorry. We should go shower.” Ilya grumbles while Shane types out the text to his parents, “I know, but I’ll wash your hair, you don’t have to do anything. Let me just send this last text.”

—

David picks them up from the airport. He greets them both with hugs and chatters the whole way back to Ottawa about everything and nothing. When they pull off the exit, Shane leans forward.

“Sorry, Dad, I just realized. Can you drop us off at our cottage? I’ll give you directions.”

For his credit, David barely blinks, “Of course. Your cottage?”

Shane winces, “Did I forget to tell you? I thought you knew, or Mom at least would have put it together. We had a cottage built right after we got married, it’s where we stay when we’re in town. No one really knows about it, I guess I forgot to tell you and Mom. Where else do you think we stay in Ottawa?”

“No worries, kiddo. I didn’t really give it any thought. Give me directions and I’ll drop you off. I’ll say, your mom was excited to have you guys for dinner.”

“We’ll still come over for dinner, just, we’ll drive over around five?” Shane says, wincing again at his forgetfulness. 

“Are you planning on telling us why we’re keeping tomorrow clear?”

“Oh! I didn’t tell you?” Shane rubs the back of his neck, exchanging a look with Ilya, “I thought it was obvious, but yeah, we’ll tell you over dinner. It’s probably something to tell you both together.”

There’s a mischievous twinkle in David’s eye, “You’re not pregnant are you?” Ilya bursts into laughter, “Are you pregnant, Ilya?”

“No, no, no. No babies, not yet. Just silly cat,” Ilya teases. “Maybe a dog soon. I am very close, David. One day I will convince Shane.”

“Ilya, we’ll talk about a dog when the season is over,” says Shane, exasperated. They’ve been over this. Ilya’s been trying to convince Shane to get a dog for years. It hasn’t worked yet, mostly because Shane’s biggest argument against it tends to shut Ilya down because no, Ilya, we don’t have the time to take care of a dog right now. We’re barely home as is, and we can’t transport her back and forth from Canada.

Then they’d gotten a cat, or rather, a cat had gotten them. Bushka was staying with the Connors’ for two weeks while they were here because of everyone on the team, she liked (read: tolerated) them the most. So now Ilya had doubled down on begging for a dog, insisting two pets were as easy as one and it would be his dog and he would take care of it. 

Shane manages to catch his dad’s eye in the mirror and winks where Ilya can’t see him. What Ilya doesn’t know is Shane’s been pursuing shelters and rescues for a dog Ilya would love and would fit their lifestyle. The plan was to fly home to Boston earlier in the summer then they usually did to surprise him and have time to settle in. His dad gets the hint and changes the subject.

Giving directions to their cottage in between the casual conversation that had cropped up between his husband and father, Shane mostly rests, head on Ilya’s shoulder, until they’re pulling up to the gate. Shane fumbles around for a minute before remembering he’ll need to put the code in manually. 

“Dad, pull up a little, so you can reach the number pad,” instructs Shane. “Code is 0627.”

David puts the code in and waits for the gate to open enough to drive through. Shane watches over his shoulder to make sure the gate closes behind them. David whistles when they find the end of the driveway, “Nice place, kid. You had this built?”

“Yeah, back in 2014. It was finished by Christmas, so we got to spend the holidays here,” Shane reminisces.

“Well, this is where I’ll leave you,” David says, popping the trunk so his kids can grab their bags. Or Shane grabs their bags, not letting Ilya carry even a duffle with his wrist. “Dinner at six?”

“Thanks Dad, we’ll be there around five, and we’ll text when we’re on our way.” David waves and backs out enough to turn around.

—

The slamming of two car doors alerts Yuna to their company. Her son walks in with his husband trailing behind him. Yuna hugs both boys, lets Ilya kiss her cheek, and tells them David has dinner ready. She waits until they’re all seated to finally ask why they’re here.

“I thought you might be staying here, but your dad said he dropped you off at your house first. He said you would tell us what’s going on tomorrow when you got here.”

“Yeah, I had Dad drop us off at our cottage. I wanted to wash airplane off of me and get settled for the break.” Shane takes Ilya’s hand, “We also have good news.”

“We got call a few weeks ago,” Ilya starts, practically vibrating with excitement, “tomorrow is ceremony to make citizenship official.”

Yuna’s jaw drops, “Oh! Oh, my god, that’s what we’re doing tomorrow?”

“Yes,” says Shane, grinning, “Ilya’s officially going to be a Canadian.”

—

His parents wanted to celebrate after the ceremony, but Shane promised they could do it the next day. Yuna tried to argue that they should have dinner as a family, but Shane had already promised Ilya’s first dinner as a citizen to someone else. She wasn’t thrilled at being turned down, but Shane didn’t really care. Instead he pushed a giddy Ilya into the car and drove them to the outskirts of town where a certain grocer had been waiting patiently for three years.

The bell over the door rang when they entered. It was close to closing time and there’d been no cars in the parking lot, so Shane walked right in. Petro looked up and his eyes lit up when he saw Shane.

“Shanechko! Kak vy?” Petro then spots Ilya behind Shane and his eyes widen, “Shanechko, eto tot samyy znamenityy muzh?” Shane grins in lieu of an answer. Petro circled the counter, bumping his hip, but ignoring it to approach the couple with open arms. He pulls first Shane, then a bewildered Ilya into a hug, professing his excitement the whole time. “Ty zdes'! Tot samyy znamenityy muzh! Znachit, ty nakonets-to kanadets, da?”

“Da,” answers Ilya, clearing his throat against sudden emotion, “Neskol'ko chasov nazad. Ya ochen' rad nakonets s vami poznakomit'sya.”

“Da-da. Ty pridosh' segodnya vecherom na uzhin?” He waves a hand in the air, “Ya napishu zhene. Ya skazhu yey, chto my zhdom gostey.”

“Pri uslovii, chto my ne meshayem,” says Shane, “My deystvitel'no obeshchali pouzhinat'.”

—

He expected to hear the usual commotion through the locker room door, but from the outside one could be tricked into thinking the room was empty. Ilya is vibrating behind him, excited to share the news with their friends and team. Coach LeClair knew why they were gone, but no one else did. Even Marlow had been kept in the dark with a promise of throwing a party when they got back, though he didn’t know what they were celebrating. 

Shane opens the door and finds the entire Bears roster, coaches, general manager, and various staff from the rink gathered inside. They stood in a loose semi-circle facing the door, across Shane and Ilya’s lockers was a handmade sign that read CONGRATS ROZ. Ilya was bouncing on his toes behind him, nearly bursting to tell them the news. 

“Welcome back, guys,” greets Vicky. “Are we finally going to find out why you were out for All-Stars?”

“Straight to the point, Vic, geez,” says Shane, a wide grin cutting across his face, “Give us a chance to settle in first.”

“Not a chance, Hollzy. We’re congratulating your husband for something and we wanna know what.”

Shane bites his lip, trying to contain his glee, “Well, let's just say, Ilya can’t call me a boring Canadian anymore without insulting himself.” Shane raises his arm like he’s presenting his husband to the crowd, “Meet Canada’s newest citizen.”

The room erupts. Shouting blurs together any individual words and everybody moves forward to be the first to sweep Ilya into a hug or clap him on the back. They get to Shane too, congratulating him and generally just screaming in his face. All he can do is laugh, the energy and adrenaline are infectious. Ilya shoves his way through people to get back to Shane’s side, sweeping him into a hug and planting a loud, wet kiss on his cheeks, then mouth with a mwah!

“Wait, wait, wait,” Marlow’s voice finally cuts through the noise, “so this means that… Russian can’t…”

Ilya nods, “No one can take me away. I’m as safe as any Canadian,” he giggles, “I’m Canadian.”

“Yeah, you are!” Cheering starts up again. Mindy from HR whistles before it can get too loud.

“Some of us have to get back to work, but there is a cake because some of us did know beforehand. Rozanov-Hollanders, from everybody on staff for the Bears and the barn, congratulations on your new citizenship. We’re thrilled to have been a part of this.” With that, everybody who isn’t a hockey player filters out, clapping their shoulders one last time and leaving behind what is indeed a very large sheet cake with icing that reads Ilya Hollander #2 Boring Canadian. Ilya can’t even pretend to be offended, just bursts into more laughter and then starts crying.

He wipes at his face, trying to stop either thing, “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know–blyat–happy tears, yes? YA, blyad', tak schastliv!” he sniffles, wiping his face again and straightening up, “Ya, blyad, tak schastliv. Sorry. I am ok now.”

“You’re good, Roz,” Marly says, clapping him on the shoulder. He’s a little surprised when Ilya pulls him into a hug. “Aw, a hug.” Ilya pulls back and punches him in the shoulder.

“Fuck you. I am having emotions.” Ilya sniffles again, “It is a lot. Hockey was job. My–malysh, sposob?

“Ticket,” comes his husband’s soft voice, keeping him steady with a hand on his back.

“Da, ticket out of Russia. I did not think hockey would give me this much. I got very lucky with you all. Hockey got me to Canada, the place that would be my home one day, and it gave me Shane Hollander, who would be my husband one day, then hockey gave me Bears, who would be my family. Who would learn their captain was bisexual and instead of turning away, they made a home for me and my Jane,” teary laughter echos, “Point is, thank you. I have been very scared for a long time, for good reason. But now I don’t need to be scared, no, I get to be boring Canadian with my boring husband forever.” Ilya wipes away his tears again, “Ok, we don’t talk about this ever again.”

“Naw, we’re never letting you forget,” laughs Carmichael, also through wet eyes. “You’re a boring Canadian now, own it!”

“Yeah, cap, we love you, but we’re going to tease you about being boring so hard.”

“Oh, you should have seen him when the judge was done talking and said it was over,” adds Shane. Ilya pulls his husband in and smothers his face in his armpit. The room happily takes the change in tone, using the distraction to pull themselves together.

“No, no, don’t listen to husband, he doesn’t know what he is saying.” Shane wrestles, trying to twist out of Ilya’s hold. Ilya lets him go and wipes at his eyes again. “Ok, time for cake.”

Chapter End Notes

also, i've spent the last two days writing a new work that I can't put down. It's already at 20k words (as of posting this). I think that'll be the next thing to go up. good thing i make sure im a few chapters ahead of my posting schedule (pretend i have one)

and to address Shane's injury a few years ago: I totally forgot that happened, but my explanation for why it doesn't come up in yuna/david pov is because it exists in that nebulous time after disaster all-stars and shane moving so I think it slips their minds as a Clue. it will come up again.

is that all? i think thats all.

oh! regarding new work: would yall want haydens pov first, or start w shane/ilya pov for a few chapters before getting pikes side?
is it more devistating to do the build up to the plane, end the chapter with cute hollanov then jump into pukes shitty behavior from his side? or do we want backstory from hayden then the fall put with shane/ilya? im leaning towards option one, but i want to know yalls opinions.

Chapter 3: the whole time.

Chapter Notes

dw, i didn't forget about you guys. i was busy on another work and just focusing on writing. i've finally got a chapter count for this and a solid plan for the rest of the story/additional tidbits. anyone who wanted the scrapped yuna storyline will get it maybe later today, depends on how many clients i have.

we're approaching the end of the story, with the exception of some one-shots i want to write/have written that don't fit into the main story.

July 2019

Shane hoped that after the second year of camp, his old friends and the many acquaintances they’d gathered to help coach would have warmed up to the idea of Ilya not being the massive asshole he portrayed himself as on the ice. Frankly, it drove Shane crazy. Even with all the proof in the world, there was still a lingering reputation that Ilya couldn’t seem to shake for some people. 

Shane let Ilya do most of the recruiting for the open coaching positions, trusting his husband’s judgement. It was a good thing too, not just for the camps, but also for a few of these individuals. Scott actually accepted their invite this year, on the condition he was allowed to bring Kip so they could finally go on their double date. 

Ilya had strong-armed an old teammate of his, Ryan Price, into attending in the wake of his trade to Toronto. Ryan had unfortunately walked into their (supposedly empty) office and caught them making out. Before either could panic, he’d shouted ‘I’m gay!’ and burst into tears. They’d taken him out to a small hole-in-the-wall that always kept a back table open for them and made an effort to keep paparazzi out. Ilya comforted Ryan, in his own Ilya way, while he broke down and unloaded on them. In turn, they shared their story, the first time they told it from start to finish to anyone. Ryan was floored by the extent of their relationship, congratulated them on their marriage and Ilya’s citizenship, but not surprised that they were together, “Roz was always weird about you, especially in 2014.”

Shane had recruited Hayden and JJ from the Voyagers, flicking his husband and reminding him that not inviting any Canadian players, especially when Montreal was so close, would look bad. Ilya tried to point out that several Centaurs were going to be there, but was turned down, “We’re not super close, but they’re still my friends, and good people.”

Last year, Hayden spent the two weeks they did camps trailing Shane like a lost puppy, something that both amused and pissed off his husband. Whenever Ilya got close, Pike found something to chirp him, usually ending with some variation of, ‘he’s an asshole.’ Ilya, to his credit, remained on his best behavior for a week before Shane reached his limit and told Ilya as long as there were witnesses to corroborate the story, he could stop holding himself back as much. 

This year, Hayden was doing the same thing. He barely made it through the door before seeing Shane and greeting him with, “Hey, man! I’m so excited you invited me again, this will be so fun. I know he’s your teammate, but one year you’ll finally be able to kick him to the curb, get this place running as the Shane Hollander hockey camp.”

Shane’s eye twitched, “You know we’re co-founders right? Also, these camps aren’t for me, they’re to raise money for charity, you know, the Irina Foundation. Named after Ilya’s mom?”

“Yeah, but everyone shows up so you can teach them hockey,” Hayden dismisses. It’s not true and Shane knows that. He’s received plenty of emails from the parents as well as strangers, donors, and fellow hockey players, thanking them for their work. Ilya printed and framed the ones that were especially special, detailing how even just setting up the charity had changed their lives, or how one of their donations had made its way to a specific person. So, he rolled his eyes and ignored Hayden, not willing to get into an argument over his husband this early.

JJ, of all people, had started a kind of fellow party boy relationship with Ilya, almost ignoring Shane entirely. Considering the reactions of some other people he won’t (but could!) name, he doesn’t let it bother him. They have more in common anyway. JJ begs Ilya to give him club recommendations for Boston, promising an equal exchange and promising that he’ll even go out with the Bears if he can break into the Boston club scene. This admission endears him to the rest of their teammates who took two weeks off to help and they fold him into their group with ease. 

Camp finishes like it always does, with a staff dinner. Shane arranges an actual seating chart this year, putting the Bears in a group, subtly surrounding him and Ilya with the rest of their coaches down the table.

“If I could have everyone’s attention please,” Shane calls and waits for the chatter to die down. “Thank you. First, I want to thank you all for showing up, whether this was your first year or second, we appreciate it. We hope to see you all again next year. There’s a lot more I could say on behalf of both myself and Ilya, but it really boils down to our absolute gratitude that you’ve helped make this happen.” The table claps for them. “Now, there is an announcement we have to make before we’re done. It’s not foundation related, but it is personal. It’s something that Ilya and I would like to finally share with you.” Shane takes Ilya’s hand and smiles gently at his husband before addressing the table, waiting with bated breath, “Ilya and I are getting married next week. I understand it’s short notice, but we really would like to have you all there if you would like to come. We’re not sharing our relationship with the world quite yet, so we ask that you keep it to yourselves. However, you are all our friends and our family, so we would love to share our day with you. We also understand this will come as a surprise to most of you, but yes, we love each other and yes, we’ve been together a long time. I think that’s what matters.” With that, he sits down and waits for the fall out.

Stunned silence lingers for a moment, then questions erupt left and right. Ilya is laughing beside him, joined by Cliff and Simmons. Everyone else in the know is grinning excitedly, unaware that they’d be announcing this today. Shane nudges Ilya who takes the hint and shouts above the din, “Hey, fuckers! Everyone, be quiet if you want answers.” That does the trick, “Thank you. We will answer one at a time, raise hand like in school.”

JJ’s hand shoots up first, “How long have you been together?”

Shane is grateful that the first question isn’t along the lines of what the fuck? or is this real? Unfortunately, it’s also a very loaded question. Shane looks at his husband, silently asking for permission, “A long time.”

Cliff groans, “Are you ever going to tell us? Or do we have to keep guessing until we find out you’ve been together since, like, juniors or something?”

A blush coats Shane’s cheeks, a similar one spreading like the matching grin across Ilya’s face. Neither goes unnoticed, “Marly, you are one who calls us Romeo and Juliet, yes? It is very famous that they are teenagers, yes?” Ilya pats his friend on the shoulder before addressing the room, “I promised Marly that if he guessed right, I would tell him full timeline. So everyone gets full timeline. Answer is always,” he says with a shrug. “We met in 2008, right Shane?”

“Yeah, we were seventeen. I already knew who he was and I wanted to meet him. It was love at first sight,” Shane squeezes Ilya’s hand, a dopey look on his face as he remembers Ilya’s stunned look and stuttering through a mix of bad English and Russian, trying so hard not to look like a fool.

“Oh my god,” Cliff mutters, pulling out his phone and frantically typing, “I knew that June 27th was an important date in your relationship, but I can’t believe I didn’t put together that that was your draft day. Holy shit.”

“Draft day!” exclaims Wyatt Hayes. “You really fell in love then got drafted to different teams? Like, you were already in love when they were taking your picture with your jerseys?”

Ilya laughs, “Yes, kind of. We liked each other, I knew he liked me. That was day we had first kiss, later after draft. I thought I ruined my chances when I was number one, but Shane had other plans.”

“Fuck off,” Shane gripes through a smile, “You’re the one who almost forgot to ask for my phone number.”

Another hand goes up, “So when you moved to Boston?”

Shane nods, “The truth behind that is that I didn’t know I was going to Boston. I really thought I might end up close, but then Boston figured everything out and went behind our backs to pull some strings.”

“Boson knew?” Hayden asks, “The whole time?”

“Not the whole time, but right after my injury they pieced it together,” he sees Vaughn wince at the reminder. “They’ve known for a few years now,” explains Shane. “They were the only ones, we gave Scott hints until he figured it out, the Boston women’s team knows by now, too.” He thinks back, trying to remember who knows, “I think that’s it. Right, Ilya?”

“Yes, also every gay person in Boston, probably.”

“Right.” Shane looks out at the table, “Any more questions?”

“Why are you getting married now?” 

Shane smiles, “Ilya would you like to tell them why we’re not being as secretive anymore?”

“You want me to tell them I am Canadian citizen? That I became a boring Canadian just like my husband? That I am safe and Russia cannot get me?” 

“Canadian!?” someone shouts, starting another reaction of shock.

“Yes, yes, I am officially Canadian citizen, so Shane and I can get married and have all of our friends there.”

“Congratulations, Roz,” JJ says. “You’re still taking me out next time I’m in Boston. And they’d better be gay clubs.”

“So, Rozanov’s gay now?”

Shane turns to Hayden, containing the sigh he wants to let out, “No, I’m gay. Ilya’s bisexual, always has been.”

“Ok, yeah, congratulations, man.” Hayden clearly wants to argue the point, but a pinch from his wife and the general energy of the room keep his mouth shut.

Shane and Ilya let the group ask more questions, sometimes answering, sometimes not. A few of them bemoan the fact that they can’t stay for the wedding, prior engagements pulling them away. Ilya promises those people that they’ll send pictures and really, it’s not a big deal, it’s not going to be super formal anyway.

The next week is filled with fielding questions about their relationship and putting their friends to work. Cliff and Nicole are a huge help getting everything together before the wedding. They’ve been working on it for a few months, but because it’s not going to be anything crazy, and they’ve kept it as small as they could, there’s not much to do. Having their team excited to finally throw them a wedding after three years comes in clutch. Shane learns what pinterest is from the rookies, who take it upon themselves to try and take over the set up. Instead, he directs them towards his mother, who had the same idea, without the same time to curate.

Thus, most of the planning and set up of their wedding is done by other people who only approach them to get approval for whatever idea they’ve had. Shane is more than happy to just give his opinion and let his friends do what they want. Ilya has stronger opinions, but is happy to let the work be done by someone else. His only request was to let Sveta officiate, insisting (to Shane, who didn’t care and trusts his husband) that she would be perfect and was ordained in several provinces and states. He never asked why his husband’s childhood friend was able to legally perform weddings in twelve different regions across North America; it wasn’t his business, but if Ilya wanted her, his husband got what he wanted.

Shane only wanted to marry Ilya again, this time in front of their loved ones. It’s only what they’d been looking forward to for five years. 

In the end, everything comes together. Ilya pouts when they’re separated to get ready, a tradition they’d decided on and Ilya was regretting agreeing to. They didn’t always get ready together, but they’d done so the first time. So Ilya was refusing to unhook his fingers from his husband’s.

“Ilya, I will see you in like, less than half an hour,” Shane laughs, also making no effort to separate from his husband.

“Hmph,” Ilya grumbles.

“Ok, baby,” Shane grins, shaking their hands as if to detach them. “Don’t worry, I’ll be just down the hall. How about this? Come shower with me,” he offers, seeing Ilya brighten. “You have to keep your hands to yourself and have to leave right after, but it’s our wedding, so come on.”

Ilya tugs his husband closer by their still joined fingers, “Ok, solnyshko. I like this plan.”

Chapter End Notes

I really just want to pretend hayden doesn't exist, but he does. remember, he's not as close to shane in this timeline, but he's still there, still hayden, and its hayden without shane's influence... so i'm just so bored writing him. So i'm only including him as much as i have to.
im having much more fun in my other sandbox where i get to throw him around a lil, as a treat, which is what i've been doing... anyway, go read Pull your knife out of my back, where I bash hayden's head in with a rock.

ryan price you are so special to me

shane hollander, certified bitch: ilya, game rules apply, don't hit first, but you can hit back.
hayden pike: do i hear boss music?
(^i need more of bitchy shane who loves when his husband is an asshole to release him on people when he's fed up)
(i'm writing a fic about it i just decided, everyone look out for 'that sounds like a you problem')

shane and ilya: let's try and be traditional, so we'll set a dumb rule where we have to be separated for an amount of time
shane and ilya: this was a bad idea, i hate it so much

Chapter 4: vows and photographs (take 2)

Chapter Notes

David raps lightly on the door.

“Come in,” says Ilya. David pushes inside, “Hello, David. Everything is ok?”

“Yeah, it’s all good, I just wanted to check on you,” he says. “What’s the plan for walking down the aisle?”

“Ah,” Ilya looks a little embarrassed, “Shane and I were going to walk together. If that is ok?”

“Of course it is,” reassures David, “I just wanted to double check.”

“You are not– I know it is tradition…” Ilya trails off. It strikes David how nervous his son-in-law is still. It’s been over a year since the boys came out to them, but sometimes they still run up against things that remind David and his wife how long they’ve been together. How long they’ve been doing life together and how apprehensive they are about showcasing their independence as a couple. Ilya especially tries not to step on toes, deferring to Shane when necessary. 

David waves him off, “It’s your vow renewal, you can do things however you want. But if you wouldn’t mind indulging this old man… you mind if I help you tie your tie?”

It was the last thing his father did for him, passing away shortly after his and Yuna’s wedding, and he’s always dreamed of doing the same for his son. Yuna was checking in on Shane now, and David would head over there next, but he wanted to see Ilya first and let mother and son have their moment. Ilya looks taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting the offer, but his eyes well with tears and he holds out the butter-yellow tie, blinking them back.

David steps further into the room and takes the offering, silently looping it over Ilya’s bowed head. He straightens it out under the collar of his shirt and adjusts the length until he’s satisfied. Looping it around his hand, he twists and tucks gently, pulling the fabric into place. He looks up and makes eye contact with his son, gently securing the knot at the base of his throat, “There, you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Ilya whispers, still blinking back tears. David can hear the extent of it in his voice, Ilya isn’t just thanking him for tying his tie. He’s thanking David for welcoming him into the family without ceremony or hassle. David doesn’t know if Ilya remembers telling him, very drunk one night, about his own father and crying out the loss of both his parents. But David remembers, and he’ll take it to his grave if he needs to. He gives Ilya a watery smile and nods at him.

“Alright, I’ll go get Shane,” he says.

—

Shane deftly buttons up his shirt, smoothing nonexistent creases from the front and tucking it into his pants. There’s a noise outside the door, “Shane? Can I come in?”

He opens the door to greet his mother, “Hey, yeah.”

She stops inside the door, choking up at the sight of him in his tux, “Oh, you… you look good.” 

“Thanks,” he says. He moves back towards their closet to fetch his tie and jacket, laying the latter on the bed and looping the former around his shoulder. “Is everyone here?”

“Everyone is here, and settled in,” Yuna answers. “Just waiting on the grooms.”

There’s a beat of silence, Shane is looking in the mirror and making eye contact with his mom over his shoulder. Her hands come up to brush invisible dirt off his shoulders, resting there for a moment before she steps closer and gives her son a hug, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” Shane nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too, mom,” he whispers past the tears threatening escape. Shane hates crying, hates how it makes him feel during and after, and he already knows he won’t be able to hold back during the ceremony. He’d cried five years ago when it was just him and Ilya and five years of history they’d barely talked about at the time. Now they had five years of marriage and a decade of history behind them. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” she says, still looking at him in the mirror. “You found someone who makes you feel special, that’s all I wanted for you. I know we’ve had our… tiffs about everything, but I wouldn’t change it. I love you, I love Ilya, and I’m so glad you found each other. Even if sometimes I get too caught up in what I missed.”

“Thanks mom,” Shane says. He leans down to lay his head on top of his moms, swallowing hard, “You know I’m sorry too. But I also wouldn’t change anything.” She nods, a bit awkwardly under the weight on top of her head. “I love you. Thanks for welcoming him to the family.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There’s a light tapping at the door, opening at Shane’s call to reveal David Hollander.

“Hey,” he says, “Ilya’s ready. I came to get you.”

Shane nods, then realizes he still hasn’t finished getting ready. His dad chuckles and steps forward, stilling his son’s hands from scrambling. With a gentle smile, he does what he did with Ilya, readjusting the yellow fabric to  sit correctly before tying it with gentle, but steady hands.

“There,” he says when he’s done, picking up Shane’s jacket and handing it over. He copies his wife, brushing invisible dirt and smoothing wrinkles from the completed ensemble. “Come on, I’ll take you to your husband.”

Shane takes his dad’s arm and loops his arm with his mom on the other side. They walk him down the hallway towards the spare bedroom Ilya is waiting in front of. His husband grins when he spots them coming towards him. Yuna gives Shane a hug, then folds Ilya into her arms as well, whispering, “Thank you for taking care of him, I love you.”

Ilya nods at her, choosing not to risk whatever noise is threatening to crawl out of his throat if he tries to say anything. David lifts his arm, letting Shane remove his hand and take his husband’s. David pats Ilya on the shoulder and holds his arm out for his wife to take. With one last nod, they leave the couple behind, heading into the yard.

“Are you ready?” Ilya asks.

“I’ve never been more ready,” Shane answers, tucking Ilya’s fingers between his own. They share one last smile before walking into the yard.

—

Soft, instrumental music played from a few speakers strategically placed around the yard. His parents offered up their cottage as a venue for the wedding. Shane and Ilya had debated about finding some place, but decided to accept. The backyard Shane spent his summers growing up in was now ready for a wedding, simple and tastefully decorated. David and Yuna Hollander walk arm in arm down the makeshift aisle first, settling in two empty chairs at the front. 

Every guest turns their head towards the house where Shane has appeared. He wasn’t alone, Ilya standing proudly next to him, fingers tangled together. They share one last soft smile with each other before walking slowly to the front where Svetlana was waiting. 

“Welcome everyone, to the wedding ceremony of Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.” Someone wolf whistles in the crowd, cueing laughter. “We are honored to share this special day with both of you. I know that you exchanged vows to each other privately many years ago when you started your life together. Here in front of friends and family, you will be renewing those vows as a promise to each other that your journey is not over. It’s not beginning, either, you are simply reminding each other and us that this union and love are strong.” Shane reaches out to wipe a tear from Ilya’s cheek. “There is a Russian idiom that I know Shane loves, Muzh i zhena —  odin satana. I’m sure many of you have heard it before,” a few people chuckle, “I’ve learned that it is their reminder to each other that they’re a team, before anyone else, their loyalty is to the other. I believe this vow has been demonstrated over and over in their life together. Shane, Ilya, are you ready to share and reaffirm the vows you made?”

“Yes,” Ilya says. Shane echoes the sentiment.

“Shane, you may go first.”

“Good. Ilya,” he starts, “fuck, I love you so much. And I love the way you love me. On the days I’m being impossible. When I’m stuck in my own head, you know how to pull me out. You also know when to let me be. You make the whole world go quiet and I feel safe when I’m with you. You gave me so much, Ilyusha. A home, a team, a place to belong when I thought I would never find one. I wouldn’t trade the last decade for anything in the world. Not for something easier, not for something normal, or different. If you told me thirteen years ago that I’d be married to that kid from Russia no one would shut up about, I don’t know how I would have reacted, but I am married to him and I wish I could tell myself that it’s all worth it. Every hard and impossible day was worth where we ended up, because I get to go home to you–go home with you everyday for the rest of our lives. I fell in love with you that first day in Regina and I get to love you everyday for the rest of our lives. When you’re being sweet and romantic, I get to love you. When you’re begging for a dog, I get to love you. When you're a sore loser, I get to love you. It’s the only job I want for the rest of my life. You once told me that loving me was the easiest job in the world. Ilyusha, loving you is the easiest job in the world for me too. I love you so, so much. You’re the light of my life, my sun, stars, moon. You are my universe, Ilyusha. You make life worth living, because I get to do it with you.”

“Ilya,” Sveta prompts. Ilya laughs wetly and wipes at his eyes again, clearing his throat. Shane squeezes his hand.

“Shane. My Shanya, moy solnyshko, moy lyubov, moy vse samoye vazhnoye. You have remained as ocharovatel'nyy as the day I met you. Do you remember, the first time, I promised that as long as I had you, I would do everything not to fuck up,” Shane laughs, nodding, “and if I did, I would always fix it. That is still true. It is also still true that you are the most beautiful person I have ever met,” he strokes Shane’s freckles once, eliciting a bigger smile. “You tell me all these things I have given you, but do you know how much you have given me, Shane? You have given me a whole country to call my home. You gave me a family, even a long time ago, when it was just us. Shane, you are the safest I have ever felt.” Ilya takes a deep breath and deliberately switches to Russian, this is for Shane’s (and Sveta’s) ears only, “Since my mother died, you are also the most loved I have ever felt. I wish she was here, I wish she could meet you. But I think maybe she sent you to me instead. You learned Russian to give me a piece of home, and that was just the beginning. You give me a reason to keep waking up in the morning, because I never want to miss one. Every sunset with you is another day we get to count towards forever. When I think of the time we were apart, I think of all the time we get to make up for now. Every kiss we missed, every time we said I love you over the phone, celebrations, and anniversaries. All of it is a part of our story and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.” Tears are leaking now, Ilya isn’t even trying to hide them. Shane’s grip on Ilya’s fingers tightens, as he fights not to audibly sob at his husband’s words. 

Svetlana takes back over, “Beautiful. Shane Hollander, do you take Ilya Rozanov as your husband, continuing to stand together through challenges and love him forever?

“I do.

“Ilya Rozanov–”

“I do,” Ilya says quickly.

“Let me finish. Ilya Rozanov, do you take Shane Hollander as your husband, continuing to stand together through challenges and to love him forever?”

Ilya doesn’t even roll his eyes at her, “I do.”

Chapter End Notes

half the audience is confused because it keeps being lightly implied that shane and ilya are already married. that's intentional, hollanov don't care. it doesn't even really matter anymore anyway.

Chapter 5: the lucky one(s)

Chapter Notes

i was going to post this yesterday, but i got caught up writing a new work bc i upset myself thinking about shane crashing out. go read 'it's mine alone to disgrace'

also, i finally finished ch 7, so we're almost done with our canon timeline and then i just get to write a ton of one shots and post my abandoned storylines. and also finally finish time travel parenting...

Jackie Pike appears with her husband behind her, “You mind if I drop him off here? I’m going to go catch up with Lisa.”

The table Hayden’s just been dropped at consists of the Marlows, Connors and his wife, Anita Picco, Wyatt Hayes, and JJ. Anita’s eyes narrow at him, but she doesn’t say anything. JJ greets him first, “Hey, man, yeah. Come join us. We were just talking about their wedding.” He gestures to the Connors.

“We got married in 2017,” Sam Connors explains to Hayden. “We’re the most recently married couple on the Bears.”

“Cool,” says Hayden.

Anita’s voice has a cool quality to it that no one else at the table really picks up, “Sam was just telling us about what Shane did at her reception.”

Sam giggles and her husband groans, “We got a venue with a pool.”

“It was the very end, everyone had gone home except, like, a few friends. So it was mostly the wags I was friendly with and their husbands, including Shane and Ilya. We were having fun, drinking a little, and Ilya said something. I don’t remember what, but it starts an argument. We move on, but a few minutes later, Shane gets his revenge.” The people who were there are cracking up at the memory, “Ilya’s standing by the pool and Shane just walks past and shoves him in. Tux and all.”

Marlow is crowing, “The look of betrayal on his face when he came up for air. Shane was just standing at the edge, but not close enough for Roz to get him, arms crossed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize–”

“–the pool was in the way!” They say in unison, doubling back over in laughter. Hayden nods politely, shooting JJ a confused look. JJ just shrugs at his friend. He’s enjoying hearing the stories.

“Oh, there was that time we were hosting for Cliff’s birthday,” Nicole brings up. “Andrews insisted on taking over the grill. For some reason, Shane joined him and got roped into learning how to grill.”

“Oh my god,” Cliff says, hand covering his eyes, “Shane already knew how to grill, he got roped into helping.”

“Not the point, hun,” Nicole pats his arm, “the point is Ilya sidles up to me with this look in his eye. Doesn’t say anything, just sits down and stares at his husband like burgers aren’t the only thing on the menu. Doesn’t take his eyes off, so I asked him if he was good. He just nods and says, ‘if I sit here, I will be good.’ then he looks me in the eye and says, ‘it’s better when I’m good.’”

“What is better?” the man himself asks, appearing behind Nicole with his husband in tow before she can finish the story.

“I was talking about that time at Cliff’s birthday a few years ago, when Shane was on the grill.” Ilya nods, remembering.

“I remember,” he says solemnly. A wide grin breaks out on his face, “Is my wedding, everyone must come have fun.”

“We are having fun,” Anita argues. “We’re telling embarrassing stories about you and your husband.”

Shane snorts, “That would require Ilya feeling embarrassment for anything he does.” Then he grins, “Well… I could tell embarrassing stories about my husband. Like the time in Buffalo–”

“Ah, ha, no nonono,” Ilya slaps a hand over his husband’s mouth, “Nothing happened in Buffalo.” Shane doesn’t bother to slap Ilya’s hand away, grinning behind the fingers covering his face. “Maybe you all come over to other group, tell stories over there. They’re all just sitting.”

“Kip suggested never have I ever,” explains Shane with a shrug, “but we’ve kinda worn that game out by now. Besides, everyone just wants to ask us questions.” 

“Sure, we’ll come over,” agrees Nicole, nudging her husband into standing. The rest of the group migrate with them over to the deck, where Scott and Kip are sitting with most of the rest of the Bears in attendance and two Centaurs. Ilya can see a group of wags off at another table, enjoying their conversation over a bottle or three of wine. He waves at Jackie Pike, a wonderful woman who he’d taken a liking to, and who he thought was too good for her husband.

Shane’s voice pulls him back into the conversation, “–because he was willing to do it, doesn’t mean I was going to say yes.”

“God, there’s always one, right?” Kip gripes, “Anyway, I want to know more about when you learned Russian? Because your vows were half in Russian and it sounded good, and also, like, super romantic.”

“Oh,” says his husband. Ilya watches him with a soft smile, “I started learning Russian after we met.”

“Yeah,” says Wyatt, “but when? Obviously you learned it for Roz.”

“No, I mean after we met. In two-thousand eight.” Shane raises an eyebrow at the dropped jaws around the circle. “What?” 

“Ok, I know you said it was love at first sight, but you’ve been learning Russian since two-thousand eight?”

“Technically, it was already two-thousand nine by then, but early January, yeah,” answers Shane. “Ilya didn’t know much English, so I wanted to make sure the important things didn’t get lost in translation.”

“Awww,” someone coos.

“What did eighteen-year-old Shane think were the important things?” asks JJ.

Shane blushes and Ilya laughs, chiming in for the first time, “Ty khochesh' menya potselovat'?”

“Oh!” chimes in Carmichael, “We’ve heard this story, that’s right. Shane asked you if you wanted to kiss him in Russian. That’s like, how you got together.”

Ilya nods, “Da, was very cute. Then I asked for his phone number.”

“Wow, that’s…” JJ shakes his head, “That’s like high school crush shit.”

“I mean,” Shane defends, “We were barely eighteen. Ilya’s birthday was like two weeks before and I’m only a month older.”

“That’s crazy to think about,” Wyatt says.

“Yeah,” says Cliff, “when we call them Romeo and Juliet, we mean it. Teenagers, rivals, and all that.”

“That’s why you call them that?”

“Did you not make that connection? What are they teaching you in Canada?”

Shane leans into his husband’s side, content to let their friends take over the conversation until they need his input. Ilya rubs his thumb over his hip in slow circles, smiling down at him, occasionally pressing a kiss into his hair.

This is what they’ve been waiting for. Since Vegas, since Russia, since Regina. This is absolute relief. Shane loves it. 

—

When the end of the night rolls around, a small part of Shane is grateful their actual wedding had just been them and the officiant because he was exhausted. He didn’t know how people got married, had a reception, usually bigger and grander than the day they’d just had, and then still went to their home or a hotel and still fucked. He was dead on his feet and Ilya wasn’t much better. Not only had it been a physically exhausting day, it was an emotional one and they were both feeling it.

Ilya takes the keys from his parents and they drive off in Shane’s jeep, which has been decorated by their teammates, complete with empty cans on string trailing behind them. Shane looks at his husband, “We’re taking those off as soon as we’re at the cottage.”

“Anything you want, malysh,” he agrees. His voice sounds as weary as Shane feels.

“Hmm,” Shane lets his head fall back and closes his eyes, “fuck I’m tired.”

“Me too,” agrees Ilya, reaching over to rest his hand on his husband’s thigh. Shane absent-mindedly takes his fingers and starts playing with them. They remain silent the rest of the short drive home. Once Ilya is parked, he reaches over Shane to pull a small jewel case from the glove compartment. Shane raises an eyebrow at him. Pink dusts his husband’s cheeks and he unbuckles Shane, “Your car doesn’t have bluetooth.”

Ilya then slides the cd into the player, turns the volume up, and gets out of the car. He rounds to Shane’s side quickly and opens his door, “Come on.”

“Come on what, Ilya?” Shane asks, yawning halfway through. His husband just smiles softly at him and pulls him out of the car.

The cd finally finishes its setup and the first (and only) song starts playing; Shane recognizes it immediately and brightens. 

“This is–”

“Da,” Ilya says, hands guiding Shane’s to his neck and starting to sway them back and forth, right in their driveway. It accomplished Ilya’s intention of mirroring their first dance in a parking lot five years ago. Shane rests his head on Ilya’s chest, duck slightly to fit under–or rather against–his chin.

“I love you,” whispers Shane.

“I love you too,” Ilya whispers back. 

They stay like that, swaying to the music in the setting sun. The last time, this cottage only existed as an idea in Shane’s head, waiting for input that wasn’t even guaranteed until he slipped up and accidentally told Ilya he loved him. Looking back, it was a little crazy to propose to the guy he’d been seeing for half a decade without talking about their feelings. On the other hand, Shane couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. A sniffle escapes him, and Ilya answers with a questioning hum.

“Nothing,” says Shane, pulling back enough to kiss his husband, “I’m just thinking about the last ten years and how lucky I am.”

“Hmm, I think I am lucky one,” he counters.

“How about we’re both lucky,” offers Shane. Ilya hums again, still gazing at Shane. 

“Maybe,” he agrees, “but I think I am still luckiest.”

Chapter 6: something to prove

Chapter Notes

suspend your disbelief and pretend i know anything about hockey

To the outside world, the Boston Bears had clearly found something to motivate them, though no one could parse out what it was. Even other teams were having trouble getting under any of their skins, taunts were met with grins, chirps with laughter. The whole team was playing possessed and they were playing well. One of their best seasons yet. When asked, whatever Bear had been shoved in front of the camera would just smile and say something along the lines of Oh, we’re just ready for that fourth cup this decade! or Good news always brings a team together!

Speculation abounded on social media, in corners of bars, gossiped on buses between games, but whatever magic held the team together, it was airtight. Not even leaks from the staff made it anywhere near the tabloids. 

Everyone wanted to talk to a now constantly grinning Shane Hollander. When asked why he seemed so much happier, he just grinned wider and winked at the camera, which broke the entire internet. But no one said anything, not Cliff, whose favorite answer to the press was to announce his wife’s pregnancy (true), or Simmons, who loved to tell anyone that the Bears were going to start the first all-goalie co-ed hockey team (false, but Wilson of the Fleet corroborated the story), and not even Ilya, who announced that he’d gotten a new citizenship and would give wildly different answers ranging from Argentina to Italy (half-true, but by now the press didn’t believe him at all.)

Shane crouched, flanked by Ilya and Vicky, not even looking at Montreal’s center. The noise had dulled into a low roar in his ears and time slowed the way it always did right before the puck drop. It’s not even a contest, he snaps the puck towards his husband and time speeds up again. The chemistry flowing not only between players on the same line, but between any combo on the ice was electric. It served to destabilize their opponents and created more openings to connect the puck where it needed to go until whoever could slap it into the goal. 

He heard Marly behind him, the sound of his skates hitting his ears at a speed that told Shane he was skating as fast as he could towards him. It wasn’t fast enough and before he can register the pain, Shane is looking up at the bright stadium lights, attempting to suck any amount of air into his lungs. A wheezing sound exits his lips instead and the blob above him turns into a concerned Cliff as soon as the dizziness passes. 

“Sorry, Hollzy, I barely got here in time,” he apologizes. “I knocked Comeau out of the way before he could do any more damage, but he got you good. Roz took off after him.”

He reaches down to pull Shane back onto his skates. Shane steadies himself with a hand on Cliff’s shoulder, another wave of dizziness washing over him. Ilya skates past him, slowing down enough to non-verbally check in on Shane, who nods back, and Ilya skates satisfied to the penalty box. 

Coach pulls him off the ice and tells him to take a breather while they send what the team has dubbed the ‘cub line’ consisting of their rookies. Not that they’re rookies anymore, except Gus, who filled in the right wing perfectly, flanking Brown, while Bugsy held down the left. They worked well together, and Coach always gave them extra time when they were ahead. The cub line was a little feral, all sharp grins and cutting barbs. Brown and Gus had surgically attached themselves to Shane, eagerly soaking up any extra training they could squeeze out of him, their similar play styles meshing well with Shane’s. Gus, like Ilya, was flexible with his position on the ice, but preferred to be on the wing. The result was five minutes of sharp passes while Bugsy and Brown tag teamed their insults, skating literal circles around the Voyager’s veteran players. Shane watched them from the bench with a critical eye, and a proud one, especially when he could see some of the players twitching to drop gloves.

When they skate back to the bench after their shift, Shane makes eye contact with Hayden while he fist-bumps each kid and gives Montreal’s bench a proud smirk. If looks could kill, the entire Bear’s bench would be ash.

Montreal is not the only team that wants retribution, it’s almost all of them. Coach LeClair wears a constant smug look every time they announce which lines are going to be played each game. His fellow coaches grumble and curse him for ending up with as many flexible players as he has, but all LeClair does is shrug and tell them to work on their team dynamics, then maybe they’ll be able to switch things up. If he wasn’t fifty-six, he’d skip home everyday, but he’s a grown man, so he only lets himself hysterically giggle in the privacy of his own home. 

Toronto plays violent and Barrett takes out Clarke, which prompts an even more brutal beating from a fuming Hammersmith and Connors, who don’t appreciate their rookie defenseman being targeted. All three are suspended because of the illegal check and ensuing fight, but Clarke promises that “It's only a broken arm, I only need my legs to skate, it’s fine!”

Florida and Nashville similarly attempt to play with brute force, not learning from past mistakes. Dante takes great pleasure in ‘accidentally’ taking out Decker, a piece of shit who’s been targeting Shane since he was in Montreal. 

Ottawa plays fair and invites them out after to celebrate the Bear’s win, promising no hard feelings. Wyatt spends the whole night watching Shane and Ilya interact and breaking into laughter every few minutes to the confusion of most of his teammates. Ilya gives him a stink-eye, and Wyatt apologizes, claiming that watching them play now that he’s ‘in the know’ is extra fun.

While they keep their collective injuries minor, other than Clarke, Shane is particularly anal about not playing through anything that could potentially get worse. He’s called a hypocrite a number of times for his penchant to play with anything less severe than multiple broken ribs. He hits Ilya for snickering, asking him to tell the team about that time he tore his MCL and tried to play before Shane caught him.

By the time they reach the playoffs, the team is collectively foaming at the mouth with how close they are. Really, they have it in the bag, but it’s an unspoken agreement to not talk about it. They’re all aware of the stakes going in and while every team wants the cup, the Bears want it more than all of them combined. 

They’re up against St. Louis, game five. If they win this and six, they take the cup. If the Blues win, Boston has no choice but to take them to seven. The stands are packed, the bars around the city are packed, homes are packed; this playoff run is one of the most anticipated in recent history. It’s obvious to everyone that Boston is snarling and chomping at the bit for this win, but St. Louis isn’t going down without a fight, not when they’re the last standing obstacle between Boston and the cup. In the end it’s futile, if close. The Bears win game five 5-4 in overtime, taking the Blues back to the Garden. A win on home ice is visible, no one would disagree except hard-core Blues fans and harder-core Bears haters, but even they admit it comes from a place of loyalty rather than actual statistics.

The Blues push them into overtime again, tying the score 3-3 with a minute left. Ilya is breathing heavily, exhaling pain and exhaustion with every harsh breath. His knee twinges from a puck he took to it a few months ago, but he ignores it. Simmons is nursing a bruise and blinking sweat from his eyes. He shakes his head at Coach, promising he needs to stay in the crease. Marly is hunched with his fellow defensemen, speaking in hushed whispers. Shane surveys his team, the A on his chest feels like a brand, burning him through his kit. Everyone got ice time today, rotating through constantly as a diversion tactic. It had mostly worked, but Shane had an idea.

“Coach,” he calls. LeClair looks up from his ipad, eyebrow raised, “Put me out with Ilya and Bugs. I’ve got a few more minutes left in me, and we can end this now. Bugs, you’re our fastest skater besides me, do you think you can get down the ice and catch the puck long distance?”

Bugsy looks up at Shane, wide-eyed, and opens his mouth, then closes it and actually thinks about his answer, which is a lesson Shane had been drilling into him. He closes his eyes and pictures the ice, running the play Shane is suggesting in his head. He looks up and nods at his Coach and assistant captain, “I can do it. If I can’t, I’m adaptable and fast.”

“Good.”

Shane takes his spot on the ice, his husband to his right, his rookie to his left. The hockey husbands hadn’t gotten as much ice time together during the playoffs, keeping depth at center and the two of them on the power play. But sometimes what you needed was two generational talents, capable of reading each other’s minds, where they belonged: together. Their third lineman was usually Vicky, or occasionally, Connors, depending on the play. But what Shane needed was speed, and their smallest rook had both the speed and accuracy Shane needed.

They’re past the point of chirps. Shane levels a stone face at Moore, the center for St. Louis, and gets his own glare back. They’re mad. Good. Moore makes a valiant attempt, but Shane gets the puck, shooting it to his husband. The mad dash goes on longer than Shane would have liked, but Simmons blocks the shot the Blues get in and Bugsy steals the puck, racing towards the other end of the ice. His small stature helps him duck and weave, the men covering him not even noticing that he doesn’t have the puck for a few seconds. He’s abandoned so the team can converge on Ilya, who does have the puck, but when they reach him, he shoots towards Shane, who almost immediately shoots it back, just for two St. Louis players to ram into each other in confusion and exhaustion. Bugsy circles behind the goal, unnoticed, only to emerge and catch the puck in the cradle of his blade, scooping it up and dumping it behind the goalie before anyone can start preventative measures. The goalie blinks at him, jaw on the floor, looking between the goal light and a very smug 5’5” rookie. 

Ilya slams into him, roaring his praise, and dragging him back to where the rest of the team has joined them on the ice. He feels himself being lifted by some of the bigger teammates and the crowd is on their feet. With the obvious exception of St. Louis, everyone is celebrating Boston’s win. Their fourth Stanley Cup in seven years. Ilya levels the commissioner a special, secret, smug smile, like he knows a secret Crowell doesn’t, which he does. Ilya shakes his hand and roars when he lifts the cup over his head, skating his lap, then getting Shane to join him on another, the two laughing the whole time. Ilya starts a third lap with the rest of the team trailing behind, Bugsy at the front with the husbands.

The locker room is ready for twenty rowdy hockey champions to start their celebrations. Cliff pops a bottle of champagne first, standing on a bench in nothing but compression shorts and sprays the sticky liquid all over his best friends.

“LET’S GOOOOOO!!!!” The room cheers louder, and Cliff is sure they can be heard from anywhere in or around the building. 

“Bugs!” Shane claps him on the shoulders, unable to keep his winning grin off his face, “I knew you could do it! Winning goal, fuck yeah!” He pulls the kid in for a noogie, tightening his grip so he can’t escape. “Everyone, I think Bugsy should get his own special celebration for that goal of his!”

His fellow rookies converge on him, hoisting him up and telling him to smile for the camera.

“What camera?” he laughs. Their social media team waves from the various points where they’re taking pictures and videos. He laughs again, but gives a thumbs up and they get their picture. 

Chapter 7: shock and awe

Chapter Notes

double update!! this series isn't done completely, but our main timeline is done. it wasn't ever going to be this big, but we all know how things tend to spiral out of control. thanks to all of you who have been on this journey with me, it's been wonderful. i've got some other stuff for this universe, so stay tuned for probably closer to summer while i work on some of that.

June 26, 2020

[img: Shane and Ilya wearing each other’s Boston jersey, backs to the camera, but looking at each other and smiling while they show them off.]

[img: a polaroid of a visibly younger Shane and Ilya standing in a courtroom, kissing]

[img: Shane and Ilya standing in front of a nondescript wall with a NO Smoking sign above them. They’re grinning at each other, forehead to forehead]

[img: the cake that reads Ilya Rozanov: #2 Boring Canadian]

[img: a polaroid of Shane and Ilya at the top of a mountain, the Canadian wilderness spread out behind them]

[img: a small gray cat sleeping on Ilya’s bare chest in bed. He is also asleep, arm bent behind his head]

[img: Shane and Ilya holding up their fourth cup (the third they won together) as they skate a lap around the ice]

[video: Ilya dipping Shane in a kiss. They’re both in tuxedos and their guests can be heard cheering behind the camera.]

shanehollanderhockeyplayer six years married to my soulmate… Ilyusha, I have loved you every day for twelve years and I will love you every day for the rest of our lives.

—

[img: Shane dipping Ilya in a passionate kiss in the locker room after their first cup win together]

[img: a polaroid of Ilya leaned back against Shane’s chest, the other’s chin hooked back over his shoulder, arm wrapped around Ilya’s waist]

[img: Ilya standing outside a courtroom, tears in his eyes, but smiling at the camera and holding a certificate]

[img: Shane asleep on Ilya’s chest, their cat asleep on Shane’s back]

[img: Shane and Ilya screaming in each other’s faces on the ice after their last cup win]

[img: Ilya resting his chin in his palm, staring at Shane, who is in deep concentration trying to remove a jenga block. Cliff is in the background making a stupid face and cheering Shane on. Other, unidentified teammates can be seen]

ilyarozanov81 мой солнышко, мою любовь, мой все самое важное.

Я помню чудное мгновенье: Передо мной явилась ты, Как мимолетное виденье, Как гений чистой красоты.\\ В томленьях грусти безнадежной, В тревогах шумной суеты, Звучал мне долго голос нежный, И снились милые черты. \\ 

—

Social media went nuts. It took less than a minute for their posts to start receiving attention, and by the top of the hour, it felt like the whole world knew they were together. The Marlows had flown out to Canada after them to spend the week at the cottage and Cliff was having a hoot reading out comments for Shane and Ilya. 

“Hey, what does this mean? What does this mean?” Cliff reads out from under Shane’s post, “This is awesome, they’re freaking out. A few Boston fan accounts are asking if this is the ‘good news that brought the team together’ and if it’s why we played so well. I’m gonna comment, hold on.” Cliff types out a response, muttering as he types, “L-O-L, duh. Did… you see… that cake… question mark.”

Nicole laughs, “Someone translated your post, Ilya, and twitter is having a meltdown over how romantic it is. Listen, I speak Russian and Ilya called Shane ‘his most important everything’ and I’m sobbing. That’s cute. Here’s another, what do you mean they made him a cake just to call him the second most boring Canadian??? That’s so funny and also so sweet. Brb sobbing. Oh, someone else commented under that, so when Roz said he got a new passport he was telling the truth and we all just thought he started a new bit to show off his geography skills.”

Shane laughs, “I got several asking what we named our cat. This one is my favorite, That picture of the cat… you just know Ilya insisted he didn’t like her and was very reluctant and now they’re best friends. That’s true,” he says, pushing himself up to plant a kiss on his husband’s cheek. Bukashka was somewhere in the cottage, hiding from the noise or exploring the new space. Ilya had started to harness-train her and she was enjoying going outside with them and trying to catch bugs at the lake.

“Well, you won’t let me get dog,” grumbled Ilya.

“You know my reasons behind that, but now that we’re out, I have no problem with taking you to a shelter.”

“Shane, you make it sound like you’re going to be giving him up to the pound,” comments Cliff. “Oh! How about, I did the math, twelve years is 2008, when they played in Juniors, which means they fell in love at first sight. Six years is 2014, which means they got married after Ilya won his first cup, which means they’ve won three cups while also being the first married NHL players AND all while hiding their relationship.”

“That’s true,” says Shane, “very astute.”

Ilya waves his phone, “Cliff, one for you, @cliffmarlow7 how long have the bears known? Because there’s no way you didn’t know. Who? How long? Tell me everything!!! You should post, tell internet about your Romeo operation.”

“Operation Romeo & Juliet?” Cliff sits up, “Sure, hold on.” 

Cliff takes a few minutes to find the pictures he wants and types out a caption for instagram and a separate post for twitter.

“Ok, for twitter, If you suspect your captain is hiding a secret girlfriend, don’t. If you happen to find out his ‘girlfriend’ is in the hospital less than an hour after you watch Shane Hollander be laid out on the ice, don’t connect any dots. If you do, bring pancakes and the whole team to apologize.”

Shane is laughing, falling sideways into Ilya’s lap. Ilya can already see the replies coming in under Cliff’s post, “Someone says, i’m imagining twenty giant hockey players sitting in tiny chairs like they’re in time out trying to explain to their captain that they found out he’s married to his rival. No, I will correct, no, they thought I was engaged.”

Shane refreshes his instagram to see Cliff’s post and finds instead that several of his teammates posted pictures of them. They’re all candid shots from over the years. Cliff posts one of him and Ilya from the Connors’ wedding, Shane running from a soaking wet Ilya. It’s captioned, the best teams are build on love, respect, and a deep competitive nature. Keeping this secret was never a question and we’re so happy they trusted us. The three cups don’t hurt either. #hockeyhusbands

“Cliff, you spelled built wrong,” says Shane, liking the post and scrolling. “You said build, not built.”

“What? Fuck.”

Carmichael posts a picture of Ilya leaning out the upper story window of Andrews’ house, Shane is standing below it, hands on hips, looking up at his husband. Ilya is smiling wide and gesturing with his hands. No one else is going to understand the context behind the picture, but it makes Shane smile. He likes the caption Micky chose, our very own Romeo and Juliet. 

Nicole starts cracking up and three sets of eyes turn on her. She tries to read out whatever she found, but she’s having trouble getting the words out between the tears and the laughter. Cliff steals his wife’s phone and barks out a laugh, “This is gold, ok. Shane’s bully: If you like hockey so much, why don’t you marry it. Shane, seventeen, seeing also seventeen-yo Ilya: ah, yes, hockey personified, I must marry him. Ilya, seventeen, barely speaks english: wow pretty boy, i will do whatever he says, oh he wants to get married, ok, guess ill become canadian.”

All four of them are crying from laughing so hard. Shane manages to communicate to Cliff that he wants the post sent to him so he can comment on it. He types out you have no idea how accurate this is. Ask Ilya what the first thing he ever said to me was…

He gets a response almost immediately, omg i just got noticed by shane hollander-rozanov this is the best day of my life. Please sir, tell me @ilyarozanov81 what did you say???

Ilya, who is reading over his shoulder, opens his phone and responds, i told him he had pretty freckles. Shane, want to tell them what you did when you got home?

Shane grins and nudges his husband’s shoulder while he types out, you mean googling how to know if someone is flirting with me? Or learning how to say ‘do you want to kiss me?’ in Russian?

They both stop after that, having given enough little details to keep everybody entertained for a while. Nicole announces she needs her fourth nap of the day, as dictated by the baby currently making war on her insides and retires. Cliff keeps scrolling, laughing occasionally, or scowling when he finds a hate comment. Luckily, everyone seems to be stuck on shock more than anything, so comments are staying generally positive. Shane stands and stretches, announcing that he’s going to start on dinner and walks out of the room, leaving his husband behind with Cliff.

His phone buzzes again. He’s been tagged in a post by his mom, so he opens it. He sees a picture he didn’t know she’d taken. It’s a selfie, Yuna’s face in the corner, covering her smile with her hand. David is sitting on the couch, also suppressing laughter behind her. Across the long part of the sectional, is Shane, laying on his back, hood covering his head, fast asleep. Ilya is only visible if you look close because he’s inside Shane’s sweatshirt, curly hair poking out the top under Shane’s chin. Their legs are tangled and Shane’s arms are wrapped around his back over the hoodie.

yunahollander65 You’d never know, but growing up Shane was always bringing home strays, cats, birds, a goose one time, also that coyote. So we shouldn’t have been surprised when he brought home Ilya, but now I can’t imagine anyone else making him half as happy.

Shane likes the picture, commenting under it and putting his phone away.

shanehollanderhockeyplayer it was a dog! And I was eight!

Chapter End Notes

the poem ilya uses in the instagram caption is "I Remember a Wonderful Moment" by Alexander Pushkin.